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.