The drunken master

When the old door slowly creaked open and you saw piece by piece just who the visitor was. The first thing that came into view was a big, pointy hat filling the clichée of a wizard's hat perfectly a big, crooked, somewhat reddened nose followed almost instantly making you worried about their **** consumption, and when finally the complete face was visible it was covered by wrinkles a few warts, the most prominent directly above the old man's mouth, the lips of which looked dry and desperately in need of hydration. Of course, the man noticed your staring and asked in an amused yet hoarse voice whether this was the first time you saw a thirsty old man. "No, that's not it at all! I just expected someone..." You desperately looked for a term not directly aiming at the fact that he was older than you had hoped, "more active." Hoping he wasn't instantly offended by this, you looked him in the eyes, that, despite him trying to hide it, instantly gave away his amusement. He laughed out loudly, long enough for you to wonder what exactly you did, that was funny enough for him to break out into such a laughing fit. Writing it off to his drunkenness instead of your own comedic abilities you decided to just wait patiently until he was done. After about a minute or he finally calmed down and explaining: "Look, girl the last thing you'll have t' worry 'bout is my ego." This was at least some comfort to your current nervousness. "Instead how 'bout ya bring me sumthing t' drink, huh? Don't worry I'll pay, I'll pay." Not entirely certain about the truth of that you decide to at least check what was in the storage room downstairs.

After rummaging through a number of spoiled food, broken bottles and rats (those things can bite like hell!) You finally come back upstairs with about a dozen bottles of ****, three bottles of wine, one expensive looking bottle of whisky. After having put them away under the bar table you take one beer and hand it to the old man. "Minstrel Medium, huh? thought they'd closed down ages ago! Wouldn't have taken you for the kind of person that'd know their **** well enough to recognise a masterpiece when they see one, anyway. Not sure what exactly he's talking about You content yourself with the fact thtát he seems to like it and take the chance to ask him about the matter at hand. "Sooo, did... you only want a drink or was there anything else?"- "Huh; didn't take you for the kind of girl that's into old men, you sure are full of surprises young lass!" He said as he took a look at your breasts already undressing you with his eyes. "Wait, what!? Nonono, that's not what I meant! I was talking about the guild!"- "What guild?" he asks having already shifted his focus on the beer in his hand. "The one that you just entered fifteen minutes ago?"-" this is supposed to be a guild? I thought this was just a pub." So he didn't even read the banner you hang above the main entrance? This is going just great. "I'm just kidding, girl!" his voice snapping you out of your misery you look at him in confusion. "Who could overlook that giant thing you put? I may be drunk and old, but I'm not blind!" postponing the judgement of that for a later point you just ask: "So you do want to join?" He nods and says: "If there's more booze and something nice to look at, why not?" Gleefully ignoring his perverted side note you instead get out the form and official guild stamp you already prepared and registered. He signs and put his right hand on the table. After stamping the symbol of your guild, an oak leaf (that on his hand took on a light blue colour), on his hand you remember that you didn't even introduce yourself yet. "By the way, my name is Morgan Dragunov!" He responds "haven't heard that name in a long time, maybe you actually have what it takes to be a proper mage!"-"You've heard my last name before, how?"-"I trained your father," he says nonchalantly, all the while sipping on his third beer. Your father died when you were a year old, so you don't know anything about him apart from what your late mother told you. He apparently was a mage of sorts, one of the best if your mother is to be believed. he wielded storm magic, and he was damn good at it, which was why you wanted to become a mage more than anything else, and eventually resorted to the use of lacrima to achieve that goal. If that man really DID train your father then that would mean that he is.... "Nidal Avitus, the legendary sage of the wind!?" you exclaim loudly. "I sure haven't been called that in a long time. Nowadays most people tend to call me 'geezer' or 'useless old man' and the like, but yes that's who I am. And as you are the daughter of Jozef Dragunov, I am supposed to give you this a present, something that your father wanted you to have...."