"You know, Eunice... a man could get used to this kind of life", Cipriano laughed to himself as he leaned his back against his pack beast. One hand held the frothing tankard, callused fingers gently rubbing the sweating, cold metal to sip in the delicious cool of the brew, while the other rose to rub behind the donkey's ear, just the way she liked it. The donkey paid him little mind, though, drinking greedily from the watering trough, giving him a moment for introspection and observation. Good food, good cheer, good mead... and the ladies were a handsome, warm-blooded bunch for sure. Maybe the town cleric - what was his name again? Zootus? Zetus? - could be persuaded to lend a roof to a fellow ecumenical.
Later, Cipriano told himself as he lifted the tankard back to his lips and drank heartily. Now, we celebrate, he thought to himself as he finished his tankard and set it aside. Humming to himself he slipped back into his armor and surcoat bearing the overflowing stein of the Drunken Hero. Walking over to the market stalls, he ordered two pints of the local applejack, and brought them over to the half-orc who had bested him in the snatch game.
"To the victor", the young human cleric said with a grin as he placed the pint before the half-orc. "This one's on me, friend."