Completed Das Broofest of Astenvale

[Alyxander Quellchrist]

Alyx hadn't thought much of the woman who seemed to be running things at first. Her clothes were extravagant, to be sure, but coming from Dornoch meant that Quellchrist was surrounded by women of power and distinction nearly every day of his life. As their host went from person to person to acknowledge them all, however, there was a brief moment when he could have sworn her gaze faltered on him.

Oh, but she was rather cute, wasn't she?

A bit of a smirk on his lips, the raven-haired knight took his seat with the others, settling in as the first drink was poured. The woman's voice was booming off of every wall, and it was rather amusing how easily she was riling up the sizable crowd building around the stage.

Of course, none of it could distract from how horrendous the grog they'd put in his stein smelled. Alyx didn't drink. At all. Something about the way alcohol hindered his senses and motor functions just didn't sit well with the warrior who prided himself on his finesse and ability. Not to mention the bitter taste of most of the stuff served throughout Alliria wasn't fit to serve hogs.

Of course, the people sitting around him seemed to love it, and after that chivalrous spiel he'd given the pretty face a minute ago it would be rather pitiful if he merely gave up. So with a shrug and a whispered prayer, he tilted his drink and brought it to his lips.

Gods, it was like the sweat of Satan himself. His entire mouth burned as though it'd been set alight by the time he'd drank half of it. He wasn't about to empty his stomach by any means, but he didn't see this going too well if he continued. So, with only half his stein drained, he merely pushed it aside and shook his head.

"Ah, well. Who am I really trying to impress anyways?"

He caught the eye of the host again and gave her a shrug and a rather sheepish grin.

 

[HRavielle]

Haelyn had come with every intention of being social and doing her best. That was until the first round of ale came out and she looked at the mug.

"Aegerslant's Old Oak Lager!"

It sounded like it would taste decent but she watched the faces of her competitors before she took her turn. She brought the mug to her lips and took a sip. The taste immediately made her want to spit it out and, while Haelyn enjoyed getting drunk on occasion, she was not going to drink something that tasted gross. It was not worth it.

"I am not that brave," she said to Faramund with a smile before patting him on the back and disappearing off the stage. She may or may not have looked back to stick her tongue out at him as she walked into the crowd.

She had tried...really...yeah...sure did...

---

Faramund

 

[Aoife Baskara]

Aiofe Baskara had not been called back this time, she had come on her own. She was going to be devoting more time to the Knights now that her daughter was old enough to handle the affairs of Clan Baskara. Aiofe had been doing it for over four hundred years and it was time to pass the mantel. She would, of course, still split her time but the split would be in the Knights favor for the first time in her fifty-year tenure.

It seemed that she had arrived just in time for some kind of contest and after she had been filled in on said contest, she had decided to do the crazy thing of signing up. Enya had bounced on her shoulder happily when she had caught sight of Faramund and before Aiofe could find another spot at the table, the place next to her old friend opened up.

Mug in hand, Aiofe stepped next to Faramund and chugged the first brew. Others seemed to hate it but she thought it was fine enough. Apparently, she liked old oak lagers. Who knew? Well...she did...she drank quite a bit when she was traveling.

As she set her empty mug on the table, Enya jumped over to Faramunds shoulder and wrapped herself around the back of his neck.

"Hello, old friend," she greeted her counterpart with a smile.

---

Faramund

 

[Selene]

A squire came and filled her stein, and Selene nodded benevolently at the kid in thanks. She took the mug in both hands, one daintily keeping the bottom stable as she tipped the drink further and further up until the last glug of ale was down her throat. The lager was successfully downed, but the stein stayed hovering there next to her face for a bit too long. Selene froze as the stuff bubbled into her gut, the bitter wood flavor of it hitting her all a sudden.

She knew Aegerslant. In fact, she had enjoyed a bowl of something a mite more potent than ale with him right before the contest began. That old coot was particular about his barley, malting it the old fashioned way, with a rake and a stone shed and a whole lot of muscle. He also had a penchant for other green things, and Selene knew if she listened to him talk about oak barrels and barley long enough, he'd be good for a smoke.

