You have started a new hobby, breaking into old mansions and nicking all the shit you can hold. You made a quick buck from doing it.

You found you way to a massive mansion in the middle of a forest that had been burned long ago. There is a large hole burned into the main portion of the building, allowing you to see many valuable things on the ceiling alone. Jackpot.

You clamber up a tree and make a leap for the hole, a stray piece of wood catching your pants leg, causing it to tear. You spin around and collide with the floor, causing it to promptly collapse as dust envelops you like a tornado. You cant see much, but you can sure as hell see a concrete floor beneath you. Youre in a cellar.

After the dust settles, something catches your eye. Its moving. Upon closer inspection, its a man laying on a moist, moldy mattress, a bottle of wine held loosely in his drowsy grip. Between him and a large barrel of alcohol lies a towering mound of green shattered glass and laminated labels. An uncountable number of broken wine bottles.