Knights of Anathaeum This Toast Is For You, My Friend

[Monroe]

A rare thing it was to behold Monroe Cathmore smiling freely, laughing at some joke that was possibly too poor in execution, but the honeyed mead that passed through the lips of not just Cathmore, but others too, made them each more receptible to such terrible jests. It had been someone's birthday? An obscure holiday? Need there be an excuse to drunken toasts and music to be enjoyed? At least in her inebriated state, she did not remember how a second drink had found it's way into her hands when she had been scratching a drawing into her book.

Her book.

She had left it on the table before her, but now it seemingly disappeared. If it were not for the countless drinks in her (five, enough to placate her) Monroe would have made a fuss and quite possibly make someone else cry with guilt, even if it were not them that knew the whereabouts of her sketchbook. Sliding from her seat, she lowered herself to underneath the table and smiled, swiping up the book that indeed had fallen and missed the puddle of spilled mead on the floor. Crawling out from underneath, she got to her feet with great steady, and her honey brown eyes fell on a the page she had done earlier in the book. It was not so much as the small doodles she had done, but the recipes of several drinks she had heard some squires concoct together one time in this very room.

"I have a challenge for those brave enough to stomach it!" She announced, bending her book in half to hide the other page she had drawn, of coastal cliffs she had no intentions of showing anyone. "The ultimate drink. The ultimate prize! Just who out of you brave men and women are thirsty to rise up to the challenge?"

The Happy Drunk Monroe all but skipped to another nearby table, perusing the selection of beverages on hand. Suppose she might have to tweak the recipe a little, but with the name the squires had given it, she doubted anyone expected it to be sweet and enjoyable. "How many cups shall I make? If you can stomach it without purging it, then you win a prize... one that you can name because I am not familiar with... gifting anyone anything." She shrugged. "It better be a good prize or else I will exercise my right as Judge to deny it."

---

 

[Arbok]

"THREE!"
Arbok, large and in charge, was already well in her cups as she all but dented the table she was at with a slam of her fist.
"I'll take three and WHEN I keep it down you'll owe me..."
She stood to her full height, face blushed and a bit wobbly on her feet.
"... a look at that sketchbook, AND ALL YOUR eh OTHER SKETCHBOOKS TOO."
Taking a great step up onto the table Arbok walked over it and used to long bench as a step down on the other side grinning like she had already won.

Monroe

 

[Roki]

A green fist slammed onto the table. A stiff upper lip and proud tusks under a squinted gaze, in which burned the aspirant light of competition.

“When I win!” He hiccupped. Already a few cups in himself. A hot huff steamed out of flared nostrils.

Lemock wrapped an arm around him to try and dissuade him. “Rr-oki, chum, mate, friendo, you,” he laughed and slapped him on the chest, red across his cheeks. He got way too close to Roki’s ear and whispered. “You can’t beat Arbok,”

Another pound of his fist on the table, and a hand jut out to move Lemock off him.“WHEN I WIN YOU’LL ALL MODEL FOR ME!” Roki grinned.

 

[Nacht]

Nacht sipped some tea and watched as the central table became more and more raucous (in the best way possible), grinning even as the drink burned the roof of his mouth unpleasantly. He then realized not many people were around, and moved to take a seat next to Lemock, drunk as dizzy bear, who had seemed to be telling off a similarly drunk Roki. "I wouldn't underestimate Roki! The fortitude of an Orc is no small obstacle to overcome." He'd laugh, leaning against the table.

He remembered that Lemock had been there the day he was saved, but the rest was hazy. A big headache, and then...nothing. "Roki! Don't die, alright?" He'd yell, laughing at this point. He could only imagine what Roki might need models for.

 

[Noa]

“And when I win, my prize will be you, Monroe.” A lazy, cheeky smile followed after the words as Noa turned her head to Monroe, ignoring Syr Cymbeline’s gasp beside her. Whatever the shy knight had drunk so far, Noa had had three times as much, but it hardly showed. One didn’t reach thirty years of age without learning how to hide the signs of a incoming black out.

Of course, her milky irises that blended into the hazy whites of her eyes helped. Noa never looked anyone in the eye when she was sober, she wouldn’t have to do it now while drunk. And if she bumped into anyone when walking? Whoops, she was blind, couldn’t see ya, sorry, pardon me, blind lady coming through. Ne usually parted the crowds for her anyways.

“A quiet night, just you and I,” Noa pretended she couldn’t hear Cymbeline’s whispers about consent, “so I can dive into that prickly aura of yours and make a song all about us— I mean, you.…” Noa shook Cymbeline’s hand off her shoulder as she got up, picking up her sanshin to go over to the table where all the action seemed to be happening.

