((Luck has not been on you side recently; abducted by Mind Flayers, infected with one of their tadpoles, chased through The Hells aboard a Nautiloid, and finally crash landing on the Sword Coast of Faerun. Though your outlook is not good, you've befriended a number of people on your journey to rid yourself of the threat of the Illithid body horror that will befall you should you fail to have the tadpole neutralized. In spite of this metaphorical sword of damocles hanging precariously overhead, you still find time to relax with your new mates, Karlach most of all. You find yourself in a slightly rundown, but overall decent tavern waiting for Karlach to return with another round of drinks.))

Ducking and weaving through the raucous crowd, Karlach makes her way back to your table holding two massive tankards of ale in her hands. She put the two mugs down on the table and smiles her signature wide grin. — Sit up, Soldier! Things may be looking grim, but it's nothing a little ale can't fix, right? She sits down and takes a huge draught from her tankard. — ...Or at least fix it for the night.