13 Ash 121
The Cider Dance was an anticipated event for a lot of people in Zaichaer- just not Dakkur. Alcohol was only good for drink, on the side of any event one would attend to enjoy and not as the focus of the event itself because, why? Of course with its popularity it could not be disputed there would many would agree with Dakkur's assessment but it was not like he cared for the opinions of others, especially those in this backwater city- yet another unpopular opinion of his but the core stemming from his belief that magic is the more advanced form of progress, the cool stuff like airships, trains and casters which Zaichaer had in abundance notwithstanding.This meant after work there was no reason for him to stay out and his only plan was to promptly return home to rest. The city however did not agree. Despite good time on his brisk walk home as walking- power walking? Actually just a little short of running or whatever sort of movement he called it to heat up his body enough for him to stave off the cold. Gods it felt like a sauna in his coat. However whatever progress he made meant nothing as he got caught up in the heavy rain which suddenly came over the city. Now damp inside and out, cold and hot, at the same time; quite contrarian and he could only hope he would not end up sick although it could be worse- he could have gotten caught in this exact situation earlier in the season. Being sick during the outbreak would make it very easy to be catch the disease which would eventually kill him especially when the outbreak made it harder for the medics to cure everyone. Had the city already solve that issue or was it still unsafe to get close to anyone sick or exhibiting the symptoms? He was not too sure.
But unto more current concerns, Dakkur despite wanting to rest at tome ended up taking cover from the rain in one of the many shelters set up by the cider producers organizing the dances. He tried to man up, button up his coat and huddle into it to keep himself as warm as possible but unfortunately, he eventually felt the cold settling into his very bones and did not have much of a choice. A new and better coat in the future is needed if this depressing weather continued in this party city which tried make it a lot less depressing with the odd event every other day. The dancing obviously had stopped because of the rain and as a consolation the winemaker in charge of this shelter decided to let everyone have a taste of their brews; being meant Dakkur was able to get a swig too.
It hit the spot and the warmth helped to stave off the cold attacking Dakkur. It also proved a good marketing ploy because as a result, Dakkur in wanting another swig ended up learning the winemakers' name and the name of their brew. If not the cold making his enjoyment of this brew as good as he believed, Dakkur would certainly get more the next time he ends up in the local watering hole. Actually why wait that long? The effects of the alcohol over the cold beginning to wear off as he started to feel a little chilly, he went right for another. With the drinks and the conversation which followed, Dakkur found the event might not be the worst of things since it was just like a party and, this was despite being unable to watch the core focus of the event. The dancing!
A shortcoming which could easily be remedied although Dakkur had no intentions of doing so after he took off his coat. All he wanted was to allow himself to breathe; let the comfortable heat of the brew be the one to get him through the night instead of the suffocating, stuffy coat he had and not to be forgotten, the weight. Yes, that coat proved very uncomfortable. He found as he went longer in the drinks and conversation, one of the subject which commonly came up- what if he got into one of the dances? After all as a moratallen the rest of the partiers believed him to be, it should be easy for him to squish the apples into some great cider. If it was left at that Dakkur would not have paid much heed to it but even a party to the winemaker chimed in; with the moratallen's inherent size, weight and width, there should be no problem for Dakkur to squash the cider to satisfaction!
"Oh please. You must say this to all moratallen, you should get them to squish them apples instead. I'm not the giant you want helping you with your drinks" Dakkur said in an attempt to get out of it although he was flattered. Speaking of which, he could not see any other moratallen around. They must be in some other shelter, maybe even the better ones- could he be at the wrong one? However with no evidence of that Dakkur would have to continue to believe this shelter was decent; after all he enjoyed his free drinks. In fact, he enjoyed a lot of the free drinks which was why, added in with even more attempts to seduce him with the idea, he eventually promised he would dance on the apples as long as the rain stopped long enough for the festivities to continue and, they got him a good partner for the dance and, that he would get a bottle of the cider they would eventually get out of it at some point. Even a little inebriated, he still had enough reason to try and give enough conditions to get out of it.
He did not remember the exact promise though but enough chatter and gossip flowing around that small enclosed shelter, even not-truths can become fact. The rain soon stopped and Dakkur said his farewells, ready to go back home and rest but he was spun back round and then led towards yet another barrel being filled up with apples. Thinking the giant's intrinsic physical qualities would secure them a chance to have a memorable batch of cider named after them, there was no shortage of volunteers wanting to dance in the barrel with Dakkur but Dakkur already being overwhelmed left it to the person leading him towards the barrel to pick out someone to dance with him. He might as well get this entire show over with. It would come to be a regrettable decision.
Unsure of the reason why she was picked out among all the others, maybe the winemaker he was led by wanted to make sure the dance was a success or he felt threatened by the entire show of force this soldier had with all her armour and weapons on. All that heavy weapons and armor. Was that really allowed? Well technically, they only needed to be barefooted so even removing her boots would not change most of the weight she carried in the slightest. Dakkur himself was not comfortable around the authority figures of Zaichaer so he was not too enthusiastic and he ended up dancing and squashing the apples without much energy, doing a bad job of it unlike the popular belief his participation would make a really good batch of the stuff.
That would not do especially for the soldier lady who was in it to win it and it did not take her long to get into the task of doing her best to encourage Dakkur to give it all he got- actually send his way the most blunt and straight assessment of his disappointing performance- one which betrayed the expectations of everyone in the shelter but it was not these which spurred him into action. It was the threat she whispered into his ears waiting for him to leave and then slapping him with a drunk and disorderly charge with jail time as she propped him in place in the most encouraging and tender manner. Onlookers a witness to this would have nothing but good things to say about their city's protector who saw nothing but the best potential in her ward, her words being all that was needed for Dakkur to improve himself and only he would know it was because he did not want to take the chance of her making good on her threats. He had much more to lose if she actually acted on it.
Thus summoning every ounce of energy he had left , fortunately not actual summoning or he might end up overstepping, Dakkur put one foot in front of the other and pushed, pushed, pushed! It was not much of a show or a dance and some people started to boo while others shouted words of encouragement. Stepping into the dance fully the guard grabbed and led him around but, he knew her true motivations too well to believe all she wanted to do was make sure he did not look too bad; his clumsy and weak display earlier should not have had any expectations of him. He was even able to make a stomp at her foot out of vindictiveness, not that he was able to do much damage with all the juices interfering with him. Lucky for him she did not make them do one of those spinny dances or he might have puked all over her after the fatigue and the alcohol and finally before he even noticed the entire ordeal was over and, he- they did it! They succeeded in squashing all the apples well. What did they win?
The right to name the batch?
Well he did not want his real name out there nor the name he was known by in Zaichaer just in case he got unwanted attention from malicious guards just like her so he simply said "Gwin" after someone he knew before he said his goodbyes, a complimentary beverage and made his hasty retreat now that the rain was not keeping him around.
