"Then and ONLY then you will receive a highly valuable trinket for your reward and a drink of whatever beverage we feel you deserve."
- quote from the The Barbarian Challenge
"Barbarians do not drink what others think they deserve, they take what they desire and pile high the dying bodies of those who dared to tell them no. What is this? It tastes like no mead I've ever drank."
"Uh ... I'm sorry, but we were all out of Mead, but I thought a nice Chardonnay would ..."
Nobody would ever know what a nice Chardonnay would do, for the bartender's head was now bouncing along the ground, baptising the cheering mob with a light spray of blood with each turn. "We may not have mead, but we shall at least have roast pork", the victor said, quickly stripping his victim bare. Severing limb from limb with a delicacy that one would not have imagined possible with a battleaxe, the savage tore the intestines out of the body cavity, whipping them across the face of the departed's weeping firstborn, until all of the excrement within had sprayed out in a chocolate colored mist turning the bereaved the color of a freshly plowed field. "See how they tremble before us? Surely this man had no sons", he laughed, as the eldest tried to get the waste out of his beard. "Who wants some bratwurst?", he yelled through foam speckled lips, over and over, as he chopped the meat off the bartender's buttocks into a fine mash, with which he stuffed large and small intestines alike, setting the sausages to cook over the burning remnants of the bar, before preparing the larger and tastier pieces of the carcass to bake over a hardwood fire.
"Gee, we thought Oregon would be friendlier than this", the bartender's daughter sniffled as she piled her father's crisply done remains high with sauerkraut. "But at least I do have the deflowering to look forward to. Would somebody pass the salt?"