Bellamy concluded his song to laughter and applause from his circle of listners.
"Thank 'ee thank 'ee all! But now I need ta wet me whistle!" He said, bowing.
May I offer ya a drink to sooth tha' voice of yours?" she asks.
No-Eyes turned his eyepatched face in Vikorra's general direction.
"Aye lassie, I won't turn down a gen'rous offer like that!" He said, giving her a gap toothed grin."Well, I'll be damned if I don't take that offer instead." He thrusts his foaming mug of ale towards Bellamy with a tip of his head towards Viktorra, giving an overly flourished bow once his hands are free.
Bellamy took the mug with a puzzled expression.
"That were mighty fast lassie, thank ye kindly! An' may I say, prob'ly best ye stay off the rum; it's wreckin' yer voice somethin' fierce!" He said, concerned.
Bellamy concluded his song to laughter and applause from his circle of listners.
"Thank 'ee thank 'ee all! But now I need ta wet me whistle!" He said, bowing.May I offer ya a drink to sooth tha' voice of yours?" she asks.No-Eyes turned his eyepatched face in Vikorra's general direction.
"Aye lassie, I won't turn down a gen'rous offer like that!" He said, giving her a gap toothed grin."Well, I'll be damned if I don't take that offer instead." He thrusts his foaming mug of ale towards Bellamy with a tip of his head towards Viktorra, giving an overly flourished bow once his hands are free.Bellamy took the mug with a puzzled expression.
"That were mighty fast lassie, thank ye kindly! An' may I say, prob'ly best ye stay off the rum; it's wreckin' yer voice somethin' fierce!" He said, concerned.
(Aww, don't like my pirate speech? I'm trying. Besides, she probably learned a bit of "proper English" from her girlfriend. So. There's a reason for it not being perfect. xD)
"Oh, ye funny bard. Me thought you be out to be insultin' me. My apologies for the
mistak'. The name be Viktorra. With who do I hav' tha pleasur' of speakin' with?"
"Aye," replies Anyabwile with a laugh, "and ye might want to lay off the rum 'fore you go deaf and dumb with that blindness a' yers!"
With a drunkenly waving arm, stumbling around Reijo and managing to hold onto his drinks without spilling so much as a drop, he gestures to a larger building just across one of Lilywhite's trademark bridges. "What kinda contests? Drinking contests, a'course! Over at Caileen's Keg just over there! The winners - well, the drunkest winners - get prizes worth of Cayden himself! I'd be inclined to join ya myself, but they done said I can't participate since I work there! And that's just the start of where the gold - liquid or otherwise - is flowing in Lilywhite tonight!"
Suny claps her hands and laughs with glee at Anyabwile's espousing of the contests over in yon establishment. She grabs,
By the hands and -hauling her to her feet- giggles brightly as she leads Nhati over to said fun and games. Skipping, spinning and twirling the pair all the way. (^_^)
Lil' Fisher watched the playful elf skip away, and immediately ditched Ol' Salty to follow her to the games. As he ran, his fur coat sparkled, and his jumps were surprisingly long lasting.
Ol' Salty noticed lil' Fisher run off, and said "well ain't he the bundle o energy t'day. Most the time he just wants to sleep. Must be all that sugar that he.... wait'a moment."
He then checked his bag for the blackberry muffins he was saving. After no luck finding them, he raised his head to look at the distant otter.
"OY! YE TOOK ME MUFFINS YE DAMNED WEASEL!! GIT BACK 'ERE!!" and he chased after lil' Fisher.
"Aye. I be in." Reijo is intrigued by the drinking contests and saunters over in the direction Anyabwile indicates. Polishing off the last of his grog as he walks, he smirks as Suny and Nhati take off, enjoying the view of the two bouncing lovelies from behind.
Nhati stands up, stretches her arms over her head, and rolls her neck, cracking it a couple of times.
