Long ago in a world that was without great war and great calamity. A god descended to the mortal world to see it for the first. For the first time he had seen the trees and the meadows of a young but strong world. With his eyes he could see those who inhabited the planet. There was race of Dragonkin who arose from the molten fires. In the far East there were short men who had been gifted the power of his brother Pantheon. Lastly he came to see the remnants of an advanced civilization of giants. The god wished to put his blessing upon the world but all the races had either created their own blessing, were born with it, or had been taken on by his brothers.
The god sat atop the clouds looking down at the world and pondered. The god thought for many years as to what it was he had to offer. His brothers had gifted the world beauty and knowledge. He felt as though the world did not need anything else. For he had been last to descend to the world. Day after day the god sat amongst the clouds and held short and sweet conversations with them. The god deemed the clouds overly rash and emotional, he truly believed they cried over nothing.
But as the clouds cried and their troubles were washed away he had an idea. This god would create the nectar of life, or so he called it. With a swath of mountain side a tad bit of color and an even smaller amount of cloud he whipped up his elixir. The god held the concoction as it floated between his three fingered hands. For the first time he could see his own reflection. He was pleased with his creation and took a god sized sip. With a swish in the mouth and hard gulp his eyes crossed as the rush hit his throat.
“It shall be named, Ale” Ale had been the name of the cloud on which he sat. Ale had always been there for the god. Over his many years of thinking the cloud Ale was always within arms reach, always comforting, and always warm. Thus as the liquid warmed his throat, his stomach, and his heart he named it in the clouds likeness.
However the god looked to the races as he almost forgot them. He smiled. The god proclaimed that all races would feel as he felt and could always turn to the drink when they most needed it. He looked at his own hands, the god was smart he knew they would need a container. As so the god peered into the future of the world and seen the races that would come to be. For each he forged a cup that was perfect for each races physicality. In all the god created three hundred and thirty seven cups. He then scattered them across all the realms.
And on this day drinking was born, on a cloud in the company of a good friend long before the mortal races recognized their love for it.