( This is entirely a work of fiction, though a great many number of other characters are mentioned. Please take no offense, I'm using them simply as room dressing -=] Great amounts of inspiration and even some plaigerism comes from Robert Jordan's "The Shadow Rising" )

It had been a slow day at the forge, and the gnomes had finally gotten onto Jodiah's last shred of patience. Rather than mercilessly brutalize his co-workers, though, Jodiah Ayreg opted to simply drown himself in booze.

Watch out world. The death knight is going to be getting sloshed.

A quick glance around the common room showed a few regulars that illicited a few nods of acknowledgement. He scratched Icer on the snout on his way toward the bar. There was nobody here this night he wished to speak at length with, so he wouldn't be letting formality get in the way of his drink.

Destre was standing behind the bar in her black apron and namebadge, looking just as chipper and happy as the cowgirl ever did. She was attentive to his order.

Midnight Tears.

And then she blinked. He smiled, and pointed out exactly where Obsidian kept it, as well as how to open it -- he watched her open the secret cubby that one night, and Jodiah Ayreg had an eye for details.

Scooping up a silver winecup -- Ayreg wasn't certain, but he thinks he might have made it himself over at the Dragon's Breath -- Destre poured it full for him, winked once, and accepted his silver crown with a promise to keep the bottle handy.

Removing himself to the Deep, Dark Corner?, he snaked his way around Scorpion and Tetronus battling it out again. A sidelong glance was made to Grem, followed by a nod. The man never spoke often, and what he did have to say was usually as sharp as Ayreg's runeblade, but at least he wasn't a total fool. Isuelt brushed past him with a sneer, and he half-turned over his shoulder to leer at the armored woman as she sauntered on toward the bar -- which, by chance, seemed to now have some pirate woman standing atop it, swinging a mug of ale about and singing a sea chanty.

The forge was slow. The common room was not.

Sliding down into his chair with an incomprehensible grumble, he slouched lazily and took a deep, welcome drink from the silver cup. A quick glance to the underside of it showed the tiniest of etched markings that did, indeed, proove that he was the one who crafted that particular cup. A slight smirk, and he took another drink.

Obsidian's midnight tears was an intoxicating drink. It smelled of a roiling thunderstorm, and tasted like the air after a good rain. With a musing thought, he very well might have found himelf a good substitute for his normal ale.

For as long as the bottle held out, at least.

Kairee and Tanya entered within moments of each other, taking up their respective roosts near the bar. Jewel Ravenlock made her presence known to him as she strolled across the room toward a target unseen, and her brother Brian was conversing quietly with Renna the Betrayer's daughter, Emma.

Another deep drink of midnight tears was made just after a twelve-foot demon-like beast squeezed through the front door, chasing an elf across the common room and out the side door that led to the back alley. A few upturned tables were righted, and the nightly carousing continued amongst Rhy'Din's populace.

Destre came by, refilling his drink in exchange for another silver crown.

Somewhere in the common room -- he couldn't tell where -- the sound of a dulcimer being played rose above the din of conversations. It was joined by a piano, then, and what sounded like some kind of pipe. A flute, perhaps, or a harmonica. He listened to the music, appreciating the curve of Kairee's hips as she started dancing about to the tune. They really were quite good.. whoever was playing. One might have been Keaton, but it was hard to tell from here. Another deep drink of the midnight tears was made.

When Tara, flanked by Longden, made her presence known to the.. what did she say, tonight? "Juicebags"? Hm. He fully slammed back almost half of the drink, waving Destre over for another refill.

She and Longden caroused as they so often do, though Talomar looked considerably upset about something. Well, that was fine. A week or so later and he'd be married to one of the Harpies -- a fitting punishment for the man's monumental hubris, after all.

Three-legged hippos and pink dogs and winged zebras were going to make one hell of a nuptual ceremony.

