Sometimes, you just want to accept that something tastes good without knowing how it was made.
A list of 30 more wines, none of which are vinted by humans, elves, or dwarves.
"One for you," He mumbled, pouring some rum onto his boots, "And a few gulps for me, and we’re off."
He took a large gulp from the bottle, put his boots on, and was out the door in a flash.
Food of the gods.
No nose, hardly any body, a terrible wine, really.
A potent drink gauranteed to turn good folk into depraved and desolate madmen.
Lady Carse of Tekne
I tell you, I get this itch on my lip when I think about Sgriob and the waters of the casks…
Captain Wandren, Ship’s logs
Could come across a band of refugees. Could have been thrown out of their town by a tyrant taking of their land, bought out by somebody unexpectedly, fleeing a battle they know is coming their way. Could be proof of what they are searching for, hints and tips of what is to come, or just to broaden the reality of the world.