195 lines
No EOL
15 KiB
Text
195 lines
No EOL
15 KiB
Text
This gate is a golden ring with a blue magic wall, looking like a slow running waterfall
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On the island:
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https://youtu.be/XO1MC0BS3K4?si=ZZ4U42grIgWaw_Lv
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After meeting Dorrin:
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https://youtu.be/9xeWvFntMcc?si=OgqCsCZTSwpMFxX0
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## As you exit the BLUE gate,
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Your nose is immediately bombarded by the stench of sea salt and your ears are greeted to the sounds of sporadic boat horns. The wooden dock you are now standing on stretches around a small island in a massive square, and the only thing beyond it is endless miles of water.
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Welcome to the **Ocean** demense!
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Despite the lack of overall land, dozens of people are walking about in either normal clothing, sailor uniforms, or fishing gear, all chatting each other up about their catches, gear, or possibly buying & selling both.
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The gate itself is bound to the side of one of the nearby storefronts, and there is a signpost with guiding arrows right at the corner.
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-----
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- *SOUTH SIDE SHOPS*
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- *EAST SIDE DOCKS*
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- *WEST SIDE DOCKS*
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- *NORTH SIDE FISHING*
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- *CENTRAL STORAGE*
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-----
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*SOUTHSIDE SHOPS*
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Most of the ten shops are selling a massive & diverse amount of freshly caught seafood, but a couple are ALSO selling clothing designed for the waters, fishing rods, tackle & bait, magic rings in a blue hue, and even some boat & diving suit rentals.
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*APPROACH*
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The shopkeep, an octopus with a red kerchief on his head and a white poet shirt with a brown velvet vest and a blue nametag reading KLEIN, is currently using his six tentacle arms to handle multiple business transactions at once. "Hm? What can I do ya fer?"
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*DM/REGALIA*
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"Yer lookin fer the Boss? Haven't seen him in a while, but he's around here somewhere. He doesn't leave the demense hardly ever."
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-----
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*EAST & WESTSIDE DOCKS*
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Both sides are identically a massive row of fishing docks. Each boat varies greatly in size from a basic 2 man fishing boat to a massive crew-bearing multi-floor vessel, and each one carries out fish as small as simple trout & as large as swordfish.
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*APPROACH*
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You get the attention of an Osprey woman with her hair bound up under a fisherman's hat in grey waders and a black shirt, her blue nametag reading VICTORIA. She hops off her vessel and lands before you, while the rest of her crew hauls off their half full net. "What's up?"
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*DM/REGALIA*
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"Haven't seen Boss in a bit. Shame that, our catches usually work out alot better when he's around. Oh, hang on a sec."
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She grabs the attention of another fisherman walking by, an angler fish woman in similar garb. She chats them up real quick, and while you don't hear the full context, you DO overhear them speaking about this BOSS person. They wave to each other, and Victoria comes back. "Just checked with a friend from the (east/west) dock, they haven't seen him either. And their catches are starting to suck too."
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-----
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*SHACKS*
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The outermost shacks are just big ice boxes for the peoples' fish, and you spot a few people load one up as you walk by. However, you do see some of them get MUCH bigger and taller as you get closer to the center.
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The shack in the very center is surprisingly large, to the point you could swear it mimicked a two story building. It even has a front door with stairs leading up to it, and a couple windows.
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*KNOCK*
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Upon knocking, the door itself slowly opens, revealing the door wasn't locked OR pulled all the way shut. Either way, noone answers the knock, and you can't hear anyone approaching.
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*INSIDE*
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You see a decent looking fully furnished living space. Wood tables and fabric couches in the living room, burgundy colored painted walls, fully functional kitchen with an extra large fridge, and wood stairs leading up to the next floor.
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(INVESTIGATE ROLL) The place is surprisingly organized, nothing appears damaged or out of the ordinary, but you DO notice everything seems to have several days worth of dust all over it.
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*UPSTAIRS*
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You find a pair of fully furnished bedrooms, one of which is CLEARLY designed to house a girl with darker Gothic tastes, and the other furnished for more of a sharp dressed man. But noone is in either room, and everything has several days worth of dust.
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-----
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*NORTHSIDE FISHERS*
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For the most part, it's just a bunch of guys in basic fishing gear casting their lines from the dock itself instead of a boat. It's also mostly adults, but there ARE some kids fishing using string-on-a-stick fishing poles. There's even a pole sticking out of a huge pile of seaweed in the left corner. The entire right side of the dock starts laughing their asses off, and you can immediately tell it's drunk laughter.
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*APPROACH / ASK FOR DM/REGALIA*
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(RAPPORT ROLL)
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(HIGH ROLL)
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A half-drunk sparrow in a captain's hat says something to the effect of 'if the Boss ain't in his house, he's either out bulking, sulking, or skulking', and all the drunks start laughing like it was the funniest joke they ever heard.
