Ruvora and Morrik go to it like champions, each a master of the ale-battle ... but in the end, only one of them is a dwarf, and it's not Morrik. Dearie steps in when the goblin drifts off his stool, grimacing as she hoists him up by his armpits. "Okay, you. A deal's a deal. Time to lead us back to your home. You get two consolation prizes, Morrik. You got free drinks, and you get to get the hell out of this jail. C'mon, on your feet now, let's move."

Spoiler: Diplomacy check, if appropriate
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(d20+8)[16]