"Oy!" Tai says, his wings a-flutter, as he's knocked off of her shoulder by her rolling head.
"A drinking contest sounds good to me!" Nhati says, as Tai settles back down on her shoulder. "And don't mind my language; I was taught to talk like a proper scholar in the Magaambya, but I don't mean anything by it!"
She will follow the others over to where the drinking contests will be occurring-- to watch, and stand on the edges, if not to participate.
"Me thought you be out to be insultin' me. My apologies for the mistak'. The name be Viktorra. With who do I hav' tha pleasur' of speakin' with?"
"Jes' hav'n a little fun with ye lassie! Sorry if'n it sounded like an insult. Me name be No-Eyes Bellamy; an' I be about the finest shipboard cook yer ever likely ta meet!" He said immodestly, bowing.
"...ye might want to lay off the rum 'fore you go deaf and dumb with that blindness a' yers!"
"But what if'n it don't?" Said Bellamy, mock solemnity. "Can't take that chance! Hee he he!" He said taking a swig.
"Drinking contests, a'course!"
"Well now! Why didn't ye say that in the first place? I believe I'll take that challenge!" He declared.
Grabbing Viktorra's arm, he started walking proudly the wrong way.
"Ay! Ye crazy ol' man. The contes' be this way!"
Viktorra begins to pull Bellamy in the right direction.
"I, too, be interested!" she shouted out.
"Oops, my mistake; thank ye kindly lassie, fer guiding a poor old blind sailor...' He said sadly, allowing Viktorra to guide him.
"Hee he he!" He couldn't resist chuckling.
"Hmm....'twas not a problem." she said, choosing not to say anything.
Reijo turns to see what the chuckling is about. He squints at the pair a few moments, confusion on his face. Then, realization dawns upon him. To Viktorra, "Oi! Ye be a lass?! Methought ye was a bloody bloke 'neath yer manly garb an' all... me's thinkin' ole Blindey be puttin' tha moves on a laddie, ha!"
Giving Viktorra a once over, he then smirks, "Ha, ye dir'y old man. Ye be seein' be'er than me fer a bloody change."
The sailor returns to find his next grog, or rum, or whatever else he can find to inebriate himself with...
Lil' Fisher grows bored following the ladies, and instead begins to swim in the air. He slowly rises up until he reaches the roofs. Laughing to himself, he races across the roofs until he spots an apple bobbing contest below him. Without hesitation, he dives off the roof into the barrel of water, then surfaces and giggles at all the astonished faces as he eats his apple.
Nhati nudges Tai. "See? You don't need wings to fly!"
The parrot responds in Polyglot, "An otter swimming through the air looks stupid."
Nhati scolds her familiar: "Be nice!"
"Ha, ye dir'y old man. Ye be seein' be'er than me fer a bloody change."
"Hee, he he! Well now Reijo boy, if'n yer in need of an eyepatch or two ta cover yer bad eye, I c'n get yer a deal!" Bellamy yelled back.
I be about the finest shipboard cook yer ever likely ta meet!
"A blind cook?" Anyabwile chuckles, "Now there's a meal I'd skip!" He slaps the man on the back, so kindly helping Viktorra push the man along towards Cailean's Keg. It is just across one of the south westernly bridges leading from the central island, a large building quite clearly marked as both a temple and a tavern. No mistaking who it was a temple to! "Try not to lose your step, Ol' Blindy, it's a long way to the drink and that one don't even taste good!"
The building is beautiful, and as well decorated as the rest of the city. A fresh coat of paint covers the surface, broad strokes of color and a large, overflowing keg on the building's broadside. The windows are all open to let the sea breeze flow through. Banners hanging from the sills catch the wind and drape out over the cliffside - which so kindly has a meager railing to prevent drunks from tumbling over. The broad doors of the tavern have been hammered open with a set of wooden stakes, and there's no signs of them closing anytime soon. The sounds of celebration - more celebration - echo out from within. Anyabwile can't contain his grin. "Are you lot sure about this? We've got some rather talented drinkers in the house today..."
