Drinking Lessons
By: Madelyne Posted on: July 29, 2007
[Author's Note: In my dreams, drinking is an actual skill restricted to members of the bard class. In reality, it might go something like this.] Having reached transcendant in all your skills, you decide to spend the rest of your lessons in the skill of Drinking. Your fellow bard-class friends who are citizens of Cyrene have recommended Lance to you, as Sam the bartender only teaches this vital skill to members of House Ty Beirdd. Sir Lance, a fun-loving satyr bartender, jovially welcomes you as you nervously enter the Ram's Horn. However, you cannot mistake a hint of sternness as he warns with a wink, "Respect the dolls and nary a head rolls!" The devastatingly good-looking satyr shoots you a mirthful grin, and listens with only the comfort a local bartender can provide as you explain your situation. You request that he share some of his knowledge of Drinking with you and to your delight, he bows to you and commences a lesson in this rare and wonderful skill. Lance's eyes sparkle in amusement as he begins to wield a wine glass in his left hand with amazing dexterity, saying, "Drinking is a skill that takes real practice." He continues, "Start with something light, like wine." Lance drains the last dregs of white wine from the glass and gives a mischievous grin. He rolls the glass down his arm, bouncing it off his elbow and catching it in his hand. Lance winks conspiratorially at you, "After wine, move on to something a wee bit more potent, like walnut ale." He waves a flagon filled with walnut ale about energetically before allowing the ale to slide smoothly down his gullet. He continues, picking up a glass bowl and swirling the contents as he talks, "Next, you may wish to raise your spirits with some mulled cider. The vessel allows for the cider to be warmed over a flame, perfect for the chillded Cyrenian!" Lance takes a long draught of mulled cider, draining the contents of the container. The Satyr bartender goes on, "The Cyrenian Mudslide is a nice introduction to cocktails. See? The whipped cream even looks like the mountains." Lance takes a long draught before placing the empty container with the others behind the bar. He appears to savour the favours of the drink as he licks the cream from his lips. Looking you square in the eye, he warns, "But be warned, cocktails only lead to heavier drinks. The darkbrew fermented in the Eventide Alehouse by my friend Harris is not for the faint of heart." Lance lifts the hefty glass mug to his lips and closes his eyes for a moment before emptying the container. Lance throws you a shot glass and and exclaims, "Whisk *hic* ey! This comes in various froms from Cheap andd watery to thick and sstouT, but it all burns your gullet. *hic* Aye, whiskey should be a *hic* pproachbed with caution." Lance tilts his head back and slams the whiskey, tossing the glass over his shoulder onto the pile of empty drinkware. He grabs the final shot glass and fumbles about drunkenly, "Absin *hic* the iS the mwost sought-After drink by bardss. Neveer taKke on a snifger fulll of ab *hic* sinthE wiThhhoout an lha *hic* lleluhah." Poor Lance stumbles and falls in his alcoholic haze, slouching to a sitting position behind the bar. The music of a zither and a drum drift in from behind a beaded curtain to the north and you move towards the sultry melody. As you duck between the strands of beads you hear Lance call out, "FAre thhee well, and traavel sa *hic* sely 'uuIL we meet aaggain," drawing the lesson to a close.