Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Ought Part 3

Rex the alchemist is a funny little man, barely 5 feet tall and skinny like the dead. His Most prominent features are his large slightly discolored eyes that seem to be a honey shade of yellow. A common side effect I'm told for alchemists and indeed anyone who works with and makes constant use of Potions, and His bulbous head that he keeps warm and hidden under a large formfitting velvet cap. He has a wispy beard and mustache that sag like much of the skin around his eyes. It would be safe to say Rex is an Ugly little man and he is a stark contrast to his wondrous shoppe.

From floor to ceiling, racks and shelves line the walls, even covering up the windows. Sunlight can dissipate the effects of so many magics that the windows are most likely even painted-over in lead paint. There is however ample light coming from the bottles themselves. Vials which glow. Beakers of luminescence, Phosphorous amoeba, Jars of moonlight and tightly sealed decanters of distilled radiance. All set on shelves, full of awakened potential. Just waiting.
By their light, I can see the ever moving contents of healing elixirs, restorative drafts and life giving feel-goods. There are pints of headache aways and muscles growers. Tankards of photosynthesizes and hair removers. Confidence boosters and sleep relaxers. Everything that any person might ever need. What I need is to be made into a woman. Most of what is on the shelves is lost upon me but I enjoy reading the names as I'm led deeper into the shoppe. Dragon-Yang. Goblin Brine. Yellow-bellyer, Mostly deadly poison, bottled annoyance, in lotion and a spray. Deeper in the shoppe there is even a section for “love” potions with clever titles. Deadbeat-beater, Magical-Knight, Love slug, the solidifier, and No regrets. I'm curious but mostly afraid of what each one must do. I take in the value of the shoppe, its astounding.

“Ah, aren't you worried about being robbed?”

the alchemist replies without looking back.
“ha me no! Half of what's in here is worthless without the know how of how to use it, and the other half will simply kill you or you'll have to come crawling back to me for the antidote. And the last half cant be found on this mortal plane, So no i'm not worried. I don't keep the really pricey stuff out front anyways, most of it is down in the basement and it's warded and protected”
“great” is all I can think of in reply.
The basement seems to be where we're headed, and indeed as soon as I pass the threshold of the door leading down I feel a strange weight settle on me.

“I think I Feel your wards, they feel heavy, like I just suddenly gained 20 pounds on my neck”

The alchemist squaks from down below.
“ Must have some magic down around about or in you. Most people don't feel a thing, now go and stand in the corner and lets see what we can do for you.”

“not so sure about that” I reply

I do as directed and go and stand in the corner. The basement is dark but for a single oil lamp the the charcoal from a small brazer set on the floor.

Rex turns to me looks at me straight in the face with his strange colored eyes and says

“turn around a second I need to do something, and I don't want you to see, its kind of a secret”

I'm too tired to argue, so I do as directed. From behind there is some shuffling as Rex goes about his mystical Alchemist secrets. Thats when I'm suddenly hit from behind. By a sudden shower of Icy water. I turn around wet and angry.

“for the smell” Rex says evenly. “ now stand up straight so I can get your front”

I stand there blinking and shivering stupidly, but I'm beaten. I simply raise my arms, resigned to my fate. Rex hits me again right in the face with his second fire-bucket of water.

“well you still look like hell, but at least you don't smell anymore, Best hang them clothes, and put this on”

Rex holds out a thick burlap sack that has the words “Giant Yams” stenciled on the front. I look at him skeptically as he cuts a head and arm holes.
“What? Giant yams are totally harmless, if not come back to me and We'll rub your skin in larva worm butter”
I put on the sack. Its thick, and I start to feel better as I go and huddle by the brazer and cover myself with another couple of sacks. I read their stencils carefully.
Rex watches me medically his every attention focused on me.
“ looks like you had a fight with your woman, sure you didn't come here for some healing?”
I growl in reply.
“no. you silly strange ferr...”
Rex continues without pause.
“yeah I know how it goes. I was with this girl once, she had big feet too. I know what you're all about” His eyes go back for a second and he cackles.
“ah, good times. Anyways. What can Emporium Rex do for you? Something about Feminization as I recall”

“ yeah, -shiver- I need to be turned into a a sultry woman from the east”

“what you got a costume party to go to or something or is this more of a private use type of thing? Well in any case lets talk duration. I assume you do want to turn back yes?

