He did not care to learn the name of the town he was in, for he was just passing through, but he had figured befoe he wandered off, why should he leave with such dignity? What if he was too stumble away instead? So that is how Fujiwara, elemental of wind, ended up in the nameless towns local drinking hole. Literally a hole, he had desecnded down stone stairs and through a wooden door into this place. At first he thought it best if he left, this place looked seedy, many men hear looked liked thieves and ruffians, but now...
Now Fujiwara had them all drinking merrily, he had his arms wrapped around two mens burly necks, swaying back and forth as the trio belched out many a drinnking song, and the drinks kept on coming. Fujiwara had plenty of coin, and since he knew the meaning of "pacing" he wasn't going to be more than buzzed for a little while. Besides, something seemed off, and while his intentions had been to get drunk, there was no way this feeling was going to allow him that luxury.
So he sang, and he laughed, and he brought rounds for everyone, even those already passed out on the floor, tables, and even the bar. Ligtweights he had called them, for there was plenty of night left to be drinking. He even had his own rule, which was simple enough: If you can still talk, You can still drink.