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Yes

4 (14.3%)

No

1 (3.6%)

It was fun for a long time but towards the end it just started to drag

6 (21.4%)

I wish I could have joined in.

17 (60.7%)

Total Members Voted: 28

[wierd]

Weird about fell out of his chair, and nearly impaled his face on the skewer of the cat-kabob as his drunken associate was bodily slammed from behind by a carousing and fall-down drunk Jerry. Rikod had been in mid back-slap, when the two collided, sending Rikod face first into the stone dining table (knocking him out cold), and Jerry over the top and onto the floor on the other side.

This, just as the brewer sisters were heading back with plates of cake, pie, frozen custard, and tall tankards of what was probably rum.

Newton's third law of motion, is that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. This instance was no different. As Jerry fell over the top of Rikod, and over the top of the table, he landed on a serving platter that had been pecariously set atop a large serving spoon, causing the whole arrangement to catapult into the air, just in time to land on Themor's shiny bald head, painting it with dripping "lard roast" like colored gel on Boy George. Keshan laughed at her sister, who proceeded to pie the red-haired Kesan with the bowl of custard, producing the comical mockery of a snowy white beard on her heavy-set face.

"Your'e right Them. That really DOES taste good!" She said after the space of several pregnant seconds as the music and entertainment stopped from the spectacle. "And I must say, that roast really brings out your eyes!"

"You must say that to all the girls!" Themor retorted amid snorts of laughter

Cheers, jeers, and shouts of "kiss her!" (amid others..) rocked the room, and the festivities resumed as if nothing had happened.

Clearly.. the people at this party were insane.

Thinking this his cue to subtly leave the party before something ELSE could happen, an discretely rose, and pushed the chair in, but the now food plastered brewer sisters hadn't even skipped a beat, and for their behavior, you wouldn't think that the two had anything at all out of place about them.

"Where do you think you're going handsome?" Asked Keshan, one of her auburn eyebrows over piercing green eyes raised bemusedly, as her gelled chickenfat roast soaked sister fell in with flawless precision, the two lobbing playful jests at him in alternating and disturbingly fluid succession.

"You werent put off by that lightweight elf now were ya?"

"I hope not, we brought some of the rum we made from those scary tree things you brought.."

"Nobody can outbrew the two of us you know..."

"And seeing that you seem to enjoy exotic things--" (Keshan held up her slice of pie and Themor the dish of custard)

"We thought we wpuld tes-"

"-have you try-"

Then in unison; "our latest creation."

Big, terrible smiles crossed their faces, as they forcefully extended a very tall tankard of a dark brown liquid. Every sense in his body told him there as simply no escape.

[Reudh]

[Human brewed stout is barely palatable, but fair puts lead on your pencil. DWARVEN stout? Probably'd kill Wierd if he were a normal human.]

[wierd]

[This isn't a stout. It's a strong dark rum, brewed from tree sugars. Normally rum gets its color from aging in charred oak barrels, like whiskey and scotch. In this case, being pressed for time, the brewer sisters.... improvised. They placed chips of slightly charred oak wood directly into the distiller's retort, then added unfermented tree sugar in afterward. This is a hard liquor, with added sugar. It will pound your ass flat.]

Cursing his horrible luck, and lamenting ever coming to this party, he took the tankard from Keshan, sniffed the top, and took the teeniest of sips...

A whirl of complex flavor metered strongly with heavy spirit hit his toungue, and a heavy plume of alcohol sailed through his sinus. 

He wasn't quite sure ..what.. it was. It wasn't like any dark rum he had ever sampled before, that's for sure. It was certainly heady--the light sip had gone straight to his head-- and it had a trangely fruity character. It might have been telling, but the first thing to cross his mind was how great it would taste in a plum pudding, or a peach kuglov...

"D'ya like it?"

"Non' of the others was man enough."

"Quiet Them!"

He took another sip, carefully trying to gague his response....

"You're a braver maahn than I Lad!" Came from across the room.

"Quiet you!" Shouted Keshan. "What's a goat milker know about alcohol anyway?!"

The tumultuous and raucous laughter that had petty much defined the party thus far erupted amid chants to down the tankard, and protests from the slighted dwarf across the room.

