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Beard Judging & Discussion

Have you wanted to sit and admire the beards? Now is your chance! There will be a table procured at the Spirits that is not intruding upon the men as the sit and drink. But the Ladies and others that want to admire and discuss can come and speak at this table. Tesha will have score cards. Maybe the one with the best beard will get some silver at the end of the night.


July 15, 2018, 9 p.m.

Hosted By



Maeve Shae Eilonwy Vercyn Rowenova Lisebet Thrond Violet Amari Geralt Jarel Octavia Jasher Derovai Darren Fianna Carita Arik Elgana



Arx - Ward of House Redrain - The Spirits - Main Bar

Largesse Level


Comments and Log

Maeve has left the A central table with benches.

Maeve has joined the A central table with benches.

Violet follows in the wake of Arik and Darren. In fact she is doing is quietly, following along behind Arik all the way to the table. "Hi Arik!" She says cheerfully as he settles into his usual seat. The woman has a cheeky smile in place as she does so.

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard has left the A central table with benches.

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard has joined the Sturdy Table.

Wandering in with her shawl tucked around herself, Eilonwy looks around with a dubious expression. This is fun night, clearly. She has her fun face on even.

Darren has joined the Sturdy Table.

Rowenova follows alongside Violet after weaving through the crowded folks, "Well, hello!" says she as she also joins her to hang out with Red fam.

Thrond has joined the Sturdy Table.

Violet has joined the Wobbly Table.

"Violet." Arik looks up at the blonde woman with a curious peering of those frost grey eyes. "Come to support your patrons beard amongst the field?" he asks in a wry noted rumble even as a server comes by with a bottle of Stone Mountain for the man.

Elgana sweeps into the bar with a much smaller retinue today than usual, the Redrain giving pause to look about. "Impressive turnout," she murmurs. As she makes her way deeper in she gives a little wave to Darren and Arik, but she seems largely focused to find where the judging table is. "Is that here?" she wonders and then looks about, her gaze landing on Tesha. With a warm smile she makes to park it at that table. "I imagine this is the 'fun table', yes?" she asks.

Geralt just can't seem to stop laughing. Can't stop won't stop! He's probably going to die of laughter, really. He has to hit hismelf in the chest really, /really/ hard to finally calm himself down, and even then, it's really only because Darren's addressed him. "High Lord," he chokes out, his grin as big as he is. "Looks like a good crowd. The bartender's been told to break out the best brew. But this ..," he points to Shae, and promptly stalks over to her, swinging an arm about her to squeeze her close. And man, he's got a big squeeze. "You get to sit next to me." He winks at her, dropping to murmur something to her, before he pushes out a chair for the bearded lady and seats himself heavily into the one beside her. Fianna, of course, gets a big grin.

Geralt has joined the Sturdy Table.

Ashe, the studious Stormward paralegal, 2 Kennex corsairs arrive, following Octavia.

Carita's nearly out of breath when she arrives, cheeks pink from the winter weather, her cloak clung to like a life line. She pauses just inside the doorway to look around for any familiar faces.

Shae is sure to stand, her lovely beard stroked again as she moves to the competition table. She winks to Amari as she passes her. "Wish me luck," says the bearded woman, a very amused gray eye above all the curly, beautiful facial hair that she just can't stop touching. "So. It keeps the face warm and it's good for hiding crumbs in. I don't know how you manage to keep it dry." She oofs as she's squeezed but takes it well. She pats his thick torso, and mumbles something about needing to breathe.

Violet has left the Wobbly Table.

Lady Tesha Telmar was hosting the judging and discussion. It just happened to coincide with the Beards and Brews events. Complete accident. The Telmar woman is seated at the central table and there's a few others already there. "Well it looks like a good turn out on both sides." she grins to them.

Carita has joined the A central table with benches.

Octavia has joined the A central table with benches.

Octavia sits down at the judges table, looking like the most judge-y of the lot, for some reason.

