Max glanced at the remaining contestants in the drinking contest. Four tables were left, and a fair number of the real contenders were at the table with him and Fowl.
“What is it with dwarves and alcohol?” Max asked.
A loud roar of laughter came from the seven dwarves sitting at the table with him.
“While you were sucking on yer muthers teat, me mum waz feedin' me ale!” a blond-headed female dwarf roared. “I swear her teat was pure ale!”
The other dwarves, including Fowl, laughed and banged their empty tankards on the wooden table.
“She’s right!” Fowl exclaimed, wrapping an arm around one of the dwarves sitting beside him. “Drinking be a part of our life. Now, go ahead and quit before ya pass out!”
Some laughter and chuckles came from the other tables down the line, but Max saw that most of the contestants were barely holding on.
[ Regeneration Expired ]
Max just smiled and shrugged.
Maybe it is cheating, but at least no one is getting hurt…
“This be yer friend?” an orange-haired dwarf asked Fowl as he wrung out his ale-filled beard. “He seems half dwarf from how little he’s struggling.”
Fowl nodded and laughed. “He’s my half-brother from my ugly uncle's side!”
More laughter and hollering came as Max continued to smile.
The bell announcing the next round of drinks cut off all the laughter, and serious expressions suddenly appeared on every dwarf at his table.
“Alright, you boys and girls who think you’re going to take home the coveted Helm of Drinking, listen up!”
Max watched as a dwarf almost as wide as he was tall held up a helm he had shown off multiple times. The metal cap had two tankards attached on its side, and, from how everyone seemed to react, Max had half expected it to be made of solid gold instead of normal metal.
A pair of dwarves next to him were eating something as the man spoke, and when Max glanced a little closer, one of them held up a slab of butter.
“Sorry, hungry, and this man talks too much,” the dwarf said as he quickly slid the butter into his mouth and swallowed it whole.
Smacking his lips, Max nodded.
“For this round, we’ll be putting down three tankards, and you only have one minute to drink all three! No starting till the first bell, and each tankard must be empty and upside down when the bell sounds again!”
The moment he finished speaking, three tankards plopped down over Max's shoulder and placed in front of him. Three tankards began to appear before every contestant, each of them a little larger than the standard one.
“Gods, they’re really upping the ante early,” Fowl muttered. “Makes me glad I emptied my bladder before this started.”
Most of the dwarves nodded and laughed, while two of the smaller ones appeared a bit less excited that there were three more to finish.
“Remember,” Fowl said as he turned his cups so that the handle was to the side. “Follow my lead. You’re going to have to guzzle fast and keep the air low, or you’ll find it impossible to keep drinking.”
Max nodded, having spent the last few rounds practicing the guzzling technique Fowl was trying to teach him.
The bell rang, and men and women; dwarves, elves, and humans alike, grabbed their tankards and began guzzling their ale like horses at a trough after a long day of work.
Fowl and two other dwarves had one cup down and were on to their second tankard before the rest of the table finished their first.
Max finished about five seconds behind them but was still ahead of one of the dwarves.
When Max was halfway through his second tankard, Fowl put his down, letting out a massive four-second burp as he grabbed his last mug.
One of the dwarves finished at the same time as Fowl and slammed his cup down. He started to burp like Fowl had, only to begin vomiting on one of the other dwarves to his right instead.
In mere moments, the scene at the opposite end of his had turned into a group of dwarves failing the round as they gagged and choked on their ale while the tiny blond-haired dwarf continued to vomit up about five tankards of ale.
Slamming his second tankard down, Max kept an eye on the two dwarves next to him, each scooting closer to him while trying to avoid the unfolding disaster.
Fowl finished his third tankard, belching again as he smiled at Max, seemingly unconcerned with what had just happened.
“Chug! You got this!” Fowl shouted as Max let the liquid slide down his throat.
The last few gulps were the hardest as his stomach protested the sheer volume of liquid he was putting inside it.
With his eyes on the man counting down the time, Max finished with five seconds to spare, placing his cup upside down.
