With a poof of thick, purple smoke an old imp appears on the other side of the bar.
His beard is white, his head bald, his horns long and curved.
As he poofs into existence, holding a freshly cleaned glass and sitting on a high stool, he grins widely.
"Coming right up."
He places a wet piece of clay tablet on the bar in front of the new patron.
[i](this is a common little ritual any summon would recognize. carving your private mark into the tablet opens a tab at the bar. You can drink with no worries, the pay will be subtracted from your masters mana pool. Coincidently, this is why summons cost energy in the first place.)[/i]
He then spins around on his stool and shoves some bottles labled 'the good stuff' aside to retrieve a specific, dusty bottle labled 'the better stuff' and a small crystal vial labeled 'fey cinnamon extract'. Four seconds of mixing later he presents a shot-glass with a clear red golden liquid.
"Welcome to the tavern."