One day, in a Durin bar near the Acahuallan jungle, where every vintage boasts at least a quarter-century... 'Hear the news? Apparently the Liquor Association had an accident at the hangar yesterday.' 'Don't need to hear it, I was there! They made a worse ruckus than last time. Three cheers once more to the poor old Terran Society For The Protection of Durin People!' 'Last time some idiot gave an automaton a champagne bubble bath and hit a control chip, right? What happened this time?' 'Ale.' 'Really? It's the booze again?' 'Have you been to their hangar? They keep their entire stockpile of booze there, emphasis on the pile. Barrels and bottles all over. I'd be suspicious if nothing went wrong!' 'Too true. And they never learn! It was a nightmare to subdue the Spirit of Liquor last time! Well, what about this time?' 'The Association wanted to rein it in themselves, so they threw every engineer they had at it... and they're all proudly hospitalized now.' 'Brutal... So they had to call for help again?' 'Funny luck, actually. The moment they made the call, an expert came to them and solved it.' 'Expert? Go on?' 'Foreigner, complete stranger, 'bout a head shorter than you. Says he's some kinda specialist at disarming mechanical traps. At first, everyone thought he was an engineer from somewhere else, but no, he made it clear he's not. Claims he's an adventurer, just gathering supplies nearby before heading back to some dungeon. The Association thought he was drunk off his rocker, but hey, let him have a go if he wants, right? So they shake hands, and the moment they let go he's vanished into the hangar. Next thing you know, he's working his magic like a pro.' 'Hold on, Spirit of Liquor's a deathtrap, sure, but it's not like a trap-trap, is it?' 'Suppose it's all the same if you're good enough. By the time I got there, the hangar was back out of lockdown. He'd disassembled the machine so thoroughly, the place was a sea of parts.' 'Trust them to get a dab hand like him—Wait, that means the problem's been solved, right? So why haven't I seen anyone from the Association all day?' 'Problem solved meant the Association compensated him from their stash of ale like they agreed on. But you know how they are when they find someone who truly appreciates the brew. They threw a grand feast and made the foreigner their honored guest.' '...And?' 'You wouldn't believe the liver on that foreigner. The little quarter-pint drank the entire Association under the table!'