The Orc, The Dwarf, and The Jar of Mead

I remember one time stopping at this roadside inn. Nothing too fancy, so I order myself a tankard and settled down in a nice dark corner. I was having a decent enough time when they walked in, never got their names but they looked mean and energetic. Two muscled bound hunters, or at least they said they were hunters, a dwarf and orc. They was loud enough coming in but soon hushed up and looked about the inn. The only other person there besides me was the barmaid. Well the two just looked, scoffed, and resumed there loud boisterous antics. Can’t remember what they were going on about, just that they were loud about it. They were loud about ordering two of the biggest tankards filled with mead, “Two tall meads, and skip the part where you water it down.” The voice of the dwarf was as still as a bar of iron, no pun intended. Well here is the kicker, the barmaid only had enough for one and just as fast as she said that they were tussling and fighting each other for it. Well they was causing the ruckus, flipping tables and such. Well I finished my tankard and went to order another. Well before my lips could purse around the edge of the glass a hand landed on my shoulder. I realized it was quite and I was in for a world of hurt. “That one of us’es.” The tall, muscular orc looked down at me with a stern face that alone seemed to packed a punch. Well I wasn’t going to give them my drink, I payed for it with my hard earned gold. Well a tipped the tanard back, chugged the mead, and said they could have the rest. Well all I remember is being struck in the back of the head and awaking in a womens dress next to a sleeping troll. Oh boy I must have had the night, such a shame I can’t remember it. Well to this day I don’t drink mead, cause I don’t want to be caressed and fondled by a troll.