"I ain't no goat milker woman!"

"That's right--" remaked Keshan in mock contemplation. "It was BILLY goat milker..."

"Whaat!? I ain't no billygoat milker!"

"I dunnuh 'bout that.." piped in another partyer. "But seein' somewhat drink summat that ye two made, now that's a spectacle! C'mon now lad! Show us what ye got!"

Weird looked down into the 2 pint tankard of clearly hard, potent, and fast acting brew, and shuddered.

This is why he hated parties.

[Eric Blank]

Sounds like the sort of alcohol that'd have me reexperiencing my lunch in reverse...

[Gizogin]

Gizogin staggered into the daylight, clutching his head.  Whatever he'd been drinking the night before, it wasn't letting him off easily.  His throat was dry and rough, and he had a raging headache.  The doctor part of his mind noted that he was dehydrated, and he'd probably done some serious damage to his organs.  Brain, liver, kidneys, the works.  He tried to gather his thoughts, but the pounding made it impossible.  He groaned hoarsely, and staggered in what he thought was the direction of the hospital.

Lana teleported about the fortress at random, not really sure what to do.  The revelation that she was half-demon hadn't garnered much of a response from the other residents.  Apparently, having seen all the weird stuff that they had, a cambion didn't strike them as all that unusual.  In a way, she was almost disappointed.  On the other hand, the feeling that maybe she could finally stop running filled her with hope.  While she was struggling to organize the blend of emotions she was feeling, she spotted a tall figure wandering drunkenly away from the fortress entrance.  As she watched, the figure stumbled and fell to the ground, where it lay, unmoving.  It wasn't until she got closer that she recognized it as her brother.

Gizo X double-checked his equipment.  It was a completely unnecessary step, given his flawless memory and attention to detail, but the part of his mind that was Gizogin's own liked to be sure.  When he was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had what he needed, he hefted the bundle of sensors onto his back and reached for the still-contained fluffball.  His plan was to use the containment field he'd built for Lana as a safe way to see what it was capable of.  This plan was cut short, however, by the arrival of Lana, an unconscious Gizogin across her shoulders.

"Ah," said X, taking in the scene.  "That's not good."

[WillowLuman]

[ Good sailors sing songs of lassies and bravery and fortune.
How the sea fills their hearts with the courage to do mighty deeds.
But I'll sing a song of a lad that I met in Jamaica,
Who tested the bravest of brave in all seven seas. It were...

Happy Jack's undrinkable ale
One mighty sup puts the wind in your sail
It's Happy Jack's undrinkable ale...]

[Back in the present...

Inspired by too much 19th century fiction]

There exists a seemingly oxymoronic thing, that, as termed by the esteemed philosopher Ravensods in a long gone world, was the 'Supersaturation Threshold:' the point, at which, further substance will not enter solution but instead fall out as precipitant, as there is no more room. Of course, the context to which Ravensods was referring was, in fact, the point at which Dwarves become intoxicated. Dwarves, whom some physicians hypothesize to have adapted the ability to metabolize high-amounts of energy-laden ethanol due to scarce food at times in underground conditions, have quite a considerable threshold as per their unique physiology. This is not seldom past the lethal dose for some human individuals.

HugoLuman, sitting passively in the hall outside as he felt this was for the best, hypothesized that someone must have reached it. HugoLuman was certain that dwarven amounts of alcohol would have killed his old body, having a strange intolerance of even the slightest fumes. Maybe that the variables had changed and warranted re-testing had also occurred to this someone, which is why they proposed to "try it oot on the big bugger out in th'allway."

[wierd]

[Unless somebody else wants to play at the party, I am going to follow gizogin's lead, and skip to the hangover the next day.]

[wierd]

[Approximately 24hrs have passed. Now fast forwarding to the day after hangover.]

Weird groaned.

He wasn't sure how he ended up in his bed, but he had a splitting headache, and was powerfully nausious. His thoughts were not at all coherent, and he lethargically rolled his barely open eyes up at the cracked masonry of the ceiling above his bed, listening to the scuffling and plodding of feet in the hallway outside.