“yes” I growl

“just asking, not everyone does you know. I don't judge, Rex here has seen it all and done most of it too. Duration?”

“a night maybe”

“alright, easy enough, any special effects you want or certain features”

“effects?”

“Yeah you know frills, boosts, wazoos. How about some gills?”

“NO gills, I think just the regular sultry woman wazoos will do”

“ah ok, what about some allure, might help with your image, since my guess is that you don't have much experience as a woman, might help smooth things over a bit, make your appearance a little more natural”

“that actually sounds useful, ok so how much is this going to run me?”

“well, exotic hotness, with allure and appeal for a night...I'd say about 50' Eights.”

I cough, I'm not sure if its from the cold or not.
“That's insane, what about for an hour?”

“ah, on a budget are we, well an hour I think I could swing for a soft 15, ah, heck, I like you and your my first customer of the day and you seem like you might make a pretty hot eastern bird, tell you what, 10gold.”

“Done”

It's official, I'm broke.

“Done” Rex barks. “ok let me get to work here, you're welcome to stay around if you like while I do my thing. Just stay out of the way. Don't touch anything.”

I'm feeling the full effect of my long evening and now that the cold has left me I'm starting to feel very warm and comfy. I start to fall asleep next to the brazer almost at once like a big sack of giant yams and a bushel of spider turnips. I hear Rex stoking his fires, clinking his phials and cleaning his distillers, talking and laughing to himself the whole time.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Ought Part 2

I leave my mysterious patron and his piles of junk, feeling good, and still more than a little buzzed. That wine we drank must have been as strong as it was sweet and thick. I don't usually drink with darkly clad mysterious strangers, but it is important to seal the deal in more than just word. Actions have power and sharing a drink has just enough juice to make sure that we will both stay ture on our deal. Now if one of us breaks our word, there is some power, just enough to make our lives a bit more interesting and is incentive enough for us to keep our bargain. This is why I don't take my 6 gold coins and go straight to the nearest brothel to drink and screw myself blind. There will be plenty of time for that later and nobody wants any bad luck while they are on a job. So work must come first.
Right now, I need another drink, but more than that I need more information. The Arcane Annex and its strange swaying oppressiveness has started to make me feel nauseous so I stumble away off into the dark and in the direction of the Night Bazaar. Not too fast mind you or too eagerly, No sense in advertising that I have some money I my pocket to every thug and small time con. Slow, drunk and steady is how she goes. I'm definitely going to need more wine to maintain my disguise.

There is only one place you need to go to buy anything in Ought. The Grand bazaar. Be it lye for you clothing, or spice in bulk for a trip to the west. Everything is bought and sold under its giant open air tents and stalls, that cater to every need and luxury. The Night Bazaar is different only in name, Business is always open in Ought. And where is the best place to buy information about a trade prince, and put a bit of food and wine down you gut in the process? I head for the eastern corner, which by my luck is closet to the AA, as soon as I pass through the great gates that separate the districts I can feel the pressure of wild magic abate instantly and is replaced by the sweet smells of spice and meat coming from the great eatery market. Every district surrounding the AA is sure to buy the very best wards in case anything gets out. All but the Blemish that is, another price for being poor. I Wander through the still crowded streets with my money safely stashed in my codpiece, Pickpockets are ever a danger, I grab a shish of brunt animal bits and munch as I wonder where the best place to start my search is. After an hour of nibbling and wandering my feet have taken to me to the famous Long pipe Smokery. I duck through the front curtain and slouch into a low comfortable couch. Within seconds an attendant appears, bearing a small water-pipe which she loads and embers expertly. Handing me the stem, I order a tall one of the cheap stuff. , I smoke thoughtfully and peer around the establishment through the silken and gauze partitions that give the illusion of privacy. Business seems to be slow at this time of night/morning Plenty of time to chat up my attendant when she returns with my wine. I smoke and try to clear my head and formulate my questions. It seems straight forward enough. When the girl returns with my wine, I simply ask,

“ Thanks, lass, would you believe that it's been a long dry night”

She shakes her head “no” clearly she hasnt made up her mind about the half drunk man coming into her bar at the dead of night.

“me either, This is good” I say holding up the pipe stem “ Sivian?”

She smirks a bit and replies “Thats right sir, only the best at the pipe!”

