Tuxxle 77

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

"No! I'm fine!" Borthric shouts before anyone can react to the teifling's call for help. Borthric resists any hands that touch him as his heavy body squirms around, not wanting to cooperate. It's hard to even get him out of his chair. "But you shouldn't be!" A smile creeps across Borthric's cheeks in contrast to his sour, reddened face. "This man is a sorcerer!" He points accusingly at Brakes. "You're stomach isn't physically big enough to hold that much fluid. You've been cheating, haven't you, Brakes? Using a spell to aid yourself! That's why you're eyes are glowing, bastard!" Borthric is starting to yell, contradictory to his usual calm demeanor. "Whithout your sorceries, you would be nothing! Without you're spell, you'd be throwing u--"
Borthric begins heaving out chunks of vomit, sending everyone around him backward in disgust. He vomits again and again, gasping for breath in between each expelling of liquor from inside him. Once he's finally finished, still facing the floor, he yells through a groggy mouth, "What the hell!? Asshole! You drugged me too! Didn't you!?" A hint of pain is starting to overtake Borthric's expression. "It wasn't enough to win, was it!? You had to humiliate me, too!" For just a moment, it appears as if borthric's beard is growing; not longer, but taller up his face, growing up to his eyelids before receeding. "Oh shi-" But it was too late. Borthric begins to transform. His hairy arms grow even hairier. His beard stretches across his face, morphing it into a face that resembles a real bear's. His eyes become beady black. The flesh all across his body becomes covered in brown fur. He grows two feet taller, stretching from floor to ceiling of the tavern, ripping his clothes to shreads. Now, standing furious, right in front of Brakes, is a great Grizzly Bear. People all around the tavern begin to scream.
The Bear gives a bellowing roar as it stretches forth a meaty claw, grabbing Brakes, and hoisting him violently into the air. Several of the Bear's claws puncture Brake's stony neck, sending a few spurts of blood flying. This Bear does not look at all as friendly as Borthric was...

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

@YeetMeisterYeah, I know. We are doing quite a lot, and we've only been posting for two days! But anyway, I'm sure the other characters are doing other stuff during the drinking contest, and the contest has probably only taken about five minutes, and it's reaching it's end. We'll cool it on the rapid posting. Also, I'm planning on my character getting drugged with something that makes him transform into bear form and go berserk, (Pretend like you didn't read that, Shadow Dragon) so I'm sure the paladins and any other fighters can get involved in settling that.
Edit: Cue the paladins!

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

"Bottoms up!" Borthric too begins guzzling from the tankard after filling his enormous lungs to a capacity close to explotion. A few thin streams of gold drizzle down his beard and splatter off his chin as he drinks. He takes gulp after gulp, taking gulps much slower than Brakes, but from the enormous rhythmic bulges in his throat and the loud rumbling sound they make, he seems to be making gulps twice the size of Brakes's. After about ten seconds, though, Borthric's gulps seem to slow down, becoming less immense as he tries to stagger his consumption. His eyes begin to roll back into his head, but they stay there only for an moment. He resteadies himself, still emptying the giant pitcher. About a minute after he recovers, his gulping has slowed down quite a bit, and as his hand begins to shake, he sputters and coughs violently, choking for just an instant. Face red, he downs the rest of the tankard and makes an earsplittinging sound when he finishes the four gallons of ale. It sounds like an animal barking as Borthric strenuously gasps for air.
"What the hell!?" He says through gritted teeth, coughing some more. "There was something solid in my tankard! I think I swallowed it!"

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

@YeetMeister, where do I find you guys on Discord?

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

Borthric jerks back just a bit in his seat, slightly disturbed by Brakes's infernal abnormality. "You a Warlock or somthin', Demoneye? Or are you just drunk?" Borthric leans back an howls. The ale seems to have gotten to him, though he shows no sign of wanting to back down. "Well, let's 'ave a go, then! 'ese tankards aren't goin' ta drink themselves! And I doubt you're gonna be able ta drink them either. I'd say you'll only get through about one gallon! Oh, and don't worry, bartender. I'll pay for the eight gallons. Fill er up!" He gathers both of the tankards in one meaty fist, holding them under the cork hole in the barrel of ale after clinking three gold pieces on the bar as payment for the drink. He looks back at Brakes and clerifies the rules: "Well, I don't suppose we'll be able to down it in one breath, least not you. Let's say we can stop for breaths while chugging, just our penalty be wastin' time."
The tankards are almost full by now. "Watta' ya say, Brakes?"

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

Delreck Hobslinger

Appearance:

(Has spiked up hair, wears Dragonscale armor shoulder plates with a small brown traveler's cloak and shirt and cleric armored leggings. Has an owl companiton and a lightning bolt shaped sword far to large and long for a Halfling.)

About: ...

Personality: ...

Note: I'm not going to be using this character for another few weeks. Sorry for the rapid posting, but I can't delete this.

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

I'm surprised no one's tried to post something about another character during Borthric's and Brakes's drinking competition. I've been going back and forth with Shadow Dragon for 14 posts!

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

"Are you forgetting things, demoneye? I already told you that I was a Werebear!" Borthric's tone remains calm as he leans back, letting himself fall into a seat at the bar. He simply ignores Brakes, clearly having no interest in answering so many questions all at once. "And you do realize that you can't shove ale down yer gullet while yer lips are flappin', don't ya?-" Borthric seems to cut himself on, as if just now realizing something. "Hang on, is it weird that I like you less when you're happier?" Toward the end of his sentence, he trails off into a chuckle, which soon expands into a full grown boisterous roar. He throws back his head, scrunching his eyes shut with his bulbous cheeks, lodging his beefy hands on his belly, and bearing a massive grin through his beard in a mountainous laugh. Though the laugh is heavy, it seems to have no malicious intent. It is unclear whether the bear is laughing, or the beer.
Borthric recovers from his moment of hysteria, coming back to his previous position. "Bartender, don't bother with another round. I want this round to be special..." Borthric smirks as he reaches the end of the sentence. He pulls out a pair of four-gallon tankards. "Whoever's too drunk to finish chugging from their tankard loses."

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

Borthric chuckles. He ends his reminisce early, resuming his unfaltered stare at Brakes. "Oh, you'll never get me drunk. And when you said `bear boy', it made me think how I might be a better drinker in my bear form, but you'd call me a cheater, and I'm sure the bartender'd kick me out." Borthric knows this is a lie, but persists anyway in an attempt at intimidation. He keeps a deep, menacing tone throughout, complimented by his heavy eight-foot body, only faltering slightly at the end of his sentence.

Low Fantasy RP - Payle

"Of course I can take it! Do I look like a halfling to you? My soul's as sylvan as my bear form is. C'mon, Brakes! Step it up!" Borthric playfully jeers. "Do you really want to get beaten at your own game by a hu-"
Borthric suddenly stops, biting his tongue. His smile fades, but he downs another mug of ale in the silence.