The Drinking Contest

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The Drinking Contest

Post by Wraithwriter »

A fighter and a barbarian sat arguing at the bar of the Stone Axe Inn. The argument was centered around who could drink whom under the table, and had been going on for hours growing louder and louder with every passing hour. Finally, the proprietor, a dwarven veteran of the militant organization known as the Battleragers, grew tried of the two and decided to put an end to their argument.

Now the proprietor was not a man that two warriors could take lightly. With his left leg replaced by a metal boot like prosthetic from the knee down, his right hand nothing more than a club of scar tissue, he could intimidate many at first sight. However, it was the numerous criss-crossing scars on his face and the piercing green eyed gaze that gave the warriors pause.

“So you think you are drinkers, eh?” the dwarf inquired in a gruff gravelly voice. When both the fighter and barbarian nodded in bewilderment he began again. “Well now,” he said as a gleeful sneer spread across his bearded face, “lets put you to the test.”

Turning on the heel of his real booted foot, the proprietor walked into the back storage room behind the bar. The two boasters shared a confused look with each other unaware of the hidden smiles and silent laughter from the other patrons around them. It was a good five minutes as measured by the water clock built into the wall behind the bar when the battle scared dwarf returned. In his hands he held two large mugs heaping with creamy froth that also oozed down the sides. With a clunk the dwarf sat the mugs down on the bar in front of the two contestants.

“There,” the dwarf stated, “two mugs o’ Gutshaker. The best drink a warrior can down!” This last was stated with great pride as the dwarf straightened to a ramrod stance.

The smell of the frothy drink was the first thing that hit the two drinkers. It was at once sweet and sour and not in a good way. A nauseous look came over both men and they seemed about to back out, but the proprietor's next words stopped them cold.

“What? To squeamish to drink a ‘real’ warriors brew?” The dwarf said using his voice like a whip.

The spines of the two warriors straightened and giving the other a nod they both picked up the mug placed before them. Both choked back their gag reflex as they brought it to their mouths and began to drink. As the creamy froth touched their tongues their eyes bulged, but it was already too late as the concoction slid down their open throats.

Seconds dripped by on the water clock and the fighter’s and the barbarian's faces turned green. Both men quickly set the mugs back on the bar before bolting for the door holding their rolling bellies.

The patrons of the Stone Axe Inn broke out in boisterous laughter, and to this accompaniment the dwarven proprietor downed both mugs in two quick gulps. Giving a loud satisfied burp he patted his own belly. “Eh, It is an acquired taste.” Then he joined his other patrons in their laughter.

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