Slowly, and without specific order, the details of the previous evening slowly congealed in his brain, quickly becoming unfocused, and incoherent shortly after being pressured into chugging the brewer sister's sugarized paint stripping elixir. He remembered declining additional drinks and being aware of his cognitative faculties breaking down, but couldn't remember how he left the party, or what happened in the intervening time.

All he knew was that he was still fully dressed, and in his own bed, which was reassuring.

Groaning again, he piled a pillow over his head to shut out the last vestiges of sight and sound, to try to sleep some of the hangover off, but despite his best efforts, sleep refused to come. Only the persistent, dull ache in his head, and sensitivity to light and sound.

Cursing having ever picked those honey locust pods in the first place, he tried to think about how to resolve his current predicament. Looking around the room, his eyes caught the dirt filled watchglass on what settled for his worktable. Vague recallections of having made aspirin over there several days back floated through his addled head, prompting him to ooze out of the bed, and stagger in the dark over to the table, and into the rough wooden chair he had managed to score to do his work.

Weakly shuffling through the desk, and the racks of detritus filled tubes and glasses, he failed to find any aspirin, causing mental confusion in his disabled state, until he remembered giving the aspirin to Doctor Gigozin....

He closed his eyes, and groaned one last time as he covered his eyes, and rubbed his temples. There was absolutely no way he would be making a fresh batch of the stuff with this headache, and that meant heading to the hospital.

At least they had beds there... maybe he could crash in one once the headache was under control...

Fumbling in the dark, his hands finally landed on the knob for the door, and in a very uncomely fashion, oozed out of the door and into the hallway.

Ugh.... god he hated parties........

[WillowLuman]

[Unless somebody else wants to play at the party, I am going to follow gizogin's lead, and skip to the hangover the next day.]

[Damn, my work kept me from writing. Also, recent influences tempt me to write events of party as "Eventually [REDACTED] leaving 7 injured and resulting in the destruction of the axillary dining hall by morning." I shall resist.

Apologies for sub-par writing. It is late.]

"Yerrrr sherdn't glive alcoshol to petzzz." By now, 6 Dwarves had overdosed on the hard, hard stuff, presumably due to some drinking contest gone wrong. Must have been some brew, to get them this intoxicated in less than 6 hours of drinking. Some of them had been betting on whether or not someone or other's brew could floor certain people. It sounded like it began between some brewers and cooks or something, but now it was escalating.

"Whad'ya mean? Shuldnernts? Youjusht...jush...shcared. Yeah. You shthink your wimpy beer'll loosh, ent got the shtones ta admit bine's metter. You wan' prove otherwiesh, wha nah prove eh then?"

"Fine. S'...S' fine. How we get 'im to drink it?"

"I think you pull th' tail."

HugoLuman at this point was getting slightly annoyed, and slightly alarmed. He'd better go get Vemini. "I'm not an animal, you know."

"Nah's, s' like medicatin' a bull. You jush do this, an' then jusht tip ih downna throat." Before HugoLuman could react, the punch caught him right between the eyes. He staggered back, eyes unfocused. Time to get Vemini.

Staggering up the hall, HugoLuman heard the dwarves trip over each other behind him. He wasn't doing much better, though. After a few more lurches, everything went fuzzy.

When he came to, he couldn't remember if he'd made it to Vemini. Presumably someone had, or the elf had noticed anyhow. Ugh, where am I? What time is it?

[Was thinking there'd have been a minor fire, but decided against it. Who knows, though? I was unconscious.]

[Reudh]

[I think HugoLuman has gained new respect for dwarven livers. I mean, if it's so alcoholic it can incapacitate a DRAGON... and most reptiles have quite powerful livers. (During digestion, certain snake's livers grow to 1/3rd the size of the body). I'm just going to assume that Reudh and Othob partook of the alcohol too. Kenozi wouldn't, as while elves would have an immune system that's powerful given they eat carrion, it wouldn't be adapted to consume toxins that well.


Reudh awoke with a splitting headache... even for him, it was a first. At least he didn't have it as bad as the others; even Hugoluman was a little hungover.

Othob sat up too. He had been passed out against a wall; Reudh somewhat close by on the ground, nestled among plump helmets.

