The Last Man Standing
Beer and ale flowed freely and already more than a few words were being slurred amongst the crowd gathered at the Baldur’s Gate Arena. A colorful, finely embroidered tent had been erected and beneath it sat a well to do gentleman accompanied by a striking elf woman. There were several other figures standing around the pair, clearly servants of some type. Groups of humans, elves, halflings, and dwarves drank and talked and mingled and laughed. Ocasionally glances were directed toward three dwarves standing in the arena as they arranged mugs of ale on a long rough-hewn oaken table. One of the dwarves, Durgan Ironfaar, would periodically drink one of the mugs, eliciting a reprimand from the other two. Several times the exchange nearly came to blows, but finally the table was heavily laden with frothy mugs. The red-bearded dwarf climbed atop the table and in a loud voice announced the beginning of the festivities.
“Ah’m t’ be welcomin’ ye t’ the Kraak Helzak drinkin’ contest an’ pit faet!” A few out of the crowd turned their attention toward the figure, but most continued their drinking and talking. After a few moments of staring at the crowd with his hands on his hips, the dwarf huffed, cupped his hands about his mouth, and in a booming voice, drew the crowd’s attention and also set several of the dogs in nearby farmyards to barking.
“Now ye lis’n up! Ah’m t’ be telling ye what yer t’ be doin, but first ah’m told by me brudder.” The dwarf gestured to another dwarf with dark hair standing by the table and shaking his head. “…by my brudder, ‘at th’ good King Dovkin Battle’ammer be welcomin’ ye t’ the Kraak Helzak drinkin’ contest an’ pit faet!” Cheers and yells erupted from the crowd. Durgan smiled at the response, enjoying the attention. He proceeded to recite the rules of the drinking contest in a heavy dwarven accent that caused many contestants to scratch their head in confusion and ask their equally confused neighbors what the dwarf was talking about. Eventually, those who wished to compete were made to understand that they were to take their place behind the heavy oaken table, facing the crowd.
“Now, yer’ t’be drinkin one at a taeme. Ye teke th’e drink an put yer mug down on th’ table. Ifn’ ye be fallin’ down, yer out! Ifn’ ye be spillin yer drink, yer out! Ifn ye be heavin’ yer guts onto th’ table, yer out! Ifn’ ye be…”
The dark haired dwarf beside Durgan hit him on the back of the head. “All raet, ye dolt! They get it. Now git yer contest started eh?” After several sharp words between the two brothers, and some diplomacy from their third brother, Tagnar, the contest was under way. In all there were fifteen contestants standing behind the oaken table. There were several noteworthy contestants. Among the dwarves were Matilda Stonehold, a stout dwarven lass of local renown, a thick and hearty dwarf with a red mohawk known only as Starkard, and Tagnar Ironfaar, brother to Durgan and Kelburn. There were elves as well, notably the forest warrior Mendel and close friend of Durgan, Avereon Elestar. The first few rounds passed unremarkably with each contestant easily finishing their mug and placing it empty on the table. To Durgan and Kelburn’s surprise and great amusement, their brother Tagnar was the first to waver. After finishing his fifth round, he swayed a bit before placing his mug precariously near the edge of the table. Tagnar looked with a befuddled expression at the table, his hands, and then the crowd around him.
Durgan nudged Kelburn with his elbow. “Eh, brudder, ah’ put a lil’ sommat extra in Tagnar’s ale. Bit of potion ah got from some wizzerd. ‘E claimed ‘twould put th’ stoutest dwarf on ‘is arse in less ‘en faeve minutes. Bwahahahahahaahah!”
The wizard’s claim proved true. Tagnar’s expression changed from confusion to vague relaxation and he crashed heavily to the floor. The crowd erupted in laughter as three stocky dwarves carried the snoring Ironfaar to the side of the arena where several makeshift cots had been erected for the contestants.
Three rounds later, the burly dwarf Starkard had just finished his eighth round. He slammed the mug on the table and turned to jeer the rather shaky elf, Mendel, when he slipped on a spot of spilled ale and fell heavily to the ground, knocking over several steins in the process and drenching himself in ale. He came up red faced and sputtering while the crowd roared in laughter. He tried to protest but the officiating Ironfaar brothers shrugged. “Rules be rules.”
Starkard trudged grumbling out of the arena. The next three rounds saw Avereon teeter on one leg, then the other, then both, then on her heels before she fell forward and lay still on the oaken table. Durgan roared with laughter before going to his friend and easily bearing her away to the recovery area. Two rounds later found Matilda Stonehold and the elf Mendel facing each other from the far sides of the table. Both tried to formulate jeering insults and both failed hilariously, uttering nearly unintelligible garbled phrases accompanied by wild and uncoordinated gesticulations. Matilda took up her stein, the sixteenth of the contest, and raised it to the heavens as if to propose a toast.
“Awh’ve got’ ‘g t’ blwthatdth.!” She roared triumphantly and threw back the mug all at once.
Mendel raised his mug aloft similarly in a mocking gesture, but when he tried to throw it back, he missed his open mouth and smashed the clay stein heavily into his forehead. He flew over backward and crashed to the ground snoring. Matilda raised her hands either in victory or in an attempt to catch her balance. It was unclear to the crowd as mere seconds after her competitor, she too fell heavily to the ground and began snoring loudly. The crowd rocketed to their feet and began chanting in unison “Ma-til-da! Ma-til-da! Ma-til-da!” Kelburn and Durgan rushed around the table and raised the unconscious dwarf to her feet and raised her hands above her head for her. She stirred, raised her head, smiled crookedly to the crowd, then her head slumped forward and the brothers carried her away.
The crowd quieted after a few minutes and those close to the left side of the arena, where Tagnar Ironfaar lay sleeping could hear him speaking in a high pitched voice. “Ahm a good laddie, mummie! Shar ah be! Am a clean lil’ laddie ah be!” Durgan and Kelburn were next to him, rolling on the ground and roaring with laughter.
. But alas he is too much of a wimp to break the rules.