Enlightenment
- Thread starter Academia Nut
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Sirrocco
Pedantic
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- He/Him
Noticing a bit....
Honestly, I bet they saw it coming. I wonder if any of them managed to make money on the betting.
[X] Drinking contest!
[x] Spend the rest of the night trying to be invisible
Sirrocco
Pedantic
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Given that it's a drinking contest, though... well, it occurs to me to wonder what a drinking contest even looks like in this sort of place.
- It's a test of fortitude and whatnot. There must be *some* sort of prize to be won.
- It cannot possibly occur without the support of the establishment, which means that the establishment has to be making money off of it somehow.
- This particular establishment is pretty obviously Slaaneshi, and that's liable to twist things a bit.
- The penalties for losing can't be too brutal. It's not that kind of place. It would harsh the vibe. "You sleep it off and your pocketbook gets lighter" is pretty much it, I think.
Obviously there are bets. It's possible that the house runs the betting, and takes a cut... though if so, that would suggest that this "drinking contest" thing is an established tradition of the bar, and probably built up with ritual. As a Slaaneshi ritual... well, it's a Slaaneshi ritual. I'll forbear from offering suggestions about any of the details, as this is not QQ.
Someone is going to have to pay for the alcohol, and it's not going to be the establishment. It's probably not coming out of the bet money, either. It's a contest, thought, right? Presumably someone's getting drunk under the table. My suggestion would be that whoever passes out has to pick up the tab for all involved. Just a thing that occurred to me when I thought about what a drinking contest at a Chaos bar might entail.
As for a prize? I'm not coming up with much in the way of ideas, and all of the ideas I *do* have pivot right back into "this is not QQ" territory. Perhaps someone else can come up with something better.
- It's a test of fortitude and whatnot. There must be *some* sort of prize to be won.
- It cannot possibly occur without the support of the establishment, which means that the establishment has to be making money off of it somehow.
- This particular establishment is pretty obviously Slaaneshi, and that's liable to twist things a bit.
- The penalties for losing can't be too brutal. It's not that kind of place. It would harsh the vibe. "You sleep it off and your pocketbook gets lighter" is pretty much it, I think.
Obviously there are bets. It's possible that the house runs the betting, and takes a cut... though if so, that would suggest that this "drinking contest" thing is an established tradition of the bar, and probably built up with ritual. As a Slaaneshi ritual... well, it's a Slaaneshi ritual. I'll forbear from offering suggestions about any of the details, as this is not QQ.
Someone is going to have to pay for the alcohol, and it's not going to be the establishment. It's probably not coming out of the bet money, either. It's a contest, thought, right? Presumably someone's getting drunk under the table. My suggestion would be that whoever passes out has to pick up the tab for all involved. Just a thing that occurred to me when I thought about what a drinking contest at a Chaos bar might entail.
As for a prize? I'm not coming up with much in the way of ideas, and all of the ideas I *do* have pivot right back into "this is not QQ" territory. Perhaps someone else can come up with something better.
[x] Drinking contest!
Roth963
If I become inactive with this massage, I died
Do we get paid?
I think it is mostly bragging rights, maybe you get free drinks or cool drugs, I doubt it is anything serious.
Sarpedon
Knight Errant
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Closer to 7, most absinthe is gonna be around 60-65% Everclear is 95% and bitters are around 45%. Standard drink is .6 fluid oz of ethanol. And then on top of this it's a Pervitin tabs worth of meth.
Cornuthaum
Be kind to each other.
- Location
- Austria
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Considering that Yon is almost certainly from a Daemon World that just has a xianxia aesthetic, his entire life is focused around "absorb and cycle as much warp energy into yourself as possible in the pursuit of ultimate power", yes, I quite agree.
Even conscripts in 40k get paid, and people raised out of primitive worlds - which the Imperial Guard like recruiting from, and most chaos warbands' human agents - are given resources comparable to what they'd get standard, because you can't keep them down without for very long. Not if you're literally arming them and sending them at enemies; you need a motivating factor, and resources to do with as you please are, inherently, fairly motivating.
More to the point, though, this party is clearly on the officers' tab.
I'm just amused that, in the grim darkness of the far future, there's still jagermeister.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
To be entirely technical, the recipe given is not what was mixed, but it is a relatively close approximation.
- Location
- Reno
- Pronouns
- They/Them
[X] Drinking contest!
We are Grandfather's strongest warrior
We are Grandfather's strongest warrior
Vote closed
New
- Pronouns
- He/Him
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Heh, purely mid attention levels. That works.
Pretty happy with that amount of attention right? Not too little but not too much.
The implications that letting our hedonistic desires take over and indulging to as much as we can is seen as the literally most average possible thing to do, feel ... thematically fitting.
Roth963
If I become inactive with this massage, I died
Hedonistic desires? That's social pressure, plain and simple, we can't not drink without being odd.