Violet reaches out to gives Arik's beard a fond stroke even as she beams at the moment. "I have indeed," She says with a chuckle. "Good luck." Then she turns to head for the judging table.

Violet has joined the A central table with benches.

Derovai calls out, "By best brew, you mean Foolsbane, right?" to Geralt, from where he's kicked back, beardless, at the back table. "You know you could always just whip it out and we could measure." He scrubs a hand in his hair, a faint smile on his face.

Maeve finally moves around to the table of the beard judgers. Her gaze seems fixated upon Shae as she settles at the bearded table and that full beard just flowing with elegance in whatever breeze may happen. Pulling out a chair, she settles in and waves to the other women and non-bearded table folk.

Thrond makes his way into the room with Maeve, the man's hand having moved to her back as they pass inside he brushes it there a moment before he makes his way over toward the table where a lot of bearded people are sitting. The solemn-faced man just nods to those present before he claims a seat and leans back comfortably, legs parting and hands resting on his theighs.

Rowenova cheekily grins to Darren and Arik, "Looking good!" she merrily chimes to those bearded boys before wandering over to the bar counter to order up!

As the crowd begins to tumble in, the bartender begins to pour beers and deliver them to the bearded folk. The first drink of the day is a dark brew with a thick head, the taste reminiscent of cocoa and coffee bean flavor. The brew has a roasted, bitter finish to it.

But it seems the ladies weren't forgotten, because the 'tender also delivers to their table a lighter wheat brew, that has a smooth finish to it.

5 Crimson Blades Sergeant, 2 Crimson Blades Lieutenant leave, following Eilonwy.

Darren settles down at his favorite table and fills his glass nearly to the brim with whiskey, taking it up for a long drink that leaves flecks of whiskey in his fine red beard. He sets it aside, however, to sample some fine brews.

Arik squints up at Violet since his waxed beard is given a light tug and then as Arik is handed the bottle of stone mountain he seems to recall something and go... "No... Beer we need beer for all the beards!" he informs the server who seems confused he did order the whiskey afterall. Then on cue the bartender is pouring the beer and having it sent over. Once the dark thick beer arrives Arik lifts up his mug to the men (and bearded lady) at his table in a cheers gesture. "So Lord Geralt, Prince Darren any words to kick off the evening?"

"Luck!" Amari wishes the beautiful fluffy beard wearing Shae before she's off to the No Beards table to settle in there with her glass of whiskey and a smile that just refuses to fade. She's obviously having too much fun. "A very good turn out!" She agrees with Tesha. There's a lot to take in, but the young Keaton lady surely tries. She's almost surprised by the second glass set in front of her. She was so distracted by beards.

Fianna takes a seat with the other ladies at the central table and lifts her pint in 'cheers' to them all. "Should be entertaining if anything." A hearty swig of her drink is taken and she then casts a glance toward the men. "Where's Asger?" Said to no one in particular, that.

Darren eyes Arik as he takes up a tankard of ale. "We have beards, and now we also have brews. I feel like that pretty much tells the whole story here, Arik."

"AH! The brew's here. Good job," Geralt bellows to the bartender, already snagging his glass. And once he's got his stout in hand, he lifts himself out of his seat. "Everybody fuckin' drink," he announces to the room, lifting his beer up in salute. Arik did ask for a /few/ words. Then, he brings his beer up and guzzles the whole thing down, slamming the empty mug back onto the table and rubbing the head off his mustache with a swipe of his forearm. He points to Derovai after. "You pourin' the first shot, or what?"

Violet settles in at the judging table and her eyes move across her fellow judges. "I've been looking forward to this for a bit now," She says with a chuckle. "Though I'm a bit sad Thorley had duties to see too and couldn't come," This last is mostly directed to the person she knows best at the table. Elgana.

Tesha gives a smile as a lot of people join the table and there's a murmur to the ladies and anyone else who sits down. She's not discriminating! She passes out cards to them and writing implements. "Alright. So we'll be judging by a few things..." she tells them as she goes to retake her seat. She even wore a newer dress for this occasion!

