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The bar was half full, or more so it was half empty, depending on how you feel. Alive with patrons of various races clinking drinks and mixing stories. A tall, handsome orc (or as handsome as one can be) surrounded by a harem of women at a corner table, a few spaces down a group of sharply dressed dwarves in booster seats downed liquor like water, and behind the bar the resident bartender mixed drinks with a skill that only came with years of practice.

A few friendly faces watched on at the bar as the pointy eared green man flicked a cup up in the air and caught it once again. They clapped softly, and though he appreciated it, the goblin preferred cash. So as they showered him with love he pointed down to a little handmade sign on the counter that read Your praise is great! But your money is better.

As he did though his eyes caught sight of a new group entering. Sort of the "after school special" bunch, he thought, mixed with a variety of races and colors. A tall, lizardish man with green scales, a shorter human with wide features, and a rarity in the world: a blue skinned, half genie. He stared on as they took their seats, hoping by the sleekness of their dress that tips were coming his way. From the group the genie spawn wandered over to the bar first and took a seat right up front.

"What can I do ya for?", the goblin spoke without looking up.

"A martini. Dry....uhhhh Sandoval Drinkmaker" the djinn read off his little nametag.

"Sure, one second."

This was an untrue statement from Sandoval for two reasons: one because it would in fact not be one second. Two, because he was unsure how to tell the patron that no matter what his impressive spread of spirits appeared as, not a single one was "dry". All wet. In fact every drink that the goblin could recall making in his entire life had been wet.

He gave the djinn a crooked smile before slinking down behind the bar. Now on the floor the goblin began rummaging through shelves for any clues as to how a "dry" drink was made. Cups, glasses, cherries in a jar, no hints.

"Everything alright down there?" the djinn spoke over the bar

"Yeah just...you said dry right?"

"Yeah. That a problem?"

"Well- no, nope. Shouldn't be. No problem at all." Sandoval thought of the tip jar as motivation.

The goblins little palms sweated. His brain frantically ran through every option at his disposal until he settled on one: flash. With a little flash you could mess up nearly any drink and the customer rarely complained. It was a free show after all.

Sandoval returned from the floor with ingredients already in a shaker. Gin and vermouth, easy as could be. He tossed the shaker up in the air and caught it despite the sweat of his hands. Then after a few good shakes the goblin reached into a tray and plopped a piece of smoky ice in. The djinn looked unimpressed, but he did look, which was all that mattered.

Then Sandoval took a fresh cup and poured just the smoky air from the shaker into the glass. Not a single drop of liquid. Just alcoholic vapor. After a long, silent moment of the vapor trailing into the glass the goblin presented it.

"Your martini, dry sir."

"It's empty. Where the drink? Is this a joke?" The djinns white hair blew as if caught in a breeze. Its clothes rustled despite no wind.

"Empty? No no no. Dry." Sandoval winked then slowly inched the empty glass to the man. "Now if you'll excuse me it's my break. He placed a small tent on the counter that read *Be back soon, probably!" before turning and walking out in a rush, all the while thinking of his genius.

Meanwhile the djinn sat in disbelief, staring down to the empty glass, then up to the shaker filled with an actual martini. He grabbed it and poured himself a real drink and took a sip. His face contorted a bit, scrunched in dissatisfaction. "Ick! Too much vermouth."

That’s quite an imaginative way to make a dry Martini, kudos.

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“I don’t know how to tell you this” the bartender was trying to find the words to explain that what was asked was,as far as he knew, impossible. “A martini is a drink, drinks have a liquid component, so to have a dry drink would be asking for food”

“No, no a dry martini it’s a different kind of drink it’s hard to explain.” The wizard accountant was a bit taken aback at this conversation. Had this town never heard of dry martinis before and if so what was he to do.

“Listen pal I can’t make what I don’t know so either get something else or go somewhere else” the goblin was not annoyed more so embarrassed and wanted the conversation over with. “If you can show me a ‘dry’ martini then We can add it to the menu for the future”

The wizard accountant took up this challenge as his two friends giggling away at this encounter sat idly. From his pockets he pulled the essentials: martini glass,mixer, a lemon and a bag of sand. The goblin sat there watching what would possibly be the strangest day of his life. The wizard cut up the lemon and stuck the slice on the glass opened the bag of sand and…

Surprise he threw the sand in the goblins face and ran off with the cash register with his two companions not far behind. Once again the dry martini distraction did it’s dastardly job and the martini men struck once more on unsuspecting bars.

Nobody messes with the Dry Martini Bandits!

"Sorry, but could you repeat that for me?" Alan asked as politely as possible. He knew goblins hated repeating themselves, but this time, he needed to know what had just been said.

The goblin shrugged. "The martini bottles all got up and staged something of a mutiny last week. There's none left here until the next shipment in a fortnight. Sorry, boys, but you'll have to ask for something else."

Alan looked at his seven work colleagues. It was his turn to pay for the first drinks tonight, but it appeared their tradition was going to have to be altered somewhat. "You're talking like they sprouted legs and ran off."

The goblin narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the counter as a staff member moved behind him to take orders from other customers. "They sprouted arms, too." He pointed his finger at a small bandage across the left side of his cheek. "I'd rather not talk about it. So, what are you having?"

"How did they come to life, bro?" Nathanial asked, enthusiastically. "That sound's totally rad!"

Charles shot the jockey a glare. Nathanial shrugged his shoulders dismissively.

"We have three resident sorcerers currently, and all three of them have been accusing one another of practising animating spells to bring whatever they want to life. We caught two candlesticks..." The goblin scratched the back of his small head. "Well, never mind that. We're not kicking any of them out until the police have proof of who did it, and they're locked up. I don't think we're going to see the bottles again."

"Dude, I am so sorry to hear that," Nathanial said with a dramatic sigh.

"We'll get the bugger," The goblin sniffed. "Now, anyway, enough talking about that. What am I getting you all?"

There was some deliberation between the ground, but ultimately they got what they desired, before drinking their hearts away. Outside, the snow was falling, and the Christmas Carollers were singing across the street to residents and their families, adding to the Christmas spirit.

That Christmas Spirit was broken when police sirens broke through the cheerfulness, quickly getting louder and louder until they were right outside.

"What the f-?" Nathanial couldn't finish his sentence.

The building began to shake as if struck by an earthquake. That feeling of the entire building rising up was felt, and there was a mighty groan from something long-since dormant.

Alan climbed onto his part of the couch, peering out of the window. "Er, boss?" He called out to the goblin bartender. "You might want to come and see this! It looks like the pub's grown legs!"

As officers outside demanded the sorcerers to step outside, the entire building with its new legs began to run. The goblin - his eyes burning with fury - drew a machete from beneath the bar counter. "That's it. I've had enough of them." Without another word, he began to march upstairs to the sorcerers rooms.

No one will ever stop their drink based heists

And if someone tries, they will sand their ground!

That joke was a little dry