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(LOW ROLL)
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A few drunk men start slurring their words at you. One of them spills their beer all over (roller)'s shoes by accident, and all the drunks start laughing like it was the funniest thing they'd ever seen.
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(INVESTIGATE Roll) You suddenly realize that pile of seaweed in the corner is... moving a little?
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The seaweed begins to shift and fall as a massive finned tail swings out, revealing a bald shark man hiding within. He slowly rises to his feet, looming over your group by a few inches.
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The seaweed slowly slips off his body to reveal he is surprisingly buff, clad in only ocean blue shorts, shredded and tattered below the knees. Aside from the occasional piece of seaweed, the only other thing on him is the string on a stick he is holding, which is actually a large harpoon held upside down.
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*IF ANYONE SAYS ANYTHING*
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He will abruptly cut them off. "I know why you're here. And my answer is no."
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*AFTER ANY RESPONSE*
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"I don't care. Whatever you want is not my concern. Not anymore." He will attempt to walk away, harpoon in hand.
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*IF THEY ASK WHY*
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He sighs and looks to your group, his ocean blue eyes glowing lightly. "You are among the freshest newbies, I assume. Your country sent you here because you were among the best of the best, or something along those lines. The people of these lands are all either the same way or the descendants of those people. And that includes the marauders."
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"Those people, raised from such a 'noble and well educated background,' attempted to take my Regalia by force, exaction, and underhanded tactics. And when they didn't get what they wanted, they took something even more precious from me. They proved the quality of a person is irrelevant to their desperation when it comes to getting what they want."
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He smashes his tail through a nearby plank of dock wood, causing it to shatter immediately. "So forgive me for not being interested in whatever it is you're after. Far as I'm concerned, you are no different than them."
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He abruptly walks away, harpoon in hand, right off the dock and into the water, disappearing from view. Every single person nearby is either frozen in terror, or genuinely upset at what he said. Even the drunks are in stunned silence.
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You hear a voice behind you with a thick West Country English accent. "Don't take it personally lads, he be grievin' somethin' fierce."
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An older otter man, just short of five feet tall in a deep blue peacoat, a white captain's hat, and a blue nametag that says GALLON, stands behind you, waving you down. "Name's Gwalather, but ev'ryone calls me Gallon."
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*IF THEY ASK WHY GALLON*
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"Cuz I can drink anyone under th' table, s'why!" He seems unusually proud of that feat.
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*DONT TAKE IT PERSONALLY?*
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"Best we take this chat elsewhere, follow me."
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He takes you to a good size fishing vessel docked on the (east/west, whichever they did not visit) docks, complete with a second floor and enough standing room for a few dozen people AND their catches, with a sign on the rear naming it 'The Barrel of Forty-Two.'
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*WHY THE BARREL OF 42*
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He laughs heartily. "Because a barrel can hold 42 gallons!"
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He takes you out a good mile from the docks, and hands each of you a fishing rod if you want one.
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(RESOURCES Roll, if they want to actually fish)
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He then flops in the northernmost seat on the boat and casts out his own line expertly. "Ah... nothin' like the deep blue sea, is thar? Just endless ocean, a gull here or there, and the catch of the day waitin' to be caught."
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*WHEN ASKED ABOUT DM*
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Gallon sighs a bit. "Like I said, don't hate the Boss. Dorrin is a prideful lad what had his greatest treasure stolen, something far more valuable than that fancy spear o' his. He lost his daughter ta those lilly-livered fucks."
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"Her name was Vivid of the Crimson Eye. Local legend around here, he adopted her when she was a teen, 'e did. Ye wouldn't think 'im the fatherin' type, but he raised 'er ta be a fine lass. Beautiful too, she turned away many a suitor, fer THAR safety."
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He laughed a bit before he lets out a soft sigh. "Things changed about three months ago. The blasted marauders had just come by and tried to muck up the fishermen, but ol' Dorrin an' Vivid took care of 'em right quick. His power an' brutality was only matched by 'er speed and precision. Truly a tag team from Hell."
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"But after they were sent packin', new ones stepped in and challenged 'im. An' there was somethin' diff'rent about one of 'em, somethin'... wrong. There were only three, but they challenged 'im fer 'is Regalia, 3 on 1."
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"The two he fought first, a lad and a lass, put up a good fight. Zapped 'im, cooked 'im, froze 'im like a fishstick. And he took 'em down. But that last one, he did somethin' most foul.. while Dorrin was busy fightin' 'em, the last one told 'is men to take Vivid hostage."
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"When Dorrin realized she was nabbed, it was all that last one needed to strike. He shot 'im with some strange golden gun. It hit Dorrin hard enough to take 'im down in a cloud o' gold dust. But the thing they never realized was, Dorrin is too tough to die."