Shae does sit next to Geralt, her face as neutral as ever even as her gray eyes sparkle with amusement. "Order a drink for me." It's a very good beard, what she has on. She can speak clearly and everything. "This mustache tickles," she adds, pulling at the hair that keeps rubbing at her upper lip. She chews at the overhanging hair and grumbles. "What are the rules for this competition?" she asks Geralt and the others. "I mean to compete fairly."

Violet eyes dart back and forth between all the bearded fellows. She simply giggles at the various antics from the various people present. Oh look! There is an ale! Maeve's gaze shifts towards her drink and reaches out for it, licking her lips.

Octavia sits down and sips the beer she's offered, frowning slightly at the flavor. The magistrate narrows her eyes at the glass, looking at it as she listens to Tesha speak, then takes another sip. Always judging, that one.

Arik looks from Darren to Geralt while taking a deep drink from his mug, some of the thick head getting into the mustache bit of his beard. He keeps going until nearly half the brew is downed and then he lets out a quiet burp before using the back of his hand to wipe away the foam and then two fingers to briefly fix the lay of his meticulously crafted beard. "Oh we're not competing, we're discussing beards and the beer... Which is almost thick enough to chew, by the by.... The other table is judging, you'll have to confer with them Lady-beard." he informs Shea with an easy mannered rumble.

Rowenova merely spectates, despite her furred face. She orders up one brew with the dark ingredients (cocoa and coffee) with a quiet thanks. Turning around, Rowenova leans back with one elbow against the bar counter, silently watching.

Enter VERCYN, who, as always, pauses at the door to sniff a bit at the air, as if get a scent of what all is being served at the tavern tonight. The gathered folks are then eyed and appraised, at which point he draws himself up to his full, impressive height, lifts his chin and gives his dark beard a meaningful, slow stroke. No word is spoken, but then he moves towards an empty seat... somewhere.

Derovai shrugs at Geralt's question. He slips out of the back booth, after a vaguely uncertain look at something within the room, and heads to the beard table, a bottle of Foolsbane at the ready as he eyes Geralt. "You're sure?" There's a note of warning in his voice, but he leans against the table, quite clearly sizing up the Crovane lord. "If you shaved, you'd be able to drink it without getting half of it in your beard. But then again, I /am/ a city boy, so clearly..." He trails off, waiting for Geralt to decide whether they're going straight to the dangerous alcohol or not, busying himself with pouring two shots as he does so.

Vercyn has joined the Sturdy Table.

"You get a beer like everybody else, girl," Geralt pushes a dark ale towards Shae, smirking at her. "Drink up," he encourages the Bearded Keaton. Then he looks to Darren and nods. "The Highlord's got the way of it. If they want to judge, they can judge away. But it's pretty damn clear who has the best beard here,

Arik checked wits at difficulty 10, rolling 1 higher.

"Tell them it's for science!" Tesha gives a bit of cheer. Then Vercyn is walking in and the Telmar woman's attention in completely drawn from the table and to the Duke. Then she remembers what she's doing.

"You get a beer like everybody else, girl," Geralt pushes a dark ale towards Shae, smirking at her. "Drink up," he encourages the Bearded Keaton. Then he looks to Darren and nods. "The Highlord's got the way of it. If they want to judge, they can judge away. But it's pretty damn clear who has the best beard here," he utters, pushing his fingers through his beard with pride. It's a big, bushy beard! Then, to Derovai, he just /stares/. "Shavin' is admittin' the weight of a man is too much for you to bear."

Carita is overheard praising Galen: For being the best at being sucky at praising. <3

Maeve has left the A central table with benches.

Arik looks at the Foolsbane with some common sense apprehension. "Drink that and it'll strip the color out of your beard and you'll be grey before your time." he observes in a dubious rumble of a voice and a squinting of his eyes. "I'd hope that the judging table..." he pauses and looks meaningfully over to the central table where there's a crowd. "Would take off points for puke in the beard." he chuckles low and deep though and finishes his own mug of thick beer before thunking it down on the tabletop.

