Einkel Torunn wandered through the busy streets of the bustling town. Given his rose-red cheeks and cheerful demeanor, most folks new what he was about. Some approached of their own accord, others called him over. A very few-mostly tourists-he approached of his own accord. What he proffered was his latest batch of spirits, a thick liquid of a dark blue tent, made from a harvest of wild blue berries. Seemed popular around the town, though that could very well be because it was free booze during a festival.

It wasn't long before Einkel caught wind of the dwarf setting up shop in the middle of town. With a big smile on his face, he made his way over. Holding out his hands, he approached the newest dwarf to town, speaking loudly in his native Dwarven to be heard. "[i]What happy days these are!"[/i] He said, grasping the hand of the new dwarf. "[i]I have laid neither hide nor beard on a fellow of my kinsfolk in near on ten years. So good it is to see a kinsmen. Come, cousin, let us share a drink![/i]

After giving a firm handshake, Einkel reached into his backpack and produced a bottle containing a glistening, amber liquid. A fine whiskey, aged no less than twenty years in an apple wood keg, he had planned to offer it as a prize in a drinking contest at the Adamant Tankard. As he pulled away the cork, breaking the wax seal on one of only two glass bottles he owned, his plan had completely gone from his head.

An aroma of stewed apples and fresh grain would drift from the bottle, the strong scent of hard alcohol cutting through the local air. Chuckling to himself, Einkel would draw forth a set of ceramic cups. Filling both to the brim, he would offer one to his kinsman, as he took in the scent of his own fine work. "[i]Oh cousin,[/i] he began, once more in Dwarven. "[i]I have not had call to drink a bottle this fine in many years. Truly, this day do the Gods smile on me![/i]"