“Unless Roki wins.” She steadied herself with a hand on his little bird-shoulder. Ahh… his little bird bones, Roki was so skinny compared to his sister. Noa gave her hand a squeeze. Yep. She wouldn’t be surprised if his bones were hollow. He felt so… breakable. She thought about snapping Roki in half, like a dry twig in summer. Poor Roki. Her tight grip loosened and she gave him a little comforting pat, the sort she gave to Ne when he had to take a bath.

“Then I’ll write a song about him!”

 

[Monroe]

Three, called Arbok, and a peek to her books she kept closed around others.

One, for Roki, with the idea that earned an expressive scowl from the drunken Monroe.

One for... no.... Nacht was not joining in, and Monroe was perhaps glad for a smidgen of a second because she was sure that squire would puke his guts up.

And Noa. One for Noa. Monroe regarded her with a wicked grin, ensuring her next words were said with a certain coo. "I doubt any night with you, Noa, would be quiet."

Monroe rounded behind a table and gathered the five steins. "Right... give me a moment." She opened her book upon the surface to glace at, gathering the surprising few ingredients needed for the putrid concoction. The dagger at her hip was used to slice up lemons, and with the help of other squires she barked at to help squeeze three lemons worth of juice into each stein, she was able to then slice two oranges for each drink.

With the citrus juices all sitting, the squires cleaned up the halves of fruit to give Monroe room for the next bit of of the recipe. Beer. The jugs she were handed were not cold as the recipe had stated, but Monroe waved off the idea of adding the cold snow that fell freshly from the skies. No, no. This drink was not meant to be easy to stomach. She looked around for the other ingredients needed, calling out for something she was either too drunk to see or too impatient to find on her own.

After adding the cinnamon, the crushed coriander seeds, and the addition of muddled chilli peppers, she was able to add the tomato juice that would sit at the top of the drink... perhaps with a bit of tomato chunks present in the drink.

Served with a slice of orange, Monroe transferred the filled steins to an empty table after telling the others occupying it and reading to rack off.

"Right. Three drinks for Arbok. One for Roki, and one for Noa. You have two minutes to finish this drink." She waved them over, grinning like a drunken fool. After grabbing her book and winding the twine around it to close, stashing it into a pocket, she frowned. "I do not have a time keeper.... Squire! You... you count out loud the two minutes. If you cannot count that high, get a friend to help you."

Monroe stood back, onlookers behind her and collectively a safe distance from the challenge table.

"Two minutes to drink your Ogre's Piss. Starting.... now!"

---

---

1d20 roll for each post.
First Round: Higher than 14

1st post (the first 30 seconds)
The Taste - good? bad?

2nd post (ending the first minute of the challenge)
The Experience - upset stomach? unaffected?

3rd post (the last minute)
The Outcome - in the clear? or we gonna barf last minute into the stein??

4th post and beyond
The Aftermath and Prizes >: )

Arbok - Roki - Nacht - Noa

 

[Arbok]

"I got this!"
Arbok took the first drink raised it high and downed the entire thing in five short seconds.
The stained stein shook the table as she slammed it down and she reached for the second.
Wow it tasted bad, like barf, barf and hops and vinegar?
Her great stomach lurched...
"Ohhhh!"
Arbok leaned right over to get her breath.
"Ohh, I'm okay..."
Arbok was not okay she could feel the rising in her guts already.
"Oh no..."
Her mouth opened and the loudest, wettest burp any of them had ever heard blasted from her mouth for at least ten seconds. It echoed out and reached the ear of every soul there.
When it was done Arbok was on the floor as if deflated.
"I can... I can't do it... that's poison."
Gingerly she rolled over onto her side and cradled her stomach which felt like it was going to explode.

Monroe
Roki
Nacht
Noa

 

[Roki]

Roki let out another huff of breath. Shut his eyes, and remembered his tanden. His roots. "I!" the squire proclaimed with a hot and clear breath. Grabbed up his stein with a looping swipe that unsettled the drink, but spilled none. "WILL WIN!"

After all, who didn't want a song written about them by Syr Noa?

And he tossed it back. Glug, glug, glugged.

It was thick, hard to drink with all of its little bits and chunks. Textures. But damn. Did he like the kick to it.

Time still spilled, and Arbok fell to the ground with a hard thump. Roki pulled the drink from his lips. Let out a steamy breath. And looked to Arbok with a sharpness as he wiped his lips down with the back of his wrist.