"I would hope so!" Nhati exclaims. "A dearth of talented drinkers would be disrespectful to the Lucky Drunk...."
"Oh I'll just be watching" said Ol' Salty as he carried the fat otter in his arms. "That ain't a problem though, as I'll be the only one who remembers what you lot 'ave done!"
Me thinks young Reijo will be the first one three sheets to the wind.
"Don't knock it 'til ye've tried me cookin' laddie!" No-Eyes called back to Anyabwile. "Better me as a cook than as a lookout! Which was, odd I know, me last job. Reijo saw it happen, I swear! Tell 'em Reijo!"
Anyabwile looks incredulous, leaning in close and examining Bellamy for any signs of the assumed jest. "Let me guess," he chuckles, "Your last job sank!"
Hearing the host joke about the blind cook and the cook's request of backup, Reijo shakes his head as memories of Bellamy's baked barnacles come back to haunt him. "Oh bloody 'ell. We'dint have 'nny choice. Was either Blindey, or th'bloody gobbie. A gobbie?! Cookin' fer th'crew?!" The sailor hacks in disgust at the thought of rat kabobs and wormy stew. "So, cudda been werse... much werse." But as he speaks, he rubs his belly, as if it remembers a few of those internally stormy nights at sea, stuck on the poop deck for an hour, or two.
When Bellamy mentions being lookout, the sailor rather uncharacteristically begins to laugh quite heartily. But his laughter stirs something up from within his tar-coated lungs, and the chain smoker hacks as he cracks up laughing at memories of the blind lookout.
But even in what would seem to be joy, still there is a twinge of madness in the man's rare release of heartfelt emotion.
When the now wheezing sailor regains his composure moments later, he speaks in a higher pitched voice in between his wheezing, coughing laughter, "Oh bloody 'ell... Mis'r Baldylocks... 'e be a bloody gen'yis 'e be! Sendin' ole Blindey... t'the crow's nest! Fine bunch o'tars they be! Hah! Haa..."
Wiping his eyes dry, and hacking his last hack, his deeper voice resumes now. "Oh! Me needed that Blindey. Heh heh." As some sort of way of saying thanks (?), the pirate pats the blind man on the back. Hard...
On hearing the host's guess of the ship's fate, however, Reijo's amusement now swiftly dies out, turning to grave seriousness. Looking off into the distant ocean from whence they came, "Aye. The bloody ship be restin' at th'bottom o'Besmara's frigid oggin' now." Looking the host straight in the eyes, a sinister smirk comes over the man's face now, "'Long with Baldy's bloody body." Losing his smirk, he glares back to the ocean, "I seen t'that meself..."
Reijo does not speak further on the subject of the sunken ship. Or of this "Mis'r Baldylocks..."
"Aw, hell," Anyabwile says, his festive tone gone, "That just made it all a helluva lot less funny. My apologies, guys, we all know what losing a ship - and all the good people on 'er - is like."
He stays uncharacteristically solemn for a moment, but only just. He quickly raises his glass and looks to the others to do the same. "A drink for those who ain't here to enjoy it with us - may they drink from the cup beside Cayden himself!"
Anyabwile sips at his cup quietly, not sure what else to say that might alleviate the rather grave memories he'd stirred up. With a shrug and an abrupt, intentional cough, he gestures to Cailean's Keg. "Shall we?"
Nhati raises her tankard at Anyabwile's prompt. "To those not here!" she says, and takes a hearty swig.
Reijo simply nods to Anyabwile. "Aye." Grabbing another drink, he downs it.
"Aye. We shall." The man looks intently around through the boardwalks of festive drunkards for the drinking contest, where he can drown his bad memories. For the day, at least.
(Sorry guys, family stuff.)
"'ow much do we hav' ta drink, exact?"
She helps 'Ol Salty to his place, then looks for a drink to put in her hand.
