Einkel smiled at the compliment. He had never been one to judge a person by their race, but somehow he always felt more validated by the appraisal of his work from a dwarf. Given how few came through town, such praise was almost as rare a treat as the bottle he was sharing amongst his friends. "[i]Believe it or not, but it is my own brew. Made from grain grown in this very swamp, and aged in barrels crafted by my clan. Standing before you now is the Torunn family brew master; Not that the title has ever done me good.[/i]"

With a laugh, he turned back to look at the bottle. What he was serving was meant to be a sipping whiskey, a rare treat enjoyed tastes at a time. In his excitement, though, he had already poured out fully half of the bottle's contents. Something about seeing that half empty bottle tickled his memory, though his mind seemed too clouded by spirits to quite grasp what was so important. That is, until he finally considered what Bartholomew had said to him.

The contest, of course! This bottle had been meant as a prize. Looking at it now, he realized he could hardly offer it up now. The seal had been broken, and better than half of it was gone. Not to mention, he had yet to serve all those present, a clan tradition he felt important to adhere to. Thinking about it, though he was loathed to admit it, there was only rightly one option left to him now.

Reaching into his pack, he produced the only other glass bottle he owned. Inside, there was a liquid of a deep, vivid green. Turning it in the sunlight, he let the glass catch the rays, and the entire bottle shined like a finely cut emerald. "Thar shay es, Bartholomew! Ah prize worthy o' ah kang's own fortune." He said, his voice wavering a little at the end. This was not what the bottle was meant to be for, but Einkel would rather take off his own arm than betray the trust of a friend.


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