Derovai checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 17 higher.

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 11 lower.

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard checked willpower + survival at difficulty 11, rolling 37 higher.

Geralt checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 27 lower.

Shae eyes the ale, then looks at what Derovai is pouring with both interest and curiosity. She reaches out to take a shot. "Please," she adds. She's the daughter of Margerie Keaton, beard or not. She has manners. She knocks the toxic brew back and chokes. She slams her hand on the table, eyes wide, but somehow manages to swallow. "Fucking ballsac mother bastard armpit twat. Shit, was -is- that?"

Geralt checked willpower + survival at difficulty 27, rolling 12 lower.

Rowenova cracks up and after Arik's words, she glances sideways to Derovai.

Violet turns to stare meaningfully at the table full of bears. Of course she starts with Arik, then her eyes quickly move on to Darren. They rest there longer and she nods to herself, seeming to write something on a score card given by Tesha. And then on to Geralt...

"Is that so?" Derovai murmurs to Geralt. He takes the shot of Foolsbane, and it sails right down. All of it, because he doesn't have a beard. He grimaces, but doesn't seem affected by the drink, glancing over at Shae. "Foolsbane. Marquis Mydas -- Prince Ettore's -- special creation. Consider it a test of your, ah, machismo. You pass. Unconvincingly, but you pass." He watches her drink, and then turns his attention to Geralt.

Carita has left the A central table with benches.

Rowenova pushes up from her back lean against the bar's edge, "I almost wanna, but if that stuff shaves years off the end of your life, then I dunno!"

There's a bright giggle from the judge's table. It's Amari. She presses her hand to mouth until she's over it, then has an especially careful drink. Shae gets a slow shake of her head and a playfully stern look, as if she's trying to channel her Aunt Margerie a little.

Geralt snorts over to Derovai. "It's just a drink. Drinkin's not a fuckin' test," he picks up the shot glass and eyes it, before he tips it back in one swallow. For perhaps the first time in his life, Geralt grimmaces as it burns down his throat. And then his cheeks turn pale... and green, and for such a big man, he manages to get up out of his chair with haste, boots like thunder as he runs - FULL SPEED AHEAD! - to the bar. Thankfully the bartender's seen this before, he's got a bucket at the ready. "WHAT THE FUCK!" he gasps out after, managing to not get a single speck on his beard - it's pristine! - as he looks back to Derovai. "That shit's..fuckin gross."

Rowenova says, "Yeah, yeah... I think I'll pass!"

Derovai lets out a sharp bark of laughter at Geralt. "Everything's a test, Lord Crovane," he points out, more than a little wryly, before glancing back to the bearded lady, offering no comment on the larger fellow's sudden flight. "I won't kick him while he's down. Care to try again?" he wonders, holding up the bottle to her in indication.

Vercyn settles on a chair at the sturdy table, nudging Darren and Arik both to make room already! Just as he sits down, the Duke's attention is drawn to the potty-mouthed, bearded woman also at the table, evidently just realizing she's a woman at all. "Your resemblance to my nephew Sven is uncanny, down to your voice and vocabulary." He rumbles offhandedly.

Arik watches as Vercyn joins the table of beards and coppery brows perk up at his Uncle. The Halfshav Lord reaches up and gently adjusts the central silver ring embedded with sapphire at the bottom of his bard. "Uncle." he rumbles suspiciously and then Geralt is over there drinking Foolsbane and Arik gives him a sympathetic look. "I did warn you Lord Crovane." he points out and then looks at the bottle then at Darren and Vercyn. "I've heard even Morrighan gets tipsy off that stuff...." then Vercyn speaks and Arik loses it with a snerk and then a full bellied laugh.

