Drinking

Leman Russ sat alone in the Wolf's Hall. He drank wine from a goblet, for the hard intoxication mjod gifted was unpalatable to him at the time. Wine could not dull his senses in the same pleasurable way or raise his war-spirit for the murder-make, but there was a sophistication in good wine that he craved. The taste evoked summers and far-off lands. Wine was a sorrowful drink. It completed his mood. So he drank a drink that could not affect him, and idly named to himself the chemical compounds his keen hunters senses discerned in the liquid.