Quest Loot Runners #4: A Quiet Place

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

TREASURE 3: LOWER DISTRICT​

Majister gave Jair all the space he would need, Darla and Krull coming along to stand behind him and the three of them watching as Jair--as trivially as Majister had surmised--tore into the planks of the pulpit platform. Sent them flying with the ease of a man searching through a chest for some small item or another, tossing everything not fitting the description of the item in question over his shoulder with effortless due course in the matter.

Oh. And speaking of chests.

Majister's eyes--not to mention Darla and Krull's as well--tracked the ascent of the strongbox as Jair lifted it up to the full towering height of his upwardly stretched arms and swung it down onto the hard floor with a massive WHOOOOOMP, the impact reverberating in the core of his rib cage and rattling his teeth and clapping against both his ears and echoing for a moment inside the Church's Nave.

The stained marble of the floor cracked, and the strongbox simply fell apart in the wake of the slam. And a whole array of treasures spilled out: gold coins to gemstones to ornate goblets and silverware and some finely made weapons and piece of armor here and there, among some other notables in the glimmering pile freed from the confines of the strongbox. It was hard to say whether the goblins themselves had collected the stash or if the stash had been placed there long before the goblins had even taken up residence by some other group of (likely) long-dead adventurers or pirates or, perhaps, kindred raiders and plunderers of a bygone time.

But one thing was for certain.

As Majister sauntered forward toward the scattered pile of strewn about treasures, his hands folded regally behind his back and his smirk one of utter satisfaction, he laid eyes on it.

The Bammaram.

"And here...we have it." He bent down, picked up the artifact with both hands, and stood straight again.

He turned to Jair and proclaimed, "My good giant, you've come for fun and profit, and--having had your fun--now you have secured your duly earned profit. Excellent! A gorgeous venture for you and for I!"

Darla coughed in that particular manner one does when they, irritated by something, not-so-subtly prompt for attention.

"And yes, you too, Darla. After Jair takes what he deems to be his share of the treasure. Why, you did a fine job, my fair lady, in drawing the ire of those goblins but it did as well require a massive door to crush the lot of them, did it not? But of course!"

Darla huffed. "Al-right."

"Maybe I'll have enough for a replacement helm," Krull said.

Majister gestured with a sweep of his hand over the scattered treasures spilled from the strongbox. "At your leisure, Jair. At your leisure."

Jair

 

[Donric Mannir]

"Hey speak for yourself, wait... Didn't your family used to go through wine by the crate?" He grinned. Remembering something Colette had said, apparently it didn't matter how much you drank when you were affluent. If the alcohol was wine or any good quality spirit you could drink until your body gave up, but it would just be called being classy. You were only an alcoholic if you drunk beer, mead, ale. Namely the staple drinks of the lower class Anirians.

Donric didn't know about the treating elves fairly part. He'd once seen a few Luana members give out some money in the slums - even to a few elves - but at least in Vel'Luin any elf or elven halfbreed was normally shunned and beaten. Some of his friends had even seen it as a right of passage... You aren't a man until you club an elf or two. Donric hadn't bothered, he hated elves but he had nothing against them. They just weren't his cup of water.

"Colette who is the medic here? If I gave you pain medication you'd forget about your shoulder wound and likely rip it open. Equally, your blindness will come in random bouts until we get you to a hospital, so far longer than I had a dosage for. If I gave you pain medication it would be ultimately pointless, so I kept it until we truly needed it. You can't treat a broken rib, there's no splint I can do for it, it just has to heal. It made sense to use it then because it's constant but otherwise harmless, I don't run the risk of worsening it." He sighed. Donric was dumb, but at least he understood the nuances of medicine and treatment. Being a medic you learned to come up with arguments to justify your choices - most soldiers always thought they were entitled to the whole stock.

"But yes, you're going to have to out-drink this thing. I'll drink maybe 5 or 6 tops, but someone has to keep a clear head - okay?" He grumbled. He hated being lectured. He enjoyed lecturing others, but hated being on the receiving end.

"Ah okay, so we're playing by Western Army rules, except with dying - gotcha." He grinned, taking a swig of some peculiar green liquid and immediately regretting it. Absinthe, he hated absinthe. He knew the elves were particularly fond of that drink, although he couldn't see why. It was disgusting. Once completed, he began to pour his next one.

The statue took a long gulp, matching them. The trio all stood at one apiece.

