As you enter the winking mermaid, you are met with the same bar you've known and come to love. Or you enter a bar that you've never seen before, where sailors and bargoers party and have fun. The bar is clean and without that sticky sensation of dried spilled beer under your shoes, either something you love about this bar or something quite different than the bars you're used to.

Something that is different this night, noticeable whether you are a regular or a newcomer, is their special. It's written on the blackboard menu in a large font, it's advertised by the maids as they take your order, it's said by the barman almost every other sentence as he talks to the clientelle. Tonight only, they are offering their beer icy cold for just one copper extra. Certainly a great bargain, for in these medieval times where lukewarm beer is the standard only the much more expensive beer kept in ice-basements can grant such a luxury. Well, except for in the winter when one can just store the beer in the snow outside, of course. But tonight, they are offering a cold refreshment so much cheaper than usual and truly cold as promised.

Business for the winking mermaid is booming tonight, presumably because of their special offer. Half the beers carried around have a layer of condensation on them caused by their cold, and patrons are drinking more and faster. Certainly this action is a successful stunt to get people to drink more, although the mechanisms behind their low prices are a mystery to you. What kind of bar could afford the kind of cryomancy to cool beer for such a low price, when magic spells cost at least several silver pieces?

If you choose to examine the bar and follow the barman and maids with your eyes, the answer eventually becomes apparent to you: they bring beer to a hooded figure sitting in the corner and leave the steins with him. A white and blue tail sticks out from under his hood, and sometimes a white lizard-like snout shows itself from under the hood when the figure looks around the bar. When another beer is brought to him, the figure holds each stein for a while with his hands, which are an unhealthy pale white and seem to have scales to them. After a while, he lets go of the beer stein again and the barman takes it away, the glass now covered in condensation. 

As you examine the figure further, something strikes you as odd: in the rare few moments that he's not holding someone else's beer, he's cradling a beer of his own. His sips are small and slow, a sure sign of someone who cannot afford to buy another drink to those who've been around a bar before. But with so many beers he's cooling, why could this man not afford to drink more himself?

You notice that someone else was as astute as you, and this figure approaches the hooded figure before you can. You cannot overhear their words, but you can tell that the hooded figure speaks your language with some difficulty. He speaks with more slithering in his words than necessary, as if the language isn't meant for creatures with his lips and tongue. Some words you hear, fragments of the conversation. And those words make it clear that the figure isn't too inclined to have a nice conversation with your fellow bargazer. The hooded figure seems reluctant to even do his conversation partner the honour of looking at them, instead continuing to cool drinks while giving only short reluctant replies to their questions. The other eventually gives up and leaves the hooded figure to their solitude.

You too could opt for that, of course, but perhaps you'll be more lucky in your approach? Or you could try asking someone else first, like the bartender. That is, if this mystery interests you at all. Perhaps there's no story to this figure after all.

Gimli was sitting quietly in one of the darker than usual corners of the Tavern, sipping an ice cold beer. This was a rare opportunity for most, and Gimli thought of himself as one of the most, the most average. But he couldn’t be more incorrect. 

Noticing the ice mage lizard thing, he watched it talk and make the beer cold. But it did not get payed, while the barkeep did. Weird. 

Thinking of a way to coerce the lizard-like humanoid ice mage thing to talk, Gimli bought another iced beer. His old one lay half empty on the table where he left it, but he did not care. Gimli then discreetly let a ball of fire come to life, and started to heat up the beer. He took a few small swings of it and declared it too warm. Going up to the barkeep with the beer in hand, he showed the barkeep his beer and demanded a new one. The barkeep, did not know what to do seeing as he had thought that the beer could not be warmed by normal means due to the magic of the the ice mage lizard thing. So he took Gimli over to the wonderful ice machine-lizard. 

Gimli introduced himself, and explained the problem. The lizard ice mage took the beer out of his hands, and started to lightly wrap his hands around the thing. However, he had not covered up the bottom of the beer cup, so Gimli was able to unleash a small ball of fire and to hold it up to the bottom of the cup, so that as soon as it would freeze and condense, the beer would heat up and become disgusting. The lizard, not knowing about the trickery, threw the beer in disdain and pulling the barkeep closer, growled at him to get him a different cup of beer. It claimed the new beer, and steeled itself again to cool it down to an icey temperature. However, before it could start, Gimli raised his hand and grinned. In his palm sat a ball of fire, and it angered the lizard. After a few seconds where no one spoke, not even the loquacious barkeep, the lizard’s facial expression changed from one of utter hatred to one of laughter and merriment. The lizard’s chuckled, and then started to laugh, which  of course unfixed the barkeep to also laugh until one look from the lizard and he scampered off to go and serve his customers. Smiling, Gimli asked for his fellow mage’s name.

(O.O.C: can someone please RP the lizard, or join as yourself?)

Fire magic. Girshu smelled it, and had to control himself from turning around and sending a spike of ice into the pyromancer's skull. He shouldn't do that, he most definately shouldn't. Killing humans in a human city always caused so much fuss. And he had been warming these damnable beers all night now, in exchange for lodging and a meal. If he were to cause a ruckus like that, the barman would throw him out and all his efford would've been in vain. It was just some simple pyromancy after all, a small flame summoned by one of these chaotic mages who didn't have the discipline for the much better and more controlled frost arts. Humans, they were like children. Annoying brats, that is.

Girshu wrapped his hands around another one of the beer mugs. It wasn't actually frost magic he was using, he wouldn't waste his magic on such a lowly task. No, it was a simple biological feature combined with thermodynamics. His blood was -40 degrees celsius, and even his skin was around -20. He just needed to touch the glasses until they cooled to roughly 0-5 degrees and they'd be cold to these people.