"Get up, Arbok!" he grinned. "I can't have my rival squire fall so early!" he rose from his seat, his partially drunk stein still in hand as he crouched down to Arbok, splayed his hand wide, swung it back! And then pat her on the back with steady thumps. "Makes my inevitable victory look all the cheaper for it," he said as he pat pat her again. Turned his head and kept on chugging.

Nacht - Noa - Monroe - Arbok

 

[Noa]

Monroe was mistaken, Noa could be very quiet when she wanted to be. It was also very easy to silence another, especially in the midst of a dance where two heart beats became one, loud drum. But she wouldn’t say this aloud, no need to fluster Monroe when she was off making the drinks for everybody. She took her own cup, confident as one could possibly be. Time to show the squires how it was done: Noa took a deep swig.

[rolled 3]

It wasn’t bad at first, tasted a little bit like fresh cut grass, maybe some extra spongy moss. Not the sort of drink she would order. But that was only the first of the flavors to assault her tastebuds, and for once, Noa was glad Ne wasn’t at her side. There was some soy sauce, almond or was that walnut? Pear, watermelon— those were nice, but not when Noa swore they were alongside flavors like heavy stinky feet and acidic vomit.

Noa slammed the cup onto the table, inhaling deeply and trying to resist the urge to gag. The smell was getting to her as well, lawn clippings and mint and seaside brine and rotten eggs and moldy cheese and sweet cherries. It was the first time that Noa hadn’t chugged a drink. What in Arethil had Monroe put into this?

“Disgusting shiet...”

She considered taking her defeat here, after all, Arbok was having just as much trouble as she was. But Noa only had one drink, and she had two minutes to try and finish it. She could hear Roki’s Anaphite‘s Apple bobbing up and down as he glug-glug-glugged. His poor mother, he must have been a pain to breast feed.

Couldn’t let the squires get the best of her. Once again, she lifted up her cup, pinched her nose, and told herself she couldn’t breathe until she had finished every last drop.

Monroe Arbok Roki | Nacht

 

[Nacht]

Nacht, much less inebriated than Monroe, decided to take it upon himself to timekeep for the knight, because a happy Monroe was also a fully drunk Monroe, judging from tales of her sober state and the meanness that came with it. Then, he got back to watching the deadly battle commence. A strange occurence quickly; Arbok fell first, her giant frame collapsing to the floor as she adopted the stature of a boulder, curling into a giant ball. Did not see that one coming, Nacht would think, grateful that he had retained enough anxiety to stay back from the challenge, knowing that if that is what happened to a Nordenfiir, him drinking the "Ogre's Piss" would probably result in a display too gross to think about.

Roki on the other hand seemed to be tipping back drink like a practiced wine connoisseur, the odd ingredients seemingly not fazing him in the slightest. Impressive, for sure, but perhaps there was a tad bit of an advantage he naturally had. No, that was not a virtuous way of thinking on it. Arbok was about a few inches taller than the Orc and had fallen to the floor. That is to say, the drink defied constitution and instead seemed to be dictated by the contestant's reaction to it's contents. "Roki! That was pretty quick! You want another one?" Nacht would quip, turning to the final contestant.

Noa was currently having maybe the second strongest reaction to the drink, making a couple somewhat unhealthy sounds but ultimately managing to keep down the drink. It was clear she had not managed to fully swallow all the cup's contents in one go, but did not let up. Apparently, Syr Noa was a famously good drinker, so perhaps losing here was a fate worse than throwing up and exiting the battle. To all of this, he shouted a few words and leaned back, enjoying the general aura of celebration and spirit that permeated the very air, with more to come:

"One Minute and Thirty Seconds Remain!"
​

Roki Arbok Monroe Noa

 

[Wilhelm Thorne]

Wilhelm was a lot of things, but an avid party-goer was not one of them.

Mostly keeping to himself during his time- quite unlike him, despite what most people would say prior to him coming to the Order. Now- with all the new things, new things to learn, to read, to write. Languages to study, creatures, orders, enemies, styles. War.

It lead him to appear quiet and shy, when he was simply focused- out of his element. Case and point:

Arm deep in mead, wine, and company. He hadn't said but a few words to the other Squires, Knights, outside of the classroom and perhaps passing words in the barracks. All that being said-

There was no way in hell that he was going to partake in the grog. He'd stay with his sweet-tasting mead, and enjoy the show. From the other end of the room, Wilhelm watched, pursing his lips after taking a drink. He hadn't made a movement to the other squires and member of the order socially since beginning his training- and simply agreeing to be in the same room as many of them was a far cry from how he had been for the past few weeks.

