Obviously Fafnir had never heard of drinks for the undead. You learn what they like pretty quickly after having to work in a crypt bar for 2 years. I needed the money though. The undeaad were'nt much for conversation apart from this floating skull here. He never seemed to shut up!

I dusted myself off from Glancealot's massive belch which had incedentally scorched the ceiling and re-filled his mug which he impatiently rapped on the bar.

How that dragon managed to fit on that barstool I have no idea...

" Road rage, air rage. Why should I be forced to divide my rage into seperate categories? To me, it's just one big, all-around, everyday rage. I don't have time for distinctions. I'm too busy screaming at people. " -George Carlin