Beers and Beards: A Cozy Dwarf Tale

Chapter 47: Scouting the Competition

Welcome to the WWB! The World's Worst Beer!

Ten people enter.

One winner leaves.

A match for the ages.

The ‘Goliath’, Rumbob! His jolly *ho ho ho* is the last thing you’ll hear before his massive fists POUND you into the floor!

The ‘Heartbreaker’, Emerelda! Her green eyes and apple tresses are a trap to catch the eye while she CRUSHES your spirit!

The gnomish ‘Demon of Artifice’, Beatbox! Don’t let his small frame fool you, his DEVILISH good looks are only matched by his HELLISH intellect!

The ‘Basic Bitch Warrior’, Jim! Pause for effect.

The ‘Pink Panic’, Raspberrysyrup! This adorable gnomess has cooked up a hearty serving of PAIN and it’s time for dinner!

The ‘Crackian Bear’, Chuck! The MIDNIGHT of his skin is only matched by the BLACK of his heart, but he’ll give you the BRUISES to match!

The ‘Tiny Tank’, Tania! Heavy armor’s her fame and MAKING YOU CRY is her game!

The ‘Aptly Named’ Brewski! What monster names their child after bad beer? Find out when mummy runs into the ring and DESTROYS you!

The ‘Great White’ Lord Samuel! You’ll learn to respect yer elders after he teaches you a LESSON you’ll never forget!

Finally the ‘Cicerone’, Peter Roughtuff! The master of a thousand brews and the CERTAIN champeen!!!!!

YEAAAHHHHH!!!!

The crowd goes wild! Peter! Peter! Pete! Pete!

“Pete?”

Pete! Pete! Pete!

“Pete!”

“Huh, wuzzat?” I turned away from the massive trophy filled with mithril coins that had been set up on the stage. I had pro-wrestling on my mind ever since my conversation with Brock. I needed to go catch a show with him after this business with the brewery was done. Rumbob was standing beside me with a big smile on his white-bearded face.

*ho ho ho* “Yer distracted again! Are ya planin’ to give me an easy win?”

“Fat chance!” Erm… maybe not the best word choice there. “Uh, no chance?”

*ho ho ho* “No worry! I am what I am, and I’m proud of what I am. I know you meant no harm.”

“Phew. Thanks Rumbob. Yeah, I am a bit distracted, I really need to win this.”

“Ahh.. you seek to bring Minnova glory by competin' at the decamillenial?”

“No.”

“Hmm, you desire the fame that comes with bein' the first in all'a history to win this event!”

“Nope.”

“You… have spent many years preparin' yer body and mind for this final test and seek to prove your worth to one of the lovely lads or lasses up there?”

“Oh, definitely not. I just want the money.”

*ho ho ho* “Often the simplest answer is the correct one! Did you truly have such a need that you were willing to be a misfit before the entire city?”

“Aye. My friends really need the money, and I want to prove to them that I have what it takes.”

“I can see from their waving and shouting that they already believe that you have what it takes, my stylish competitor.” Rumbob pointed up to the stands, where Aqua was singing a cheer song that she must have just made up. My ears coloured with embarrassment, and maybe a little appreciation.

“Woah woah woah. Hold on a moment.” I dodged out of the way of a builder as he put a couple more finishing touches on the stage. “Did you say ‘misfit’?”

“Why yes! I know several of these fine dwarves and gnomes.” He pointed towards Beatbox, who waved, as well as Chuck, Emeralda, and Jim. “They are my compatriots, comrades in arms in the art of deep and fast drinkin’! The pro drinker’s ways are unpopular, though not illegal. This is our chance to shine in the sun and reveal to all the glory of the drinkin’ competition!” *ho ho ho*

“Truly a noble goal, sirrah!” I gave him a thumbs up.

“I’m glad you think so!” He gave me a thumbs up in return.

The ten winners were killing time on the sand of the arena floor while we waited for the competition to begin. I would have thought there would be a ceremony or some kind of back room for us to relax in, but apparently the organizers and the betting public wanted the maximum number of eyes on us at all times. I felt a bit like a fish in a fishbowl, and I could feel a cold sweat trickle down the small of my back.

Over a hundred overall and leather clad workers descended upon the stadium like a swarm of ants. I shivered a bit at the thought of ants; like a plague of locusts. A massive stage with a ring shaped table took shape. There were ten chairs set up inside the ring, each facing out towards the stands. The stage stretched out to the Lord’s box seat, and at its foot a large podium had been set up for the trophy.