Fowl was beaming at him, shaking his fist in celebration. “Told you he was half dwarf!”
The crowd started to count down.
“Three…. Two… One…”
A brown-haired dwarf next to him, with a nice scar down his cheek, got his third cup upside down right before the bell sounded.
“That’s it!” the brewmaster shouted, bringing cheers and groans from the crowd.
Max finally looked down at the other end of the table, where the vomit-covered contestants seemed upset about their predicament. Some fighting and shouting took place for a moment, but within a few seconds, the group that had failed was gone.
“It appears we are down to six contestants! Give us a moment, ladies and gentlemen, to set up our final table!”
Fowl leaned across the table, extending a fist, and Max gave it a tap with his.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
[ Regeneration ]
Immediately a flood of soothing relaxation came over Max. The amount of liquid in his stomach somehow began to be absorbed by his body, and the lightheaded feeling began to disappear.
“I wasn’t sure I was going to make it,” the scarred dwarf said. “Worst part is I really gotta piss… small dwarf bladder and all.”
Max couldn’t help but laugh, for the first time in longer than he could remember, not being the one who needed to take a wiz.
They sat at a long, ornate table that had been retrieved from wherever it had been hidden. It was taller than the ones they had been sitting at for the earlier rounds of the contest, and now their chairs almost looked like miniature thrones. They all faced the crowd of people who packed the streets, enjoying the moment.
Max was sitting at the end, Fowl was next to him, and past him were three more male dwarves and a female elf, all fighting for the win.
“Okay, from here on out, you’re on your own,” Fowl joked. “You know what’s coming next?”
Max shook his head.
“Just remember, drink fast and steady. Be careful when you burp, or you’ll have a problem like that dwarf did when he hurled. Keeping the air intake low is key, as this is going to be a sprint.”
As if on cue, servers began showing up on the other side of the table near the crowd, carrying trays with seven tankards on each. Each one was filled to the brim, spilling only a little bit as the servers transferred it to the table.
A different bell, like a dinner bell, rang, and the crowd quieted down.
“Alright you drunkards and lechers, now for the main event! For the first seven drinks of this round you got to finish one every thirty seconds! No starting the next till the bell rings! If you’re not finished when the bell rings, that’s it!”
Cheers rose, and Max glanced out over the crowd. He saw Batrire and Tanila clapping, but both were shaking their heads at him and Fowl.
“Our cheerleaders are clapping for us.”
Fowl looked where Max pointed and waved, earning himself an eye-roll from Batrire, who still smiled at her man.
The bell rang, and everyone started drinking their first drink.
Max noticed that Fowl didn’t finish as quickly as he had expected. The dwarf was a drinking machine.
Both of them finished with about ten seconds to spare, and a quick glance down the table showed that everyone was close to finishing at the same time.
The bell tolled again, and the second tankard hit everyone's lips as the crowd roared.
Max paced himself against Fowl, finding that he could finish about a second after his friend and still have eight seconds left.
The two dwarves closest to the elf almost missed the cutoff time, but with two seconds left, both had their cups on the table.
Round three found its first casualties. Two dwarves, one the dwarf with a scar on his face, were unable to finish before the bell rang.
The crowd got louder when the fourth round began as they saw contestants struggling.
[ Regeneration ]
Max felt relief as the volume of alcohol began to dissipate, and he chugged with renewed vigor. Fowl had risked a glance at him and began to chug faster as Max put the fourth mug down first between the two of them.
The bell tolled right as the dwarf next to Fowl Finished, and he immediately started on the fifth one.
He was eliminated as the bell rang, while Fowl, Max, and the elf all picked up a sixth tankard.
They each finished their sixth and seventh drink before the final ringing of the bell without any problems.
The crowd was going crazy at having one of each race still left.
The servers cleared the table of tankards and moved the three final contestants in front of the table.
“Alright! Let’s meet our three finalists!”
“On my right is the lovely elf, Seujjana!”
A loud roar sounded as the brown-haired elf gave a simple bow and smiled at the crowd.
