“Come one! Come all! Register now for next week's Brewfest Drinking Contest!” A dwarven town crier shouted from atop his box which he stood on to be taller. “Takin’ any and all blokes lookin’ to try their liver’s might!” Cespenar was passing through the Dwarven District to buy some new materials to make a new creation from a schematic he recently bought. Thanks to Maya Turntfuse he was able to learn the art of engineering and had taken to it quickly. He didn't really care for the explosive aspect of Goblin Engineering and he didn't seem too partial to the idea of shrinking or enlarging the world, or whatever Gnomes thought they were doing when they themselves shrank or grew instead of everyone else. The crier pulled his attention though, when he said the magic words “Come sign up, drink your fill! The winner gets a free trip to Light’s Hope, The Caverns of Time, and Dalaran! Act now!” “Sign me up, Cespenar Virethorn.” He announced, walking up to the dwarf and bowing before him. His intention was to win a trip to Light’s Hope, as it was the closest Neutral ground to Zul'Aman. He needed to go there to see if Juul'Caz was alright. The sensation of worry that struck him the previous day hadn't left him yet. The Dwarf put his hands on his hips, sizing up the human and rubbed his thick beard. “Hmm. Don't know if yer able to keep up with some contenders this year. Mharn Skullcrusher has every intention of winnin’ and when he wants to win, trust me, he wins.” “If you already have a winner then why bother with sign ups?” “It's me job…… Bah! Alright! Signin ya up. Just know I'm obligated to tell ya that ya only get to choose one tour. Not all three! Shit is expensive to do for a drunk worthy of bestin’ dwarves. Collateral damage and all.” “That's fine. I would love to know how soon the tour picks up.” The dwarf mulled the thought over in his head. He had been told everything about the prize but hadn't put much thought in bothering to remember. He pulled a small booklet from his back pocket to look up the information and his finger tapped a paragraph upon finding the information he wanted. “The winner, after celebrating a few hours after their victory, will be taken and sobered up, if they so choose, and taken to their destination.” Having a feeling the human still wanted to sign up, he produced a clipboard and held it out for the young man. “Wonderful! Well I suppose it will take place in Ironforge, yes?” Cespenar asked as he took the board and started writing his name. With a smile beaming from his face, he cheerfully exclaimed “Seems I will be surrounded by the best kinds of people. I simply cannot wait!” He handed the clipboard back to the Dwarf and went back to his shopping and repeated in a less cheerful tone, “I cannot wait. Where are you Juul'Caz?” ------- Shadows enveloped him as he walked through the forests of Alterac, and he was scooping water up to drink. He looked up to see a figure wearing red bridal dress that smelled of rotten death which shifted into a form fitting red dress which smelled of lilac and lavender. The next thing he saw was the essence of chaos smashing into his chest and Noroko woke up suddenly, sweating and holding his chest. Noroko screamed and suddenly saw the woods of his and Juul’s homeland, a creek and his hands wet with blood, the look of despair on a human face he barely recognised before the human sliced into his neck. “What was dat?” He asked himself, even though he knew the answer. He looked around and remembered that he was still in Stranglethorn. He had no idea what this could mean. He had never seen two visions in the same span… About Juul or himself. Noroko felt something he had never known, for he had never been truly alive. It felt as if someone was staring at him, but Noroko had no way to explain the sensation to himself. From behind him, a specter stared hard at him hatefully and was actively trying to grab the Troll. “Get outta Juul’s body!” He screamed, but he may as well have been silent, for Noroko could not hear him. He looked himself over and could see through his spiritual body, and he could see one singular tether from his chest that split into five that went to each arm, leg and the neck of Noroko. He struggled all night trying to sleep, thinking this was one horrible dream and was struggling even now to hit his own body to hit Noroko. It was dawning on him that when he was shot that it must have killed him. The dream he had, it was blurry but he remembered one key event - Noroko let Pendleton go, on purpose. That singular thought stuck with Juul'Caz and he continued trying to knock his brother out of his body. Somehow when Juul'Caz died, Noroko’s own soul forced itself into Juul’s body and healed the wounds and bound himself to the empty shell. Juul wondered how he could do the same to get his body back. He noticed Noroko started performing strange movements, and then looking confused as if he was trying something. “I don't understand. Juul'Caz always yammers ta himself ‘bout de Elements and hey dey speak ta him… But I hear…” He stood up and waited “Be silence.” Juul'Caz recognised