He had that air of a deluded self-confidence that new adventurers who had just succeeded at some mission. Certainly the small goblin skull hanging from his belt, dripping blood on the tavern floor, pointed to his victory.
"Barkeep! Your strongest drink to celebrate a glorious victory!"
The barkeep shrugged and after a moment placed a granite mug filled with magically stabilised molten slag.
"... The fuck is this?"
"My strongest drink. Iron Spider Cocktail. Popular with Trolls."
"... Fine, the strongest drink a human can drink."
"Oh, sure, Elven Sunrise, coming up."
Afterwards, the adventurer realised he should have also specified enjoyability.
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