"Dice" Odat said the word quite clearly without the usual slurring, almost as if he had practiced saying it before. "Sommmburdy heeere playyys dice?"he said taking a drink from the flask, not even noticing the taste more foul
If he had been sober, the spell cast upon the flask, mixed with its potency, would have made it vile indeed, but Odat was too drunk to be aware of the fact. At this point the drink would have tasted only as bad as the mold on bread.
"Carrrre furrr a rrounnd er Dice? Yurrr sett [of dice] urr mine?" came his slurred speech, followed by another swig of the potent liquid.
This time the taste was like a combination of spoiled milk, and meat two weeks gone. Odat reacted in curiosity, scrunching up his face and looking inside the flask as if to inspect the alchohol inside. It was only random passes of his unsteady hand that ever allowed him a look inside the flask, and it was a wonder that not a single drop was spilled as the flask changed directions again and again.
It would have been quite amusing to watch as Odat tried to line up the hole in his flask with his eye, while stumbling around worse than ever, in an extreme (even for him) case of unbalance. It was so amusing in fact that several of the children laughed at Odat's improptu performance.
Odat was a little more cautious this time as he tested the flask's contents. He took a small sip, swished it around in his mouth a bit, and then right then, as if just registering the taste on his tongue, the contents of his mouth sprayed out over the forest floor.
Odat immediately went into a frenzy, clawing at his tongue as the full effect of the taste was realized. Dropping the flask on the ground, he pulled up his soil covered trench coat and shoved it into his mouth.
At this point there was only but a few children not laughing histerically at the show.
Still, it wasn't enough to wash the taste from his mouth. He dropped the trench coat from his mouth, and quickly fumbled in his pocket for something. It was a flint striker. A device that would create sparks without the standard skill required of flint and steel. In a moment he breathed in deeply, and bringing the striker to an inch from his mouth, produced a jet of flame, a yard in length and three seconds in duration, from his mouth.
"wow"s and "whoa"s were heard from the children as they watched the brilliant display, and immediately children were surrounding him asking him how he had done that, and could he show them how to do it.
If he had been sober, it might have been a very gratifying moment, but all Odat was really concerned with at that moment was examining the burnt taste in his mouth. After about a second, he seemed satisfied, and finally realized, with a start, that there were children all around him.
Three seconds passed without so much as stepping on a child, and he took a swig of his phantom flask. And, for the second time since leaving Palaten, he realized that he held no flask in his hand at all. Again he inspected his hand to make sure that it was not, in fact, playing a trick on him, and again, he reached inside his trench coat, and pulled out yet another flask.
Unscrewing his cap he lifted the flask to his mouth, and hesitating for just one moment as if almost remembering some distant, unpleasant memory, he took a drink...