PART III: PIXYL vs BRATIG, ROUND 3
Bratig picked up his ninth shot, paused a moment, and then took a deep, steadying breath. He tilted his head back and quickly sipped it down in several small swallows. A little uncoordinated, he turned his cup over and slammed it to the table. Cheers from behind him rose up. “Your move, wee one,” he said with a touch of a slurred snarl.
The rules were simple, once Callie finally made Lena tell her what they were. They had to go drink for drink, with about two minutes between each round, measured by the hourglass that would be flipped by the Tigerkin referee. The first of the two to surrender or pass out was the loser. There was nothing riding on the contest except the pride of a Pixie versus the pride of a Dwarf.
Word had quickly spread, everyone of course knowing who Pixyl was from the feast earlier in the evening, and most having also heard about what the Dwarf had done the day before, and what Pixyl had done that morning in response. As a result, the contest was seen as a continuation of their animosity, and by the fifth round, the music had stopped and everyone gravitated towards the excitement.
The whole tent had split into three camps. One side was crowded behind Pixyl, including everyone in her house, as well as the other Bladeweavers and a whole lot more people, with the towering form of Tazrok standing in the back. All four Goblin recruits were there cheering on their fellow small one, as well as all the Fairy recruits, including the pink-headed Dunni. Bratig’s side had all of the Dwarves naturally, as well as most of the burly Warrior-types, supporting their part-Warrior hybrid brother. Pixyl’s cheering section was probably twice as large as Bratig’s.
Even the trainers and officers were getting in on the challenge. They all stood in a third group, which became the de facto ‘neutral’ camp, enjoying the show but not rooting for either combatant. Xera, Galin and the Major, having been joined by Thorn, Yulayla, and Tasi, even stood in neutral territory watching the show but not interfering.
Vanis and Juniper had stopped dancing when the music had died. Juniper was quietly sipping her wine and watching the spectacle, seeming to enjoy the taste and warm feeling it gave her, bouncing slightly every time she drank. Both had taken up a position on Pixyl’s team, of course, with Vanis loudly reassuring everyone that “Pixie-power will reign supreme.” A few were even starting to think he might be right.
They all thought that Vanis could be right because the moment the last grain of sand dropped from the top of the hourglass, Pixyl snatched up her shot. She saluted Bratig with it and swallowed it back in one gulp. With another scream of “Woooo!”, she flipped the cup in the air, turned, and caught it behind her back, before turning back towards the Dwarf and thunking it down in further challenge. She was showing off to the crowd, in a zone, and having a great time doing it.
A chuckle rippled through neutral ground as Pixyl once again drummed her hands happily on the table several times, leaned in and said, “Your turn.” A combination of cheers and more “Ooooooooo” sounds filled the tent as all eyes turned to Bratig.
You could almost hear a whimper from Bratig as he reached for his shot, missing the first time. The second time, he found it. He held it. Looked deep into it. He seemed to whimper again and finally slowly sipped it down. “How can you schtill be going?” he quietly blubbered to Pixyl. With another deep breath, he flipped his cup and half-slammed/half-tossed it on the table. The Tigerkin flipped the hourglass and the clock started again.
Pixyl was animated. Callie could see her getting a little woozy, but she was smiling and excited. She fluttered her wings, hopping from foot to foot, like a boxer warming up in a ring, as she eagerly watched the sands tick their way towards two minutes, drumming her hands on the table in excited anticipation. Callie was absolutely dumbfounded that her friend was still vertical, let alone that the Dwarf nearly wasn’t. She tried to ask Vanis how it was possible, but he shook his head, saying not to spoil it.
Around them, the crowds made a new round of bets. Some betting make-believe money they didn’t have, others betting minor tasks like carrying meal trays and filling waterskins. But the animated Pixie on one side standing against the bleary-eyed and increasingly uncoordinated Dwarf had moved the betting from who would win, to how much longer Bratig would last.
Staring at the hourglass again, Pixyl seemed to tense like a cat ready to spring. She wiggled her body in anticipation, still drumming her hands on the table in a staccato, coordinated rhythm. Finally, the last grain fell and she snatched her cup. Holding it up, she once again saluted the Dwarf with her drink, before turning to salute his cheering squad, then her own, and finally the neutral group of trainers and officers. Tossing it back, she sucked in air sharply as the burning hit, before once again tossing the cup in the air. She caught it with her other hand, then tossed it back to her first. Two or three more times she juggled the cup, before snatching it from the air in front of Bratig’s face. She held it upright between her thumb and forefinger to show the Dwarf, his bleary eyes barely focusing on it. Slowly Pixyl allowed the cup to flip upside-down. The Dwarf’s gaze followed it as Pixyl bit-by-bit lowered it to the table, slapping it down loudly the last few centimeters.
“Fuck!” Bratig said with a slurred and nearly sobbing mumble.
With obvious trepidation, the Dwarf's hand snaked out towards his own drink. Once again he missed the first time. There was a pause while he seemed to work to find the energy to try to grab for it again. He didn’t get a chance. With a groan, his eyes rolled back in his head as he crumpled into a heap. Two of his friends had quietly moved up to catch him, already sensing that the end was near.
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There was a long silence as everyone waited to see what Pixyl would say or do. She reached out, picked up Bratig’s shot he never completed and quickly slammed it down herself. “Thanks for the drink!” she loudly called out, leaning over the table to see the fallen Dwarf on the floor. She turned to her team and raised her hands in triumph as her fans burst into cheers. Team Neutral all burst into mutual laughter while Team Bratig stood in a stoic gaggle, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, their Dwarven and Warrior pride completely shattered.
