1-22 “Case Closed”

Stanton is dangling over a tree branch near the edge of the clearing. Did that gemtree mange to throw him over here? I spot his bow and a crumpled piece of iron a small ways away. I alert the rest of the group to his presence, as I go to pick them up. Looks like this used to be a helmet, and whatever crushed it also tore the chin strap.

Lady Isabella uses a spell to pick him off of the branch and gently lay him down on the ground. Lord Carlmon and Lady Celano examine him, he's still breathing. Large gashes on his forehead and cheek indicate he must have struck his head at some point, and his hardened leather jerkin is heavily scraped along his midsection. Both nobles channel healing magic, no scar is left behind. Stanton opens his eyes with a start.

“Look out for the thorns!”

He looks around a bit, rubs his head. “Where's my helmet? How long have I been out?”

“If you left yesterday, you've been out for a night. You'll need a new helmet, because this one is more of a plate now.”

I hold up the helmet that could still be used if your head was a sheet of paper.

“You managed not to land on your bow this time. Looks like it's learned how to get out of the way better than you have.”

I toss him his bow.

“Nivar, did they send you to look for me?”

“No, spent a while investigating. The Lords and Ladies showed up and let me know that leaving a piece of that thing in a tree was a bad move.”

“I dunno, looks like it made for a great fertilizer.”

“We came here, but had to rest for the night, we thought the thing would emit darkness like all of the other ones.”

“I had it covered, no need to hurry, huh?”

He looks around at the group, and must recognize them. He salutes as he slowly gets to his feet. He sees past the Lords and Ladies and looks somewhat confused.

“Why are all the trees knocked down?”

Lord Hawkins fills him in on the battle.

“Guess this standard issue stuff doesn't measure up to your armor at all.” Stanton looks down at his damaged jerkin. “For us it wasn't as big as when you got here. We took a look at it, I saw it start to move. It tossed Watchman Andrew into a tree nearby, I saw thorns forming above us. That's all I remember.” Sudden concern hits his face. “Did you find Watchmen Andrew or Gerald? They came here with me.”

“Guess we should go look for them.” Lord McGee is also skilled at tracking, and coordinates a search of the area for signs of the other two watchmen.

We find tracks of someone dragging something leading northward. Following them to the road, we find an activated light rod stuck into a tree. It's a watchman's signal, we're supposed to jam a light rod into the corner of a building if we go into an alleyway alone to follow someone suspicious. This lets other watchmen follow or report on the signal.

It's been here for hours, so it's almost gone out entirely. If he was heading to the city to get reinforcements, a watchman would have left this here to mark where to turn south off of the road. I remove it, we'll run into anyone sent looking for it on the way back to the city.

We find a large contingent of the castle's soldiery halfway back. They were deployed to deal with the threat. Lord Hawkins explains the situation to them, and we learn that both Watchmen Andrew and Gerald made it back alive. They weren't doing very well though. Andrew was unconscious and Gerald was stubbornly dragging him along even though his leg was broken. I'm sure that mobilization scared all of the bandits back into their holes for the day.

The lot of us make it back, The men and I take our leave of the Lords and Ladies and head back to the guard house to file our reports. I find myself glad that, if there aren't charges being placed, and no one gets killed, reports only need to be a list of items lost or spent. I unfortunately remember the bandits we had to kill yesterday, and end up writing out a full report.

I turn in the account of what happened over the last two days to Assistant Commander Staghorn, who gives me the rest of the day off for my effort and overtime. I thank him, and leave the guard house. Just as I'm leaving, I hear Stanton.

“Hold up, Nivar!” He runs out the door to catch up with me. “I'd like you to have this, as thanks for saving me out there, and finding me someone that could fix this old bow up good as new.”

He presses a long dagger in a finely made sheath into my hands. The pommel has a small emerald embedded in it.

“It's grade two enchanted, and further enchanted against plants. I'd been using it to clear paths for myself through brush. That bow is really important to me, so take it.”

“You don't...”

“I'm not taking it back!”

He runs back into the guard house with a wave before I can protest further. Something even grade one enchanted is very expensive. I draw the blade, finely honed and engraved with a vine pattern. I guess I'll replace my belt knife with this when I get home. It's such a nice gift, I should at least use it.

The trip home is peaceful, I pick up a fresh loaf of bread and some honey.