Violet watches Geralt make his way from seat to bar fast. For such a big man that is quite a feat and she looks vaguely impressed. "I am very glad I have an excuse to not drink," She mutters with a chuckle as she takes a drink of her nice and tasty cide. "OI! Geralt, get that beard clean so we can properly judge it without spew, eh?" She calls after the Sword.

Darren looks around at all the wretching and such with a distasteful expression, bringing his ale to his nose to fill it with that scent. He shoves his chair to the side to make room for Vercyn. "Thank you for joining us, Duke Vercyn."

Fianna is swigging her ale and looking over at The Men in the process. Tawny colored eyes glint with amusement and when she catches sight of her Uncle Geralt bolting toward the bar, she loses it and /laughs./ Almost snorts her ale! Sorry Uncle G~ "Does he lose points for getting anything in his beard?" Smirked, that.

Shae, with her gorgeous beard, is sucking down the contents of her ale mug to wash away the taste. She looks to Vercyn. "Ah. It's the not-Wolf. Hello, my lord. And the resemblence is a coincidence," she adds. "Your Grace," she says, because she still has manners. She's watching Geralt, however, and looks Really Disappointed in him. "All that body mass and one tiny drink does you in to puking?" she sighs. "I had more faith in you, friend."

Tesha stands up from the central table and there's a bit of a waving of a score card over towards the Beards and Brews table, "My Lords, Duke, High Lord." she gives them a smile. "As you know us ladies over here are having our little beard judging and discussion. But they're going to need to look up close." she explains. "And there will be a winner of this contest. Best beard overall wins ten thousand silver." she announces.

"Blech," Geralt groans, wiping off his mouth, before he points a meaty finger to his beard. WHICH IS CLEAN! "It's GODS' DAMNED PRISTINE, thank you," he bellows over to Violet. "I've been down this road before, I know how to fuckin' throw up my guts," he strokes his beautiful beard for the crowd, and then ambles back to his seat, sitting down heavily. The bearded woman gets a hand on her shoulder, and a firm pat. Pat-pat. "You drink another," he encourages her. "It went down the wrong tube."

Rowenova reaches over and back pats Geralt, "Gonna live?"

Darren applauds loudly. "Thank you, Lady Tesha. That's very kind of you all, and Redrain will be happy to match your prize, for a total of 20,000 silver for the winning beard. Simply let us know what you require of us, ladies. Ourselves and our beards will be pleased to accommodate."

Arik checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 13 lower.

Arik checked willpower + survival at difficulty 13, rolling 18 higher.

Derovai wonders idly, "What happens if the only two people to prove their fortitude in this room are a bearded lady and an unbearded man?" as he proffers the bottle towards the woman at the table, ready to pour another couple of shots. He slides one towards Arik and then takes one himself.

Jasher slides into the room, unexpectedly accompanied by Lisebet. He's not late or even fashionably late. His lateness is terrible in the manner that only a lack of a competing beard can achieve, and Jasher's definitely achieved that.

Derovai checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 19 higher.

The next brew arrives for the BEARDED ONES. Another dark stout, this is an inspiring blend of vanilla, coffee and chocolate, the notes swirling together to a crisp finish.

The ladies have another brew served to them as well - this is a crisp apple cider, with a hint of cinnamon!

Thrond has left the Sturdy Table.

Arik reaches out for a shot of the Foolsbane because really with pants like these you can't make good decisions. Thus it goes down and he makes a *hrk* sound and one eye closes, the other one stays open and waters, but it's down and he's quietly coughing while upturning the empty shot glass and putting it down on the table. "It's... So much worse.... So much worse than the most backwaters whiskey I've ever had... I think I'm going blind." it's probably because one of his eyes are still closed and he has to shake his head for a moment and blink them both open, they're watery and his fair-skinned face is flush.

By the time Jarel walks into the Spirits, it's quite evident that there is a very big group here. Some he knows, others not so much. But he does recognize his cousing Darren, whom he hasn't seen since Jarel started his investigation into the 'Slaver'. Which apparently has taken a lot of his time into that. Thus he nods politely to those there and gives a brief smile to his cousin, Darren. But he doesn't want to take his cousin's attention. Instead he smiles at those there and heads for the bar. He probably needs a drink either way. So he gets a nice rum. And that bottle vanishes before anyone can see what's going on.

