Seeing the bizarre voodoo magic man try to pay with pig's teeth was funny enough to break Storm's composure; he pitifully slid a couple of golden crowns down the bar at Douglas, who was desperately trying to pull coins from the hands of the leathery old man. Both the warlock and the barkeep were drawn to the sliding shinies.

"Keep your pants on Douglas, at least he's not trying to pay with a blood tithe." The final word slid from his lips like theeth, which made the wizard question his sobriety in the midst of this whole debacle. Smiling, he added some more sardonic wit. "Getting coins from a shaman is blood from a stone, anyway."

This drew his eyes to his old friend, Shinsou. Now, Shinsou was a ball-breaker and a dear old friend, but within the confines of the Citadel, both knew the ultimate consequences were pretty light. It was a good place for hashing little squabbles.

"Speaking of stone... did the Telgradian bring his own mug, or did you give me the cut-rate glass to pinch pennies?" Pennieth. I've drunken myself into a lisp! His eyes formed into a squint upon the bartender, who rapidly hemmed and hawed over different drinks getting different cups, and wanting the clear glass to keep his cup full.

Frustrated with his own level of inebriation and inability to gather special attention in a room full of other specials, the renowned conflict resolution skills of Storm Veritas were put on full display. He rifled a cashew from the Shaman's bowl, and held it in a pinch of his right hand. Like a skilled athlete, he lobbed the nut in a seemingly slow, deliberate arc across the bar. It splashed triumphantly in Van Osiris's ale, and Storm threw his hands in the air in victory.

"Now none of you are so gods-damned special!"