“Ha, Glad to hear it” I say a bit too loudly for the hush of the establishment. “can you tell me your supplier?”

She shakes her head no again.

“ Thats ok, I'll just have to keep coming back” “ I heard that the Merchant Barabaxx deals heavily in leaf maybe thats not true”

She raises and eyebrow and takes my gold, “ barabaxx the Silk merchant?”

-score-
“yeah thats the one, must be quite the life, eh, finest silks, best leaf, money to buy anything”
-sigh-

I think the girl has decided that I'm drunk but basically harmless so she says

“ We don't deal with him, papa says hes a deviant.”

“any of his men come in here?”

“yes but we're not allowed to talk about them”
thinking a moment she says
“He has a shoppe not to far from her, ladies silks, ties and accessories, If you're interested I could have Poul take you there?”

“ Well that sounds just fine,Here's to being rich”

I down my glass, take one last puff of my pipe and pick up my things.
Poul must be the girls little brother, he is about 10, and his eyes are heavy with sleep, but he takes me through the bazaar happily enough, pointing out things that 10 year olds have extensive knowledge of, such as how heavy a horse testicle is and various techniques from jumping from roof to roof and how to make friends with a city dog. He chatters without stop, but finally we arrive at our destination. I give him a wedge, the same that I did for the pipe, its an insane price for a guide. But I'm a bit drunk, feeling happy, and he's such a clever boy. Maybe he can use it to better himself. I know if I keep it, I certainly wont.

The shoppe before me is rich, beyond my means, even on a good day. Silk bundles and rolls are piled stacked and sorted in almost every available space. I start to enjoy my window shopping, and it's not too long before I notice a large bearded fellow politely observing me from just behind. Clearly he can tell I'm a bit wasted and these silks are certainly beyond my means. I choose my moment like only a skilled rabble rouser can. I turn around too quickly, knocking over a large stack of bolts. The man glares at me but I'm already screaming.
“ Thrice damned Barabaxx crap, You'd think he could take a moment out of buggering his little boys to organize his damn shop so that it doesn't look like buzzards swooped in and did their business all over the the place!!”

The slap comes fast, and just as I'm really about to get into my tantrum. Its hard and spins me around and before I can even get my head straight, I feel the slight prick of the blade of a small knife pressed against my throat. The bearded man has immortalized my my right arm and I feel more than a little threatened. The bastard split my lip. I can already taste the blood. He leans down and whispers very closely to my ear in a tone reserved for naughty children.

“Sir. I can see that you need the personal attention of the manager, If you'll just come right this way”

With that He perpwalks me blade still at my throat into the back grottos of the shop, and into a small office separated by a beaded curtain. Beard-face takes my sword-belt off one handed and throws me into a chair. Grabs up my sword and lets the beaded curtain swish behind him. I sit wide eyed and bleeding like a kicked puppy, but not totally dissatisfied with how things have worked out. All save for the loss of my sword. I suck on my lip, its going to bleed and take forever to heal and then hurt like a bastard when it scabs and flakes. The nick at my throat isn't bad, more like what I usually do to myself in an inspired moment when I decide to shave, but I'm still bleeding, and more then a little surprised and relieved when someone offers me a cloth. The cloth is red, which is a smart idea. The hand that holds it is is pale and well manicured. I follow up the arm to the face and into the most stunning pair of eyes, like gray skies after a storm, which are set in a lovely face. I stare for a second admiring the perfect makeup and the exact red lines that her lips make as she smiles. I suddenly know what people mean when they say that someone looks stunning. I see the lips move and something tells me that words are coming out but I'm more interested in watching her lips vibrate and the brief glimpses of her white teeth.

“huh? Sorry what, I'm err..” I stutter lamely as I come back from slap happy land.

“ Red suits you, I said. A color of passion, action and desire, but it can be distasteful if not worn appropriately. Time place and color are everything. I can see that you're confused and have not given this topic much thought. For example. Say some evening a man takes his daughter out to buy a wedding dress at a very nice store, the mood is one of happiness and excited anticipation, they are both in a good mood so pay less attention to prices and yardage and all the other little niceties that of course they are more than willing to pay for. We'll say that they are a pretty pink with rich gold thread embroidered into lotus flowers. Then say, there is a great noise that interrupts their pretty pink world with spikes of black lightning and then a typhoon of crimson flamed language and drunkenness. Now how do you think the blue-steel seller of fine wares will feel about having her tranquil pond disturbed by such ripples, do you think that she would be in her right to throw the offending disruption into the street and back into the filth? Or perhaps she would like to take a different path and learn why such disruptions have taken place?”

