The Contest

By: Jaran Posted on: June 13, 2009

"Drink!"

With the first call of the night, I felt my heart racing. This was it; the chance to prove myself. I peered inquistively at the fire and ice cocktail about to burn my throat and shot my head back. A small cough escaped me, but I kept my bearings. I knew I was still sober and in control. I shook out the remains of the glass and gave it a small toss to Sir Lance with a smile. This was not going to be easy for my competitor.

"Drink!"

Without a though I slammed this one back before he could have finished hearing the command. These competitions go down in history books. Oh! I felt that one a bit, but I know I'm sober and in control. How many will it take? Nine? Ten? Surely I should have counted before we started. I peekd over the bottom of my shot at Faur. Dwarven Warchieftain or not, let's see him hold his liquor.

"Drink!"

Realizing I still hadn't tossed away my last glass, I dropped it to the ground a mere instant before pulling my next drink to my mouth. To prove how empty my glass was I lofted it over to the pretty Atavian calling the shots. I could feel a slight flush forming at the base of my cheeks as I awaited the next call, eye to eye with Faur.

"Drink!"

Looking for my next Fire and Ice cocktail, I made the sad realization that we moved on to the next level: rum. This drink was Faur's, through and through. I let him take his down just a split second before myself, hoping he would show the slightest sign of weakness. Of course it didn't come. A slightly tipsy feeling was taking over my body, making things a bit more difficult to comprehend. I could still throw my glass to Sir Lance without too much difficulty.

"Drink!"

I glared at Aikou! 'Give me time,' I thought. No choice now. I took the next small cup of rum down, pretending to not feel myself getting closer to that state of drunkedness. Faur, of course, stood steady as a bird. Maybe this is how we should decide who it the Dwarven Warchieftain. I mean...

"Drink!"

"Oi!" I cried at Aikou. I shrugged and indifferently let out a small, "meh." With one hard gulp I took down the last shot of rum. I was already drunk. There was no question about it, but my only question was whether or not I could handle the next drink. Absinthe was purchased from the Cyrenese brewery and brought here to the Ram's Horn for this occasion. We knew it would be the breaker. I glared, as steadily as possible, at Faur holding the abinthe glass in the hand opposite the empty rum shot glass. We both shot a quick glance at Aikou who gave us a firm,

"Drink!"

Not missing a beat we poured the absinthe straight down our throats, both hoping the bypassing of our tongue would make it affect us less. I swayed, beginning to feel the full effects of what I have been doing for the first time. There was not more I could take, but Faur looked as steady as an Ithmian sycamore.

"Drink!"

Was she trying to make me lose?! I waited a good few heartbeats after seeing Faur down his drink absently before raising mine to my lips. I could feel the harsh green liquid burn as it went down my throat, and, without barely any extra thought, I swayed and collapsed on the floor in a drunken heap. The contest was over. Without having the thougt of defeat out of my mind for more than a few seconds, I saw Faur tumble down next to me.

I grinned at Faur, the clear winner, if only by a little. My pride was barely patched up by fine silk knowing that I lost by just that much. The true Warchieftain had one, and I could not even hold the honour of Kazak Uruk.

"You did well, brother," Faur barely managed from the floor without stuttering.

"You a *hic* s well, b *hic* rother," I got out before blackness surrounded me, and I let the drunken hold of alcohol lay my body into a soft comma.