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In case anyone is wondering; It's absinthe. The bottle is filled with the ol' green fairy!

Considering the plants used to make it, someone like Einkel-who lives out in the sticks and uses wild herbs to make alcohol-would be about the only person in a setting like this who would produce something like that. Not because other people Couldn't make it...

But who besides a bunch of drunken hill-folk would toss a bunch of spices and medical herbs into a pot and try to turn them into booze? Especially ones you can only find growing in the wilds, and only together in a place with geography as messed-up as Swampmucks's.
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. "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."

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.


@Lucius Cypher It's described in the commoner class we're using. There's a link to it in the opening post. Again, too lazy to get it.

Basically, we go through 5(kind of) levels of commoner, gaining small bonuses per level. The bonus for level 5 is you remake the character using the normal rules, with a standard class. If you pick the same starting class as the one you picked for your commoner level 2 ability, you get a bonus starting level. You also get a bonus feat.

I've got no idea how it will all work in practice, but eventually, you should(could) end up with a traditional character. No idea how it's all going to stack with existing traits/abilities/feats/etc. However, given the nature of the game, it's a toss up whether it's going to end up mattering at all.
Part of the commoner class (that we're using) is, eventually, you level up and gain normal class levels. I'm aimed at druid, we also have; a fighter; a barbarian; an artificer; and a wizard.

I'll be damned if I can remember who is who right now, and I'm too lazy to check. Think I got them all, though.
Personally, I'm wondering what class this cheese-mancer is going to be aiming for.
Melech looked around the huge lobby, smiling as he waited for the announcement. It wasn't often he enjoyed working for the Hutts, but this time was special. No one had died for this; no one had shot at him; no one was being blackmailed or exploited; there hadn't even been any major malfunctions during production. He was paid to make something, and he made it. Sure, it was a gambling rig, but compared to the moral standings of other jobs he'd taken, this one was practically charity.

The order was simple and, he had to admit, ingenious. Make a massive dejarik board-one so big, the creatures could all be life size-with detail so precise you could make out the individual scales and hairs. In use, each player would sit in a special section above the main board, able to look down on the action while directing the game from a traditional board, and watch their opponent through a live visual feed. To play, each player had to pony up a massive five thousand credits, with the winner walking away with eight thousand credits as their prize. At face value, it made money honestly and directly; If you win, you walk away with more than you payed-with a nice piece left over for the casino.

The genius, though, was in the viewing area. Anyone in the casino would be able to look down and see the games going on. However, all they would see is markers-little floating medallions with icons to represent the pieces. To see the best part, all the needed was to rent out the special holo-goggles. They were the real secret, and the reason someone like Melech was needed to make the machine. Using special ultra-violet and infrared holograms, Melech created the light weight goggles to allow spectators to view the fully detailed, massive figures on the board in real time. To tie it all together, he added in a custom-made, procedurely generated combat system that allowed the pieces to engage in all-out combat, including taking real battle damaged which remained on every figure through the entire game. All the spectacle of a bloody gladiatory arena, with the strategy and gameplay of dejarik. All you needed to see it was pay the hundred credit rental fee for the goggles.
At a guess? He's speaking in dwarven there-I think-so that would probably be some dwarven holy figure. Not necessarily a religious one, but just one considered to be revered by the dwarven culture at large.
So, I'm not 100% familiar with 5e rules. The group I play 5e with is pretty casual, and for the most part the DM asks us to make roles whenever he feels like it's appropriate. That being the case, I've gotten pretty used to just roleplaying, and not worrying about dice until the DM says something.

Just getting that out there. It's not an excuse, just an explanation for a failing I am aware I possess.


"Clan Torunn, of the local hills. I'm the last of a litter that's since scattered to the wind." He would say in answer to the man, as he poured their drinks. His clan was, to his knowledge, a small one of little note. Being a hill dwarf, and reared by the very person who taught him his trade, Einkel cared very little what his clan's name meant beyond the boarders of his home.

He had not lied when he said it had been some time since he had tasted such a bottle. The flavor and pleasant sting it left behind was as much the joy as he had known it would be, and a fair bit more. Though proud of his product, Einkel always let his drink speak for itself, and was quick to take to his own cup while his new friend enjoyed the aroma and color.

As expected, such sweet nectar quickly drew others to them, or so Einkel would believe. When he turned from his cup and looked up, though, he was pleasantly surprised to spot a pair of familiar faces. "O', ye geh sick o' tha' swill ye shill tah these pour town folk, have ye?" He would exclaim to the large man, a wide grin quickly overtaking what little semblance of a serious expression he could put on. With a laugh, he would hand Bartholomew his own glass, filling it once more. It had become empty faster than he had expected when he drunk from it, but the tipsy dwarf was always happy to share a drink with a friend.

"'Och, tis tha' sweetest bottle I've 'ad in near ah month. Lucky I am, indeed, tah stumble on an occasion tah enjoy such ah trait!" Though he spoke very proper dwarven, Einkel's accent was thicker than most, and tended to get worse when he was drunk. Few people actually realized this, of course, as he was very rarely not drunk. In general, though, he was actually a quiet man. Prone to visual displays to others to carry his meaning. As exampled when he gave a cheerful nod and a wave to Jhank, the local smith. While they weren't exactly close, there were few others he trusted to put an edge to his axe. Most dwarves would, of course, prefer to do such things themselves. However, Einkel's hands were rarely so steady.


So is anyone else joining us, or can I go ahead and post?
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