Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kinsman@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca (Aphoriel/Kinsman) Subject: [Denner/Kal/Kevin/QSilver] The Drinking Contest Cont.. Message-ID: <1993Jan19.152308.932@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Date: Tue, 19 Jan 1993 15:23:08 GMT [ADMIN] Altering B.Davis's/Kalendraf's post.. "The bets are closed," announced Dramic. He glanced back at the tally sheet he had made covering all the wagers, then turned back to the bar and addressed the bartender. "Littlefair, bring us 8 pitchers of beer." Then, he turned toward the fireplace and called out to the bard, "Minstrel, a drinking song." Finally, he turned back to face Kalendraf. Kal sat watching, almost oblivious to the events in the inn, unaware of the strange leering faces continually looking his way. To the untrained eye, it might have been dismissed as mere mental preparation for the task ahead. But others in the bar, those with keen magical and mental powers, had noticed something else in this man - powerful magic shrouding his thoughts. For that and other reasons they had declined to enter into the wagering. One of those reasons being important business. As soon as Kalendraf sat back and waited for the beer to arrive, Denner, sitting rather humbly at the wall, felt a cold chill at his chest. *Twice in one hour!* he thought... Something had gone wrong with his barrels upstairs again. He had to go see where the leak was, before the inn was flooded with poison... Littlefair and one of his serving maids began to bring the requested pitchers of beer. Kalendraf grabbed one and emptied it almost instantaneously. The once rowdy, and noisy bar was nearly silenced by his guzzling display. Listener's music, which had been almost impossible to hear just a few seconds before, now sounded horribly loud and distorted. The bard quickly shifted his hand-position on the lute, and began to play a slower, mellower tune. Denner whistled slowly in thought through his gas mask as he examined the barrels. He didn't understand it at all; not one barrel was leaking or breachedin any way, yet the warning charm was nearly freezing to his chest.. apparently,the charm was mistaken or confused. This was a worrisome discovery; Denner couldn't always trust the charm to protect his barrels. He had to go find out what the strange quirk in the charm was. Kal proceeded to empty the second pitcher in the same fashion. Dramic took notice of the crowd's silence, and leaned over to Kalendraf whispering, "Take it slow now. No need to get anyone upset." Kal picked up a third pitcher and drank from it, slightly slower, but not slow enough to satisfy Dramic or, more importantly, the customers of the Dragons Inn. Denner walked downstairs into the bar, carefully wiping his hands and scanningthe bar for any traces of nausea or fainting. His eyes rested one of the patrons, the one involved in the drinking contest. He was guzzling like a madman, at a rate impossible for any normal person, and the whole bar was watching with incredulous looks on their faces. He stopped midway down the stairs, realizing what the charm was telling him. Apparently this person was under some sort of magic spell, one that allowed him to drink amounts of such volume... and the charm picked it up, not because it was a breach of his barrels, but because the charm had picked up water-magic exposed to the general area. Denner was rather amused by this discovery. The charm had more uses than first known, if he could use it to detect water-magic that, say, the wizards at home had left lying around, or perhaps locate new places appropriate for dumping his alchemic leftovers, or perhaps... *Hey, Wait a minute!!!* "Hey, this is rigged!," shouted a voice from the crowd. "I assure you, good friends, that there is nothing under-handed involved here today." Dramic tried his best to quiet the concerned betters. "Oh, don't I know that." Denner stepped down the stairs and walked toward Dramic. "You're using that man there as a money-making tool. He's been charmed to drink like that!", Denner said with a rather accusatory glint in his eye. Several hooded figures in the corners rolled their eyes at Denner's statementof the stupidly obvious. "Oh, I beg your pardon, young man, I know of no such thing. If this is magicindeed, then I assure you I know of no such thing. But do consider that magic or no magic, eight pitchers of beer is surely a feat worth wagering.." "I know wizards at home who drink twenty or thirty pitchers at a single sitting without blinking. I work for them, and I can certainly say with confidence that..." "*You* work for a wizard?", one of the hooded figures said in slight disdain. "Hey, wait a minute! If you work for a wizard, what were in those barrels that you made me carry up to your room?" Denner recognized the man who helped him before. "Uh, hmm. Err..." Denner hadn't expected this reaction. *Trust me to put my foot in my mouth..* he thought.. Just as Dramic was pleading his case, Kal took a fourth pitcher and drained it. Dramic turned just in time to see Kal picking up the fifth pitcher. "Slow down!," he called to Kal. "Let me get this crowd under control." Dramic turned back to the crowd, unaware that his words were falling on deaf ears. "I bet he's got barrels full of magical poison he was delivering to dump somewhere for his water-wizards.." That same hooded figure grinned from within his hood. "Hey!" Denner shouted. Bloody mind-readers.... "Hey, this contest is rigged!" the bar patron shouted again, noting that nobody paid proper attention to him the last time. "Give us back our money right now, you conniving snake!" The crowd of bettors grumbled in agreement and made threatening motions to Dramic. "I'm certain that we can all work someth..." "Let's get him!" the bar patron yelled again, smiling in mischief at the trouble he was causing. "Which one? The swindler, or the poison-shipper?" the hooded figure intoned. "Hey, let's get them both!" "What?" Dramic waved his hands. "Wait a minute! I'm trying to help you all here! I'm planning to leave as soon as I find a ..." Dramic ducked as a chair sailed lazily over his head and crashed into the wall behind him. "horse..." "Hey, don't throw chairs around here!" the bar owner yelled. Suddenly, a large black hole appeared and a young boy fell out of the ceiling, landing in the midst of everyone with a loud thump. "Oh dear.." Dramic sidestepped a bewildered patron who had been heading for him, and walked over to the now-unconscious young man in the white coat who had appeared out of nowhere. He looked badly injured. Another adventurer, too, stepped up to the boy, and started to magically tend to his wounds. "Good evening. Are you taking care of this?" "Good evening. My name is Quicksilver, and yes, I think he should be all right. Whoever he is." the adventurer spoke. "Hmm. Perhaps I can take him to a place where he can rest up. I mean, I have to go out anyway, to buy a horse, and well.. to avoid this crowd..." Quicksilver nodded. "As you will. Perhaps you might need help carrying him out." "Yes, thank you. Oops!" Dramic ducked another flying chair. Quicksilver smiled. "Yes, I think we all might need to leave this inn for the moment..." Meanwhile, Kalendraf had gotten halfway through his fifth pitcher. He was totally oblivious to his surroundings, entranced in his drinking.. But slowly, dancing gray spots began to from in front of his eyes, and Kalendraf dimly noticed himself slowly becoming ill and woozy... Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan [ADMIN: This was to be a post between Denner, Kalendraf, and Kevin, but what with Quicksilver making a move on Kevin when he dropped in, perhaps he might wish to join in, too. If not, he can simply help Denner carry Kevin outside, and then do what he pleases.] / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. /