With his silver cup refilled again, he takes a long, slow drink while turning his eyes back over the others in the common room. In the distance, outside, he could hear the loud rumbles of Obsidian's iron horse, but she didn't seem to stop at the Red Dragon tonight. Idly, a lowered hand fingered the box inside his pack, but he willed it back up to the table in front of him while finding solace in his silver cup of midnight tears once again.

Tara's cousin, Viki, entered and moved over to Tara. He couldn't make out the conversation through the din in the crowd, but judging by Tara's reaction -- storming off to speak with Jewel -- it couldn't have been good.

A slow smile pulled at the death knight's lips, and he took another drink of the midnight tears. It was truly a wonderful drink.

Destre showed up again, taking another silver crown for another refill. He wasn't even sure by this time if the drink warrented payment, since he believed it was Obsidian's private stock. He blinked a few times, then shrugged, dismissing the train of thought with another drink.

Where had his pipe run off to, now? He patted his pockets a few times before deciding he must have left it in the inside pocket of his cloak which, at this moment, was residing upstairs slung over the back of a chair in Room Three.

He slapped his table a few times as the players ended their tune, and Kairee busied herself flirting with the young man that was on the piano.

Longden took his moment away from his fiancee to converse with Belial, Obsidian's... sister, was it? Cousin, maybe? No. Sister. Definatly sister.

Another pirate -- he thinks this one's name was Jean -- came in then, and proceeded to the bar. Destre started making calf-eyes at him, and he figured the two to make quite the pair. Another drink of midnight tears was made, and Amthy came in, bouncing about in her usual bubbly way.

By now, any one particular conversation was out of the question for eavesdropping. At least, from his place in the Deep, Dark Corner?.

Panther came into the common room from the kitchens, and Ayreg almost considered going to speak to him about the status of the orc swill he wanted to call ale. He almost got up, but decided to just push that thought away in favor of another drink from the midnight tears. Truly, there was nothing this drunk -- no.. drink! -- couldn't make one see past.

Destre came by his table again, tearing herself away from Jean long enough to refill his silver cup again. He smiled, kind of lopsided, and gave her a couple of silver crowns. It was impossible to get them to stop swirling around in his purse, so he just let her decide what she needed.

Naturally, she took all of it, thanking him for something called... a "tip."

Oh, well.

Another hearty drink was made from his cup, then he blinked. Deciding to go ahead and finish it off, he slammed the rest of the silver cup's contents back and left it abandoned on the table.

Finally, in the deep hours of the night, Ayreg decided he had had enough.

Rising to his feet, he slipped and sat back down hard, frowning at his silver cup. It was full. Full? He just finished it. He blinked, and saw Destre sashaying away from him, the glint of silver again in her fingers. Did he just get another refill? He felt dizzy for some reason. Yes. That sweet young woman, Destre, with those melting navy eyes had refilled his cup -- how many times?

Getting carefully to his feet -- and refusing the sweet young woman's most solicitous offer of help from across the room -- he managed to climb the stairs despite the way they swayed. His held felt like it was stuffed full of wool, and he felt ready to fall over.

Luckily he did not stumble until he was out of the sight of everyone in the common room, but he did walk right past his door and had to come back. Something must have been wrong with that silver cup; he knew he should not have drank from it. Adrianna De`Seis always said... well, he could not remember what it was Adrianna said, but something about drinking from the house you built.

Or something like that.

Finally back in his room, he started to undress. His drawstringed shirt seemed to be made of more knots than normal, but he managed it. Relieving himself of his breeches, he lifted one foot out of the leg and stamped it back down to the wooden floorboards, almost falling.

The floor was lower than it looked.

He did remember to apply the "golden rod" cream to his fading injury over his ribs from Maria, but the bed looked so inviting he could hardly think of anything else. In the morning perhaps the room would have stopped its slow spin around the bed. Sleep came as soon as his head touched the pillow. In the morning, everything would be back to normal.

In the morning he wished he were dead.