1-10 “Ziegfried”

We get through the city quickly, even though Stanton still seems to be having trouble keeping a good pace.

The Temple of the sun is relatively unchanged from when the city was just a village, it just looks like a larger version of the small church it used to be. It's a simple enough building, several rows of seating laid out in front of an altar and around a pillar in the center of the room. The roof is a glass pavilion over the main room, and the placement of the pillar's shadow cast from the sunlight above is a good way to tell the time. A small donation box sits by the door, it doesn't have a lock.

People come and go regularly. Its a fair bit after noon now, though, so the place is probably empty except for Ziegfried. Common times of worship are Sunrise Sunset and Zenith. Sure enough, as we head in the place is empty. Ziegfried pops out of a room in the back upon hearing the door open and close.

He's an older gentleman, neatly trimmed white beard and hair. White robes displaying the signature orange and yellow sun knot. He is a man that enjoys simplicity, I've heard that many of the priests in larger cities use gold instead of plain colors. He see's Stanton behind me and his face changes from kindly welcoming to concerned, he knows the only reason I come here with other people.

“Greetings, do you have time to care for two watchmen injured in the line of duty?”

“Come forward, Nivar, and who is this you have brought with you?” Ziegrfied waves us over toward the altar.

“This is tracker Stanton.”

“Ah, it is a pleasure to meet you,” Ziegfried makes a hand gesture, one of many I've seen him use in greeting to another. I've asked him what they meant, but I can't manage to remember all that he said.

Stanton looks somewhat uncomfortable. Perhaps he's had a bad encounter with clergy in others towns. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

If Ziegfried noticed it, he leaves the subject be, “What has happened?”

I give him a quick description of the creature we fought, and the unusual pain lingering in my arm. Stanton describes his lasting fatigue and disorientation. He has us take off our upper armor to get a look at the wounds. He chants something, and places his hand over each in turn. Each pass his hand glows softly. “It looks like these will take a bit more power,” He grabs a silver sun knot off of the altar and holds it close to his face as he chants once again, this time louder and more rhythmically. His hand grows bright as he places it over the cut on my arm and then the graze on my shoulder. The cut closes and the pain subsides. Soon, there is nothing left to even show that I had been injured in the first place. “I don't know what those teeth had on them, but they caused some sort of residual corruption. That wasn't a clean wound.” He turns to Stanton, “I suppose I should ask you, do you want a scar or would you like it healed properly?”

He'd taken to asking this almost as a joke ever since one of the men had been disappointed that he had nothing to show off after being healed. It, surprisingly, actually seems to take more work for him to heal in a way that leaves one. He knows I don't want them, they worry my wife.

“Whichever is easier for you, I suppose,” Stanton may have just taken the record for most apathetic look.

“You should lay down, healing the wound should be easy enough, but the thing took some of your very life force, not much though. I think I can fix you up quickly enough. The restoration ritual takes a little while, less, if you hold still.”

Stanton rests on one of the long seats while Ziegfried tends to him. I go and drop what spare money I have on me in the donation box. After some time, much more than a little while, Ziegfried is done. Stanton gets up and looks much better off.

“Also, while we were fighting my bow was broken, do you think you could repair it as well as you repaired us?” Stanton doesn't look hopeful, and holds the two sections of his bow out.

“Certainly, that won't be hard. Just press the broken ends together.”

Stanton does, looking skeptical, and Ziegfried chants something different. I haven't come here for worship much, but I have heard almost all of his healing chants before, or at least I've heard a lot of them. A glow surrounds the bow, and when he stops chanting, it looks even better than it did before. Stanton bends it and strings it. He pulls at the string and his face shows how happy he is. He hugs the old man, “Thank you!”

“You're welcome, I enjoy helping those that help keep the city safe. Please though, don't go telling everyone what I did here. I do better work in a small city than I would if I was pulled off to the capital to be a high priest. May the sun light your way.”

As we leave, Stanton drops what must have been all the money on him into the donation box. As we walk towards the guard house he can't stop talking about how the old man isn't like any of the other priests he had run into in the cities he'd been in before. From the way he talks it would seem that he's had enough preaching for a lifetime, and all he was expecting was a long sermon.

To change the subject while out in public, I remind him that we still have a case to work on and that we still don't know what that thing was or here it came from. We'll have to ask the commander or assistant commander what to do next.