“before throwing the blue baboon back in the the filth?” I ask somewhat overwhelmed, my head isn't clear and through all her talk, I kind of get the feeling that I'm being insulted, or tested maybe.

“That will all depend, I think you came here with more than a simple purpose, speak truth and you can walk out of the this place, otherwise you can limp or be thrown, I would rather we not disturb our pretty pink world, wouldn't you?”

I glance to the curtain to see beard-face glaring at me through it with hawk like intensity.

“No ma'am your pink will suit just fine, thats what I'm planning to aim for and I can see that...er..”

“I'm glad” she cuts me off “now tell me who sent you and why you have come”
I hesitate for half a second before answering.

“ I came to find out what kind of man Barabaxx is, I'm working for a small caravan merchant who is new to the city and looking to forge an alliance with a trade prince. To this end, the Merchant is attempting to learn more of barabaxx's character so that he might find a suitable gift that would impress even a man who has everything”

I try to keep my voice matter of fact and slow, I have a tendency to speed up as I get into my lies, and its a dead give away. I'm not sure how im doing so far, my audience is unreadable.

“ I was sent here and asked to report on his place of business and to see what sort of shoppe he operates here.”

“I see, and what have you learned so far?”

“I can see that Barabaxx is a no nonsense type of fellow who wants things taken care of quickly, but more importantly quietly and who does not liked being disturbed from his general course. I could tell my employer that he is a man who doesn't like surprises and who doesn't like being tested by fools”

with the last the beautiful lips part into a smile

“Ha! Not bad for a 'blue-baboon', your story is ridiculous, but I suppose its harmless enough, especially if you are keen to remember fools and their tests. Arlm! Please escort our guest to the back exit and be sure to let him know that he's not welcome back until he's got money to show as a proper customer.”

I hate it when people talk right through me. I also hate it when my bullshit isn't up to par...Maybe thats why this woman is the blue steel proprietor and I'm the filth covered baboon.

Beard-face comes through the curtain and picks me up like a limp fish, ushering me through the rooms and maze that make up the storage areas. One hand on my collar the other on my wrist. And just like that I'm thrown outside and into the filth. Beardface must have bounced at a goblin bar sometime in his past. I go down and into the muck of the back street, it reeks. I'm now bleeding and covered in mud, its then that I notice that I still have my silk blood rag, score for me, if I can ever get it clean again. Of course, just as I'm about to get up, beard-face strides over and puts his boot in my chest pushing me back down, he leans over me crushing the air out of me we're almost face to face when he says.

“ you want to know what kind of man Barabaxx is, I'll tell you. For 2 gold”

I can't breath but I wheeze out “ ooohky.”

I fumble in my cod, which looks obscene anyways, but while you are on you back with a large man half standing on your chest, you really start to wonder what people will think. Two gold come out and are swiped away with graceful ease.
Beard-face smiles

“ Barabaxx loves the exotic, things from the east, he is also a gluttonous sex fiend”

“soo y d' ya work f-him” I can almost get out.

“ He is also the best pay in town”

The giant boot comes off my chest and I can finally breath, I'll have a nice boot shaped bruise tomorrow that I'll tell everyone at whore's galore that I got fighting an ogre.
Mostly happy to be out of relative pain, or at least new pain and savoring the simple joy of breathing I extend my hand for my sword.
Beardface smiles, and I can see gold and silver caps throughout his smile. I really want to punch him in the face.

“ There is a sword return fee of one gold that must be paid before any belongings are forthcoming”

I curse under my breath, but my hand finds another coin. I throw it at beard-face, hard. But it misses, just one of those days I guess. I get kicked in the ribs for my trouble and I fall back into the mud in pain, I more feel the impact of my sword next to me than see it, when I finally get up beard-face is long gone with my money. Well, 5 up 3 down, and apart from an ever growing collection of aches and pains, and an increasingly devastating laundry bill, I'm getting a whole lot closer to 1,000 Eights.

It's in this slightly broken, bleeding, reeking and dead sober mess that I make my way, in the near dawn, back to the arcane annex and knock upon a door that has painted letters which clearly read: POTS: healing, utility and recreation. I pound on the door until my fist hurts, I'm about to star kicking it when the door cracks open still chained and I can see the bleary wild eyes of the alchemist.