And he watched, with a passive, but interested, look on his face.

 

[Monroe]

Monroe, along with the other onlookers, laughed at the initial reactions of the drink. It was no pleasant, and Monroe ensured it was no easy feat. She was glad for it. She didn't want to show Arbok her drawings. She didn't want to sit and grump before Roki as a model, and... Noa was a considerable bet, but seeing how the Knight struggled, her inebriated mind was preparing a way to back herself out of the first two options.

" Awful start, you three!" She clapped her hands, trying to rouse them into gear. "Talking big game to win and look at your sorry arses!" Monroe was no comforting mentor, or even a considerable mentor at that.

"Power through it. You have prizes to win." She approached the table, risking a quick proximity to upset stomachs. She knocked onto the table's surface and called for them to remain strong before backing away.

This was no more a competition than it was entertainment, a commotion tobthe otherwise peaceful Knoll before Cathmore and cohorts celebrate with drink.

______
Roll higher than 8

 

[Arbok]

"Roki?"
Arbok stood, with all she had.
She had survived the shadow warriors, battles, monsters, recovered bear form. This drink was not going to beat her.
With a stubborn huff she picked up the second drink and downed it completely expecting to be used to the foulness within.

Arbok had never been so wrong in her life.

Death.
Again she felt a terrible grumbling in her stomach and bent over the table to try and let it pass.
It was not passing.
There was one drink left.
Arbok wanted to cry.
She was only vaguely aware of the others cheering and geering.

Why did she agree to this?
This was a bad idea.
"Oooohhhhhhhhhhh, I don't feel so hot!"


Roki
Nacht
Monroe
Wilhelm Thorne
Noa

 

[Roki]

Breath huffed out as he sat in his low squat. Arbok rose, and took another drink. Roki rose and gave a big pat on Arbok's back. Hung from her shoulder, like a squirrel on the side of a tree. "Hang in there, Arbie, you're almost there," he said.

Looked down at the last remnants of the drink. Squint all the more at the thick soup that was the beverage.

"I'll destroy you," he whispered to it. Head already adrift in a haze of alcoholic warmth. He threw it back.

Gulp. Gulp. GULP.

Roki slammed the stein down. Clack! Squint as he felt something gurgle in his gut. Lips turned down. The drink was empty. Another gurgle.

Then nothing.

He grinned. Too pleased with himself. Burped. The belch came up with bit of fire gouting from his mouth. He blinked. Then burst into a fit of laughter.

Too easy.

---

Rolled 15
Noa Nacht Wilhelm Thorne Monroe Arbok

 

[Noa]

And finished every last drop she did. Noa was many things, some good, some bad, but at least she was stubborn. Sometimes that was good, but in this case, it was bad. Against her better judgement, after she had swallowed the last gulp, slamming her cup hard against the table, it only was a second later for Noa to feel sick.

She breathed in through her mouth, but the air was bitter and filled with heat and sweat. It did little to relieve her from the mounting sickness rising from her belly and up her throat. She closed her eyes tightly, Roki’s laughter grating for once.

Noa turned, hands reaching out, feeling and searching. She tugged on Roki’s hood, the first time too hard, the second just to make sure there was some depth to the hood.

She leaned over, seemingly going to bury her face into the crook of Roki’s neck. She kept leaning, maybe to rest her head on his shoulder. One hand griped the squire’s bicep tightly, fingernails digging into his arm.

Instead, Noa dipped her head down into the warmth of Roki’s hood and let all the sick in her gut come out. Hot bile scorching her throat, her retches loud and ugly. The smell was the worst part.

Monroe Arbok
Nacht Roki
Wilhelm Thorne

---

I don’t remember my roll but I know Noa definitely didn’t pass.

 

[Nacht]

Roki once again flawlessly got back to drinking, putting everyone else to shame. There was not much to be said about him other than a few remarks on his amazing constitution, but everyone was mostly tired of those since it was so obvious. Arbok, on the other hand, looked halfway in the grave already, bent over the table in some sort of attempt to rest. She had another drink left, and it stared her in the face, as smug as a drink could be. Why had she agreed to three? From what went into that drink, Nacht was fairly sure downing half of ONE was a challenge. It would be rather interesting to see how she tackled the last stein. Personally, Nacht hoped she won, because he had always been curious about "Mean-roe's" fabled artistic ability himself.