Rowenova brings around a new bucket just in case Lord Arik ends up needing it!

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 0 higher.

Arik shoo's Rowenova away with a watery-eyed squint.

"I've had... worse," Geralt remarks to Rowenova, though he doesn't sound entirely certain of that fact. Either way, more beer has arrived. He manages to not look uneasy at the brew delivered his way, though he holds onto it for awhile. A separate glass is slid over to Arik as he whines about going blind. "Your eyes are fine. They're just closed," he chuckles over to Arik.

Lisebet has found someone to accompany her tonight, in her crimson dress. She might as well wear it, right? She pauses though just inside the entrance not at all sure what is going on. "Oh," she says. "What is going on? I've never been to one - actually, I've never been to this place before even. Is this normal?"

Rowenova scurries away and puts back the empty bucket from whence it came!

Jasher looks Lisebet's way. His eyebrows slowly creep up in a manner that suggests that she may be asking the wrong guy.

Derovai swigs the second shot like it's not really that much bother, eyeing Arik. "Shouldn't have underestimated people." He jerks the corner of his mouth up in a smile before he sets the glass down with a clink, watching the bearded lady. "Ah, Your Highness," he calls over to Jasher, "you also don't have a beard. Care to test your manhood against these hirsute fellows and lady?"

Vercyn looks over as Tesha explains the prize for Best-Beard, and then Darren offers to match the amount. His brows furrow somewhat, casting his curious gaze back and forth between Shae, Arik, Darren and Geralt. "Why precisely are drinks and retching involved in a contest of best beards?" He wonders out aloud, but lifts his hand to stroke lovingly at his beard again. Cuz.

Shae, with her beard, reaches out to take another drink from Derovai. "Bearded women can do amazing things. Like hold down toxic fermented bile." She raises her glass to Derovai. "It's a good test and the after-taste isn't terrible," she adds, the woman as ever literal, serious, and genuine. She knocks it back and manages to actually take it down in the first go, but not before one gray eye seems to bulge and the other to squint, lending a comical expression, beard and all, before it goes down. She woofs, patting her chest. "Fuck me."

Violet smirks at Geralt and lifts her mug towards him before sitting back looking pleased. But then Arik has to go and take a shot of the Foolsbane and she start chortling at the face he makes. "Oh, I do hope I can remember that face for all time," She comments to her table.

Darren sips his ale with a look of appreciation and then gives a shake of his head. "Foolishness. I didn't grow this fine beard to decorate it with vomit." He nods to Vercyn. "I'm honestly not sure how the two got equated and I lament the move."

Tesha gives a smile to Darren and a bow, "Thank you for that wonderful match." she tells him. Then there's some quiet talk at the table before she's shooing the other ladies to go and get their judging on. Tesha herself stands and sips at her whiskey. Because she's not going to die on the floor from what her brother-in-law is drinking. "As to your question, Master Derovai, if they are the two left in the room will split it." she gives him a grin.

Octavia takes another sip from her glass, then rises to her feet with as much grace as she can muster, though the alcohol always seems to bring out the tall woman's islander accent. Walking over to Arik, she inquires, "Are you planning to do trick or just stand and wait?"

Jasher looks at Derovai, passing the scholar a nod and what he probably believes to suffice as a smile, though in reality it looks more like a grimace. "I feel my lack of a beard would influence the contest in some undue way," he responds, deadpan.

Elgana at least seems far more interested in this second beer. "Ooh." She sips and nods, giving her approval of it. All of the puking, or talk of puking just gets ignored. Water off a duck's back to this Redrain. "This is a really lovely one," she comments idly and then falls quiet as her lady wanders over to whisper something and hand her a missive.