"'ow much do we hav' ta drink, exact?"
Anyabwile looks at Viktorra, a smile slowly creeping across his face. He says nothing, but steps to the door with an exaggerated bow and a sweep of his hand - expertly managing not to spill a single drop of the remaining booze in his cup.
The answer to the question is quite obviously 'a lot.' Tables full of drunken patrons fill Cailean's Keg. It's hard to tell the competitors from the spectators, and the losers from the winners. A great number of fallen champions litter the floor, some of them green in the gills. A barmaid dressed in bright and flowery garments quickly ushers the greenest among them to a window and a railing, his retching drowned out under a chorus of laughter.
"The rules are simple enough," Anyabwile says as he motions to a nearby and mostly-empty table. "But I think I'll let ol' Duwella explain those. It's her game, after all!"
As though on cue, an older human woman approaches, a trio of tankards held in each hand. "More takers, Anyabwile? You just keep luring in the suckers, don't ya?" She laughs, brushing aside her greying locks and tossing the man a wink. "It's easy! You drink 'til yer drunk, then you get out 'fore you ruin the floor! Last one standing wins - and if you can beat the record, we might even have something special for ya!"
"Oh 'ow sweet o'ya, lassie." said Ol' Salty when Viktorra guided him to his spot. However, he took her arm like a gentleman, and offered her a seat next to him. "I may be old, tis true, but there's still plenty o' spirit left ta keep me goin'. Go on an 'ave some fun lass. I'll be there for ya when yer three sheets to the wind! haha!"
He then took a seat and laid lil' Fisher on his lap. The sea otter looked up at him with pitiful deep brown, puppy-like eyes, but Ol' Salty remained unmoved. He raised an eyebrow towards lil' Fisher and replied "'ey, it's yer own fault ye greedy weasel. Ye shouldn'ta eaten so much. Hmm lemme see what I can do."
Ol' Salty pulled over a 'mostly' empty tankard and whispered a few words in a strange language "Möge dieses Wasser, das Widerstand geben Sie Ihrem Körper, so dass Ihr Magen kann gelindert werden bringt "
A faint glow filled the tankard that Ol' Salty pulled up, and then quickly faded to reveal shimmering, fresh water. He gave the water to lil' Fisher, who drank slowly.
Suny wanders in, being careful and mindful of the exuberance being shown by a lot of the folks swaggering and staggering about, and checks out the different types of beverages available.
Reijo casts a suspicious glance at Duwella, "Special, eh? Like wut?"
Reijo looks incredulously at Ol' Salty's fresh water concoction, "Weiß es bess'r funkt'n'ren, wenn sie sprech'n, wie die fische?"
The sailor then looks anxiously to grab his first drink at the establishment.
"It only works when I speak in the water tongue, young Reijo. Mayhaps in the future I'll tell ya how I got me powers in tha first place."
He then turned his head back to lil' Fisher, stroking his fur gently. The man was deep in thought.
Nhati looks back and forth between Reijo and Ol'Salty. She responds in the same, bubbly and flowing sounding language.
Is Lil'Fisher going to enter the drinking contest?
"Oooff!" Grunted No-Eyes when Reijo pounded him on the back.
"Ow." He winced as he rubbed the sore spot. "No, no, not funny a'tall."
He paused at a table and sat.
"Still, this is a celebration right? Sounds like a good time t' drink hearty! We doin' this one at a time, or all together?"
Viktorra gladly takes the seat offered, knowing she'll likely need someone responsible to take care of her after this. Don't wanna have an accident or anything...
"Thank yet for the seat, but could ye stop all tha' bubbly' words? I be havin' a hard time followin' them. Just drink!"
She empties her cup, and looks around for a refill.
With a smirk to Ol' Salty, "Speakin' in the fishie tongue don't be grantin' me no powers. Mus'be from rubbin' yer lil' beastie then."
