By Dr. Michael Alexander

The sign outside the bar said “Cè Liáng Ur Luv UP in This BITCH.” I was intrigued. I did not recognize the last words, probably the local language, certainly not the Common tongue, but “Cè Liáng” is Draconic. I can read Draconic – As a member of the Dragonborn race, I was literally hatched knowing how to speak it, but few humanoid races ever learn it.

I turned to my companion, Inky who rode behind me on my pony, Buttercup. Inky was a forest gnome with whom I had begun sharing my adventures, and was small enough that Buttercup hardly noticed the extra weight. “There is a tavern and I am thirsty. Are you thirsty?”

He said, “No.” Actually, my asking him had been a courtesy. I knew he would say “No.” Inky hates crowds, and will generally avoid taverns. But, by tacit agreement, I would always make the offer to him, and would bring him back food and drink when I was done.

“I’ll go to the library,” he said. Inky liked libraries, he read a lot. Our arrangement meant that he usually learned the local lore and I did the socialization. The two of us were still looking, after all, for companions on our quest to find a way to bring an end to the ever worsening cold, which had been going on for decades now.

We tied up Buttercup, and Inky went to the library while I went to Cè Liáng.

One step inside, and I could see that Cè Liáng was more than just a tavern. It was spacious, with a large number of chairs and tables, and even a stage for entertainers, although it was quiet that night. There were a number of patrons of mixed races, speaking in a variety of different languages (none of which I recognized).

I swaggered into the Cè Liáng. I wanted the crowd to instantly respect and even fear me a little and clearly it was having the desired effect. I went to to a central table and sat down, wanting to look comfortable as I surveyed the room and sized up the clientele. A pretty waitress caught my eye. She had the tell-tale tail of a Tiefling, but when my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized that her make-up wasn’t make-up at all, it was scales. “Part-Dragon or maybe Dragon-born,” I mused. That explains the Draconic name of the place.

I signaled to her, “Your best wine.”

She looked about calmly, grabbed a pitcher and brought it to my table along with a cup. “This is the best we have,” she replied in unaccented Draconic. “These days, the grapes don’t grow, and so what we have is old, but…”

I laughed and took a swallow. It was horrid, more vinegar than wine. I shrugged, and raised my hand over the cup. A little magic and the wine tasted fine. My spells can easily change and improve the taste of any liquid to whatever I want. I can even make water taste like wine. What I can’t do is turn it alcoholic, for that, I needed real wine, even the raw stuff in the pitcher. With a flourish, I put my arm around her waist and sat her in my lap, giving her my cup to drink from. Like any well trained bar wench, she smiled, but struggled just enough to make a game of it, as she sat in my lap. As she tasted the wine in my cup, little flames replaced the pupils in her eyes. (“Thaumaturgy,” I thought, realizing that yes, I was right, her Tiefling ancestry ran true.) I laughed, and she laughed, flirtatiously, while making an effort to get up.

But, across the room, someone was not laughing. A human warrior rushed over to us drew a wavy edged sword and slammed it down hard and flat on the table in a clear threat.

I looked at the wavy blade. “Ah,” I thought to myself, “a challenger. Perhaps someone with enough mettle to be worth recruiting, or perhaps, a mere poser.” A test was in order.

The human said something in the local language (was the barmaid the only one who spoke Common here?), I did not understand a word. But, my Draconic heritage was that of the Sapphire dragons, which means I can form a mental link with anyone and talk regardless of language.

“Try again,” I said, my mind striking his. I added a verbal growl just to add a sense of intimidation.

“She’s MINE!” he mentally yelled. Not “mine” as in “my girlfriend” or “my wife,” but “mine” as in “my property.”

Summoning my magic, I pulled a forked blade out of thin air and stabbed the table. One tine of the fork was on either side of the blade. When the challenger. tried to lift the sword, he found it pinned in place. Nor could he pull it out, since the two forks nestled on either side of the wavy blade, trapping it.

While he was struggling I saw a door open and two figures walked in. One, was Dragonborn, although he had a Tiefling’s tail – probably the barmaid’s kin. His bright and colorful clothes were that of an entertainer, but his stance and cat-like grace betrayed him for a trained soldier. I might have been able to take him in a fight, but given the faded scars on his scales, it was not something I wanted to find out. Beside him stood a half-elf female. She too was dressed like an entertainer, but I noted her blades looked like they were designed for business, and the pouch at her side looked like it might have more than just coins in it. If I had to face both of them, as well as this human, I was going to have to keep my wits about me, and move quickly.