1-9 “Enforcement”

“Halt, drop your weapons! You are under arrest. Resist, and I will use force!”

Who am I fooling? All five of us know that this situation is going to turn out violently. Surprised it made them stop a beat before charging, though. Stanton had better reload fast, I don't like three on one odds.

They prove that their skills are as shoddy as their equipment, charging even though there is a fair amount of brush between us and I have a weapon with more reach. I'd go for non-lethal blows, but I'm not in condition to hold back against multiple people that are clearly going to try their best, as poor as that may be, to kill me.

I thrust the tip of my halberd into the chest of the guy on the right and pace backwards to keep distance as the other two vault the bush. I trip one with a sweep of my weapon. I'm slow to bring it back up to defend with this arm wound, but the other bandit catches a crossbow bolt to the neck as he closes on me. He falls and blood begins to pool around him quickly, must've hit an artery. The guy on the ground tries to get up, but I kick him over. I keep him at the tip of my halberd.

“I repeat, you are under arrest. Resist, and I will use force.”

For emphasis I poke him in the collarbone. Must be greener than green, he faints. Stanton walks over while I pull shackles out from my bag.

“Thanks for the save, I think we should tie this guy to a tree by the road for a patrol to find. We are in a bit of a hurry. I'd drag him along if we weren't. Check the guy I stabbed.”

I bind the guys arms behind his back, It'll be a pain to drag him all the way to the road, especially if he wakes up and is uncooperative. Stanton, checks on the first two that got dropped.

“First guy I shot is dead, got a clean shot right into his temple. The other is also dead. The one you stabbed is still alive but is probably going to bleed out before we even hit the road.”

He looks as bad a Stanton says, there wouldn't be any point in dragging him along too.

“Help me carry this one, then. We'll leave a note telling the patrol where to find these bodies.”

We heft the survivor between us and head for the road. We get there without any further issue. I tie him to the side of a tree and secure his legs while I'm at it. He won't be going anywhere without help, and those manacles will be near impossible to get of without the right key, or losing a hand. A patrol passes us as we head along the path back to town. I tell them what to expect down the road. They'll take care of that one.

The remainder of the trip is uneventful, we're back.

1-8 “Way Back”

The path back should be faster than the circuitous trail we had to follow to get this far. It's a straight line north to a road that leads back to town. Following the road should be safe and quick. I doubt any bandits would attacks us on the road. In the woods, though, they wouldn't have to worry about our patrols coming upon them.

It's stopped raining. How did I miss that? The sun is shining brightly. The leaves above us keep the area shady. Perhaps that's what caused the darkness to dissipate before. The mud is still going to slow us down though, and make us easy to track if anyone would want to...

Halfway to the road. Stanton can walk on his own without stumbling now. I hope he can fight. I think I hear a group that could be trouble up ahead. I stow my halberd in my magical bag to keep a lower profile, “Should we go around and hope they aren't going the same way, or should we check them out and try to avoid them after observing for a while?”

We both stop walking, Stanton closes his eyes and turns towards the sound of voices ahead, probably focusing on the sound, “ I think it's a small group. If I weren't feeling so out of it here I'd go check if they were thugs, and then I'd either go around them opposite of the direction they were going or try to make an arrest, depending on group size. Can you sneak up to them do you think or should we trust to luck that they aren't coming towards us or going the same way we choose to?”

“I think I could. Take this and stay close enough to track me, but still be out of sight,” I hand him the crossbow from my magical bag, and my beltbox of bolts. I hope he can still pull the string back with that shoulder wound.

“Right, this looks like a fairly good one, this isn't standard is it?”

“No, it's a hand me down from my father's mercenary days. 'Always keep a ranged weapon on you, you never know when one will save your life,' he would say. How about yours?”

He doesn't respond, I think that subject might be a bit touchy from the look on his face, best leave that until after it's fixed. He draws the string with little trouble. How strong is that bow he's been using? He does fumble with the beltbox a little though, probably used to a quiver.

How has it never occurred to me to just pull each bolt out of my magic bag individually before? FOCUS!

I move ahead. Its hard to keep silent in the muddy ground, but I manage not to raise any obvious suspicion as I creep forward. I can hear them clearly, at least two men talking, they're frustrated by our erratic patrol schedule. Probably at least four from the sound of footsteps, they aren't cautious at all right now. Keeping low, I peek around a thick bush.

