The Throne (Open)

Sun Dec 05, 2021 8:32 pm

As a result of all the colorful mix of people in the competition, there seemed to be quite a variety of personalities involved as well. Some individuals were quite approachable to others in the group, chatty even, others would be a challenge to endure. All in all, she was enjoying the event, appreciating the communal camaraderie, although her throat burned like a raging hearth. Uncomfortable as it was, Yeva found herself secretly satisfied with the drink, licking her lips even after she had finished her tasting. When the heat in her throat finally allowed the chance to speak, she called down the row, answering a question asked about the day. How thoughtful, all things considered, "You'll have to ask that question again after a few rounds," she said, grinning, "I'm sure a few answers might change by then."

Yeva had no expectations of winning tonight's festivities. In fact, doing so would easily be one of the biggest surprises of her young life, and perhaps the reason for its end. She began to strike up a conversation with those around her, answering another's question regarding how someone like her could have ended up in a competition like this, "Oh, I just walked in the door, really. I thought I'd stop by... and I figured it would be fun to try something a little different."

The words left her lips and Yeva unintentionally made eye contact with an orc in the crowd, who was watching the competition over the heads of those shorter. He had dark hair and green skin, still youthful and with a foreigner's aura. Not like the ones from the city, he had a scar that curved beneath his jaw, and when her attention lingered just a little bit too long, he smirked. Yeva looked away, feeling her face flush as she tried to refocus. She resisted the urge to grab her ears, which would only make their pink tips more obvious.

Nodding at Dreyfus, she tugged at her one of her curls, noticing he had tied back his hair, "I like your hair," then, spotting the badge he had placed on the table, she was so surprised, she failed to consider if her next words could be considered rude or not, "Oh! Do you study magic?"

Wed Jan 19, 2022 3:51 pm

Ash 63 121

OOC: Since no one besides myself has posted since November 2021, I am going to assume the others are no longer interested and progress the thread. Since it was started back in September and nothing has really happened, I hope ya'll understand. <3

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Time passed faster than the elf was expecting. She made light conversation with those around her, first about easy topics such as where she was from and if she had family in the city. Before she knew it, round two was on its way, and the young woman requested the same order. Two shots of peppered whiskey, nice and neat. She downed the first one, but held the second close as she made sure to breathe through the rush of heat that curled around her insides. When the initial wave of discomfort passed, she finished off the second shot like a child taking medicine.

By the third round, she watched those not bound to a seat dance to the sound of alluring music. Her foot tapped and she got lost in entertainment others provide, pulled from her distraction as a shadow fell across the table. She looked up as Franky inquired about her order, "Um... Same thing. Two shots of the spicy whiskey," she grinned, correcting herself, "Peppered, please."

Yeva knew she would be starting to go into some new territory. It would bring her grand total up to six shots, which would be more than enough to have her feeling the effects of her choices. She would just need to stay aware of her body's tolerance, telling herself that if she felt her mouth start to water, her might be time to throw in the towel. Taking note of the exits towards the door in case she had to make a run for the alley, Yeva's body relaxed on its own accord. Others seemed to feel the effects of their drinks as well. Those who had opted for full flagons of ale or mead, found their bladders beginning the cry for release. So much liquid had to come out eventually.

That had been the sole focus of her strategy. Liquor would settle into her system faster, but as she was forced to remain sedentary, she'd have a better chance of staving off her intoxication. At the very least, balance wouldn't be an active issue... Although dancing looked quite fun to the woman. She laughed as she watched the patrons jump and shake, swinging each other around, and the room seemed to vibrate with the energy of the room. Many had taken to distracting those participating in the competition and did their best to tempt others to lose their spot.

For those shouting, trying to get her attention, Yeva shook her head and remained steadfast. It wasn't time to walk away yet.

Wed Mar 23, 2022 9:19 pm

Ash 63 121

Round four and its arrival surprised her. Yeva had embraced lounging in the uncomfortable chair, her red curls spilled over its back. Some of the crowd jumped and hollered, others offered sweet words and bribes. One tried to reach out, awaiting her hand in hopes she'd forget herself and rise for a little dancing. The temptations seemed to fail. As the alcohol took hold of her, she seemed to melt into its touch, watching those around her with a detached sort of dreaminess. Franky came back around and Yeva was drawn back to reality, looking up at the hobgoblin with a sleepy smile, "Hi," she sighed, forcing herself to sit a little straighter, unaware just how far she had started to slouch.

Any sudden movement seemed to make the floor wobble slightly, and her back ached from the length of her poor posture. Yeva winced, arching her back to stretch her spin and reached up to massage her shoulder. What did she want to drink? "A Zacharita," she requested, reminded of the sweet drink she had once left a review for, "And a big glass of mercy."

The redhead grinned, falling into a fit of giggles before taking a deep breath that left her easily distracted. Her eyes wandered, it becoming apparent that Yeva's attention span had shortened considerably compared to her natural disposition. Behind the bar, Haroth was in his element, charming the customers with shameless smiles and devilish flirtation. Bottles came and went, drinks were poured. Yeva thought of the many she had already downed and refocused on the task at hand, "Two Zaicheritas, light salt."

