j"Triboli, Triboli", the voice practically screeched from just outside my quaint camp. Damien, I wonder what drunken stupidity he and his friends had done now. Sighing I set down the flask I had previously been oh so carefully swirling above a small, but carefully made therefore raging hot, fire. God I missed Jouleen, she could have got the potion done half an hour ago. Fire mages truly were a healers best friends, and her case a little more than that I remembered more than somewhat bitterly. I again chided myself for that mess, I'd sworn to never get that -, my thoughts were interrupted by yet another shout of 'Triboli', whoever the fuck that was.

"Damien you impotent excuse for a twit", I swore whilst throwing open the flap of my alchemist tent. The young man in question was standing, or rather half leaning against, a pile of wood just past the deer trail that had now become well worn in by idiots like him. As I stormed closer I could smell the spirits reeking off of the thinly made adventurer, his eyes also showed the clear glassy signs of alcohols minor (at least for now) poisoning of the brain. I stopped a mere foot from his face, I half expected him to recoil knowing the blind rage upon my face, but a mixture of bravado and inebriation kept the tan youth from doing more than donning a dopey frown. "It's Trisoli, Trisoli, with an 'S'. An 'S' like in ssssnake".

Damien simply looked at me, the same mask of stupidity still plastered on his face. "Ohh", he finally slurred with a bout of high proof breathe, "Well Omar needs you Triboli, he says Danicia's hurt.". I inhaled sharply, debating whether I should berate him before or after casting a spell that would give him the worst hangover of his life. I instead dismissed the idea though, even if Omar had been keeping up with Damien today for him to not be able to treat someone meant it was at least moderately serious. That was the main perk of the drunken old fool I thought as I turned and began walking back towards my tent.

"Well are you going to stand there, or get my fucking basket from underneath that willow", I ordered without looking back. Behind me the sound of wood hitting the ground and stumbling footfalls brought me brief joy as I imagined him falling face first into the mud. That joy barely survived to my tent however, when the sound of my precious and precisely made tonics clinking violently together sailed through the air. "And be careful with it you damned idiot", I said before reentering the comfortable embrace of my workshop, cursing under my breathe the entire time.