It was all incredibly grandiose, completely overdone, and absolutely magical; I couldn’t wait.

“I have to ask, since you know Beatbox, what are all those contraptions on him, and are they legal?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself? Beatbox! Come say ‘Hi’ to our new friend, Pete!”

The gnome finished strapping on another set of spinning fans and made his way over to where we were standing next to the stage. Like a lot of gnomes, he looked almost childlike, with tiny proportions and big eyes. He also had a large horseshoe moustache and slicked back grey hair, which made him look like a wise-cracking wabbit in disguise; I had to hold back a giggle.

“Heya! Rum-Tum-Rumbob! Looks like my win may not be set in stone!” He shook Rumbob’s hand and then turned to look at me. His voice was a rapid fire alto that I could barely keep up with. “It appears Minnova has a brand new master degenerate. I saw you throw back that beer like nobody was watching. Amazing stuff, it was practically an art! You’ll need to teach me your technique.”

*ho ho ho* “Beatbox! Give the lad a chance to get acquainted first!”

“Aw, you hush up, Rumbob. Your wife and dozen children are all the attention you need. I’m amazed she let you compete. You think she’ll actually let you take them all to the Capital if you win? She must be keeping an eye out for any of your neighbours so she can off them before they get the chance to gossip about your depravity.”

“Oh?” Rumbob leaned in, his face growing a bit sinister. “I saw that cheering device up there. Aren’t you still sanctioned by the tinkers guild for the last time? Are you even allowed to do any tinkering? Could I reduce my competition by sending a simple message?”

Beatbox growled. “You wouldn't dare! Besides, my daughter put it together, I didn’t have a single hand in it. I’ll rat to your [Doctor] about your drinking habits if you even touch a commstone.”

“Try me, droopy.”

“Ohhh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you, henpeck.”

“I’d grind you like malt, shortstack.”

The two of them were practically forehead to forehead at this point.

*cough* “Hello? Excuse me?” The pair turned to look at me, and I waved. “Still here.”

*ho ho ho* “That you are! Sorry about that Pete, Beatbox and I are old rivals.”

“No worries, and I’d love to give you some drinking lessons Beatbox! Come by the Thirsty Goat some evening and I’d be happy to have you!”

“The Thirsty Goat, huh?” Beatbox looked up to where Aqua was currently in a scuffle with a group of dwarves all dressed in pink. “I thought I recognized that blue mop and fiery charm. A shame what happened to them.” He and Rumbob both looked at me with a bit of pity.

“No worries. I’m here to make sure things get back on track.”

“Ah!” Rumbob smacked his fist into his palm. “The money! You plan on puttin’ tha mithril towards tha Thirsty Goat? Truly a noble goal!” *ho ho ho*

“Indeed! It would be a shame to lose such an excellent ale!” Beatbox nodded. “Now, you had a question?”

“Aye. What’s all.. this?” I waved my hand, encompassing Beatbox’s gadgets.

“My personal perspirators? They’re perfectly legal by the letter of the competition.”

“So… what do they do?”

“They reduce my internal thermal coefficient while providing adequate dermal hydration.”

I parsed that for a moment. “They keep you cool and sweaty?”

“If you want to be pedantic.”

“Sure, sure. Anyways, anything I need to know about the competition?”

Rumbob clapped me on the shoulder. “An excellent topic of conversation! I know most and can point them out to you!” He pointed to where Chuck, Emerelda, and Jim had gathered to chat. “Chuck there lifts kegs for fun, and likes drinkin’ them in one gulp if he can. He’s got a mean right hook to watch out for. Emerelda may not be the fastest drinker -”

“Good enough to make the top ten!” Beatbox interrupted. Rumbob rolled his eyes and continued.

“She may not be the fastest drinker in our group, but she can keep going forever. She’s also got a head harder than rock, and she isn’t afraid to use it. Then there’s Jim.”

“Yes indeed, there is Jim.” Beatbox nodded.

“What about Jim?” I asked, curious. Perhaps he had some great secret that made him stand out, because Midna’s Mullet, that dwarf could wallflower.

“He likes beer.” Rumbob shrugged. “He’s pretty good at not getting noticed.”

“I noticed.” The three of us laughed as Jim turned to look at us, perhaps having heard his name.