“ What do yo want” He demands in a shrill voice that is reserved for parents who have no idea what to do with their impossibly bad children and those who have been roused at 4am from their sleep.

“ Can you make me a woman?” is all I have energy for

the door cracks open a bit more as the funny little man gets a better look at me.

“we're gonna need a god damned divine intervention”

I shake my cod letting the coins remaining coins jingle about.
The door opens all the way

“ but who's to say I'm not willing to try, come on in, looks like we're open for business”

Continued-

Ought Part 1



Half way through my 7th goblet of sour, stale wine, it suddenly hits me.  I’m broke, or at least will be soon if I continue drinking and whoring like I have since arriving in the great festering city of Ought. There is only so much drowning oneself in cheap sex and bad booze before a man starts feeling a bit suicidal.   I arrived in the city 10 nights ago through the beggars gate.  The cheapest entrance into the city, most who wander through it are robbed blind inside an hour.  Either I was lucky or I wear my long sword convincingly enough to look dangerous.  The city is not kind to the poor.  A life of pox, shit and mud and that’s on the good days.  Money is the only true royalty here in Ought. If you have it, you live in the merchant haven of Greenilian or Ash Risen, or if you’re really a player you might have a villa on in the Rise, on the very footsteps of the Octo-spire.  The home of the Ocotocracy, the eight mysterious leaders of Ought.  Looking at my money I’ve got a collection of gold and wedges equaling about 9 whole gold or Eights.  For that, I might be able to smell a fart of someone in Greenilian, maybe even the rise…but probably not.
            Young men with long swords and limited funds tend to find themselves if less classy districts like the Blemish Quarter, or like me, in the Rose, which doesn’t sound so bad, but I have yet to find a rose of any color here, unless its some sort of code word for whore.  Those it has, best in the city if you believe them.  My quarters are in the dimly lit dive bar/ bordello cleverly named “whores galore”  The atmosphere is dark, brooding, and thick.  Men come here for two things only, a stiff drink followed by a stiff….well.. It’s clean at least by Ought standards, I even get a cot in a room which I share.  Shared rooms must be part of “the hurry up and finish your business model”, set up by the proprietor, a one Ore Mann.  Ore can be described in three words, bald, fat, and mustache.  Not a bad man from what I’ve seen.  He runs a fair business with fair prices and he’s not too bad on his girls.
I’m staring worriedly into my cracked wooden cup, wondering what I’m going to do in the next day or 3 when I run out of coin, when Ore is suddenly there staring down at me with a clay beaker of purple swill, ready to refill my cup.  I nod and pass my cup which he refills generously enough.  I numbly toss a pie wedged piece of gilt on the counter, maybe it’s a 1/16th maybe only a 1/32nd its hard to tell sometimes.  Setting down his beaker, he pushes the coin back at me with one large dry index finger.   I know that now I have to at least pretend to listen to what he’s saying, its only polite for the free drink.  Ore Catches my eye before starting in his sotto but strong voice.
“ Been watch’n you the last few nights, been enjoy’n yerself grand.  That’s good. But ya seem somewhat idle of late and it gets me thinking that yer running low on coin. Perhaps ya need a job to revive yar thirst and awaken ya lust? No young man should be look’n so serious while so down in his cups.  I’a been told that that a mage in the Annex be looking for a young able body to help with some task.  If yer interested take this and see”
The note that he passes me is almost an insult to call it paper, but it will last long enough to find the location in the Arcane Annex.  I down my cup and get up to go. Long sword on my hip, 8 cups is a lot for someone like me and it’s going to be a long interesting walk to the AA.
Thankfully I don’t slip in any mud or twist my ankle or get harassed by any thugs, most thugs will leave you alone if they see you have a bigger sword than they do, especially if you’re drunk.  Drunk people with swords is just a combination most of us would soon avoid, that’s not to say that they won’t try to get the drop on you.
Mages are a different matter all together, most of the time they will avoid a straight fight even if you’re sober,  I’m just the bully type to them I guess, little pricks will light you on fire though, drunk, bladed and on fire, not a pretty sight.