Three men, poorly armed. Patchwork leather armor slightly modified to keep brush stuck to it for camouflage. I definitely heard enough footsteps for four before.

The familiar crack of my crossbow being fired, a yell of pain, and a body falls behind me. Knife out, he must have heard me, and decided to check it out silently.

“That came from over there!”

“Sounded like Kestral yelling.”

Good shot from Stanton at least, looks like a fight is inevitable now, though. I pull out my halberd and stand to face them.

1-7 “Condition”

There he is, still stuck. His eyes can move at least, and he's breathing shallowly. He's covered in some sort of slime, I start using what water I have left in my waterskin to wash it off, I can't imagine that stuff is healthy for him. “Stanton, can you fight this? It's some sort of magic,” I end up using his waterskin to wash even more of this goo off before he can move enough to reply, the goo must help keep you paralyzed while it digests, or whatever it does after eating you.

“The hell was that? I felt like I was being drained away, losing track of myself amidst the thoughts of animals. How long was I in there?” I already expected that the amalgam had eaten the other animal and absorbed them somehow, Stanton's statement was just a confirmation.

“Only a few seconds I think I got to you before a minute had passed. Can you walk?” His shoulder wound is pretty nasty, pierced right through and out the other side. It can't be good if any more goo gets into it, either. I bust a Staunch stick over it. It starts to mend enough to keep it clean until we can see a real healer. Would be a good idea for me to tear a piece of cloth to bandage my lower arm where the tooth cut me.

“Gimme a sec,” I help him to his feet. He seems a bit unsteady, so I stay close to him so he can catch his balance on me, if he stumbles. He stretches a little “Ow, I think I must've cracked a rib or two when it hit me, but I think I can manage.”

“I think it's dead. What should we do with the corpse?” Almost an afterthought. I don't think I could leave Stanton here alone, not in his current condition, so it's rather obvious that we have to get back and healed first anyway.

“Better question, where's my bow?” He dropped it when the thing smashed into him. I pick it up for him, its snapped in two. He starts swearing loudly.

I interrupt, “I think it could be fixed by the priest in the temple of The Sun. We should head there anyway, he's the best healer I know of.”

“But, the clergy always charge so much in 'tithes' or 'alms' when you ask them to do something like that.”

“Not this one. Just don't go telling everyone how good he is, he doesn't seem to want the rest of his order to know about his ability.”

He looks confused. I don't blame him, Old Ziegfried might be the towns best kept secret. He's been in town since before it started to grow. He always patches up the watchmen who come to him for on duty injuries, free of charge. Though he has you promise not to let anyone in on the secret unless they are going to need his services in the immediate future. I'd brought one guy to him who's arm had nearly been torn off during a fight with one of the thugs hired by the newer crime syndicates. It was sore for week but it was fixed. He doesn't even point it out ever; no 'I need to eat so a small donation would be appreciated.' (Which might be why he gets so many in the first place.)

“After we get patched up, I think I would like to pay the Averdines a visit with a few men and make sure they aren't responsible for this.”

Really, I just hope we can get to town without issue.

1-6 “Slayer”

It rushes at me. Focusing on the pain and my duty to save Stanton, I throw myself to the side. It misses me and continues into a tree. Considering that tongue, I decide the reach of a halberd isn't better than the protection of a shield. I drop the halberd and pull my shield out of my bag, it's already properly equipped as I withdraw my arm.

How does this bag do that? FOCUS!

I draw my shortsword as the beast turns back towards me. One of its antlers must have stuck in the trees, part of it is broken off now. The light sticks are dying strangely early, but for some reason the level of light in the area is increasing, maybe it's had its fill of light and can't eat anymore. I can see more clearly, the joints, and the stomach bulge look more organic. I will focus my swings there.

The amalgam fires its tongue at me once again, I feel the punch of it on my shield, the tongue is deflected. I rush forward and to the side as it snaps at me. First things first, I swipe my sword along its flank. The blade cuts cleanly through. Stanton flops unceremoniously to the ground, still stuck in that position. The thing motions with its head as if howling in pain.