Liberty 3
New
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- He/Him
[X] Drinking contest!
There were times to back off, having realized a mistake had been made.
And then there were times when the only way out was through.
Yon needed only a fraction of a heartbeat to decide how to respond, before he shrugged and said, "Got anything with a bit more kick to it?"
Everyone watching exploded into cheers, and Yon soon found himself pulled into a new sort of ritual, wherein the objective was to see how many intoxicants his body could handle before he collapsed and/or died from excessive consumption. The roaring crowd appeared to be buying him the drinks that they thought would be most amusing, along with joining in to see if they could withstand the trials put before him. There was also copious betting.
Somewhere along the line a table and chair had been hauled over and Yon was sat down, the bartender coming over with a tray loaded with items. Grinning, she said, "Alright tough guy! First up is the Stacked Pole!"
There was another crowd cheer as a line of powder was carefully laid out in front of Yon, and then a quartet of shot glasses were filled with clear liquid and stacked atop each other. The bartender cheerfully informed him, "Here, you start by snorting a line of Canopan Battle Powder, then you shoot the first three shots as fast as you can without spilling. If you get to the fourth without spilling you shoot it too, otherwise we throw it in your face."
Shrugging, Yon plugged one nostril and snorted the powder, which he could tell was also almost pure yang, although it also had a different exoteric mechanism than what he had had before. He then started downing the shot glasses, which turned out to be filled with absolutely terrible liquor. Maybe 80 proof and filled with distillate impurities, it had to be deliberately made that way. For Yon, while his ability to process the liquid wasn't in doubt, his alchemist sensibilities were offended at the insult to good alcohol the shots represented.
The last shot changed things up by being something like a smooth 120 proof liquor mixed with spice that had been refined until it was essentially purified pain. Avoiding getting that in the eyes was a major incentive to not spill, even if it wasn't exactly pleasant on the tongue. The fact that he held it all down had the next concoction pushed in front of him as money exchanged hands among the masses watching.
A lesser man would probably be having problems after all the alcohol and stimulants Yon had just had in the past few minutes, but he was using esoteric internal alchemy to directly neutralize out the excess yang from the stimulants with the depressant yin of the alcohol. That left a mass of drained exoteric slush awash in his body, but he deepened his breathing like a smith pumping the bellows to increase the rate at which he burned off the slag.
By about the fifth concoction the bartender had realized that she was going to have to step up her game, and started to bring out stranger things than combinations of alcohol, stimulants, and hallucinogens. "Trench Foot" was abysmal quality wine that was probably still fermenting mixed with two cleaning solutions that were reacting to form a toxic gas. "Cordial Invite" was straight up just a shot of contact paralytic neurotoxin. "No Night Light" was a glowing green liquid that was mostly heavy metals and had a spiritual energy profile that Yon had never experienced before.
"Sandblaster" was where Yon had to actually hold up a hand to say that he was, in fact, running out of the capacity to deal. It was a mixture of acids that were boiling and actively eating away at the glass they were served in. Yon was barely able to keep his flesh and teeth from dissolving through direct reinforcement of his body with spiritual energy. The amount of focus required to keep from dying meant that he was having to put on hold processing everything else he had drunk, so he was actually now inebriated.
The bartender, Cinder - when had he learned that? - was rather close to him while he swayed from side to side slightly, sweating profusely in an attempt to cool down a body that was directly burning off all of the toxic chemicals it had ingested. In fact, he couldn't help but notice how close her crotch was to his face, and he felt compelled to comment, "You shmell nice."
Cinder ruffled his hair and said, "I should, I'm fuckin' drippin' after that show."
Yon briefly thought it might be nice if she shoved his face into her crotch, before he managed to order the jumble of thoughts not involved in processing the mass of poison in his gut, bloodstream, organs, and bladder. "Were… where? Where is, every- everybody?"
"The Sarge had the rest of them go on to the blood pits when it was clear that you weren't stopping after the first hour, and then he went to talk to Piggy after a bit, then said that the rest of the group will probably be at Madame Silk's by the time you hit your limit. Piggy'll make sure you get where you're going safe. Only idiots would mess with those clothes, and Piggy's boys'll handle the idiots," Cinder explained affectionately.
"Oh," Yon stated. "That'sh nice." He furrowed his brow for a bit before he asked, "Did I? Did I shay you smelled good?"
"You did! I think you smell good too, although I'm going to have to ask you to do some decon before I can suck you off. Pretty sure if you came in me I'd melt," Cinder said, grinning the entire time like a cat eyeing up a particularly fat bird.
Yon frowned, nodded, and said, "That's no good. Sh' no good."
Yon has lost somewhere between two and three hours to drinking. Where next?
[ ] Head straight to Madam Silk's for the rest of the group
[ ] Go to the blood pits to see if anyone is still there
[ ] Attempt to rally and see if there is anything else interesting at the Squealing Pig
[ ] Go home with Cinder
There were times to back off, having realized a mistake had been made.