the movements as the same kind of gestures Juul himself did when summoning a totem to call forth an Elemental. He watched curiously as Noroko attempted various other spells and was surely surprised to see Noroko fling a bolt of lightning from his hands! Noroko smiled and kneeled on the ground, pondering just how much he could do. Juul'Caz was worried by what kind of damage he would cause and watched in grim silence. It was all he could do. ----- Weeks later, Snow was falling in Dun Morogh as it almost always did, but that did little to stop the yearly festival known to as all as Brewfest! A holiday that originally was a pastime celebrated only by Dwarves as they were more reclusive in the past and only enjoyed the company of gnomes in the old days. In the Modern Era of Azeroth, anyone who could raise a mug was welcome to celebrate this yearly festivity and even the Horde took to it with open arms. While families and tourists flocked to the stage grounds where they got to enjoy the frequent family friendly drinks, games and leg tapping went on, a much more serious took place within the tavern of Kharanos. Dwarves, humans, and gnomes had flocked around one table where two competitors were slamming their drinks back to back. A human sailor and a Dwarven Death Knight were facing off and were going through the cheap beer supplied to early contestants. “Give up now, boy! Ya face Karram Blackflagon this day! No livin’ man can hope ta outdrink me!” The dwarf declared with a sneer as he downed another flagon of beer. As he ignored the guffawing of his opponent, Cespenar continued to drink. He was also trying to remember a bit of information that he overheard concerning the Undead warriors. Some information that since Death Knights couldn't get drunk as mortals could, they had to drink their.drink with some sort of potion that could replicate the effects of alcohol… Or something. The major details were lost upon him. This was the fifth dwarf he drank against that day and he was not showing signs of drunkenness whereas others did. Thinking that the bit of information he overheard wasn't true, he was hoping he could drink with the dwarf to the point he couldn't contain anymore liquid. Thinking logically, before he could became too inebriated to form a logical thought, he figured that even a dwarf had to put a drinking contest on hold to use the bathroom. Cespenar had already had to relieve himself multiple times, with the awkward watchful eyes of judges at his back. He noticed that this dwarf who had been drinking when he got there hadn't even bothered to do the same. He was only getting fatter, slowly. “Well lad, any quips?!” Cespenar looked to older, undead Dwarf in the eyes with a glazed over stare. Hunched over the table, and readily drinking his beer, he said “Cespenar Virethorn has no time for quips! Now keep drinkin’ you're fallin’ behind!” With that said, he scratched down a tally mark sloppily as another mug was brought to him. Something Cespenar said made one of the judges freeze before running off to the next room where a host of Brewfest Judges sat, laughing at the events they saw that day. “Lads! Who signed that Cespenar character in?” The judge demanded upon entering the room. One of the judges, a younger dwarf by the name of Shander Gristle, rose his hand. “That woulda been me. Signed the lad up in Stormwind. Fancy soundin’ proper guy. Tirasian sailor type, yeah?” “He is a Virethorn. Didn't he mention that?” “Yeah, I think so. Introduced himself-” “Yer a durned fool if there was was one, boy!” One of the other judges shouted, getting up, “How longs he been?” “Five… He is about to down number six. The Death Knight.” The judge who bore the news explained with an almost defeated tone. Shander looked to his elders and to some other younger dwarves his age who were new to the scene who seemed just as lost as he did. “So…. What's It mean?” “Boy… Thirty years ago, a spitfire of a woman came to Brewfest and defeated every dwarf in the room and still wasn't done drinkin’. Castilla Virethorn. Brought calamity with her when she drained the casks of the event in that contest and caused Brewfest to end that year… On the second day. Since then, we been afearin’ the return of Castilla Virethorn. Heard her name was on the list of the dead from Gilneas. Meanin’ that boy out there be her son.” The room emptied and they went out there to see the death knight still drinking, and by this point he had downed more than any one of them cared to. Cespenar was absent from his seat, with another Judge. The human came back and sat down, wiping his hands off with a cloth before going back to his drink. “Musta gone ta take a piss.” Shander reasoned, and they nodded in agreement as they watched the battle unfold between the two. They all kept their eyes on the dwarf who was still clad in his armor that appeared to be uncomfortable for him to be wearing, as it appeared to be a size too small for his form. “By the ancestors, he is about ta pop…” Another judge whispered, and as if it was jinxed, the dwarf downed another beer and the armor.buckled and a