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"It was over in a flash, Dorrin had stood back up and had the leader's head in 'is jaw, an' the other two in 'is hands by the throats. And right when 'e was about to eat the bastard's head clean through, helmet an' all, th' bastard surrendered an' broke off the challenge, grabbed his men an' ran away."
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"Noone got a good look at 'em, but I saw that lad's bloodied face through the broken motorbike helmet, got a good look at 'is eye when 'is helmet got crushed against 'is skull. He saw death in those Jaws. An' 'e barely escaped it with his life."
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"Since then, Dorrin's waited ev'ry wakin' moment for em to return, hopin' 'e can grab 'em an' squeeze 'em for any information. But they 'aven't come back since."
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-----
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*WHY NOT GO AFTER HER*
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He turns to the one who asked. "Yer genuinely askin' why a six foot four enraged and grievin' shark man with the powers of the ocean at 'is fingertips doesn't go gallavantin' through the City of Diadem, bellowin' about his lost daughter?"
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"Dorrin's smarter than 'e looks, (lad/lass). He knows if 'e does that an' even ONE person gets scared, he'll incite a riot. It takes all 'is self control not to do just that. An' th' Marauders LIVE ta see th' people mis'rable."
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-----
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"We all feel for th' lad. All 'e wants is to know if his daughter is okay. He believes she is, but ev'ry day that passes without her is another day of misery fer 'im. We've all been lookin' in secret fer 'im, but we can't find a trace."
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(CONTACTS ROLL) You remember you have a shadowy informant on standby that might be able to help. But to summon him, you need a bit of darkness, which the second floor will likely offer.
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*CALL TO STRIKER*
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A series of eight dark legs slowly arise from the shadow and lift a small body from the darkness, a series of eight red eyes staring at your group with glee. "I knew you couldn't stay away forever... to what do I owe the patronage?~"
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*AFTER THEY EXPLAIN*
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"Interesting.. Very well, I'll find your Vivid of the Crimson Eye, but this time it will cost you. Head back to the mainland, I should have something for you by the time you arrive. We can discuss your payment then..." He fades into the shadows of the boat, snickering the whole way.
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*BACK AT THE DOCK*
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When you return, Striker is sitting in the shade of one of the shacks, munching sloppily on a fresh fish carcass. "Mm, delicious.. Oh hello there, welcome back~"
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*IF THEY ASK*
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"OH I found whom you were looking for, and she is very much alive..." An eerie moment of silence befalls the entire island, every person there freezing in place and staring in Striker's direction. Dorrin has appeared behind him.
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"...what? Is there something on my face?" A piece of seaweed falls onto his shoulder, causing him to slowly turn around and gasp strainedly seeing the shark.
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Dorrin is staring down at him with the intensity of a man ready to commit murder. "What... did you... just... say..?"
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Striker turns to him and indignantly replies. "Now see here, fish breath, I will not be intimidated by the likes of HYEARGH!!"
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He is grabbed by the neck and lifted clean off his feet, meeting eye to eye with Dorrin. Striker grabs at Dorrin's arm to try and free himself, but Dorrin leans in close and stares into his eyes intensely. "You stink of Cassius..."
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That makes Striker freeze in place for a moment, before Dorrin drops him onto his ass. He grumbles a bit, and freezes again when Dorrin aims his Harpoon at his throat. "Now speak, insect. What do you know?"
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Striker nervously gulps, and responds, "She's alive, she's alive! My informants spotted someone with Crimson eyes in Diadem a few days ago! She was spotted in the Essentials district!"
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That spear backs away slowly, and Striker sighs in relief, but jumps in place when Dorrin flops on his ass onto the dock, staring into the sky. "I knew it... I knew she was alive..."
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His entire personality shifts significantly, his oddly stoic demeanor softening immediately, and you could almost swear you see a smile on his face & a tear in his eye. He turns to your group. "You have done me a great service. I owe you a debt that will be repaid."
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Striker stands up and flails his arms bit in frustration. "What about me?! I'm the one who got the information! Surely I deserve compensation as well!"
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Dorrin reaches for him, grabs him by the top of the head like he's palming a basketball, and pulls him close. "You may live to see another day, vermin."
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He then accurately throws him backward, Striker screaming the whole time as he flies through the air and falls right through the portal.
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Dorrin finally stands back up, raises his Spear in the air, and speaks in a proud voice, "Today is a glorious day! Vivid of the Crimson Eye still lives!!!"
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Everyone on the wharf island cheers at this news. High fives are being exchanged, instruments are playing, dancing lines are forming, and bottles of booze are appearing out of nowhere.
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"And these are the people whom we have to thank for this information. As repayment, I will accept your challenge, any day, any time. This information is more valuable than any Regalia."
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He pauses and turns away before continuing, "But not today. For the first time in a long time, I am ready to rest."
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He shambles away, but not before being stopped by a random person offering him a bottle of wine. Which he takes and guzzles the entire thing down between here and when he makes it to the front door of (his home in) the center most building in the storage area. |