The Almost Report's Non-Official News Debut

[Wyvern]

The news cameras flicker on, only to immediately go blurry as some kind of liquid froths over the visuals. A webbed hand reaches out to scrub off the sticky froth, clearing the lens enough to make out row upon row of wooden Bruteweiser barrels stacked in a jagged line. The shot is short-lived, however, as a lifter crane steams through the room with another barrel and knocks the camera crew to the side. The cameras swerve dizzily before landing on a visual of Wyvern, who is seated on a swiveling office chair with a straw connected to some distant beer keg sticking from his mouth.

 

“Greetingsss, and welcome to the Almost Report’sss firssst and possibly only non-official news show. ‘Non-official’ sssimply because we’re reporting from Tyrion’sss non-Pen quarters, which is the perfect excuse to just relax and take thingsss non-officially.” Wyvern stretches and causes the desk chair to creak, spreading his wings out and blocking the view of a bookshelf. “Hence the booze, of courssse.”

 

Wyvern closes his eyes and begins taking a sip from his extended straw, only to jump and spit his drink across the camera crew as the lifter crane drops its latest barrel with a bit more force than expected. The overgrown lizard curses and shakes a claw at the troglyodyte manning the lift, then grumbles and kneels to the ground so that he can lick up some of the spilt alcohol.

 

“Of courssse, there’re other motivationsss for consuming large quantities of Bruteweiser over the course of this particular Report… namely Brute’s birthday, which was celebrated lassst week.” Wyvern lets the forks of his tongue hang in the puddle of booze on the floor. He sits still for a few minutes, then hiccups a tiny smoke ring. “Thossse of you not familiar with the Booze Prophet’s works should be certain to seek out his teachingsss, preferably while inebriated. Hope ya had a great one Brute, your legacy of boozin’ lives on.”

 

Wyvern nods and slowly curls his tongue back into his mouth. He then gets back on his feet and begins pacing through Tyrion’s quarters, which have modern wooden floor tiling but are otherwise difficult to make out given the large number of giant beer barrels set against the walls and furniture. The reptilian reporter trails a claw along the walls of the miniature keg labyrinth before pausing at a barrel made out of particularly fine light brown wood. He taps on it with a claw, then pulls a copper goblet from his sack and grins at the cameras.

 

“Of courssse, Brute is not the only pennite who celebrated a birthday last week. The Almost Report would also like to take a moment to celebrate the birthdaysss of two notable Pen elvesss.” Wyvern corks open part of the booze barrel with his tail stinger and holds his goblet at an angle to catch the Bruteweiser beer leak. “Our bessst birthday wishes go out to Elvina and Thinas, the Pen’s resident winged elf and dark elf respectively. Here’sss a toast to some of our more elegant elven talentsss.”

 

Wyvern raises the goblet with a wink, then promptly down its contents in a single extended gulp. The overgrown lizard immediately lowers the goblet to the leak again and fills it up before toasting Elvina and Thinas once more, then repeats the process and toasts again, and again, and again. Before the news cameras know it, Wyvern is licking the remnants of spilt booze off the floor and sticking his tongue into the corked hole in an unintentionally suggestive manner certain to peeve off the parental advisory board. The reptilian Elder swoons and whines about how the barrel is empty, slapping the wood frame and slipping before sitting slumped sideways against the keg’s base.

 

“Here’sh to Asssssssssmadeus too, just fer *hic* fun.”

 

Wyvern lifts the goblet over his snout, only to let out a groan when he finds it dry. He places it upside down on one of his horns before continuing.

 

“Noooww, shince thish isss a NON-OFFICIAL Almosht Report, we don’tss really gotta reportsh on anythin at all! Hahaaaah. BUT, but but but, we wantsh to offer ya some spotsh to find booooze. So csheck out the Barbeque and th-*hic* the wordplay shpot so ya can get shome taaassssssssty beveragesss.” Wyvern swoons and flicks his tongue at the camera. “Oh, and if ya *hic* sssee CheerMynxsh ‘round, could ya tell’er I love’er pleeeaaassh? Thankshabunch.”

 

Wyvern grins dumbly and snickers to himself, then pauses for a moment to let out a little belch. The ensuing flames engulf the cameras, resulting in a black out of the news visuals.