|In-game Slang||Quest Item|
|In-game Description||One of many Mondstadt tales told of popular drinkers. This story is the one of the time a lone, starving wolf met a drunken Mondstadt man.|
|Little wonder, then, that the stench of alcohol emanating from the wolf's now historically intoxicated prey was quite stifling, and caused tears to well up in its eyes.|
"Awoo..." the wolf thought to itself.
Having been born in the wilderness and grown up in the forest, the wolf had never had any contact with human civilization before this night, and though it had once caught the faint scent of wine wafting across Cider Lake, it did not know the scent's origin, less still understand the significance of that substance to humankind.
"Perhaps this peculiar fellow is a relative of the skunk, for it seems that he discovered my presence quite some time ago, and now means to poison me in an effort to secure his escape!"
The wolf pondered this possibility as it braced itself against the onslaught of alcoholic fumes, picked up its pace, and discreetly maneuvered its way into the drunkard's shadow — the perfect vantage point from which to inspect its prey.
The wolf is a creature of caution and calculation. The drunkard, meanwhile, is a different sort of creature entirely.
And yet, though wine tends to dizzy the mind and dull the senses, it sometimes affords its consumers the curious capacity to detect the subtlest of changes in the direction of the wind.
Perhaps this could explain how a bumbling drunkard, fumbling through the forest, was suddenly able to discover the presence of a wolf that had been stealthily following him the entire time.
Or perhaps the alcoholic fumes given off by the drunkard were sufficiently potent to diminish the wolf's mental acuity, to the point that the wolf became less mindful of the terrain beneath its paws, the resulting sound of snapping twigs thus alerting the prey to the predator's presence.
"Who's that? Don't s'pose you know which way the toilet is, by any chance...?"
The bumbling drunkard rubbed his bleary eyes.
"Foul-smelling human," snarled the wolf, "Who are you, and whence proceeds your stench?"
The wolf flared its nostrils, bore its fangs, and growled.
Not only was the drunkard unafraid when he heard the wolf's gruffly voiced threat, but he even became quite animated.
"My friend!" the drunkard replied, "Clearly I've offended you, somehow... sorry 'bout that... but anyway, Mondstadt tradition says you're not allowed to be drunk and bored at the same time... So! Here we are, out in the woods on this glorious moonlit night... How abouts I tell you a story?"
His proposal was promptly punctuated by an almighty belch.
Before this point, the wolf had had no intention of listening to the belching buffoon's drunken ramblings. In fact, it was poised to deliver a fatal blow to its prey by lunging for the neck, sinking its fangs in, and tearing his throat clean out.
But the drunkard's belch blasted a further bout of fumes in the wolf's direction, assailing its nostrils with such force that it ruined the wolf's appetite entirely. Grudgingly, the wolf agreed.
"Grr... Perhaps I'm not so hungry after all... Let's see what nonsense tale you have to tell."
The drunkard stretched out his arms and let out a loud yawn, disturbing a few dandelions in the process.
And with that, the drunkard began to tell his tale.