Winter wrote:
>>"Ah, I will confess a slip, an error in judgment perhaps. An Autumn
>>Equinox will do quite nicely. Perhaps, later, I shall bring back some
>>elixir for a tasting or two.”
>
>
> An easy drink. 2 ounces of Port, 1 ounce of Grand Marnier, and 1 ounce of
> amaretto, poured over ice into an Old Fashioned glass. It's an excellent
> "the weather is getting a bit nippy" drink.
>
> I went to scoop up the coins, yet most of them remained anchored to the table,
> as if god's own hand was holding them down. Still, the single coin in my hand
> would pay for a good few rounds.
>
>
>>"I would be Jack, simply Jack for now. Are you the proprietor of this
>>establishment?"
>
>
> "No simple answer to that one. I was just the bartender and general manager
> of the place. Zophiel, the true owner of The House, has been...gone...for
> some time, not sure where. Until he returns, aye, I'm where the buck stops."
>
> I winked, "I'm not a bad sort to work for, though."

A brief chuckle escapes, "Well sir, I’m afraid I am currently under a
contract. I failed to depart with all speed one night too long ago, and
now I have much leisure to repent. I specialize in confidential
inquiries and freelance alchemy. My card."

A snap of the fingers produces a heavy black playing card embossed with
silver. Fluttering to the bar it lands face up with heavy carnival
script proclaiming "Jack De Noir, Superb Elixirs and Subtle
Investigations. All manners of employment Welcomed."

"I ask after the owner, for I have just become one of your best
customers and quite possibly, your worst headache. I do make the attempt
at goodwill, though it rarely carries through."

"You see, for the next score or so of hours, every drink no matter how
strange, costly, or absurd will be paid from these coins. Every hour
that is marked will see an entire coin’s worth ordered and consumed."

Accompanied by a slow headshake, a look of quiet regret steals across
Jack’s face. "At the end of the merriment, a collection will take place.
An object, a life, a talent... Only the fates will know exactly what is
to be collected. And they, as many have said, aren’t telling. I only
hope this isn’t as bad as Psuedopolis," with a brief shudder he
continues," or Dis. That one, I could have done without. Happily. For
the rest of my questionable existence."

He sips his Equinox in an absent-minded manner, caught far from the bar.
Sudden smile breaks through his absorption as the liquor warms his throat.

"Sir, you have my admiration. You have wrought a superb creation here.
Superb indeed."

---

And now we have a game.
Open to all.

-S