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Message: <blockquote data-quote="ThirdWizard" data-source="post: 3038661" data-attributes="member: 12037">“Doesn’t he look a little… gray… to you?”- anonymous dwarf talking about The Jackal Session 8/5/06 - The Lost CityJackal liked to drink, but for the past few days, he had consumed possibly more dwarven ale (the real stuff) than he had drunk since coming to Sigil all those years ago. This wasn’t by choice, either, exactly. They needed a way to the Dwarven Mountain on the Outlands, and who better to find that out from than dwarves.It took days, however, for him to find some dwarves that were from there and were willing to talk to an outsider. The dwarven bars weren’t exactly made for people his size, Jackal stood a foot over them after all. It wasn’t until the third night frequenting dwarven bars and testing his stamina that he was challenged to a drinking contest.Cheers ran through the bar and beer mugs were raised. Some were trying to make bets, but no one would take odds on the human interloper into their establishment, the Everfull Mug, a bar on the outskirts of the Lady’s Ward near the Market Ward. One dwarf slapped Jackal on the back hard as he sat down at the table, looking his opponent in the eyes. This would be his proving ground.The dwarven ale was poured and he took his first gulp, barely feeling the effects. The dwarf across from him, a middle aged man with his beard braided in loops back into itself, took a drink as well, and they stared at each other. The next mugs came and they drank again. It was on the third draught that he started feeling dizzy.The fourth drink was a bit harder to down, they’d pulled out the really strong stuff, not that dwarven ale is every anything but strong, of course. Jackal wasn’t sure what he had been drinking the past few days, but this was different. Across the table, though, he could see that his opponent was feeling the effects as well.The cheers throughout the room turned to murmurs, then again returned to cheers of amazement. They hadn’t expected him to last through two drinks after they pulled out the hard vintage. Few non-dwarves could last through three let alone four pints. He was pulling his own in the contest, and they were loving it.The fifth drink came, and he downed it, this time more slowly, keeping his balance on the chair, the world growing fuzzy in front of him. He tried to lock eyes with his opponent and failed to see more than an outline. But, he didn’t miss the sixth ale being placed in his open hand. Slowly, he moved it toward his mouth and started to drink, but before he could finish, he heard a loud thump in front of him and the loudest assortment of voices he had ever heard in his life. Suddenly, finding himself floating, he wondered if he had passed out and was now dreaming.What happened after that he wasn’t quite sure. He had vague memories of dwarven women coming onto him and that he was welcome back there or to any of the fine dwarven establishments in the city. He remembered lots of laughing, lots of singing, and at one point he could have sword he had a beard.When he woke up the next day he had a headache that couldn’t be expressed in words, but no beard. Somewhere in the back of his mind something jumped out to him, however. The location of a portal to the Dwarven Mountain! All that drinking had paid off. He walked to the main room to find Malbi there, who had news about Green Marvent.</blockquote>

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