“The others I only know by reputation. Tania over there is a rather famous adventurer, and I’m desperately glad no weapons are allowed inside the ring. She’s famous for an insatiable drinking habit, and ending more brawls than she starts. Lord Samuel is an actual stuffed shirt noble, and he’s probably had more kinds of alcohol than every other person in this colosseum combined. He was a fierce colosseum fighter back in his youth, but he retired after old age caught up to him.”

“I’ve seen him drinking one of those human alcohols. I think he may have even had… wine.” Beatbox added, with way too much aplomb and emphasis for something like wine. Barck’s Beard, I wonder if there’s something screwy with the wine here too.

“Those are all the ones I know. Do you have anything to add, Beatbox?”

“There’s Strawberrysyrup.” Beatbox practically hissed.

“She looks nice.” I gave the pink pigtailed gnomess a onceover. She reminded me a lot of that pink haired little sailor scout from back when Sammy had her ‘magical-girl’ phase. The look was completed by a ruffled dress and a cheerful demeanor.

“Ah yes.” Rumbob’s face darkened. “I was trying to ignore her.”

I could sense the grim undercurrent. “Why?”

Beatbox pointed up to the stands. “If you look over there, you can see the lovely blue beauty of Thirsty Goat Brewery beating a posse of pink perfumed posers with their own signs.“

“I see that." I made the connection immediately. “They’re wearing the same pink! Is that her family?”

“Her hangers ons.” Rumbob grumbled.

“Her groupies.” Beatbox grumped.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“She’s not a drinker.” Beatbox whined. “She’s a [Bard].”

“Again, what’s wrong with that?”

Beatbox stamped his feet a bit, which was absolutely adorable. “Beer is serious business! Our reputation is bad enough without turning drinking into.. into..”

“A show?” I raised an eyebrow and waved my hand around the packed colosseum.

*ho ho ho* Rumbob pulled at his white whiskers. “He’s got us there, Beaddy.”

“She’s just using her drinking skills to garner fans! It’s not… It’s not… It’s not fair! Dammit, I had to be a closet speed drinker for years and she just… does it out in the open!”

“You’re just angry she’s prettier and more popular than you are.” Emerelda broke in, as she joined us. "Besides, if you're not careful you'll end up sitting with them." She pointed towards a dozen or so dwarves at the front of the stands. They were all in traditional leather and mail armor, and were carrying placards that had slogans like:

"Beer isn't a Game" and "The True Brew Needs You".

"Who're those posers?" I asked.

"The Honourable Guild of Brewers," Rumbob sighed. "They're in charge of all the breweries in Minnova. They're not fans of competitive drinkin'." Ergh, that sounded a lot like Tim. I was nearly guaranteed to butt heads with them at some point.

"Are they powerful?"

"Not really. They take themselves pre'ty seriously, but their own traditions keep 'em from pushin' their weight around too much."

"And shortstack sounds just like them!" Emerelda added.

“Yearns Yams, Emerelda, this was a private conversation!” Beatbox kicked the dwarfess in the shins.

She smiled cheerily and put her hand down on his face, pushing him away. She turned to me, and I was struck by what an absolutely charming permed beard she had. Her eyes sparkled as she looked me up and down. “You’re a cut above the rough crowd I’m used to in this field. I’m Emerelda, nice to meet you, handsome.” She held out her hand and I smiled as I took it.

“I’m Pete, nice to meet you too. You're a good bit better looking than these two too.”

“Ha, flatterer! Don’t let these two try and hoodwink you. Rumbob here is almost impossible to knock over, and those contraptions make Beatbox slippery and a pain to keep grappled. Rumbob is weak to tickling under his left knee, and Beatbox can’t handle having his moustache pulled.”

“Hey!”

*ho ho ho* “Says the lass with a glass jaw!”

The three friends laughed and jostled good naturedly. The trickle of cold sweat falling down the small of my back was slowly turning into ice.

“Why… why are you all giving me so much advice on how to fight?”

“Didn’t ya read tha competition rules?” Emerelda asked.

“Indeed, all the relevant information can be found there.” Beatbox nodded.

I pulled out the paper with the competition rules on it and quickly read down to the offending sentence.

‘Top three will go on to represent Minnova in the Capital. The last one standing wins!’

*ho ho ho* "Surely you realized. It's called a 'Beer Brawl'!"

I stared in shock at the page. Oh, come on! What's in a name?

“Makin’ sure yer beer doesn’t spill while a gnome is chewin’ on yer toes is always the tricky part!” Rumbob continued, incredibly unhelpfully.

Oh, noooooo. Where was Doc Opal to hide behind when I needed her!

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