Drinking Contests

"Oy, yer one 'o them pandaren, ain't cha? What'dya think yer doin' in this fine establishment, eh?" His muzzle creased into a frown at the brown-haired dwarf maiden standing on top of the bar, staring directly into his black eyes with her blue ones. She didn't look particularly happy to see him there, and with the other bar patrons looking curiously at him, he was beginning to think that finding a decent drink without ridicule would be impossible.

"My name is Nianzu, miss. And I only seek shelter from the colds of Dun Morogh and a drink, if I may have one. I have gold, silver... whatever you price your goods." Her frown only deepened.

"You makin' fun o' us, fatty? Think ya kin handle dwarven drink?" She let out a hearty laugh, one that Nianzu would have found rather pleasant had it not been so cruelly uttered. She looked around the bar, waving short, muscled arms about to gather the attention of those not already looking to the front. "What'dya think, eh? This big-belly fancy talker is thinkin' 'e kin handle our beer!" Except for a few of the elders, which knew of the pandaren and their drinking habits, the bar burst into laughter, and his cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Please, all I desire is some drink. I can handle whatever you can give, miss, and-" Her glare cut him off, and she spat.

"Th' name's Hilan, fatty. An' yer sorely mistaken if ya think you kin handle this beer!"

He gestured with his paws, a small smile beginning to show sharp, bestial teeth. "I can prove it, miss, if you would give me a chance. How about a contest, to see if I can 'handle' your beer." The crowd began to mumble excitedly, and Hilan jumped from the bar, a soft, amused smile playing on her face. She was quite pretty without the scowl and soft, not sharp-as-daggers eyes.

"Ye dare challenge me, fatty, to a drinkin' contest? Haha! I ain't lost ah single one I've ever entered! Ain't that right, m'dears?" The crowd roared, banging their steins against the tables, whooping and hollering.

"Ya've made a big mistake, bear!"

"Go back to yer Tauren-kin, walkin' beasty!"

Halin looked sympathetically at Nianzu, eyes flickering with unsaid apologies. "They tend ta take things ah wee bit far, fatty. Ignore 'em, yer just as much Alliance as they are." He blinked at her sudden kindness, though he didn't get a chance to thank her before her hardened shell returned. "Right, ye scum, sit down! Ragnar, git us some beer!"

The Thunderbrew looked both amused and worried as he set down the steins, rolling out a keg so that they could refill as needed. "Who's gonna be payin', aye? Ain't nothin' fer free!"

"Loser'll pay, Ragnar. Don'cha worry!" He nodded, filling each stein before sitting them in front of each contestant.

"Ye start... now!" He backed away, leaving the two to their drinks. Halin guzzled her first one down, quickly refilling as the crowd kept a close tally. Nianzu drank his slow, reveling the taste of the Thunderbrew beer. It was quite delicious, really, perhaps even better than that of the Barleybrews. He finally finished his first stein as Halin reached for her third.

"Tired already, fatty? Only one!" The bar patrons guffawed, but he ignored them, merely refilling the stein and drinking the second one faster. He had gotten a taste for the brew, now all that mattered was beating out the smug, rather egotistical female dwarf in front of him. She was reaching for her forth stein, already hiccuping due to the speed with whcih she had taken in the beer. Nianzu had to admit, however, that the dwarf was determined. Her eyes were on the prize and she wouldn't easily give up. Her tenacity gave him a rather grudging respect, one that at least cancelled out the lack of respect she gave her drinks.

She stopped at twelve steins, hiccuping and rolling out of her chair. "Oich." Nianzu drank his final, thirteenth stein before setting it down, finished. The world was spinning, though not unreasonably. He got up, stumbled toward Halin, and helped her to her feet. The patrons gasped, eyes wide, drinks lifted up mid-beard.

"I'll shtill pay, mishter Thunderbrew. Don't worry about it." He waved his paw lazily, pulling out a sack of gold and handing it to Ragnar. The dwarf's eyes widened, and he stashed it away as if he was a goblin.

"Oy, fatty, I gotta hand it to ya, ye kin even outdrink ah brewmaster! How'sh that even posshible?" She hiccuped again, stumbling into her chair with a groan. He let out an amused grunt.

"You drank too fasht; didn't appreshiate th' beer ash you should." He nodded sagely, waving a finger accusingly. She laughed.

"Oy, guessh ye'll fit right in wi' ush, huh? Welcome ta th' Alliance, Nian... Nia... fatty."