"Spirits preserve us," Selene swore under her breath, half in response to Faramund's earlier remark. Perhaps she should have waited till after the contest to chat with ol' Aegerslant. As she set the empty stein down, she could feel her head spinning, like her ears were filled with water. But she took some small solace in the fact that she wasn't the only one having a hard time.

"Aye, Aegerslant, you make the barrel outta balewood this year?" Someone in the audience shouted to the old man, who was sitting on a stool at the edge of the crowd. Aegerslant only gave a hearty chuckle in response, and took another puff from his pipe.

 

[Trovik Half-horn]

Trovik sat on the bench with a heavy thud the bench groaned as it took the weight of the large minotaur, He stretched and warmed up his arms and neck if you were to look you would've thought he was prepping for some olympian sport rather than a simple drinking competition.

He was slightly disappointed to hear the first drink would be lager I was hoping for something stronger or more stout but he would drink it. seeing the stein of amber placed before him he grabbed brought it to his snout and began to drink tilting his head back to keep the flow constant as he chugged the whole thing cleanly and finish with a sigh. of pleasure. it was interesting larger he wouldn't have drank it himself if he had a choice but whatever.

now he waited eagerly for the next round ready for whatever came next.

 

[Keldorn]

It had been some weeks since Keldorn had been recalled to his Monastery, and in that time he had left Ashling in most capable hands, hands he could trust would keep her safe. He had known some of the Knights for a long time, and some for a short while, all were cut from good stock.

And now, he found himself riding into Astenvale astride Toron, just in time for the single greatest celebration on the continent: Broofest. At one time many years ago, his Order had laid its claim but they were beat out by wiley old Gorm.

If Ashling was anywhere, it would hopefully be at the heart of the excitement. He wasn't going to compete, but he would happily partake of the various brews and nectars now gracing the halls. Toron would come to a stop just outside the village and he would dismount, patting his horse on its haunches. "Go, relax. I will summon you when its time to leave."

Toron would snort before giving Keldorn a faint headbutt. "Yes, yes, very nice. You are just too kind." The Templar would shove his horses head away before strolling through the busy streets. He hadnt the time to change, so he was still clad in his armor, an uncommon sight for such a joyous day.

Once he reached where the festivities were, he squeezed through the raucous of cheers, spilling steins, and other such revelry. Someone apologized as they spilt some ale on him, he didn't notice. His eyes were focused on only one person: Ashling. And she was where he least expected her: at the competition table.

He would come up behind her, speaking loud enough for her to hear, so as to not give her a fright. "Ashling! I see you're competing? Don't let me down, win!" He clapped her gently on the lower back, before cheering for her and even getting some others to join in.

Ashling Delaney

 

[Old Man Gorm]

BROOFEST.
​

The most hallowed of Astenvale traditions and Gorm had been party to it for almost as long as there had been a Broofest to compete in. The old brewmaster stood amongst the other vendors, laughing heartily as some Elf lass quit the game. He had coin on this competition in the form of one Faramund.

"OI! FARA, LADDIE! YE GOT ONE DOWN! C'MON, NOW! YE WIN THIS, FREE DRINKS AT ETH TIKUND FOR A WHOLE MONTH! I'LL EVEN FORGIVE YOUR TAB!" One giant hand smacked the nearby table and his keg shook with his roaring laugh.

Broofest, how Astenvale honored the Dwarven gods. Because, c'mon, who really had the best brews? Sprites or the hearty mountain folk?

Faramund

 

[Meepo]

The Ceiling Rafters
​

Meepo the Magnificent. Destroyer of the Dark God Vardan, the bane of succubi, and lover of the Dragon goddess Lyra. He was too powerful to compete in this game of champions, his draconian endurance would make such competition unfair. And so, he did what he could. He cheered. For all the competitors.