leaking sound came from the dwarf who winced in surprise. “OUT!” The supervising judge announced. “Penalty be a popped belly. The contestant can no longer hold his liquor!” The Death Knight didn't move from his seat, he only sat there, dumbfounded as Cespenar rose out of his seat, downing one last beer in victory. The dwarf carried and kicked out of the tavern while a clean up crew rushed in to mop all the now-putrid ale. Cespenar had just defeated the Sixth dwarf that day, but what was coming surprised even him. A ten foot tall Pandaren had sauntered into the room, doing his best to to hit his head several times. He sat at the table his Cespenar and nodded at him. “They call me Shen’Rai Bottomlessgut. I am the greatest drinker in Pandaria, and I have come to seek the greatest challenge my new allies can provide.” Shen introduced himself as the mug left by the dwarf was refilled and given to him, starting the new contest. He began to drink from his mug and Cespenar gave him a sideways stare. “Cespenar Virethorn.. And uhh… An undead dwarf just had his mouth all over that. Wouldn't you like a new one?” Cespenar asked and Shen’s eyes widened before the Pandaren spit the ale from his mouth. Cespenar merely sat there sipping his beer as everyone gasped at the Pandaren. “OUT! Penalty: Spitting out yer drink!” Shen’Rai gasped aloud and stammered, pointing at Cespenar “T-treachery! He deceived me! No way what he said was legal, or true! I demand a rematch!” The judge shook his head and grabbed Shen’s mug. “This mug was indeed used by a Dwarven Death Knight. There is no penalty for a contestant telling you the truth. Your reaction to his honesty is not cheating on his part. You are disqualified.” The Pandaren nearly lunged at Cespenar before he was grabbed by several bouncers grabbed him and dragged him out of the Tavern as he screamed “I WILL GET YOU CESPENAR VIRETHORN!” The ale continued to flow, and throughout that day, Cespenar continued to drink, and drink until the Judges had no choice but to give Cespenar his trophy. Before they did, many dwarves, older humans and Pandaren were defeated by this young human. As they were handing Cespenar the trophy they heard the door get kicked in and a large dwarf in thick winter gear came in shouting “NOT SO FAST! AIN'T A WINNER TA BE NAMED AFORE KRANNON SKULLCRUSHER HAS A SAY!” Cespenar looked at the Dwarf who kicked the door in and grabbed at the trophy that was no longer there. The judge holding the trophy announced “This year's funder, Magistrate Skullcrusher has issued a challenge to the winner thus far!” “Aye, hit the lad with a gutbuster and let's do this right an’ proper! Get this Barleybrew trash on outta here and let's skip the pleasantries and smash the Vodka!” Cespenar wanted to deny the challenge, but he knew that his journey up North wouldn't be easy if he declined the challenge and was denied a well earned victory. Cespenar slapped the table twice and shouted something that sounded like an acceptance, and probably was. A large mug of some strange, black concoction was brought to Cespenar, and the smell alone made Cespenar reel away, and he had known the smell of the inside of a Whale very personally. It took every bit of courage he had, but he took the drink and downed it. As he tilted his head back to drink the strange beverage, and it touched his tongue, the chair flipped backwards as Cespenar practically jumped out of his seat. Instead of smashing his head on the ground, he rolled backwards and rushed outside as dwarves all around knew exactly what he drank. Everyone went out to see the human ripping his shirt off and diving into the snow. The snow around him melted rapidly as a result of his body heat rising quickly. They watched him scooping snow into the hole he made to try to cool his body off and all the dwarves laughed at him. “Looks like the lad drank a bit too much of the good ol’ Skullcrusher Gutbuster!” Krannon bellowed with laughter, and gradually calmed down as Cespenar’s movements became less frantic and commented “Boy should be sober soon enough!” The dwarves all nodded in agreement. The Gutbuster, as it was aptly named, was designed by the Skullcrusher family originally fight back against food poisoning and stomach illnesses, but quickly proved to purge the system of alcohol and natural minor toxins through immense sweating, vomiting, or relieving themselves. No matter the benefits anyone claimed it to have, the discomfort and terrible taste left no one asking for a second one. Since it's creation, the Gutbuster had mostly been used in competitive drinking contests. Cespenar was a tanned man with medium long hair that was well kept, but the effects of the Gutbuster had left him flustered, eyes bloodshot, hair frazzled and his chest and arms reddened by prolonged exposure to the cold snow. His a clear voice he said “That… Was the worst drink… I've ever had…” He panted with each word and his eyebrows raised curiously as he felt the words able to flow from his lips without slurring. “Gutbuster lad. Supposed ta sober ya up! Ya probably drank more than anyone here though, but