O•NEI•RA•TA•XIA (n.) The Inability To Distinguish Fantasy From Fiction.

It's another dream. Or is it? Your whole life you've had insanely lively dreams, very vivid, but never lucid. They felt like reality, and sometimes you'd even wake up with the scars you had gotten within those dreams.

You're walking through the fantasy world you've already visited often, stopping by a familiar tavern. Everyone looks up at you, some friends, other foes. But the bartender -- an older half orc named Xenos -- smiled at you, sliding you a new brew of his; dragon berry juice, a purplish blue liquid both sweet and spicy at the same time.

"Good to see you back, stranger. Tell me, do you have any news from the outside world? Over here there are just dragon hunters doing what they do best and taking pride in it," Xenos asked curiously, his voice a bit hoarse, though he still had that forever-smile on his face that he was known for.