Phaidra pondered on the priestess's sermon.
Consumption. Consuming to the point of gluttony... to the point of pain.
She cracked her neck to the side and stood, announcing to the rest of the solemn parishioners. "I'm going to drink ale until I'm rubbish-faced. Hallelujah. Etheng." She then strode confidently out of Morn Cirith and opened her runebook. She stopped by the bank and refilled her leather coin purse. "Perhaps this religious mumbo-jumbo isn't all bad after all, " she murmured to herself. With a grin she opened her runebook again and began a grand tour of taverns.
The first few stops went without incident. She ordered a couple bottles of ale at each stop. She bore a serious expression as she drained each bottle with the fanaticism of a religious zealot. It wasn't until the fourth tavern that her experienced liver began to be overwhelmed as it tried to process the heavy amount of alcohol flowing through the young woman's bloodstream.
Consumption to the point of gluttony.
She ordered two more ales with a slur of speech. Her hands stumbled over the payment of coins as her sluggish mind began to lose its basic understanding of arithmetic. She eventually resorted to grabbing a handful and slamming it on the counter, downing the bottles and continuing the ultimate tour of inebriation.
As she left the sixth tavern, she was for all intents and purposes... fraked up. She stumbled out of the tavern, bumping her shoulder roughly against the door frame. She fumbled for her runebook again and succeeded in finding one, although it was not the one she had been using it. She blinked several times as the inscription next to the blue gems wavered in and out of focus. "Ahs, frak it... " she said and touched one of the blue gems at random and activating one of the charges on the runebook.
One should never drink and recall.
She blinked a few times as she took in her surroundings. She was surrounded by thick stone walls, the smell of sulphur and mildew mixing harshly in her wrinkled nose. The room had a thick haze of black smoke, drifting from a couple braziers that eluded the woman's drunken gaze. "Someone is smoking like a goddamn chimney... " she murmured as she stumbled further into the room. She could make out a few shapes through the choking haze. She blinked as she saw a large dog creep along the edge of one wall. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted at the dog which appeared to have smoke coming off its fur as if it was smoldering after being set on fire. She smirked smugly giving a bob of her head as she nodded to herself, "About time someone set one of those mongrels on fire... " She continued, catching faint outlines of what appeared to be gargoyles out of the corner of her eye. She shrugged and continued, after all she had seen quite a few of the gargoyles from Ter Mur in previous excursions to taverns.
Finally, she saw a large, shadowy figure come into view ahead of her. "Thank god... the bartender, " she murmured. She raised her voice to the shadowy figure, "Hey! I'd like to order two ales!" The large figure stiffened slightly as Phaidra stumbled towards it. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" she yelled. The balron turned around slowly, expanding its wings slowly as it snorted. "Man, you're a big fraking gargie thing, aren't you?" she said as she looked up at it as it towered over her.
The balron looked down at her with another snort as black, sooty smoke steamed from its nostrils. "Do you know who I am? I am the Lord of the Abyss... Overlord of Hythloth... Collector of Souls... Slayer of..." his voice boomed loudly as the foul stench of his breath wafted over the intoxicated woman.
Phaidra fanned the air, coughing. She raised her voice interrupting the balron, "Goddamn, you could drop a raging gamen with that breath. You need to stick a peppermint stick in the rank mouth of yours, shut the hell up and get me an ale."
The balron looked at the woman in shock. It stamped one of it hooves against the ground and bellowed spraying Phaidra with drops of foamy spittle, "I am the Lord of the Abyss, Overlord of ..."
"Alright, I got it. I got it. Say it, don't spray it, " she said in disgust as she wiped the droplets from her tunic. "Alright, Mr. Lord of the Abyss... you obviously suffer from some illusions of grandeur so I'll play along. If you're the Lord of the Abyss, why don't you make yourself useful and wija-dija me a cold one."
"The balron blinked, "A cold one?"
"You heard me. A cold one... an ale. Look, just get me something to drink... whiskey... rum, whatever. The longer it takes for me to start drinking, the more sober I'm gonna get... and we both know the more sober I am, the uglier you're gonna get... so save us both some pain and quit slacking," she said as she began to look around for a place to sit.
Consumption to the point of pain.
The balron roared and backhanded the woman sending her flying into the wall. She cried out as her body barreled into the stone wall. She slowly got up, pulling her kryss and beginning to stalk towards the raging balron, "I'm gonna stab the ugly right out of ya. " The two clashed in a flurry of motion as the thick smoke of the room swirled around them. The fight carried on for a good twenty minutes, each of them retreating to heal themselves before they charged back in.
There was a loud thud as the balron collapsed against the floor as Phaidra stumbled over to it. She thrust her kryss into one of its eyes and then staggered back as blood dripped heavily from several deep claw marks that had penetrated her defenses. Her dark armor smoldered from the fire spells that had scorched the thick leather. "I told you to get me an ale... but no you just had to try some of that kinky role-play rubbish on me." She spat blood on the balron's corpse as she sheathed her kryss. She pulled out a runebook and smacked her palm randomly on the face of the book. A gem activated as the charged book caused her world to shimmer.
By some sheer stroke of luck, she had hit the rune for the inn. She stumbled a few steps before falling to her knees as her stomach heaved all the contents upon the steps of the inn. After the heaving was over, she looked down at the mess, burped and promptly passed out in her own sick.