Suspended from the rafters as if he were flying with the dragon wings surely growing slowly, he hovered above the contestants, howling for their victory. "BROO-FEST! BROO-FEST! MAKE WAY, BREWERY! CHUGGERS COMING THROU-OOOOOOOOH!!!" Another howl of triumph would follow shortly afterwards.

"SE-LENE! FA-RAH! OS-UIN! MIN-TAUR! HEY-LYYYNN! ASH-LING! DRA-GON! OTHERS! AWOOO!" He twirled in his suspension, his tankard now empty, he tugged on one cord, having him descend to tenders, who refilled it. Happy, he tugged another cord and up he went.

When Haelyn left the table, he would let out a morose howl. "It appears her might was not enough! Contenders! Stein filled and rearing to go!"

Faramund Haelyn Ravielle Abrielle Huxley Osuin Josai Trovik Half-horn Jezebeth Af Malakath Noa Aoife Baskara @AnyoneElseIMightHaveMissed

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

"Enjoy your drinks," Elinyra replied to Noa with a friendly pat of farewell to Ne. It was impressive to see such a powerful bond shared between person and animal - especially since she hadn't gotten the impression that Noa was a druid.

She finally relaxed as she watched the participants on stage. Some had already given up on the challenge, and others seemed to be reconsidering their life choices at the moment, but none of the contestants were too inebriated to function. So she settled into her quiet corner and watched the proceedings with the diligence of a guard watching a rock collection.

 

[Osuin]

Osuin continued his merry way inside, a hand grasping one of the oversized antlers to inspect it for any damage with a couple of tugs to test its integrity. The knight pursuant continued onward, checking his surroundings far more carefully to avoid a further clumsy display as he approached the bar with a hopeful smile. Far from a stranger to the competition, Osuin hadn’t entered the contest this year. He could scarcely recall much about the last event he’d attended, though he’d had an enjoyable time. At least, according to others who remembered more than he did.

"Looks like a handful of souls have crawled out of the woodwork, ready to take the long drinks to drain down and claim the Cup of the Champion of Chug!"

Josai cheerfully announced the start of the contest, with Osuin pouring himself a pint to enjoy as he watched the contestants begin. Once he had a full stein in hand, the bulky knight sought to find seating for him and his sizeable headwear that necessitated a bit more space than usual. Pulling a stool out from a table, Osuin sat on it near a wall with attention ever turned to the brave entrants partaking in the contest.

The Festival was always such a wonderful time of year.

 

[Faramund]

"Don't think it was bravery made me chug that drink," Faramund replied, a forlorn look on his face as Haelyn patted his shoulder. One round in and already the lass was abandoning him. Sure, she had never been much of a social butterfly -not in his presence at least- but Fara couldn't help feeling a little disappointed as he watched her leave. Oh well, one less competitor to outdrink, he thought, his frown turning to a smile as Selene cursed beside him.

"Kicks, don't it?"

Looking around the table of champions, Faramund took note of those most sorely effected by the draught the Old Man of Aegerslant had brewed up. A few brave souls had succumbed to the lager, but not many. Not enough for this year's Broofest to be a cool breeze for the poor dawnling. And to make it worse... a newcomer. Several newcomers. Fara noted the presence of knight-brother Osuin among them, all dressed up and raring to go. Then came Gorm with his words of encouragement, and promises.

The old dwarf knew he wouldn't have to keep them. One 'cause the competition was fierce. Two because even if he did win, Faramund was not likely to remember them come the morn. Assuming I even survive till the morrow, he mused, raising his empty stein in a salute to his oldest of drinking companions.

Another friend returned then, and Fara found himself momentarily star-struck.

"Doth mine eyes deceive me?" He asked no-one in particular, pushing himself to his feet without realizing it. "Aoife Baskara, returned to us at last!" Smiling, he drew the redheaded elf into a hug before holding her at arm's length. "It's good to see you, 'old friend'" he said, releasing his grip on the woman. "Please, sit!" Though he mourned the loss of Haelyn, he was glad to see not all was lost. The return of a sister did a lot to raise spirits, after all. Hells, it was a cause for celebration.