Some seats down, a robust woman also participating lifted a hand to shout down the row, "What's a Zaicherita?"

"Absolutely delicious!" Yeva called back over the rabble, twisting in her seat, grabbing the back to make sure she didn't slide out of it but manage to perch herself up on her knees in the chair, "Do you like a cold drink? It's kinda like..." Yeva proceeded to try and describe the flavor, falling into easy conversation as Franky moved on to the next customer and the round continued. Drinks were brought, shared, Yeva convinced others to request the newer drinks that might have otherwise gone unnoticed by those who favored familiar drinks such as ale or mead.

By round five, more participants had lost control and had jumped up, either to empty the contents of their stomach or bladder, and cheers and whimpering resounded in laughter or mockery. Yeva had to close her eyes and clutched the back of the chair, forehead pressed to its back. At some point, she had shed her cloak and it laid crumpled at the foot of her seat. She was sweating, the body heat from the filled tavern doing nothing to ease the sickness that becoming harder to shake. She had only finished one of her two Zaicherita's, the second untouched when it was time to order again. Someone nearby lurched and Yeva listened their footsteps as they struggled to contain their bile.

She muttered prayers softly, inhaling deeply through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Her feet were crossed at the ankles, muscles clenched as he urge to pee pestered her. When Franky came round, she lifted her face long enough to grab her second drink and down it with difficulty, finding a small solace in its tepid temperature. The taste of salt on her tongue, made her shudder, face paling, "Spicy whiskey shots," she requested, the increased liquid from last round a mistake. Good for the tavern's business, horrid for her stamina, "Just..." speaking was harder, each word requiring a focus that hadn't been there before, least she slur, "that."

Any further order, and that's what she wanted. If she could even make it to another hour. With the alcohol in her stomach, it was as if her thoughts were swimming. She focused on breathing, staying conscious and swallowing as her mouth continued to water. 'Don't puke. Don't die. Don't pee. Don't... die.'

'Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.'

Yeva sipped on the next drinks, going slow. Was it round six? Seven? She had lost count and perhaps a bit of her sanity along with it. Each taste of alcohol racked her body with the urge to retch, but the little redhead held fast. She thought of her family, her brothers. Her father. They'd want her to win.

'Don't die. Drink. I can do this.'

Face still down, she clutched back bars of the chair, vaguely aware of a shadow standing over her. 'No', she silently pleaded, 'no more.' It was time to get another drink already? "I... feel... not good," she admitted, believing it to the be the tavern owner.

"You are doing well."

Yeva opened her eyes to find the unfamiliar voice and winced at the light. The orkan from earlier was squatted next to her, scooting a bucket between him, "So many hours," he noted, "You are still here. Where did you put it?"

She shook her head, but peeked up to find that her competition had thinned considerably, either because they couldn't hold their liquor, their bladder, or their temper. It seemed the crowd had manage to coax many from their seat, others were slipping out from the late hour. But not Yeva, "Sos yu. Don'... trick mmmme... " she swallowed, hindered and dizzy, "I...."

A wave of nausea swept over her. Yeva clenched her jaw, wobbling in her seat. Would she fall over? Her knees should have hurt. Maybe they did. Yeva could barely speak. The young elf exhaled as the nausea lessened its grip, tilting her head back as she regretted every poor decision of the night. She should have stopped at the Zaicharitas. "I need twelve." It was going to be her personal best. She was a petite and feminine elf, the underdog, it was unlikely she could out drink the competition.

"Twelve?" he interpreted, grinning broadly, "You're past twelve."

"Wha?" Nothing made sense.

"That was thirteen."

She stared at him blankly, not registering the words. She had done it? She could stop?

Yeva searched the remaining crowd. Many had gone home for the night. Her competition... suddenly gone. Pieces of the puzzle were slow to click together. Only another woman remained, and then-

The eyes of the same stout woman Yeva had shared drinks with fluttered closed and the last of the competition fell to the floor in a great thump.

"Is shhhe alrigh-t?," Yeva's mouth dropped and she loosened her grip on the chair's back. Darkness hovered at the edge of her vision, her limbs were leaden, but she pushed back red curls and looked around with glossy eyes, "Holy... shit... Did I...win?"

OOC: I let Aegis pick the number of drinks. Blame him.

Wed Mar 23, 2022 10:13 pm

Franky was rather drunk himself as the competition for the Throne battled on. Each person who bowed out, fell out, pissed out, or otherwise exited in impressive fashion would be met with a handshake and comfort at doing their best. After all, it was simply a game, even if for some of them, this may have been the most difficult night of their lives thus far. Franky was proud of each and every single competitor and would remember them all should they return to the bar once more.

However, he was positively beaming as he watched the last one fall, Glasha going to scoop her up, leaving only Yeva remaining. She was as red in the face and chest as her flopped about curls, and seemed unsure about her victory. Franky finished off his flagon of beer, bellowing loudly over the roaring crowd, "WE HAVE OUR CHAMPION. LET IT BE KNOWN, YEVA IS QUEEN OF THE HOBBLED GOBBLER. MAY HER REIGN BE AS STOUT AS HER LIVE, AS LONG AS THE TRAIL OF BODIES SHE SENT TO THE FLOOR."