Consumption. Consuming to the point of gluttony... to the point of pain.
She cracked her neck to the side and stood, announcing to the rest of the solemn parishioners. "I'm going to drink ale until I'm rubbish-faced. Hallelujah. Etheng." She then strode confidently out of Morn Cirith and opened her runebook. She stopped by the bank and refilled her leather coin purse. "Perhaps this religious mumbo-jumbo isn't all bad after all, " she murmured to herself. With a grin she opened her runebook again and began a grand tour of taverns.
The first few stops went without incident. She ordered a couple bottles of ale at each stop. She bore a serious expression as she drained each bottle with the fanaticism of a religious zealot. It wasn't until the fourth tavern that her experienced liver began to be overwhelmed as it tried to process the heavy amount of alcohol flowing through the young woman's bloodstream.
Consumption to the point of gluttony.
She ordered two more ales with a slur of speech. Her hands stumbled over the payment of coins as her sluggish mind began to lose its basic understanding of arithmetic. She eventually resorted to grabbing a handful and slamming it on the counter, downing the bottles and continuing the ultimate tour of inebriation.
As she left the sixth tavern, she was for all intents and purposes... fraked up. She stumbled out of the tavern, bumping her shoulder roughly against the door frame. She fumbled for her runebook again and succeeded in finding one, although it was not the one she had been using it. She blinked several times as the inscription next to the blue gems wavered in and out of focus. "Ahs, frak it... " she said and touched one of the blue gems at random and activating one of the charges on the runebook.
One should never drink and recall.
She blinked a few times as she took in her surroundings. She was surrounded by thick stone walls, the smell of sulphur and mildew mixing harshly in her wrinkled nose. The room had a thick haze of black smoke, drifting from a couple braziers that eluded the woman's drunken gaze. "Someone is smoking like a goddamn chimney... " she murmured as she stumbled further into the room. She could make out a few shapes through the choking haze. She blinked as she saw a large dog creep along the edge of one wall. Her eyes narrowed as she squinted at the dog which appeared to have smoke coming off its fur as if it was smoldering after being set on fire. She smirked smugly giving a bob of her head as she nodded to herself, "About time someone set one of those mongrels on fire... " She continued, catching faint outlines of what appeared to be gargoyles out of the corner of her eye. She shrugged and continued, after all she had seen quite a few of the gargoyles from Ter Mur in previous excursions to taverns.
Finally, she saw a large, shadowy figure come into view ahead of her. "Thank god... the bartender, " she murmured. She raised her voice to the shadowy figure, "Hey! I'd like to order two ales!" The large figure stiffened slightly as Phaidra stumbled towards it. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" she yelled. The balron turned around slowly, expanding its wings slowly as it snorted. "Man, you're a big fraking gargie thing, aren't you?" she said as she looked up at it as it towered over her.
The balron looked down at her with another snort as black, sooty smoke steamed from its nostrils. "Do you know who I am? I am the Lord of the Abyss... Overlord of Hythloth... Collector of Souls... Slayer of..." his voice boomed loudly as the foul stench of his breath wafted over the intoxicated woman.
Phaidra fanned the air, coughing. She raised her voice interrupting the balron, "Goddamn, you could drop a raging gamen with that breath. You need to stick a peppermint stick in the rank mouth of yours, shut the hell up and get me an ale."
The balron looked at the woman in shock. It stamped one of it hooves against the ground and bellowed spraying Phaidra with drops of foamy spittle, "I am the Lord of the Abyss, Overlord of ..."
"Alright, I got it. I got it. Say it, don't spray it, " she said in disgust as she wiped the droplets from her tunic. "Alright, Mr. Lord of the Abyss... you obviously suffer from some illusions of grandeur so I'll play along. If you're the Lord of the Abyss, why don't you make yourself useful and wija-dija me a cold one."
"The balron blinked, "A cold one?"
"You heard me. A cold one... an ale. Look, just get me something to drink... whiskey... rum, whatever. The longer it takes for me to start drinking, the more sober I'm gonna get... and we both know the more sober I am, the uglier you're gonna get... so save us both some pain and quit slacking," she said as she began to look around for a place to sit.
Consumption to the point of pain.
The balron roared and backhanded the woman sending her flying into the wall. She cried out as her body barreled into the stone wall. She slowly got up, pulling her kryss and beginning to stalk towards the raging balron, "I'm gonna stab the ugly right out of ya. " The two clashed in a flurry of motion as the thick smoke of the room swirled around them. The fight carried on for a good twenty minutes, each of them retreating to heal themselves before they charged back in.
There was a loud thud as the balron collapsed against the floor as Phaidra stumbled over to it. She thrust her kryss into one of its eyes and then staggered back as blood dripped heavily from several deep claw marks that had penetrated her defenses. Her dark armor smoldered from the fire spells that had scorched the thick leather. "I told you to get me an ale... but no you just had to try some of that kinky role-play rubbish on me." She spat blood on the balron's corpse as she sheathed her kryss. She pulled out a runebook and smacked her palm randomly on the face of the book. A gem activated as the charged book caused her world to shimmer.
By some sheer stroke of luck, she had hit the rune for the inn. She stumbled a few steps before falling to her knees as her stomach heaved all the contents upon the steps of the inn. After the heaving was over, she looked down at the mess, burped and promptly passed out in her own sick.