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
A tribal society which lives on the harsh Northern Plains consider it dishonourable to slay an enemy without looking it full in the face. Any missile weapon is treated with derision and contempt, while rangers and other archers are denied entrance to the tribal villages.