The forked blade had only been a simple magic trick, it was going to fade from existence quickly. I needed to dispatch his fellow rapidly. Again, drawing on my magical trickery, I created and threw a small bubble of oil into the air and spat a fire-bolt igniting it. The oil exploded and burned the human’s face.

Jumping off my lap and helping to tamp down the little flames on the human, the waitress screamed. In that moment, I turned my eyes toward the “entertainers.” Much to my relief, the Dragonborn smiled a satisfied smile, leaned back and waived his hand as if to say, “He’s all yours, Friend.”

I heard the half-elf say to him, in Common “Aren’t you going to do something? After all, you are the bouncer here.”

“Hey, I am off duty, and the Báichī” (“Idiot” in Draconic), “doesn’t seem to be hurting the customers.”

The human looked scared. He was burned and in pain, summoning his courage, though, he pushed the barmaid aside and started to come around the table at me, glaring at me.

He really should have looked where he was going. I reached out with my telekinetic mage hand and pulled a cleaning bucket from the side of the table and put it in front of him. He tripped over it, falling flat on his face. He started to rise – wet, angry, and looking a little foolish, but I grabbed the pitcher from the table and broke it over his head. He went down again and did not get up.

At this point, four humans arose from their seats, drew their daggers, and started over to help him. “So,” I thought, “he has friends, and clearly they do not trust him to be able to defend himself. Four against one! Cowards!” My assailant stayed down. But his friends managed to leap onto a table.

Well, at least that was their plan. Their leaps were good, impressive, even, but while they were in the air, I gave a magical snap of the finger. The resulting thunderclap destroyed the table they were planning to land on, which ruined their landings, and knocked them back besides, leaving all of them lying on the floor, either unconscious or too badly hurt to get up.

What I did not see, behind me, was the fifth friend, who had nocked an arrow and was preparing to shoot me in the back. Three other humans were in the process of drawing their swords, to charge me from behind.

But, these four did not recon with the Dragonborn bouncer and his half-elf friend. In an act of poetic justice, the one who was going to shoot me in the back was, himself, struck down from behind by the half-elf. I am told it was poetry in motion, and I missed it. Oh, well…

At the same time, a loud crash filled the air as the bouncer broke a chair over the head of one of the three humans near him, dropping him to the ground. While the other two turned, surprised, he cuffed one with a solid backhand, and drew in a breath, which would likely have been followed by an exhalation of dragon fire. The two still standing turned and ran.

“Good riddance! And don’t come back!” yelled the bouncer, with a satisfied grin.

Turning I saw what my unexpected allies had done, and I saw them slapping each other on the back in good commraderie. Then, I watched as the half-elf, went to each of the unconscious humans and relieved them of their purses. She went to the barmaid and handed her two of them. “This should pay for the damage to the furniture, and for a round of drinks for the house.”

She and her compatriot gestured me over to an empty table, as the barmaid and several of the other patrons dragged the fallen humans outside.

“My name is Francesca,” she said, distributing the remaining pouches between the three of us.

“And I am Ce Yanzhuang,” said the Dragonborn. “that was my sister you had on your lap,” While he was friendly, I could also hear a protective tone to his voice, warning me that his tolerance might very well have limits. “The ‘gentleman’ who was so rude to you was her good-for-nothing boyfriend, of whom the less said, the better.”

We talked late into the night, forming a fast friendship. I explained my mission to find the source of the winter, which was destroying the land and crops (and the wine, of course), and recruit others to the cause. Eventually, worried about me, Inky came back from the library, and I introduced him to them as well.

Our conversation was only interrupted when one of the patrons ordered another pitcher of wine. I would get up and, with a few magical sprinkles, change the raw wine into something delicious and pleasant. I mused at how Baba, my clan chief, would react when he heard about it. I had established my strength, made allies, which meant that I was not alone, and was now impressing the locals with my generosity in improving their wine. This would make a fine headquarters, and I could now count on the locals to be both afraid and grateful, exactly as Baba has taught me.