The amalgam kicks back at me with a clawed hoof. I deflect the shot with my shield, my arm wound doesn't appreciate it, and thrust my sword into the thing's knee, crippling blows for against the larger opponent. It staggers as it kicks out with the other rear leg. Again, I catch the shot on my shield. This time, though, the shot is centered and knocks me down, my shoulder flares in pain.

It turns around as I try to get up. I think I tore that arm wound further. I can't put my weight on it, thank the gods it's my off hand. It tries to bite. I shove my shield into its mouth as I pull my arm out of it. OW! I am caught by one of the teeth on my way back, at least it has helped pull me back to my feet.

It tries to shake my shield out of its mouth. I bring my sword down into the top of its neck. It starts seizing, and falls to the side. I go back to my halberd, pick it up and use it to decapitate the beast, no sense being close enough to get knocked out by a random spasm. The spasms stop. That was a mistake, ow, should've used a staunch stick on the wound on my arm first. Actually, should've used a staunch stick on that before fighting further.

Staunch sticks, every watchman is supposed to keep two on him at all times. These things are very nice, you crack one over a wound and it stops the bleeding and helps prevent further degradation. You still need to find a healer or medic to treat it properly, but at least it stops you from bleeding out or, in my case, tearing a wound further. I apply one to the gash on my upper arm that I foolishly tore further already. I should make sure I don't need to use one on Stanton before healing the cut I got from its tooth, they aren't standard issue for trackers.

I move to check on Stanton.

1-5 “Thing”

I reflexively activate and toss one of my standard issue light rods to the middle of the clearing. Usually more effective than a torch, it isn't much help here. I still can't quite make out this things shape in the shadows. It's currently looming over Tracker Stanton, and I'm not about to lose a man to my own uncertainty.

Charging, I bring my halberd forward and down onto the things back. No sound other than the crack of metal on soft rock. I only feel the hide, or whatever this thing is covered in, give way a little. I cant even try to tackle something this big off of someone, its easily bigger than a full grown bull.

“Come on! Off him! Pay attention to me!” I hear a gasp from Stanton. The thing is ignoring me, so I drop another Light rod after a second ineffectual swing. I can see it now, though the darkness lingers, it almost looks as if a sculptor couldn't decide what animal he wanted to carve. Before me stands a translucent crystalline being that looks like a mix of animals. I can see the light being drawn towards and into this thing.

Everything that I see mixed here is native to the region, or one of the missing animals. Deer antlers, a wolfish mouth, bovine legs, a real amalgamation of parts. Are those tiny little chicken wings, I see?

Now that I see a head to attack, I take a swing. Stanton seems to have been stunned by its tackle, only now reaching for his weapon. At this first sign of movement the creature opens its mouth and fires a 'tongue' at him, piercing his shoulder. Stanton freezes, he doesn't go limp, he doesn't yell, he just freezes. I'd cut the tongue off, but I would need to swing so hard I might hit Stanton underneath.

I get a swing into a soft spot, at least this thing has some. It pays me back by jabbing at me with those antlers. I'm slow to duck to the side, and it tosses me several feet back. I get up in time to see it open its mouth impossibly wide and swallow Stanton whole.

When I was young, my father once took me to see the ocean. We went fishing and caught a jellyfish that had caught a smaller fish. I had never thought about what that fish must've been going through until I saw Stanton inside that Creature, its 'stomach' distending with the frozen prey inside.

It turns to me. Its tongue flashes out again. I sidestep, but it still grazes my arm, cutting right through the leather protecting it. I feel it, something trying to wrest my body from my control, keep me still.

This isn't poison, it's magic, I can fight back against that.

1-4 “Trail”

Stanton and I make our way back to the west edge of town and to the edge of Old Man Winterleaf's farm. We talk a bit along the way. I find we don't have much in common, he likes to drink when off duty and wander about watching the street performers that have been increasing in number since the city started flourishing. He has no immediate family, and lives at the barracks. He moved in with the rest of the watchmen and soldiers that were sent here when the city started to really expand.

We do share a love of cards and various forms of solitaire. I show him my deck that's enchanted to float in place for play away from a table, I keep it for when I'm stuck at a post in the quiet parts of town. It cost a bit much but I feel it was worth it. He asks where he could get one.

We arrive at the broken fence. Old Man Winterleaf is working at repairing it.

Stanton stops a few feet past the fence, alongside the tracks. “You were right, these are strange. I don't know what it might be.”