Good thing, then, that they were already drinking.

"I'm happy to see you, too, Enya," the dawnling continued, grinning to himself as the little fox jumped from Aoife's shoulders to his own. Choosing to settle down on his left shoulder, the one closest to Selene, Enya gazed up at Faramund with an affection the knight wasn't sure he deserved. "I'm surprised to see you, tell you the truth," Faramund said, giving the fox a playful scratch between the ears. "After you missed last year's Broofest, I was beginning to suspect we might not see you again this year." Turning his gaze towards Aoife, the big knight stifled a smile.

"Just had to go and prove me wrong, didn't you?"

Josai Selene Aoife Baskara Old Man Gorm

 

[Abrielle Huxley]

With a heavy sigh, Abrielle resigned herself to the task before her. She lifted the stein to her lips and took a tentative sip. The smell had been bad but the taste was far worse, causing her nose to scrunch up in disgust. Still it was better than the tavern swill she had tasted in her travels. After a few further cautionary sips, the taste began to grow on her. In mere moments, Abrielle went from desperately wanting to spit out the foul liquid, to holding the stein firmly with both hands and greedily downing the lager as fast as she could. She slammed the stein down onto the table with a loud bang and a satisfied sigh.

A sudden wave of nausea crashed over Abrielle and the world spun wildly. She was soon released from its mighty grip and did her best to drive any lingering sickness out.

A new warmth grew in her cheeks and all her worries seemed to melt away, replaced by something new. Abrielle wanted, no NEEDED more. Didn't matter what its was along as it was alcohol. She glanced around eagerly, antsy to get the next round started.

 

[Marchosias]

Marchosias takes a seat at the table and patiently awaits the first beverage; A lager, a warm golden with froth on top, giving off the sickly sweet odor of fermented grain. The scent fills the creature's nose and sends a wave of disagreement through their stomach.

Why would you do this to hops and barley?

Marchosias takes the big stein in their grip like one might wrap both hands around a warmed mug of tea or tincture. Their vision tunnels distressingly to the dying swell of foam, and at the command, tips the drink up to their mouth.

The froth hits below Marchosias' nose and sloshes up their nostrils, and funnels to the back of their throat in one big, sticky wave. In an effort to not spill any, Marchosias tries to swallow.

…

Oh.

What would squires say? Yes. F-

A gigantic spew of bubbly ale sprays from around the top of the stein while still at Marchosias' mouth, splashing the creature's mane and face, arms and legs, and rushing all over the table and off the front to lightly puddle on the stage. The stien hits the table with an awful clang and the creature flails back, wide-eyed and frazzled, with a horrendous, rattling wheeze. Marchosias makes an awful gagging and spitting noise, like a mountain lion with a respiratory infection attempting to eject a hairball, and slips off of the rear of the stage in a heap of limbs and wings and ale-drenched fur.

Help!

Marchosias flops around to face one of the healers, bleary-eyed and spluttering, and vaguely reaches towards them before gagging up a bit of a gross, oddly coloured mixture of liquid from their lungs. The attempt at a swallow had turned into an inhale, and Marchosias had sucked a huge mouthful of the ale down the wrong way. They'll need some help getting it purged from their lungs.

 

[Josai]

All was fun and games and flirtation, until one of the drinkers hit, The Wall.

The bane of all aspiring Champions. The Wall came at you fast. Came at you from no where. The mugs tilted up, the ale pouring. No one really knew when and where The Wall would strike. Though, it was more like The Wall just showed up, and when it did, it was never pretty.

Marchosias hit The Wall.

The crowd grew quieter, a bit of worry cooling the fiery joy of some onlookers, but the veteran goers only grew rowdier, more boisterous.

"Ah no! Not the Dragon! They flew right into it didn't they?!"

"Aegerslant's got the first mark for the night!"

"Go little grumpy squire, go!"