A few minutes later though, it seemed like the self-control he had imposed upon himself to deal with the pyromancer was in vain. The barkeeper approached Girshu and brought the man along, claiming that the beer had suddenly turned warm again. Girshu wanted to scold the fool, the barkeeper thought that his cooled beer couldn't heat up for some reason, rather than comprehending that people drank the cold beer too quickly for it to get luke-warm again. No, such permanently cold beer would be indefinately more expensive, lined with nevermelting ice or served in blue ice mugs.

But his real loathing was aimed at the elf who was challenging him, the elf and his fire magic. Girshu could smell the sulfur on this man's skin. Very subtle, inperceivably faint to humans and even elves, but Girshu could smell from the man's hands that pyromancy was not alien to him. Yes, his kind could distinct these terrible madmen from their already chaotic kind from smell alone, and normally the elf would've already been dead by his feet for it. But now, but here, that was not an option. Too many people, too many heroes.

So, as the elf introduced himself as "Gimli" and pretended that he didn't know exactly why his beer had grown lukewarm, Girshu sized the elf up and grabbed the beer that the barkeeper was holding. He wrapped his hands around it and made it cool again. A small fire burned underneath the cup, the heat intense enough that even a normal person would notice the agonising sensation, but Girshu pretended not to notice. You know, even if the light and noise that the fire produced wouldn't have tipped anyone off. The elf was testing his patience, testing it really hard. But he was keeping it hidden just a bit too well, just enough to make Girshu look like the bad guy if he were to rip this man's throat out.

As the glass started to crack from the intense difference between hot and cold, Girshu placed the mug on the bar before it would shatter and cut his hands. Grabbing the barman's collar and pulling him closer, he whispered to the man that this elf was a pyromancer and that he best resolve the issue or evacuate the bar. Because if he wouldn't do the former, Girshu would make sure that everyone would strive for the latter. The man grew almost as pale as Girshu and nodded, quickly walking away.

The barman soon returned with a new mug of ale for Girshu to cool. It didn't seem like this Gimli fellow was continuing the sherade though, not surprising considering the impulsive nature of these pyromancers. Instead, he held up his hand and openly showed a fireball hovering inside it. Girshu had to control himself once again upon seeing the man so carelessly using his fire magic, his aura of cold grew more frigid and the hatred was clear on his face, but then he had an idea. A wolfish grin appeared on his face, his long teeth exposed as if he were a demon wolf pretending to be nice, and then imitated the laughter-thing that humans did to show amusement. If this pyromancer was so impulsive, he probably wouldn't even question Girshu's quick turnaround.

Girshu's expectations were correct, as the elf didn't seem suspicious at all when he asked for his name. Girshu gave his, and then asked the bartender to bring Gimli a cold beer to replace the one that his fire magic must've accidentally heated up. Girshu would make sure it was extra cold this time, so it wouldn't happen again.

Yes, extra cold. As Girshu wrapped his hands around the ale this time, he used his cryomancy. Small snowflakes started to form inside the liquid, too small to see unless you held the glass really close, but they were most definately there. Oh yes, Gimli would notice them, he would be well aware of them when he took his first sip. These razor snowflakes with their hardened sharp edges wouldn't just cut into his skin like usual when people touch or walk through it, no sir. When someone would drink it, a thousand little cuts would shed open their throat and the victim would literally drown in their own blood as their lungs would fill up. An extremely messy, painful and satisfying death. Well, satisfying for Girshu.

Girshu continues to smile his big tooty grin and slides the ale to his new bestest friend Gimli. Taking his own beer, he held it up for them to take the first big sip together.

Cheerss.

Smugly grasping the beer, Gimli almost dropped it  out of sheer numbness. Girshu has used some frost magick and the cup itself was freezing as compared to the normal icey beers that Gimli had been given. 

Watching Girshu state: ‘Cheers’, Gimli did not immediately reply.  Something was off, because not only was this the first usage of frost magick in front of him today, but Girshu has also hidden his anger a bit too well.

So, on impulse, Gimli used his own magick. Not fire magick, but a bit of shadow. Drawing in the shadows from the corners and from under the tables, Gimli was able to create the illusion that he had taken a nice big swig of beer. “Ahh, good stuff, iced beer is…” Gimli said and smacked his lips together to show his approval of the beverage. During all of this Girshu has been watching him take his “sip” and Gimli quickly decided to return the favor.

Gathering a ball of magical ice into his hand, he stopped Girshu from drinking and loaded his beer with the ice. “If I’m going to enjoy an iced beer then so are you!” He said with a grin. 

“Enjoy…”

Girshu looked as Gimli took his sip, something that neither resulted in the anticipated painful death nor seemed to decrease the amount of alcohol in the glass. Seems like the pyromancer was faking to drink. Did he notice, perhaps? Girshu had kinda hoped he would already be dying by the time he did.

The pyromancer then neared Girshu and completely invaded his private space, only to suggest that Girshu's beer wasn't already cold. Magical ice appeared in the man's hand, causing the beer to freeze up at the top and create chunks of ice. Girshu frowned and looked at Gimli, who had just made his ale undrinkable. Well, as unpracticed as the man might be at it, at least it was cryomancy.

Girshu sighed. "You'll have to control your magics for thesse more delicate matterss. It'ss not like killing, where there'ss no ssuch thing ass overkill."

"Or, you have to work with some stronger stuff." Girshu says as he takes a canteen from his cloak, weaves a hole into his icy beer and pours a bit of the contents in. He then placed it on the counter and took a sip from his drink. "That will keep it from freezing over, unless you intend to make your beer so cold it will kill you upon contact."