[hr][color=skyblue][h1]Avicenna Nemu[/h1][/color][hr]

Only two shots in and Nemu was beginning to realize her blunder. Her throat was on fire and her stomach seemed ready to flip. If this is what all alcohol tasted like, she was certain to swear it off forever after this.

She looked incredulously at the hawkish man sitting across from her. He gulped down the spirits with a practiced effort, and a steady rhythm. He'd definitely played this game before. Four of her own shots were gone while she had only managed to drink two of his. And the massive tankard of amber ale was still waiting for them.

The two other contenders were already working on chugging their ale and exchanging glances to see if the other was about to slow down. Both men were sweating now as the spirits seemed to kindle a fire in their bellies. 

The butterball was the first to finish. He laughed triumphantly and jumped to his feet. [color=goldenrod]"Tha's roight! No one bests Ruckus Tuckett in-"[/color] The words caught in his mouth as his tongue fell asleep... along with the rest of him. He blacked out and fell backwards onto two innocent bystanders who were too drunk to dodge. 

[color=goldenrod][i]Oi! Git off me, ya fat oaf![/i][/color] one of them shouted in between the pained groans.

Ruckus's competitor tried to form a smug grin; one half of his face managed a dopey smile, the other sagged uselessly. He hadn't noticed it right away, but the moonshine had hit him much harder than he expected. The poor bloke teetered precariously before his face his the hard wooden planks of the table with a thud. [i]Nose-first[/i]. An onlooker standing behind him sucked in a breath and grimaced sympathetically.

Nemu's eyes widened. 

[color=skyblue][i]Am I going to end up like that?[/i][/color]

Worried lines formed on her brow as she shot another look at her opponent. He was pausing between shots to brace for the next one. Beads of sweat began to form on his neck as his cheeks went red with heat. He looked ghastly after finishing the sixth, but continued with absolute determination. His eyes wavered slightly as he reached for the tankard.

Someone from the crowd shouted [color=goldenrod]"Knock it down Harper! You gonna let some girl beat'cha?"[/color]

Nemu was on her fourth and had expected to feel something other than scorching bitterness. Lazulin had tried to explain to her what a "buzz" felt like one time--something like a "hazy awesome feeling". But, aside from her stomach groaning in protest, she didn't feel any different. To be honest, she was liking this alcohol stuff less and less.

The stout referee eyed the two intently. His gaze shifted back and forth, scrutinizing each of them. Harper may have had the lead, but curiously enough Nemu showed no signs wear despite her petite body and reckless idiocy. Admirable, but Harper was gulping down the last of his ale, while Nemu was just starting on hers.

[color=goldenrod]"Well gents, I believe we have our winner."[/color] Laughter and shouts erupts from the crowd around the table. Coins exchanged hands in a frenetic shuffle as the bets started paying out. 

Harper looked at Nemu and offered a conciliatory smile that betrayed his previously hostile demeanor. [color=goldenrod]"Don't sell yourself short, kid. You just drank two grown men under the table."[/color] He looked a little surprised himself that Nemu was still conscious.

[color=skyblue]"You're right, I guess..."[/color] She said meekly, the acrid taste still lingering in her mouth. She smiled weakly. Being a runner up was fine, but her first grand experience in drinking with the adults didn't really go as she expected.