Josai, the dazzling Master of Ceremonies, wiggled her nose and nodded her head, and drew in her breath with a bounce of her hat. Her magicks shifted from her sparkling smile, like a swirling mist, out with her breath. The air would chill about Marchosias. Josai's eyes would glow a pale moon blue, long slender fingers twist and curled, flexed and stretched into signs, until both hands came to her chest, pointers down and thumbs up pressed together at her center as she watched the traces of her ice-wind dust catch in the slosh and froth of reacted drink causing a dam.

Fingers shifted and switched and signed again until with a whirl and sweep of her hands, Josai pulled the liquid out from Marchosias' wind pipe so it fell onto the floor of the stage with a wretched splash-almost-a-plop, the half chugged brew seeming to stick to the floor, quickly freezing in place.

Syr Josai's eyes shut with a deep inhalation. Her hands settling by her stomach as she let the breath out.

She smiled again, bright like the stars. "Not to worry folks!" The squires quickly rushed about, all working together to heave the massive beast -who everyone called a dragon but they all thought of Marchosias as more of a sphinx, a living nightmare of quandaries and checklists- off the stage. "We have a healer present who will ensure our brave contestants make it out alright!" Josai assured the crowd as the squires struggled with the weight of the creaturely syr. "It bares remembering though, the road to the final stein is a perilous one," she cast her eye on the stone stein that had clacked so loudly against the table. "And only time will tell who, will be, our next Champion of Chug!"

The crowd erupted in cheer. Eager for more.

Elinyra Marchosias

 

[Gromat N'Daego]

Gromat: "A festival, is it?"

(A bald chubby half orc with wearing studded leather armor leaned on his quarterstaff while gazing over at the stage for the event. He rubbed his chin as he looked at the other participants and thought aloud as to whether he'd have a shot at winning.)

Gromat: "Hm, I hadn't eaten anything as of yet today as I've been travelin' all morn. Maybe I should use my rumbling empty belly to assure my victory, though I'd prefer eating some fine food rather than filling up on ale."

(The half orc let out a bellowing laugh as he began to stride up to the stage. His eyes spotted a familiar face among the crowd of contestants, a woman he had met some weeks past. Scenes of her spear shooting frost at spriggans briefly filled his mind as he walked on stage. He turned to her as he approached the host of the event briefly attempting to greet her.)

Gromat: "Well now, if you'll be drinkin' 'ere too then should they serve you warm ale it should be no problem to chill them yourself! Alas some of us can't use fancy magic like you..."

(Gromat walked away from her towards the host to formally apply for the challenge. As he did so he whispered under his breath)

Gromat: (whispering) "...at least not yet."
Josai Selene

 

[Gromat N'Daego]

(After signing up Gromat sat down at his assigned seat and a large mug of ale was placed before him. He ignored the loud cheering of the crowd as he brought the mug up before his face to focus his senses on what laid within. Used to cooking elaborate dishes from scratch and fermenting fruit juices in jars over time himself, he took his time assessing the varied subtle ingredients and details of the golden liquid he was about to imbibe.)

Gromat: "Ahh, notes of malt, yeast and... honey?"

(He took a tiny sip and moved the sample across his palate before his eyebrows perked upwards in recognition.)

Gromat: "This flavor, I had a hunch but now I'm sure. This was aged in a cedar barrel for... over a month, maybe more? The wood lends itself to the flavor o' the ale. This is a fine ale."

(A dwarf in the front row heard Gromat's musings despite having the raucous crowd nearby and nodded in approval.)

Dwarf: (smiling) "Aye, laddie. Ye got yerself a fine taste for ale, as good as some o' me own kin!"

(The half orc rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment for he had thought no one would be able to hear him.)

Gromat: "Ah! Yes well, I have a bit of experience fermenting fruit juice in my spare time."

Dwarf: "That's all fine an' well but this is a drinking competition! Ye gotta chug em down! Bottoms up! No time to be a... whatsitcalled... a sommelier!"