“Next we have a man who needs no introduction if you caught his match in the Colosseum. Seth Pendal!”
Max was caught off guard by the number of people who cheered for him, a few in the crowd calling out how much they loved him.
When the din died down, the announcer bellowed out, “Let’s give it up for a dwarf and lover of ale, Fowl Hammerfall!”
Fowl stepped forward and bowed.
Cheers came from the dwarves community, and they began a chant, “Wet Beard! Wet Beard! Wet Beard!”
Max couldn’t help but laugh at the possible double meaning.
“Good luck,” Max said as he turned to Seujjana. She was wearing a light set of leather armor and appeared to be an archer if he recognized the calluses on her fingers.
“I think we’re both out of our league against that friend of yours,” she said, pointing at Fowl, who was still raising his hands as if he had already won. “I’ve watched him and you both. This isn’t his first time.”
“Part of me wants to ask where he is putting it.”
Seujjana laughed and nodded.
The dinner bell rang again, and the crowd began to groan and then laugh.
Turning around, the three of them saw three casks had been put on the table behind each of them. Each one had a spigot and a tube was being attached to it.
“Dear gods, we’re about to get hosed,” Fowl said with a chuckle.
“Um… what is about to happen?” Max asked, watching as the workers finished setting things up.
“No more help,” Fowl said with a wink. “Just remember, pretend it’s your mother's teat and suck like your life depends on it… and don’t vomit… or at least if you do, don’t do it on me.”
Max groaned as he started wondering if that might actually happen.
Each of them sat in a chair that was leaned back at a slight angle. They were given the tubes to put in their mouths.
Max quickly realized that this next round was going to be pretty bad if what he had supsected was correct.
“Last elf, human, or dwarf still drinking wins!” shouted the brewmaster to a roar from the crowd.
The massive dwarf waddled to where the three of them were sitting and laughed. “May Ockrim have mercy on your stomachs!” he roared.
Max took one last glance at Fowl and saw his friend taking a massive breath of air.
The bell rang, and a worker standing next to every cask turned the handle, sending a river of ale rushing into each of their mouths.
Max felt his eyes watering as the liquid flowed with a force he hadn’t expected. His tongue couldn’t hold back the flow of ale, and he tried to watch Fowl out of the corner of his eye, seeing his dwarven friend somehow swallowing massive gulps of ale.
His eyes are closed!
A glance at Seujjana showed her swallowing like a pro.
The ale was too much, and even with regeneration helping to fight the liquid sliding down his throat without an end, eventually, he choked, yanking the tube out and spewing ale from his nose and mouth.
Coughing, he heard the crowd chanting “chug chug chug” as the other two continued to somehow swallow the liquid.
His tube finally stopped pouring ale out to splash all over him as someone turned off the spigot.
Looking back and forth, Max watched from the best seat in the house as his friend and the elf did what he considered impossible.
He had no idea how either of them were breathing, but thirty seconds passed, and neither of them appeared to require air.
Both were getting red in the face and starting to tremble.
Seujjana and Fowl began to shake harder as the contest neared the end. The crowd sensed it, their voices almost shaking the table and the chairs the contestants sat in.
Suddenly, Seujjana jerked upward, yanking the tube from her mouth, and began spewing ale all over the ground.
The bell sounded, but Fowl kept on chugging for a few more seconds until someone turned his spigot off.
Max felt bad for Seujjana as she heaved, not at all regal or glamorous, but the woman didn’t seem to care as she emptied her stomach of the massive quantity of ale she had just swallowed.
Fowl took the tube that no longer was unleashing a torrent of ale and waved it above his head.
Cheers and applause came as Fowl attempted to stand and fell back into his chair.
“You did it!” Max shouted over the noise.
Fowl nodded, his eyes seeming to struggle to focus on anything.
“I did! I told you I–”
At that moment, the dam within Fowl broke, and Max lifted his legs off the ground just in time.
Never in his life had Max seen someone vomit so much up, but to the crowd, it was worthy of applause and praise.
“You won…” Max said with a chuckle, not concerned that his friend couldn’t hear him.