that's fine! Means yer ready to face Ol’ Krannon Skullcrusher! Once I heard some young human beat was thrashin’ everyone, I had ta come see it fer meself!” “Well, I don't have much of a choice, do I?” Cespenar lamented, and wondered how much he was going to have to drink. The taste of beer and ale had already worn itself off on his tongue and it was as dull to him as water would be. “Ain't got no choice either lad. Me daughter is locked away studyin’ and this is the closest I dare get ta her schoolin’ without gettin’ swamped by work and troublesome questions in Ironforge. A shame me girl is studyin durin’ the greatest time o’year!” “Vodka you said? If it isn't the 205 Proof Iron Dwarf variety we may as well stick to mead.” Cespenar stated, and his challenge drew forth many gasps amongst the dwarves. The magistrate crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes upon the young man. “That shouldn't be a problem, right?” Krannon actually grinned and nodded at Cespenar. “Might ye win, then yer undoubtedly a paragon of yer kin!” He snapped his fingers and said “Ye heard the lad. Strongest stuff we got. Make short work of one of us yet.” The two sat at a table and the barkeep rushed to get all the bottles he could, calling to a couple of dwarves to help him. In short order there were thirty bottles out, fifteen for both of them ad Cespenar visually measured each bottle to contain one hundred and thirty ounces of liquid. Just over a gallon in each bottle. “If ya manage to get all fifteen o’yers, I'll concede.” Eyeing over the bottles, Cespenar grabbed the first one, popping it open and taking a small drink and quickly swallowing. If he hadn't had the Gutbuster earlier with its overwhelming strength and taste then this drink would have sent him reeling. He could feel his body burn as alcohol once more began to seep into his system. “How many can you drink, Magistrate?” “Last month I downed nine.” The proud dwarf boasted as he took his own bottle to start. “Hmm.. I got a feeling I could have done thirteen.” Cespenar measured before he took a series of long swings, and paused to take a breath and added casually, “Now that you had me drink that Gutbuster.” A close minded Dwarf would have thought the Cespenar would have been gloating out of some hubris that humans tend to have in excess. Krannon knew though that Cespenar was far from doing such a thing. He was honestly measuring his ability. The whispers of the Return of Virethorn had brought Krannon to Kharanos in haste to have a rematch with the one Castilla Virethorn who robbed him of a winning streak he had never bothered to win back b in over thirty years. Truth be told, the young human had defeated this year's champion already and had every right to refuse the challenge to claim the title. “Hmph. Whats yer name, boy?” “Cespenar Virethorn.” Krannon nodded and drank from his bottle. “I take it that Castilla Virethorn be yer mother. Heh. Never got to face her, but I'm fer knowin what kinda monster she was with the bottle. Brought her own stock, sellin it to me before she left. Best brandy and bourbon I've ever had. I look forward ta seein’ how this plays out.” They both started drinking and everyone watched closely as each drained the bottles at an alarming rate. As they finished each bottle, without saying a word to one another, everyone grew more anxious. By the ninth bottle, both men had looked completely smashed. Krannon grabbed his tenth as Cespenar did and the human began to drink and the older Dwarf stared hard at his bottle. He chuckled and wobbled as he opened the bottle. “Ya know…. Yee be a good kid. Handle ya ale well… Just like a Virethorn! Oi… Oi… listen Lad… I - I ain't one ta give up.” Krannon heard himself say, and he believed he was saying that, and the next words that came out of his mouth shocked everyone who heard ir. “I'd be hernered if yer were ta take me daughter's hand… Even if ya don't daarf… Daarf… Dwaarf…” He began to drink against his every instinct and fell over once he drained his bottle. There was a long silence before Krannon broke it by snoring loudly. By this point Cespenar had finished thirteen bottles and looked around, confused. “By Magni’s Stony beard! He lost!” One of the judges gasped. Cespenar stood tall in victory and held up two bottles “Ya fuckin’ got it! The Green Flags o’ Kul’Tirosh fly in the window winds of Dun Mo… IN IRONFORGE!” He tried to drink from both bottles at once, but they were still capped and Cespenar fell forward on the table, passing out. --- Meanwhile… The Atal’Ai, the remnants of them, were trying to gather themselves since the devastation they faced during the Cataclysm. Twice they had faced utter defeat by the Alliance and Horde. The leader, Gam’Talak, was addressing the guards at the entrance when a grinding sound could be compared to a blade dancing on stone. An Amani troll strode into their vision, dragging his axes against the walls and looked up to them with eyes red of blood. The axes vanished in red smoke, reappeared on his hips and he smiled at them. “De master calls. Who among ya Atal’Ai hear him?”
