Clemiticus laughed wholeheartedly. His feet were propped up on a chair, and his hands nursed a crystalline glass of amber spirits. Around him lay six empty jugs of ale and a few bare plates.

The local tavern, aptly named 'The Moist Dragon' had shown the outsider the very best that Lobee village offered. Around him sat many excited patrons gawking at the adventurer in awe. Clemiticus had just finished regaling them with unbelievable tales of his homeland.

Derrick grinned. "This is quite the show."

"Why, thank ye," Clemiticus replied with a cheesy grin.

On arrival, Clemiticus had loudly boasted that he was the most knowledgeable man in the universe. And that he could prove it for a drink. Clemiticus knew he had no gold and silver, or whatever these villagers used as currency. So, he concocted an elaborate scheme.

"You there, Sir! You’ll buy me a glass of ale if I can guess your name!"

The man snickered.

"Stranger. There’s no way you could know my name. For we’ve only just met." The man gave Clemiticus a greedy grin and chuckled. "And what if you can't?"

"Well, that is easy. You can have… Um," he said, fondling around his bottomless pocket.

The patrons gasped in amazement when the stranger pulled out an entire blade from his pants.

"You can have my sword!"

Greedily, the man nodded. "How many guesses?"

Clemiticus shrugged. "I only need one."

They shook hands, and Clemiticus looked above the man's head. There lay the UI information for the villager. "You are Bill, the town baker!"

The crowd that had formed around him cheered as the baker turned to get Clemiticus a drink with a disappointed grumble.

"Who's next?"

The crowd complied with many hands in the air.

After Clemiticus guessed six times out of six, he had enough ale in his belly to satisfy the requirements for his first ever achievement.

Bing!

“Clemiticus has earned the achievement Mild Drunkard.”

Fairy’s arrival had spurred on the astonished crowd.

"Whatever they put in this stuff." Clemiticus whistled. "My compliments to the chef."

By this point, Clemiticus' tavern quest had turned from blurry to full-on hazy. People were encouraged to match the stranger drink for drink. Their town pride wouldn’t go unchallenged. A bard with a lute appeared out from some unknown hidey-hole and started playing. People joined in and the establishment filled with song and dance.

Clemiticus attempted to juggle knives and got one stuck in his foot to the applause of the crowd. Derrick got drunk, then into an argument with a mop and punched it into oblivion. The Blue fairy bobbed up and down singing praises of its master and his endless thirst.

"Clemiticus has learned drunken agility."

"Clemiticus has obtained knowledge, commerce."

"Clemiticus has consumed dishwater."

"Derrick has been added to the party."

"Clemiticus has created the recipe: Chip and Cider Stew."

"Derrick's character creation and customisation has been completed."

After the ninth ale and the fourth spirit, Clemiticus was having the best time.

“I’m having the best time!”

It took a while before Clemiticus realised he was shouting his thoughts. It was then his attention fixated on something peculiar. Through his drunken haze, he found himself absolutely fascinated by a floating object.

A flying crystal chalice hurtled through the air with deadly purpose. Aiming directly towards his head. He could just make out Melly standing beyond the missile. Her hair was damp and face distorted by a murderous snarl as the glass travelled the entire length of the room.

Thwack! Splatter! Crash!

The missile found its target, and the crowd fell silent.

Clemiticus stood stiller than a statue, or at least stiller than a statue that was alive and incredibly drunk. His eyes shifted from Melly to the end of his nose. Bronze liquor poured down his face and over his shirt. The smell was overpowering. It was good stuff.

The crowd in the Moist Dragon stared at the unblinking and unmoving man. Clemiticus rolled his tongue all around his lips, relishing the taste of the sweet liquid. He smiled broadly.

"Thatssh the sshtuff! Anysh shmore where that came from?"

The entire pub erupted with cheers of approval as the patrons of the night raised their glasses, laughing and drinking some more. A Barmaid threaded her way deftly through the crowd and produced another full glass for him. Clemiticus winked at her. She returned a giggle.

At that moment, Melly stormed over and, before he could stop her, swiped the fresh drink. She downed it in one go and smashed the glass on the floor. The server winced but produced yet another glass.

"What on Fanswald have you done with me?" Melly jabbed him in the chest, viciously to emphasise each word.

Clemiticus focused on her, squinting and rocking unsteadily. He looked her up and down, and his eyebrows narrowed. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes from crossing and balance was currently not his strong point.

"You're taller!" He decided and gave her a smile reserved only for the dullest of simpletons.

"And?"

At this, Clemiticus choked a little. "Ah, yes. Um."

Clemiticus fought through the mental fog and dizziness. He then saw the drastic change in her appearance. He smiled. The clothes she had hurriedly put on were fighting a losing battle against physics. Her features, both facial and otherwise, seemed sharper, more honed and beautiful. Her hair was straighter, her eyes shinier, and her face was quite perfect. However, her waist, already quite small, had shrunk further and her hips and bust had undergone an impressive transformation.

"Ummmm." He stumbled. His rather seedy instincts bubbled to the surface. "How you doing?" He gave her a wink.

She slapped him. Hard.

“Ok! Ouch!”

He held out a hand apologetically and attempted to piece the universe together. Was this his fault?

Probably.

He scratched his chin in an excellent imitation of a person who had full control of his faculties.

"Answer me! What have you done?”

"Party," Clemiticus said quickly

"What?" Melly looked around at the myriad of merry faces. "If you don’t want me to hit you again explain!"

"No, no, no," he held up his arms to stall her. "You know how I could add you to the party?"

"Yes," she said through gritted teeth. “Your little blue friend told me, you already have done that.”

"Well, when you first start the game or party thingy." He belched and wiped his lower jaw with the back of his hand. "You get to customise," he said with finger quotations. "Your character. And I'm guessing you got the classic fantasy female build."

Melly looked incredulously at the drunken man in front of her and swore.

"So, it's your fault I changed, but you didn’t choose these." She gestured to her chest in an odd squeezing motion.

"Epic fun bags." Clemiticus opted in.

She punched him in the face. He staggered backwards and sent a barmaid sprawling in his wake. Melly shrugged and turned around, eyeing others in the pub. She frowned and turned back to Clemiticus.

"Where's my father?"

"I don't know. I added him to the party, and he went out for a quick one."

She sighed and was rubbing her temples. Then an immense crash came from the entrance. A tiny form smashed open the door and bounded on top of a table. A red-bearded man, Melly had never seen before, appeared on top of the furniture, and started bounding towards them. The dwarf was wearing a very loose-fitting flannel shirt tied at the waist with a single cord.

"Melly!" the dwarf's oddly familiar voice rang out as he lunged towards her. He couldn't have been much taller than three or four feet.

Melly only had the chance to say, "what?" before the little man pulled her into the kind of enthusiastic and overpowering hug that only a dwarf could muster.

"Melly, my daughter, come drink with us!" the dwarf continued.

"D… Dad?"

The dwarf, who stank like stale ale and woodchips beamed up at her and gave her a nervous hiccup.

Melly felt the pub spiral around her as she toppled over backwards. The last thing she felt was pain in her head as her entire world descended into darkness.