Arik coughs a bit more but then a fresh brew is delivered and the vanilla is a welcome flavor to try and get the taste put back into his mouth. Anything but burning. He takes a slow sip, then a longer sip, then his head tilts all the way back as a minute of drinking lead to an empty mug and once more a belch, but this one is likely a relief as he lets out a sigh afterwards and uses the cuff of his coat to get the foam from his beard and after plunk the empty mug down he strokes thumb and forefinger around the edge of his lips to sort back out the hairs. "Sometimes you have to take life by the shotglass, tell it you're not afraid, and regret every decision you made up to that point... Except the pants." he informs Darren and Vercyn but his voice is a bit rougher, maybe a pitch deeper, seems like the paint stripper made him a tad hoarse.

"You gotta learn to tuck when you throw up," Geralt explains to Darren, and gestures to what he means - he sweeps his bushy, brilliantly beautiful beard against his neck with his hand and sort of leans his head forward. "Like that, see? Then you're not gettin' shit on your beard. You'll thank me later," he nods solemnly to the High Lord, before his eyes flicker back with grand amusement to watch Shae take the next shot. He seems to be staring at her pretty hard, brows lifting up at some point. "You should have another," he encourages, while sipping at his next ale.

Fianna is /giggling/ from that central table. Yes, the otherwise collected and poised Lady Crovane is having a teary-eyed moment of amusement as she gets up from her seat at the judge's table, grabs her scorecard and empty glass, and makes her way toward the bar. She may or may not brush against from folks standing at the bar as she means to get a refill of the cider that was previously served to her. "Oh, sorry!"

Arik says in Northlands shav, "We're going to have a dead Keaton if he keeps her drinking."

Keso, a totally legit assistant arrives, delivering a message to Darren before departing.

Derovai laughs easily, not unkindly, at Jasher's comment. "It's purely a test of nerve. I know you have some hidden somewhere." But he shrugs, raising the bottle to Shae in indication. "Third and last shot. For all the money." He nods over at Tesha, remarking, "At least half the money, anyway. Master Voss," he corrects Tesha almost automatically.

Arik eyes Shea with some mild concern as Geralt encourages her to drink more.

Jarel looks at the group and by now he is getting curious about what's going on. Though he still remains where he is. Mostly looking at the exchanges, seeing what is going on. Knocking back another bottle as he considers what is actually going on: seems like some kind of contest with fool's bane. While he had no problem playing around with fool's bane, he doesn't seem like he has a reason to get involved: his role is that of a watcher. Someone who is just looking at how things are going down. And just staying quiet while enjoying that time.

Up at the bar, Row makes room for Fianna, "No worries!" she cheerfully intones!

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard checked stamina + survival at difficulty 50, rolling 12 lower.

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard checked willpower + survival at difficulty 12, rolling 36 higher.

Derovai checked stamina + survival at difficulty 60, rolling 11 lower.

Derovai checked willpower + survival at difficulty 11, rolling 64 higher.

Keso, a totally legit assistant arrives, delivering a message to Darren before departing.

Violet gets to her feet after she finishes her mug of cider and moves straight on over to the Sturdy table. As she does she flips the slim shape of the pen between her fingers agiley. Coming to a stop in front of the table she eyes Shae and her fluffy beard up close. "So who is the donor? And...oh it even smells foul," Suddenly her smile falters and she brings a hand across her nose, waving a bit. "Ugh."

Jarel has joined the Bar.

Lisebet glances over, her own smile light and friendly, a definite contrast to Jasher's. "This is quite a busy place, I don't - I don't even know what to - Violet! What is going on?"

Octavia tugs a few beards, letting Shae's snap against her chin with a grin, then moves to take her seat at the table once more. "The cider is excellent," she notes as she gathers her thoughts about beards. She was never fond of them, but making fair assessments of things - or people - she doesn't like is what a magistrate does.