Noa finished next. which Nacht was about to congratulate them on, but then he noticed that she seemed...rough. Just all around not well, which was complimented by an array of stumbling movements not unlike a drunk in the dark. She then became utterly fixated upon Roki's hood, and Nacht had a sinking feeling what would come next. "Noa, can we get you a buc-" Well, the knight answered that question by means of upchucking possibly her entire drink into the squire's hood, obviously unable to wait. Nacht looked away, knowing that for some seeing someone sick had the annoying habit of making you violently sick as well. He didn't throw up because he wasn't watching the whole thing go down, but the rather graphic gagging and retching sounds did in fact set him queasy.

He turned, eyes open but decidedly not in the direction of either Roki or Noa. Yes, it was indeed very gross. Still, that would not stop him from doing his job of summary: "I believe Syr Noa is out! Roki has drained his glass but managed to keep it down, so only Arbok is left, I believe. One minute remains, and for the love of Arethil, throw up elsewhere if you need to!" he said, not wanting anyone else's garments to become makeshift buckets.

Arbok Wilhelm Thorne Monroe Roki Noa

 

[Monroe]

This was it, the last minute.

Everything hung onto these precious seconds, and her preferred winner, the lesser of evils with prizes, was down for the count.

Monroe turned her face away, unable to witness Noa failing the challenge, and therefore a night to sate Monroe's curiosities.

A few lads helped the blind knight away, one staying back to offer his jacket to Roki with a — and no fault to him personally — disgusted grimace.

Monroe looked back and stared at the remaining two.

"One minute, like the squire said."

This was the final stretch. Whoever stayed upright the longest would be declared winner...

She just hoped it wasn't bloody Roki.

---

Roll higher than 18

Arbok Roki Nacht

 

[Arbok]

Arbok rolled a 5
A freaking 5!

"No!"
Arbok stood, limbs shaking and belly heavy as she downed the final drink and stopped halfway through as her body finally betrayed her.

Dropping the tankard she shoved Roki out of her way with her powerful arm and cried.
"MOOOVE!"
Thumping her way across the room to the window she leaned over and emptied her stomach out over the sil and there she stayed, groaning and regretting her wild boasts.
Since getting her bear back she felt invincible but this was a humbling reminder of her own mortality.
"Freakin... never doin... this... again...!"

 

[Roki]

Triumph. Victory. Models! All was right in his-

A hard yank at his hood pulled him off balance. Utterances of disbelief and surprise fell from his mouth.

Then puke. Lots of horrid. Wet. Stinking puke.

It seeped and stuck and ran and stank and Roki. Roki had a very good nose. Was sensitive to this sort of thing. He retched. Heaved. Spilled his guts.

He lost.

 

[Nacht]

Arbok rushed away, presumably to relieve her body of the Ogre's Piss it had ingested so much of. Yes, indeed, he could practically hear it flying out the nearest window. Thusly, he was even more glad he did not try any. Now all that stood between Mon-deling (A cross between Monroe and Modeling) and Roki was a few seconds. Sadly, the Orc did not last that, and for good reason, for the scent of Noa's rather grotesque loss quickly reached his nose and then evidently his stomach.

Roki had almost won. It was so close. Seeing Monroe begrudgingly model for him would have been incredibly funny. Undoubtedly, tales would be told of that day Roki received his reward for days after. Unfortunately, Noa's bile got to him, and Roki did the reasonable thing. Frankly, Nacht would have been shocked if he hadn't thrown up in turn. "With a great effort to resist, Roki falls! That means everyone has lost." He says, a bit saddened for emphasis.

"The competition is over." He states.

Monroe

 

[Monroe]

Everyone needed half an hour in the outdoors to recover from the lingering stench of brought back up Ogre's Piss, and it was not an appetising idea for everyone else. Noa was being nursed by someone, trying to get her to drink some tea or water, but the blind Knight refused.

Arbok looked as if she had seen many horrors in the short walk from the door to her current seat, not too far from Nacht and Noa.

It was with furrowed brows and an everpresent scowl that Monroe made to approach Roki, thankfully out from his spoiled clothing.

"You lasted longest. I say that warrants a prize still." Really, she pitied the lad, but she wasn't going to say so either. "If you end up being terrible, I will light your attempts on fire and make you regret even tasting Ogre's Piss. Got that, Roki ?"

 

[Noa]

“I dun whan wadur.”

“It’s tea, Noa.”

“Shuddup Cym… Cymbal-tangerine.” A sloshing and a clanging cup could be hear from the little corner that Syr Cymbeline had managed to drag Noa off to. Ne also had a sensitive nose and decided that being outside was best for him. Roki could fend for himself. “I whan chimkin wings.”