(Gromat quickly realized that most of the other contestants were already at their second mugs, a small few their third. He held the mug and nodded to the old dwarf in the front row who proceeded to join the crown in their chanting before bringing it to his lips and downing the entire mug's worth of contents.
Or so he attempted... before the strength of the ale hit him full force, assaulting his senses. Half way through his mug his vision began to swim as he became naucious. It was then that his throat burned as his body then realized the potency of the drink and he started coughing immediately spitting out the ale.)

Dwarf: "Oh yeah, that there ain't some weak ass, watered down piss made by human's, laddie. That there is dwarven ale! Guarenteed to put some hair on ye chest and knock you flat like a giant's club! Everythin' ye said was about right except the aging time. That ain't a month long brew, oh no laddie, that there's been aging a whole year. We dwarves take ale ve~ry seriously an' got ways to keep the taste subtle even though the potency is savage! It sneaks up on ye, doesn't it? Better luck next time big guy!"

(Gromat wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to reply between coughing fits)

Gromat: "Yeah... s-sneaky. Taste's bold but... hit's hard later. Looks like... I 'ave alot t' learn."

(Gromat got up from his seat resigning from the competition walking away in defeat.)

Gromat: (belly rumbling loudly) "Aw, I'm still hungry."

 

[Elinyra Derwinthir]

Elinyra hoisted a bag of medical supplies and rushed to Marchosias's side, where the event's hostess was already working on the primary cause of the creature's distress. Josai appeared to be drawing out the liquid that had settled into Marchosias's respiratory system with little trouble, so Elinyra decided the best way to assist was to help calm their patient.

"You're going to be just fine," she promised as she sat by the ebon-furred creature's head and dabbed away droplets of the remaining ale with a cloth. She gave them a reassuring smile as Josai removed the last of the offending fluid.

"There you are, just take a deep breath now."

The squires moved in and helped Marchosias off the stage. Elinyra remained by the great creature's side as Josai moved on to her next announcement, and even after the squires left Marchosias in the most comfortable place they could manage.

"Feeling a bit better?"

 

[Josai]

For the victorious cheers, and for the fallen, more cheers still. Victory, yes, everyone sought it, and all would be glad to see the one who was graced by that winning spirit. But the brave contenders? Those who answered the call of this most time honored and hallowed tradition?

"Three cheers for the elf!"

"Das alright, dragon man! Get em next time!"

"Oy pretty boy, you can come finish that one by me!"

"Ah! The sommelier! You beautiful bastard, I'll give ye a meat pie to ease yer troubles!"

What would winning be if not for their brave efforts? The people of Astenvale knew that all too well. And those folks who ventured to the Broofest would, with some luck, learn the lesson too. An empty stein, just meant you could fill it with whatever you liked.

Josai smiled and winked at the proud foreigner, and turned her eye back to the crowd. "Well well! Let's give a big round of applause for those brave souls bested, by Old Aegerslant's fine brew!" The witch knight called out with magicked voice, and the crowd answered in kind.

"Oy, cat man! Ye best bring it home!"

"Go big bull, go!"

"Nah, no way, they'll loose their heads with so many a fine lass about em!"

"Oy cap'n! Nice mug!"

It was hard not to laugh. "Next up!" She said, motioning to the squires as they raced about, wiping the mugs clean before they filled them with the next brew. When the stein's clacked topped off for the next round, something with a strong body, dark and with a thick oat colored head foam. "From the cave tunnel roads of their ancient holds, Belgrath's Bold! Deep Dwarven Stout!"

Spoiler: Roll to beat

Rolls under 8 will not pass! Best of luck.

Abrielle Huxley Trovik Half-horn Faramund Ashling Delaney Aoife Baskara Selene Roland Grayson Jezebeth Af Malakath

 

[Aoife Baskara]

Faramund was one of the few people who she was close enough with to allow a hug. Her time with the Knights had been so split that her relationships were few but mighty. She smiled at him when he released her from the hug and she took the seat next to him without complaint.

Enya chittered when Faramund said he was happy to see her, prompting a chuckle from Aoife. The little fox elemental was spoiled rotten and she knew it. She loved when they spent time with the Knights because she for even more attention than usual.