Pixyl started to walk down the booster steps, wobbling for a moment. Callie was there in an instant and caught her, being careful to not bump her wing with her hand. Pixyl slumped slightly, looked into Callie’s deep, purple eyes and grinned. “You have really pretty eyes, you know that? At least two of them, actually.”
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“I don’t know how the hell you did that,” Lena said as she retrieved Pixyl’s booster steps. Callie led Pixyl back to their table, the crowd dispersing to return to their own celebrations. Lena set the booster down and Pixyl sat on it.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked her friend.
Pixyl looked up, her eyes increasingly unfocused. “I’m getting really drunk, really fast. I just need a few more minutes, though, and I’ll be fine.”
Callie looked at Lena, who was just as confused as she was.
Pixyl reached out, searching for Callie’s hand, eventually finding it. “Just sit with me and keep me awake. I’ll be better. I just need another couple minutes.”
Still confused, Callie kept hold of Pixyl’s hand and sat down next to her. Pixyl smiled and leaned against the Gnome, making happy little noises. “You’re soft,” she drunkenly slurred out, closing her eyes and snuggling in like Callie was a warm blanket.
“Hey, you said to keep you awake,” Callie whispered, jostling the Pixie.
“I’m awake. Just enjoying the moment.”
Callie couldn’t help but notice that Pixyl wasn’t stuttering at all. In fact, she hadn’t stuttered since the drinking contest had started. As Callie thought more about it, she realized there were a lot of times when Pixyl didn’t stutter.
“Hi, Pixyl,” Healer Tasi said, walking up. “How are you doing?”
“Good. I’m good.”
Tasi laughed. “I’m sure you are. Are you going to need a detox potion?”
“Just a couple more minutes, and I’ll be good,” Pixyl said, waving her free hand dismissively in a lazy, drunken flop. “The Dwarf will need one though. Maybe two. Maybe three.”
“Good, I thought as much. I just wanted to make sure,” the Fairy added with a caring smile. “You sure put one over on him. Good for you.” She turned to the rest of the group, handing a small vial of pink liquid to Lena. “She should be fine as long as she doesn’t fall asleep in the next few minutes. Have her drink this when she’s able to stand back up. It will help if she has a headache. I need to go help the other one.”
“Uh, sure,” Lena said, still perplexed.
Callie looked down at Pixyl. She had snuggled up really close to her arm, and her wings were slowly swishing in time with her breathing. Quietly, the Pixie hummed a seemingly random tune.
“I just want to say thank you,” Pixyl slurred out suddenly, looking up towards everyone. “You’ve all been really nice to me. I thought you were all going to be mean like everyone else is to me, but you weren’t. And you should all know that Callie is really soft, too.”
Everyone was simply dumbfounded, except for Vanis, who had a big grin on his face. “Just wait,” he mouthed, padding the air with his free hand, while Juniper, still clinging to his other arm, giggled softly. “Give her a moment,” he added in a low whisper.
Finally, Pixyl took a deep breath, sighed and sat up. She wiggled a little like the dance of a dog shaking off water and opened her eyes wide. “That’s b-b-better.” She looked at a confused Callie, patted the Gnome’s shoulder with her free hand and then stood up quickly, all signs of her nearly fall-down drunk state completely gone.
“I don’t understand,” Lena said, slowly handing the pink vial to Pixyl. “Can someone explain what just happened?”
Callie climbed her own booster to get to table height and saw Vanis had a stupid smirk on his face. “You know something!” she hissed at him.
Vanis gestured at Pixyl, who had finished downing the foul, pink liquid, and was now pouring wine into one of the goblets. “You’ll need to ask her.”
“Spill!” Callie demanded, turning to the Pixie and narrowing her eyes at her friend.
The little Fae took a long sip from her wine, a twinkle in her eyes, as everyone stared, demanding an explanation. “Pixies have Poison Resistance. And can cleanse poison once every ten minutes or so.”
Callie thought back to everything that had just happened. The evil grin on Pixyl’s face as she issued the challenge. Vanis’s insistence that Pixie Power was going to win out. She even recalled a little dance Pixyl had done after the fifth or sixth round that now seemed vaguely reminiscent of the wiggle she had just done. She remembered Pixyl saying at dinner that wine didn’t affect her. Callie remembered all the officers and trainers laughing their asses off as the Dwarf passed out. They knew! They all knew that it was a rigged competition! Pixyl had set Bratig up! Her power had to be just like her Gnomish Fear Resistance. Higher tolerance for poisons, and a way to clear them away with magic. A racial trait!
Tazrok started to laugh. It started low, but seemed to grow. Slowly, everyone else that had not been in the know around the table started to put the pieces together. They joined Tazrok, the roils of laughter building. Finally Vanis, and even Juniper, who was standing gracefully at the Prince’s side, still one arm wrapped around his as she sipped her own wine, joined as well. As a group, the seven of them celebrated in merriment what had happened. Pixyl peeked over the rim of her goblet at the rest of her group, a sly, devious sparkle in her eyes, and a grin big enough to be seen, despite the oversized goblet in the way.
“You are very sneaky,” Xin finally said.
Somehow that statement of utter obviousness restarted the laughter all over again. Vanis called for a toast, and everyone joined in, enjoying Pixyl’s victory along with her.