I smiled and brushed past the shocked man and arrived at the fire pit. "I do speak your language. Is that a problem?"
The group suddenly looked amongst one another in silence before they all cheered.
One of the men then walked up to me and slapped me on the back with surprising strength for a non-Psionic human.
"It is rare for a Star Shaman to know of us, never mind our language. This is to be celebrated! Shaman, drink this, I smuggled it here. I would be honoured to share a drink with you."
The man then passed a gourd of all things into my hand and removed the cap revealing a horrifically pungent beverage.
I coughed at the stench, prompting another wave of laughs before an onlooker stated,
"It reeks of shit, Shaman, but it tastes like a woman's warmth. Trust."
Curious by what the man meant by that. I gave the drink a look inside before shrugging my shoulders and thinking 'fuck it.'
