Octavius laughed at the few who refused to participate. Obviously they weren't going to win, but they might as well try, he figured. That wasn't the spirit he was looking for in himself, though. The captain was determined to win this contest, whatever it took. So with the crew struggling to keep up, the pirate lord and his second in command began to really go at it, sucking back ale like men stranded in the desert might gulp down what little water they could find. Of course, then Ceres had to start running her mouth. She claimed she would be on her feet after fifteen mugs of the stuff. Captain Cuttlam, not to be outdone, mustered up all of his willpower and laughed in his face. "I'll be scaling the rigging like a pro after twenty!" he roared, downing his latest mug and whipping his pirates into a supportive frenzy. They cheered as the contest continued, but the contestants began dropping rapidly after the dozen mark. The warlord would admit to losing count at the eight mark, but regained it at thirteen. when someone on the verge of passing out uttered their amazement. 

Octavius was moving slower now, trying to keep up, and drag out the contest at the same time. His liver protested quietly, but he mustered all of his willpower and remained standing. He even walked perfectly straight with some effort, moving to refill his tankard once more. "Excelsior..." he growled to himself quietly, He had to win this. They were nearly at the fifteen mark, which was Ceres' bet. It was really just a matter of beating her at this point. None of the other competitors were really in the game any more. The only one still up and kicking was falling over too much to reach the keg, So that left the only two who ever really mattered. The captain wasn't about to just give in, though. He had to win. Even if everyone else was passed out, there were still those who had chosen not to compete. And if they watched their captain fall to a woman, he'd lose any respect he might have had to begin with. That just wasn't acceptable. [i]Victory![/i] was the only thought in Captain Cuttlam's mind as he strove to defeat this woman, his albatross. He just hoped that this contest wasn't some kind of proverbial crossbow. Before negative thoughts could start to break him down, though, the warlord refocused on victory even as his vision swam. He fought hard, forcing his body to function. He had to win. He had to...