It was Clemiticuses' opinion that the tavern, aptly named 'The Moist Dragon' was the very best thing that Lobee village had to offer. It smelt as ancient as it looked, with dark stone walls smeared in rich tapestries held up by massive, polished beams and a roof painted in blood red. A roaring fire crackled in the corner and a stone statue of a plump dragon guzzling ale in its centre gave the establishment a warm and welcoming atmosphere.

Clemiticus quickly scanned the tavern when he entered and quickly found a comfy spot to lounge just under the dragon statue. Around him appeared many gawking locals with excited expression smeared on their liquored-up faces. Clemiticus was the first adventurer they all had seen in quite some time, and they were all eager to learn news of the outside world.

Derrick grinned as he asked, "so what will ye’ have to drink then?"

Clemiticus shrugged. He knew he had no gold and silver, or whatever these villagers used as currency, so he had to think of something. He scratched his chin, then smiled wickedly. The evil grin was a so alarming that it caused the closest patrons to shift uneasily in their seats. Suddenly, Clemiticus bolted upright out of his chair and threw his arms up. The middling crowd flinched, waiting expectantly like he was about to cast a spell on the lot of them.

“Greetings one and all! I have the power of knowledge!” Clemiticus shouted as he swept his arms across the crowd. His showmanship was clumsy but somehow believable. “I am the smartest man in the universe. And I can prove it for a drink. You there, Sir! Will You buy me an ale if I can guess your name correctly?"

The man snickered as he dusted off his dirty apron. He looked as if he had just finished his workday and smelled heavily of flour.

"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 guess it right?"

"Well, that is easy. You can have… Um," he said, fondling around in his 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 Wheatley, the town baker!"

The crowd cheered as the baker turned towards the bar with a disappointed grumble.

"Who's next?"

The crowd complied, and many hands shot up into the air.

Clemiticus was laughing so much the entire tavern could see his back teeth. His feet were propped up on a chair, and his hands nursed a crystalline mug of amber spirits. Around him lay six empty jugs of ale and a few dirty plates. After Clemiticus guessed correctly six times in a row, 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 of nowhere 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 followed Clemiticuses’ lead and quickly found himself as drunk as a skunk. At some point, he started an argument with a mop, which devolved into a full-on punching match, leaving the mop in a splintered heap. While the Blue fairy bobbed up and down singing praises of its master and his endless thirst.

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"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 have 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 shouted his thoughts. “I really need the little boys' room!”

It was then his attention was 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 her 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 intoxicated. 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, and she returned a giggle.

At that moment, Melly stormed over and, before Clem could stop her, swiped the fresh drink from his hands. 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 to 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! My bad.”

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 said I could add someone to the party? Like a follower reward thingy."

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

"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 glared at the drunken man and swore.

"So, it's your fault I’m now a character, but you didn’t transform my body," she said, flipping up her shirt to reveal the cog that now snuggly sat in the crook of her navel.

“Epic,” Clemiticus said in awe.

Melly turned red, then hid her new accessory from view. Clemiticus clearly excited about the prospect of another character, staggered backwards and sent a barmaid sprawling in his wake. Melly spun 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."

“You did what?” She sighed and rubbed her temples.

An immense crash echoed from the entrance. A tiny form smashed open the door and bounded on top of a table. A diminutive, 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 by a single cord.

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

Melly felt the pub spiral as she toppled backwards. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of pain as her head smashed the floor and her entire world descended into darkness.