"That'd be a sight," the sailor in red and brown remarks to Nhati.
Reijo doesn't wait for any response to Bellamy's query and instead, as if on cue with Viktorra's philosophy on the subject, downs the next drink he can grab.
Duwella smiles as each of the contestants seats themselves around the table. Another pair of visitors join the table, filling the table well beyond its intended capacity. One of them is a rather large Mwangi man, who looks as though he'd already drunken his fill - but was ready for more. The chair creaks as he settles his girth in.
"Oh my," Duwella chuckles, "This is looking like a helluva way to heat up the contest! With a couple of heavy drinkers like this, someone's bound to beat ol' Thagolis' record!" She winks at Anyabwile, clearly hiding something.
She gestures to the nearest of the barmaids roaming the room with platters full of ale. The girl quickly dashes off to fetch some fresh cups. As she does so, Duwella smacks her hands down onto the table and leans over the group with sudden severity. "So here's the game - we bring plenty'a drinks, one for each of ya. Now some of 'em, they're your average ale. The rest? Double 'er better! The real kicker is they're damned hard to tell apart until you've already got 'em down your gullet. Yer sick, yer out. Last one still standing gets... one of those!" She gestures to a man on the other side of the tavern, stumbling about in a drunken dance while lifting a frothing silver stein above his head. [b]"A cup fit for Cayden himself!"
The barmaid sets a platter of tankards onto the table. True to Duwella's word, they all look just about the same. She grins widely, throwing an arm around Anyabwile. He laughs, fake-whispering to Duwella, "So who's out first, ya think? I'm better on the otter!"
"No, no," she returns, "I'm thinking the young man can't hold his ale like a seasoned professional!"
Lil' Fisher hops up to the tankards. He looks over at Ol' Salty, then back to the drinks.
"Take that one o'r there, lil' Fisher." Said Ol' Salty, as he gestured to the tankards. "I think the ones o'r there are the easy ones."
Lil' Fisher picks up the big tankards of ale, one by one and downs them as best as his little otter liver can handle.
1 ale = no problem
Reijo looks around at the others gathered for the contest, sizing them all up. He eyeballs the silver chalice. The "young" sailor of some 30 winters (at least he appears to be) then proceeds to gaze intently upon the display of drinks. In rebuke to the barmaid's lack of faith in his constitution, Reijo nods to the otter, "Me thinks ye be r'grettin' not 'greein' with Mis'r Cheery, lassie."
The thirsty pirate grabs an ale, one which he thinks will be particularly weak. He downs it in one gulp, smacks the empty mug on the table, then gazes intently at his competitors awaiting their turn. The salty sailor seems entirely unphased.
Drink Tally: 1
Round 1____________
No-Eyes grabs a stein at random and sniffs carefully at it.
"Bottoms up! Hee he he!" He raised his glass before chugging in on down.
# Drinks: 1
Suny reaches out and takes a mug only checking to make sure it is indeed Rum.
# Drinks: 1
(^_^)
Being the sort to not care exactly what she drinks, Viktorra quickly downs the first drink handed to her, then awaits the second.
Drink Count: 1
Both normal drinks!
Though the cup Suny grabbed was one of the fouler brews Lilywhite had to offer, it is Nhati who takes hold of one of the stronger brews. It burns her throat as it goes down, the sign of a good drink. Fortunately, she was not alone - the large Mwangi man offers a gleeful belch to celebrate his taking of the 'bad' drink. The other fellow who had joined you, a youngish sailor who hardly looked like he'd seen a pair of decades, laughs heartily and lifts his glass, cheering, "Bring the next round!"
Duwella smiles, and with a snap of her fingers, another platter of frothing drinks is set down on the table. "I would have it no other way, hon! Bottoms up!"
Drink Tally - Nhati and FatMwangi 2, Everyone else 1
Lil' Fisher picked up his second drink
"Take that one o'r there, it's the easier one" said Ol' Salty.