"Uuuuhgh. Reudh, that was a big party, wasn't it?"
Reudh just nodded; he couldn't seem to move his mouth. It felt like his throat was scorched; his vision was dimmed and painful, and he felt mildly ill.

"...eeerggh. I-it certainly was."

Best get moving, he thought. Standing up, his joints all crying out (what on earth did he do during the party?), he began to walk slowly and painfully to the dining hall.

[Oliolli]

Oliolli walked around the fortress, sifting through the aftermath of the party. Oliolli just wouldn't stop talking in his regular cheery voice, annoying everyone he got close to. It appeared that only he and Roead were not hungover, or if someone else had also managed to avoid it, he hadn't met them yet.

[wierd]

Clinging to the wall like a toddler to curtains, weird slowly wound his way down the dark hallway, and VERY carefully down the stairs.

Repair work on the hospital was only halfway completed, as the enormous hole in the research lab wall was only partially bricked up.

Stagging away from the wall, and over to the charred oak door that served as the entrance, he leaned against the door frame with his right arm, sucked back the powerful urge to vomit, took a few deep breaths, then rapped on the blackened entry.

"If you've come to cure a hangover, you are wasting your time."

Came the cool, sarcastic voice that could only have been X.

"There is no cure for acetaldeyhde poisoning except time, and fluids."

Wierd's head was fuzzy, and swimming in its own juices, but he didn't have time for this. Carefully, and with great concentration, he retorted.

"X. If you don't open this door, I will blow it off its hinges. I am in no mood for sarcastic games."

From inside the room behind the door, he thought he caught a woman's voice exasperatedly telling him to just open the door.

Moments later, X appeared before him frowning the way only a robot face could frown, and staring him down hard.

"I am terribly busy with a medical emergency. This had better be important."

Weird glowered back up at him with poorly veiled homocidal intent, currently his most coherent means of expression.  "I just. Came. For. Aspirin." He said in a cold stuccato. "I can get. It. My. Self." "Go away."

X's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and made a menacing grimmace, but the nearly crystalline sounding voice of Lana asking him to please "leave the drunken idiot alone" and look after her brother made him relent, and retreat back inside.

"Try not to break anything." Said the robot flatly, before returning to the recovery ward door. "And close the door behind you."

Heaving a deep breath to control his bloodpressure, weird complied, slipped (or rather, stumbled) through the door, closed it behind him, and fumbled the latch closed.

After a moment's respite, he held out an arm, and staggered to the research lab door, and opened it.

Inside, on Gizogin's drafting and assembly table, sat the almost decorative 2 gallon specamine jar, filled aboult halfway with small aspirin tablets. It was about damn time....

[WillowLuman]

even Hugoluman was a little hungover.

Well, more like concussed. I just got punched in the face very hard. Whether or not I was force fed alcohol is uncertain.

Vemini should still be sober, as should anyone who wasn't near the party.

[OREOSOME]

*Corvus Lay strewn on top of the table, not remembering how he got there in the first place*
"Ugh... I haven't felt this Bad since Deepfogged. Too much bloody fog. Alright.. Better try and See what sort o' hell we've raised in our drunkenness.

[Gizogin]

X turned his attention back to his current patient, easily concealing his exasperation with weird.  While he was among the few fortress residents who could consider the necromancer a friend, X occasionally found him aggravating to no end.  Weird's steadfast refusal to bow to anyone's authority rubbed him the wrong way.

Gizogin was in a bad way.  He hadn't actually drunk all that much, even by human standards, but he'd never been much of a drinker, and so wasn't used to it.  Unfortunately, there wasn't much that could be done but let him rest so his body could handle it.

"I don't suppose you know why he tried to drown himself in wine, do you?" he asked.

"No.  Like I said, he passed out just before I found him," Lana answered.  "He'll be alright, won't he?"

X considered the question.  "That depends," he eventually answered.  "Physically, he'll be fine.  Sure, he won't be much use for a while, but he'll survive.  Mentally, though, it's tough to say.  I know him, likely better than he does.  He wouldn't have done this to himself without reason.  Whatever that reason was, he'll need to address it before he can get better."