“So, no idea what left them? Should we call for a third, perhaps one of the nearby patrolmen?”

“It doesn't look like it's too big for two men to deal with, though. I think we can manage.”

We head along the trail, I was right it leads past the road. Stanton doesn't think the thing is smart or it would have walked along the cobblestone road a ways to cover its tracks. It starts to rain and Stanton has to slow down and keep a close eye on the ground to keep the trail.

“We're not very far from the goblin village, should we go that way and see if they have any information?”

“No, I don't want to lose this trail to the rain. If we don't find it and lose the trail, that might be a good idea, assuming we can trust anything those little buggers have to say.”

“That's odd. . .” Stanton stops. This area has been cleared a bit. A sort of nest sits in the middle, it looks somewhat crushed. “Whatever was last in this nest was too big for it, and the trail past here is fresh. It's easy to follow through the mud.”

“So it left recently?”

“Yeah, and quickly, too. No sign of dragging after it stopped here, and its strides are longer. Might've heard us coming and run off. We should be extra care. . .”

His word are cut off as a blur of movement slams into him from the hedges nearby, the area nearby grows dark.

1-3 “HQ”

“Watchman Nivar, strange to see you back at this hour, what do you need?”

I salute Assistant Commander Staghorn before responding.

“Sir, I finally have a lead on all of those missing animals. There's a trail this time, but the rain is rolling in. Are any of the trackers available?” I say any, though I'd rather not have to work with Tracker Percival. That guy is really annoying, even if he is a good tracker.

“Really now? That's some good news, not enough of that around here lately.” He won't say it but I know what he's referring to. The city finally got large enough to draw the interest of organized crime, caught someone trying to sell blue-powder in the alleyways a few days ago. “I think Tracker Stanton is in the yard shooting some rounds of target practice. Why don't you go get him.”

Thank goodness he knows to leave it at that, if The Commander was in I'd have to refuse another promotion. They like my work, but they want me out of the city and on road patrol, and I care more for the people that live here than the constant caravans running through to get the best prices.

Haven't seen Tracker Stanton much, he often gets sent out to deal with wolves or other predators that decide to come and attack livestock. If he determines the track to just be some animal I'm supposed to leave it to him to deal with a problem like this one. If he thinks its something else, then I'll be coming along for protection. I've heard he's better with his bow than he is at following a trail. Then again, I hear he's very good with that bow.

I go around back to the guard house training yard, just big enough to have a decent archery range, though people practicing at hand to hand and melee have to trust the archers to be able to shoot relatively straight. Nearly got hit by a misfire while demonstrating tripping techniques here. Not the archers fault, the crossbow's lever broke, that one made administration change the layout of the training grounds. I hear we're getting a shipment of Dwarven gear. Until that shows up I'll stick to my personal equipment. Maybe even after it arrives, it's much better than standard gear.

Never used my crossbow off of the range here, though dad constantly reminds me that I should always have a ranged weapon handy. Out of respect for his military experience I still practice with it and keep it in my magic pouch, always get distracted when I try to think of how that pouch works. This time I convince myself, 'It's magic, I should focus for now.'

There he is, has the build I'd expect of a tracker, long legs, light frame, wiry build. Practicing with a non-standard issue longbow, he has a good rhythm going, load, aim, fire, hit, load, aim, fire, hit. “Tracker Stanton?” He nods but keeps on firing, “Are you familiar with the missing animals, west side? We thought it might have been theft because of the lack of tracks, but this time some were left. I'd like you to take a look.”

“Ah, so you're Watchman Nivar, you've got fans up top, they seem to think if they can get you out of the city and on the roads that they won't need to worry about bandits ever again.”

“So I've heard.” I hope my tone says: please, drop it here. This is why I can't stand Tracker Percival.

“Finally have tracks to work with, any idea what they might be?” He looks over, gray eyes, that's not a common sight.

Thank you, glad he can keep his head on something that matters. “No, they don't look familiar. It has claws, and can drag away a cow without leaving a blood trail,” I hadn't thought about that part before. How could something so big be taken back so cleanly? No blood and not much sign of struggle on the cow's end, “I suspect that, whatever it is, it may be is poisonous.”

“Well now, I guess it's a two man job, then. Drinks are on me, when we get back.”

I guess he hasn't heard that I don't drink.