"Well, my dear Fara, I have decided that I can no longer live a fractured life. I must devote more time to my people or to the Knights. As my daughter is old enough to take care of the former, I have decided that I will move here and give the Knights my full-ish attention," he was the first person she had told and she was curious how he would respond. She hoped he would be happy.

It was not long before the rest of the contestants that had lost shuffled from the stage and Josai was speaking once more.

"From the cave tunnel roads of their ancient holds, Belgrath's Bold! Deep Dwarven Stout!"

Aoife looked down at the stout and let out a low whistle. She did not usually drink anything this dark and she was curious if she would be able to get it down. She picked up her stein and nodded to Faramund before bringing the dark liquid to her lips. A grimace crossed her face and she started to cough. It was terrible.

She would finish it though.

And she did.

She regretted it immediately as well. "Fuck," she cursed and shook her head. "That did not agree with my stomach in the slightest." She looked around the table and then at Josai.

"Did ya poison it, Josai?!" She called out to the human woman. "It's got me calling it quits and you know that doesn't happen!"

---

Faramund Josai

 

[Jezebeth Af Malakath]

The hooded figure did not stop her advance for they sought to win even this round without giving mercy to their opponent. Many fell under the mighty strength of the beverage but she did not; in a quick yet precise chunking motion of her wrist, she consumed completely the liquid dwelling within the bottle of alcohol, she staggered briefly but with little to no obstacles, she overcame its overwhelming essence. The fight grew thinner but she was still there, still standing and as ever ready to continue. The many voices around; the people chattering were null in her ears for she had only something in mind. A dutiful thing for this mysterious woman who was capable to push through an endeavor where many could not.

"Next, aye?"​

 

[Ashling Delaney]

Ash’s laughter melded in with all the others, cheering, yelling, and not only from the crowd but the other contestants as well. Since she was not one to interfere in others' conversations and a bit apprehensive when it comes to introducing herself to others, she instead just sat back and enjoyed the show. Well, from her point of view that is. Laughter ensued watching the looks on some of their faces, Haelyn barely able to take a drink, Selene chugging it all but looked as if that had been a bad idea.

Having been so focused on everyone else, she hadn’t noticed him moving through the crowd nor having walked up on the stage. In fact, she didn’t realize he was there until his voice rang out behind her, nearly sending her jumping right out of her skin. Surprised that he was here, shocked actually. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’d be gone for a while?” Trying not to hint at the fact that she was elated that he’d come back sooner than expected.

Her attention quickly diverted towards the winged creature, nose scrunched at the sounds it made and started to push her chair away from the table to get up and make sure it was okay when she noticed others getting to it already.

Josai announced the next drink sooner than she thought, could she down one right after the other so quickly? Doubtfully, but she’d give it a try. The squires filled their steins with a much darker liquid, the smell of it alone was turning her stomach. Ash waited until they were given the go and took a deep breath before bringing the stein to her lips and told herself she had it.. But.. She didn’t. The first swallow had her choking as she slammed the stein back on the table. It took her a few moments before she was able to swallow the horrid tasting liquid, with a shake of her head she pushed herself away from the table. “‘I’m good.” Said to Josai before she excused herself from the table.

Ash made her way towards Keldorn, laughing. “This is all your fault!” She gave him a heft shove to his shoulder. “I tried, that’s all that matters.” Shrugging off her defeat. Having been able to bring herself into a crowd like this without flipping out was a win.

---

Keldorn and everyone!

 

[Keldorn]

Keldorn was only amused by her near out-of-skin experience. "I finished the mission sooner than they expected, so I came to find you. I trust you've been well cared for in my absence." He mused before she took her sip of that fatal stein.

Josai announced the next drink and gave the contestants permission to drink... and Ashling was out. He did his best not to laugh, taking the stein from where she set it down and took a small draw from it: it was rather.. potent. He set it back down and began to step away from the stage, allowing her to take a moment to recollect herself.