The Arcane Annex is dark and claustrophobic, the buildings loom 5 stories above your head and seem to lean into the street as they go up, maybe I’m just that drunk though.   The air always feels heavy here, kind of like the moment before a fight starts, there also is a tension that you feel whenever magic is being worked on any scale, kind of a stiffness in your neck that crawls up and eats at your vision. I hate magic.
In any case I wade through the tension and my inebriation with equal difficulty, but I still manage to find the door to the basement of my mystery employer.  It’s in the down a small flight of stairs that leads into the basement and sub-basements of the block.
The Door is old, heavy and Oaken, only barely visible from the light of the distant street-lamp.  I knock once on the heavy door.  To my surprise, my had smashes through the door like cheap balsa wood, looking again I can see the illusion fading around my stuck arm, I suppose most aren’t willing to try and beat down a heavy oak door assuming that’s what it is. Mages!   Feeling stupid, I pull my arm out and open the door for myself.  Inside there is a long and dark passage, at the very end I can see a faint light.

“um, hello, I kind of broke your door, you might want to illusion that up a bit now, sorry….hic”
I get nothing but silence.  Mages are good at two things, being creepy and being cryptic, this guy has the first in spades.   I start to move down the corridor, trying not to bump over skulls with candle wax, or disturb the fire belching lizards or the fairy who can play a kazoo with her butt. About 50feet into my tiptoed clutter dance I hear the voice. Like sandpaper on metal. 

“Come in my son, we’ve been waiting, We would talk and make a bargain.”

I go down the rest of the hallway and into a small room, inside is lit dimly by a handful of candles there are books and bottles and other wizard crap spread all over the place. In the center of the small and cluttered room is a small round table with a black velvet cover, behind the table sits my host.  My host sits hunched in their chair head hidden and covered in a deep cowl, only their hands are visible, which are old gnarled and covered in mystic rings that make my head hurt to look at them for too long.

“um yeah, Hi, Ore said that we could talk Eight’s” I say as cautiously as I can making sure all my syllables are understandable and sober sounding.

“Indeed we can talk” My host rasps.  “But first, I would know what kind of man you are 

Then producing a deck of stained card,s my host spreads them out to me.

“take a card young son”
I take a card and turn it over.

“ah, the tower, this card is your present, very good, lets look into your past.”

I take another card

“The boar, interesting, now for your future”

I take card farthest from me. I’m not encouraged by what I see.

“HA! The Great Wastes, very interesting, Yes my young son, we can deal”

Confused, I sit there thinking ‘Ok, so are you going to tell me what that was all about’, but before I can collect my tongue.  My host produces a whole gold coin and places it on the table before me and my three cards.  Silence truly is golden.
I sit as quietly and politely as possible, trying not to get distracted by the rings on my host’s hands.

I will start by saying simply this.  I’m dying.  I won’t get phillosphical with you, I’ll only say that this displeases me and that I would like to avoid death for as long as possible, I have searched for years for a cure for my condition, but money, power, magic, faith and everything else have come to naught. I have one last chance before I am consumed.  If you can complete for me a single task I will award you a very generous sum especially to one such as your self. Say. 1000 gold?”

My jaw drops

“The task will  not be easy for you and it is impossible for me in my crippled condition. My time and  stamina are short so I will give you only the facts.
Have you heard of the Blue Onix?”

“Ah, is that some new pub?”

My host coughs and rasps in what I guess to be laughter

 “Here in Ought there is a wealthy merchant named Barabaxx.  He has a most remarkable talisman that he has refused to sell, barter, or trade, and which he squanders on lechery I might add. I need this amulet, this Blue Onix.  It has the power to restore and regenerate ones health and stamina.  You can no doubt guess what this letch uses it for. You must get it from him.  When he is entertaining he keeps the gem about himself as a sort of pendant, When he’s not, the gods only know.  Your methods are your own.  I care not how it is acquired, only results matter.  Can you take a risk for rewards?  Can we deal?

Stunned but also intrigued I simply say “yes we can deal”

My host once again produces from their hand 5 more whole-gold coins, and places them next to their cousin.

“For expenses and preparations, Now we drink to our deal”

Two gold plated cups are produced and a thick sweet smelling wine is poured, I make sure my host drinks before I do the same, the wine is warm and strong and I feel it slide all the way down.  It’s not a very manly drink compared with sour wine and paint thinner, but in a pinch it would do.
Our deal made I collect my coins and leave without a word. 

Continued-