 

[Colette]

Colette chose not to address Donric's so-called explanation about pain killers. She knew he was probably correct but, well, the straw-haired girl preferred to be right. No sense continuing to argue if she knew she wasn't in a winning position.

"If you think you're going to vomit," she cautioned, "do it over there." A thin finger pointed to the furthest corner in the room. She wasn't in the mood to die today and she figured the foul stench would likely trigger her gag reflex too.

A second drink was poured from the bottle labeled, "2." The first had been absinthe, a drink Colette didn't much care for, but the second bottle was a light brown color. To her shock the statue grasped the bottle, belched, and poured an even amount into all three mugs.

She pulled the cup up close, held it under her nostril, and confirmed the identity of the alcohol. A spiced rum. She'd only had spiced rum a few times prior and though she vastly preferred wine the rum was certainly an upgrade from absinthe. She started with a small sip, it tasted foul... cheaply made, before she kicked the entire drink back and swallowed.

This time, the statue didn't even wait for Donric to finish his before pouring the third drink for itself and Colette. Once the medic finished his cup was swiftly replaced by the third drink. A clear liquid. The blonde Anirian couldn't identify it by its smell but it was, well, potent. As she pressed the cup to her lips the statue mimicked her and she took a quick sip. The burning sensation was almost instant. Her cheeks, tongue, and the entire way down this alcohol presented the most intense burn she had ever experienced.

The statue on the other hand drank a third of the concoction before announcing, "me's a wee human, can't take no more due to me's weak constitution! ye finish that mug and ya won!"

In a heap the statue collapsed into himself, spilling the rest of his drink as Colette blinked. It was obvious now that this was meant as a huge joke to humans in general but particularly to Anirians. While she wanted nothing more than to finish her glass and show the elves who created this monstrosity her true gusto she had to hesitate for a moment. Just the one sip had burned so badly that she was concerned as to what she was drinking and while her alcohol tolerance was normally quite high the single sip had tipped her over the edge.

"D-don't drrrink any-y of number thuree," she told the medic through slurred words. With a fateful swallow and nervous eyes she stared deep into the cup which was still full of the strange liquor. It was some sort of odd moonshine that she assumed must've been enchanted. The small sip she took wasn't enough liquid to have the amount of alcohol she had consumed. How much was in the entire glass? Would that much alcohol at once kill her?

She didn't explain any further, this had to be done if they were going to leave this place. She downed the rest of the liquid and gagged at the burning as it coursed down her throat. As she plopped the empty cup onto the table a rumbling occurred and one of the panels flew open to reveal a glowing golden liquid in a glass bottle. That was all she saw, knowing they had triumphed, until she fell over onto the floor and lost consciousness.

 

[Donric Mannir]

Donric did indeed feel nauseous, but he wasn't about to let Colette know about it. Nyrn root was one of the most potent painkillers known to man and had an almost euphoric effect on anyone who consumed it. Not Donric, though. He was far too miserable. Instead, it always made him feel queasy. Still, he wasn't one to pass up free alcohol.

The second drink was pleasant enough. He'd tried spiced rum a few times, the Sailors often got it in their alcohol rations instead of standard ale so he'd bartered with them several times for the delicious beverage. Donric could tell this was good stuff, it tasted pure and expensive. He had no doubt that Colette would agree with him on that.

A sneeze distracted him momentarily, but he suppressed it without a problem. Thankfully for Donric, it killed enough time that he didn't even consider drinking number three. The statue collapsed before him, Colette issued her warning and suddenly the overpowering scent of fortified alcohol overcame him. It smelled exactly like the spirit his grandma used to brew, he felt a sensation of nostalgia wash over him and for a good few moments ignored the fact his comrade had been rendered unconscious by the thing.

He sighed, dug around his satchel and withdrew a vial from the leather bag. Uncorking the container, he wafted the contents under Colette's nose then cursed himself. He'd misread the label and confused it for his smelling salts. It was a rash cream, he noted, and one that was infamous for it's pungent and almost decaying odour. Donric mumbled to himself, glad Colette wasn't awake, then withdrew some actual smelling salts from his satchel and wafted them under her nose.

Content with his efforts, he glanced around the room and managed to spot a glass bottle with contents that were illuminating the room.

"Well that's pretty convenient, all things considered..." He breathed, making his way out of the seat and trudging over to the panel. Carefully, or at least as careful as one can be when high and tipsy, he withdrew the glowing artefact and placed it within his satchel.

"Come on Colette, I think we're done here." He spoke loudly as he trudged back over to her.