When she was ready, Ash made her way to him, and he nothing but a look of pride on his face for her. Even after the playful shove. "A noble attempt Ash." He responded. Her attempt at drinking was abysmal, but she managed to do something more: put herself in a large gathering and not panic. "We can either stick around or go for walk."

Ashling Delaney

 

[Trovik Half-horn]

Hearing some of the crowd cheer him on he couldn't but grin, this was what he lived for the thrill of victory and adoration of others, finishing his tankard he let out a victorious roar, flexing his biceps to show off his mighty strength.

Hearing the announcement of the next drink, just hearing words dwarven stout caused his eyes to light up like a star, "Now this is a real drink!" he yelled as the dark liquid was poured into his tankard. He wasted no time downing the entire thing not spilling a single drop, it was good, he knew dwarves know how to make good strong drinks they were his favourite because like them he can drink a heap load as shown by how he was one the last ones standing.

Finishing he let out a loud belch with a massive grin, he felt like the top of the world and was ready for the next round.

 

[Roland Grayson]

Things had gotten chaotic since Roland had downed his stein. The big dragon bird nightmare being the event that he and Princess' attention was focused on. It seemed like the big beast was about to perish. Who knew alcohol was its weakness? A reminder to always keep a full flask or two on hand to keep the monsters at bay.

The pretty announcer began the build up into the next round soon after she had saved the now not dead owlcat. Roland would have clapped, but one hand was required to pet Princess who had reclaimed her throne of his lap in terror at the sounds of a dying being.

He held out his stein to be filled with a dwarven brew. Lovely! Dwarves knew how to make two things as strong as possible: metal and brew. A smile was on his face and he was sure to give Josai a smirk and wink when she mentioned him. Then when given permission to drink, he lifted the stein towards his lips.

Princess was not as composed as her human however. Too many strangers. Too many noises. Too much attention not being given to her by her knight! She was done with being ignored. If he was too dense to know she needed to be comforted and spoiled then she was just going to have to let him know herself.

So as the rim containing the liquid joy touched Roland's lips and was being tipped, a fluffy head came crashing between the two like a battering ram parting a gate. All of it went tumbling over knight and fluffy liege alike. Not a single drop made it into his mouth. Instead it became a flood to sweep away his good time.

"Bloody!" Roland sneered as his clothes became soaked in booze and claws dug into fabric and flesh as Princess lept off her human. Soft paws touched the stage and off in a dead sprint in a random direction she went.

Roland was furious, but it wasn't the main emotion he felt. The main one was the same one that dominated his face under his mask: worry. He stood up not caring about what happened to the stein that went flinging from his hand. If it broke or not was of no concern for him. All the man cared about was the new task at hand.

"Princess!"

The knight lept from the stage in the direction his Princess had vanished. Into the crowd he chased to make sure she was okay before he took care of the mess she had made of them both. Wordlessly he had forfeited himself from the contest.

 

[Selene]

Ah, Selene did love a good stout - this next stein ought to have been easier for her. As an attendant squire refilled her next cup, she admired the caramel foam that sparkled on top, and inhaled the rich scent, bready and mycenoid. She ought to visit Belgrath again, Selene thought to herself. Dwarves were not known for their universities, but there was scholarship and magic aplenty in the forge.

Just as Selene was grasping the handle of her stein (ornately carved to look like a leaping fish), a blurry cream shape fluttered above everyone's heads. A rockdove perhaps, come to enjoy any festival treats that might drop from clumsy hands. And then she saw a streak of something in front of her, narrowly missing her person.

PLOP! Went the bird's droppings, right into Selenes stout. Some of the foul stuff sludged down the side, white and green, looking very much like the slime that oozed out of the Blightwood's bark. Selene recoiled from the blow the bird had dealt to her, staring in horror. She knew what this meant; there were no re-pours in the Broofest. It was drink or die.

A tense moment spent in silence, and then her stool scraped backwards as Selene stood up. She looked straight ahead, tall and grim. Without a word to anyone, she walked off the stage, leaving the desecrated brew behind.