And then there were times when the only way out was through.
Yon needed only a fraction of a heartbeat to decide how to respond, before he shrugged and said, "Got anything with a bit more kick to it?"
Everyone watching exploded into cheers, and Yon soon found himself pulled into a new sort of ritual, wherein the objective was to see how many intoxicants his body could handle before he collapsed and/or died from excessive consumption. The roaring crowd appeared to be buying him the drinks that they thought would be most amusing, along with joining in to see if they could withstand the trials put before him. There was also copious betting.
Somewhere along the line a table and chair had been hauled over and Yon was sat down, the bartender coming over with a tray loaded with items. Grinning, she said, "Alright tough guy! First up is the Stacked Pole!"
There was another crowd cheer as a line of powder was carefully laid out in front of Yon, and then a quartet of shot glasses were filled with clear liquid and stacked atop each other. The bartender cheerfully informed him, "Here, you start by snorting a line of Canopan Battle Powder, then you shoot the first three shots as fast as you can without spilling. If you get to the fourth without spilling you shoot it too, otherwise we throw it in your face."
Shrugging, Yon plugged one nostril and snorted the powder, which he could tell was also almost pure yang, although it also had a different exoteric mechanism than what he had had before. He then started downing the shot glasses, which turned out to be filled with absolutely terrible liquor. Maybe 80 proof and filled with distillate impurities, it had to be deliberately made that way. For Yon, while his ability to process the liquid wasn't in doubt, his alchemist sensibilities were offended at the insult to good alcohol the shots represented.
The last shot changed things up by being something like a smooth 120 proof liquor mixed with spice that had been refined until it was essentially purified pain. Avoiding getting that in the eyes was a major incentive to not spill, even if it wasn't exactly pleasant on the tongue. The fact that he held it all down had the next concoction pushed in front of him as money exchanged hands among the masses watching.
A lesser man would probably be having problems after all the alcohol and stimulants Yon had just had in the past few minutes, but he was using esoteric internal alchemy to directly neutralize out the excess yang from the stimulants with the depressant yin of the alcohol. That left a mass of drained exoteric slush awash in his body, but he deepened his breathing like a smith pumping the bellows to increase the rate at which he burned off the slag.
By about the fifth concoction the bartender had realized that she was going to have to step up her game, and started to bring out stranger things than combinations of alcohol, stimulants, and hallucinogens. "Trench Foot" was abysmal quality wine that was probably still fermenting mixed with two cleaning solutions that were reacting to form a toxic gas. "Cordial Invite" was straight up just a shot of contact paralytic neurotoxin. "No Night Light" was a glowing green liquid that was mostly heavy metals and had a spiritual energy profile that Yon had never experienced before.
"Sandblaster" was where Yon had to actually hold up a hand to say that he was, in fact, running out of the capacity to deal. It was a mixture of acids that were boiling and actively eating away at the glass they were served in. Yon was barely able to keep his flesh and teeth from dissolving through direct reinforcement of his body with spiritual energy. The amount of focus required to keep from dying meant that he was having to put on hold processing everything else he had drunk, so he was actually now inebriated.
The bartender, Cinder - when had he learned that? - was rather close to him while he swayed from side to side slightly, sweating profusely in an attempt to cool down a body that was directly burning off all of the toxic chemicals it had ingested. In fact, he couldn't help but notice how close her crotch was to his face, and he felt compelled to comment, "You shmell nice."
Cinder ruffled his hair and said, "I should, I'm fuckin' drippin' after that show."
Yon briefly thought it might be nice if she shoved his face into her crotch, before he managed to order the jumble of thoughts not involved in processing the mass of poison in his gut, bloodstream, organs, and bladder. "Were… where? Where is, every- everybody?"
"The Sarge had the rest of them go on to the blood pits when it was clear that you weren't stopping after the first hour, and then he went to talk to Piggy after a bit, then said that the rest of the group will probably be at Madame Silk's by the time you hit your limit. Piggy'll make sure you get where you're going safe. Only idiots would mess with those clothes, and Piggy's boys'll handle the idiots," Cinder explained affectionately.
"Oh," Yon stated. "That'sh nice." He furrowed his brow for a bit before he asked, "Did I? Did I shay you smelled good?"
"You did! I think you smell good too, although I'm going to have to ask you to do some decon before I can suck you off. Pretty sure if you came in me I'd melt," Cinder said, grinning the entire time like a cat eyeing up a particularly fat bird.
Yon frowned, nodded, and said, "That's no good. Sh' no good."
Yon has lost somewhere between two and three hours to drinking. Where next?
[ ] Head straight to Madam Silk's for the rest of the group
[ ] Go to the blood pits to see if anyone is still there
[ ] Attempt to rally and see if there is anything else interesting at the Squealing Pig
[ ] Go home with Cinder