Franky bent down, pushing the curls out of Yeva's face, and scooping her up bringing her up into his arms. He whispered into her mess of curls, "They're all fine, just a bunch of headaches in the morning."

Many of the crowd were cheering Yeva's name now, "Let's get our queen up to her room though, on the house, of course. The rest of you lot, do not stop cheering til the sun comes up."

Franky nodded at Glasha who fetched the key to one of the expensive rooms the Gobbler had. She followed Franky up the stairs as he carried Yeva. He knew Yeva was in for a night, but Glasha was going to make it easier on the lass. He carried her into the private bathroom of the room, leaving her gently in the empty tub. "You got her from here?"

"Yeah, I got it love, you ain't gotta worry about it. I'll take care of our girl."

Franky nodded, leaving her to it. He knew Glasha would clean her up, probably help her vomit a bit, bathe her, and get her into bed. They'd both seen enough soldiers too drunk, rolling over and suffocating in their pillow. Glasha was there to prevent that, just as the rest of his staff that night was doing with the other competitors who were far too drunk. As Franky tiredly made his way back down the stairs, the room roared once more in cheering. Since all of his staff were busy nursing the drunkees, that left Franky to run the show down here for the rest of the night, alone. And that was fine, it reminded him of the first night he'd opened the Gobbler, all by himself.

It was nice to be surrounded by people he could count on, people he could be proud of. And so, Franky smiled, and began taking more and more drink orders, keeping the booze flowing until sunup.

Sun Apr 17, 2022 7:51 pm

With his game plan, Dakkur was in no rush and he had all the time in the world. The whole competition seemed to go on as it should with participants either trying to focus on holding in their drink, strike up distracting conversation or just trying to psych out the competition. Being the latter with not much success, Dakkur was trying to figure out if he should use another method but by round three- after much reminders of his name, it took effect as an opponent announced he had to take a leak and rushed off, then another a little while after that. That did not seem too bad it if was going to be two out of... a lot? Losing count like that probably meant that the drinks were starting to take their effect on him as well and in subsequent rounds, the morat asked for drinks which were a little more lighter. Not too light though since he still had to play his part.

His part of course was to be the loser, for his partner in the end, but he did not have to lose just yet and he had to make it convincing. Starting to act the drunk, which was not actually too hard since he only had to let the alcohol take him there, he started to also physically mess with the competition. He did not lay a hand on anyone of course, that always made things in any watering hole way too exciting than necessary but, it did not mean he could not touch the bench he was on. Bouncing around and wobbling as though his drink had affected him enough that he could not even keep himself straight up, Dakkur continued for another round, then two, which he hoped was a contributing factor to the next opponent by him who ended up making an escape. How many rounds has it been already? He did not even know anymore. Maybe it was time for him to make his exit too?

Well there should not be enough people left near him to actually hinder what he was about to do next yet still enough for him to actually make a dent. Now to continue on with his plan and endgame. With much enthusiasm as if he was a the most ungraceful drunk in the building he loudly declared he was going to take home the prize and was going to show it there and then demanding two, not mugs or glasses, but bottles of the best and strongest available in the tavern. He assumed that would also be the most expensive he could ask for based on what he had heard others talking about and his own aunt bragging about what she served guests but as he did not know much about drinks either way he could only tell after a test... that sip actually tasted good!

Hopefully the bottles would survive it then. With each sip, the morat exaggerated his movements more and yelled louder with more vulgarities- realizing it was becoming less of an act he went all in. Dragging his bench with him in between the legs as Dakkur lumbered to his left and then his right and his left again, he hoped he jerked a the remaining few on his bench off with him and then made a show of him almost falling into the person beside him in the other- enough to make them scared enough to leap off maybe, before he caught himself right on time, said a "farck aaal dis, and yous and thets, warghhh! along with some other stuff as he made his way to the door, with a seemingly random angry and vulgar motion at his accomplice to wish him good luck if the man too still had his wits about him to identify it as such, and he was out.

It was no throne but it would do for a prize- hopefully enough a prize to make up for the reputation of being the braggart giant who made himself lose a competition he could have won which would no doubt last through the next season or two.

Fri Apr 22, 2022 1:52 pm

Name: Franky

► Show Spoiler

Name: Yeva

► Show Spoiler

Points: 10
Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.

Injuries: Nothing to report!
Loot: Hail Queen of the Hobbled Gobbler!

Comment: Dante (Drey), and Thysbae earned 8 xp and 6 lores (for participation) that they can choose from this thread. They cannot be Secret Knowledge related. Dakkur you've received the full 10 xp and have 8 lores you can choose from this thread, same concept about the Secret Knowledge applies.

Welp, that's everything I'm sure! If you have any questions, or feel that something actually was missed; please do pm me so we can talk!

The Throne (Open)

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