Derovai actually grimaces this time, on the third shot. But there's not even a /hint/ of throwing up. He draws a deep breath, allowing a shiver to cross his shoulders, before he smiles at Shae, watching her critically. And he makes sure to put the cork back on that bottle of Foolsbane, sending it back with a server, shooting Geralt an apologetic smile. "Next time I'll grow a beard," he remarks, in a tone that suggests he has no plans to whatsoever.

"Neither have I." Vercyn nods sagely in agreement with Darren, never ceasing his loving stroke of his beard. "This is meant to impress and charm, not stink with vomit. Foolishness indeed." Arik's mutter brings Vercyn's attention back on Shae as the Keaton woman downs drink after drink. Is the Duke impressed? Maybe. He certainly looks intrigued! "You do have someone to take you home, I trust."

Shae squints at the bottle and back to Derovai. Then reaches out, takes the shot and oooooooOOOOooooofofo-"-motherfucker...." she wheezes after choking it down, bending over the table a bit. She punches Geralt in the arm on reflex, because he's there, as hard as she can, then belches. Very, very loudly. Sitting back in her seat. When she straightens and Violet is there, judging her beard, the gray-eyed Keaton squints at the woman. "No donor. And it shouldn't smell at all. It's the finest combed and oiled facial hair I could buy." She doesn't -seem- offended, but she's been wearing it all day. The beard smells like sandalwood and only a little like Foolsbane. Looking to Vercyn she points unerringly to Geralt. "I get drunk with this one a lot."

Amari smiles in return, "Oh, I think we may have met once. You had the fluffiest dog." She says to Violet, but yes, there's judging to do. She stands and rather than rush over to the Beard Table, she turns more for Octavia and follows her over. Which beards the Magistrate seems to prefer, she takes obvious mental note of, but when she goes back to her seat, Amari lingers. It's Vercyn she approaches, standing directly before him and offering a sketch of a curtsey, "I think I ought to stroke your beard, Duke Vercyn."

Keso, a totally legit assistant arrives, delivering a message to Darren before departing.

An empty shotglass and two mugs of beer in front of Arik and the man leaaaaaans back in his wooden chair beside Vercyn since he scooted in between himself and Darren. As his Uncle gets a few judges interested in his beard the Halfshav man makes a quiet *tut* sound and idly adjusts another sapphire embedded ring in his own formidable facial hair. "If he tell you to call him Uncle, it should disqualify you from judging. He gets everyone with that Uncle thing." he says in a rumbling and good natured dig at his own Uncle.

Geralt was nursing his beer when Shae reaches over and whales him on the arm. It is unfortunate that his bicep is like a boulder, and it just makes him blink and squint down at her. But then she's belching, and he takes a large swallow of beer and belches too, patting his belly as he does. "Ahh, don't you go blamin' me for your bad decisions," he grins down to Shae, before he leans down and sniffs at her beard. He takes a few big whiffs. Then he shrugs over to Violet. "Smells great to me." He goes back to stroking his own beard.

Violet nods her head at Amari and says, "That would be Gale." But someone is saying her name and she turns from the table, and judging of Shae's bears, towards Lisebet. "Lady Lisebet! Welcome to The Spirits. Tonight we're judging beards! Tesha has score cards if you would like to join us?"

Derovai gives Shae an approving nod and a gloved thumbs-up, before stepping away from the beard table, adding over his shoulder, "And I didn't even need a codpiece either." Point quite clearly proven to his satisfaction, he settles at the bar rather than going back to his booth, offering Jarel a nod. The Foolsbane does not make a reappearance.

Derovai has left the Back Booth.

Derovai has joined the Bar.

Rowenova has joined the Bar.

Keso, a totally legit assistant arrives, delivering a message to Darren before departing.

Violet glances back at Shae to note, however, "I'm pretty sure it's the alcohol that smells," That belch doing no one, especially her, any good. So she steps a little closer to Lisebet, giving a rough little clearing of her throat.

Tesha gives a wave to those that join them, "If you want to judge please take a card and go enjoy." the redhead states with a bright smile. "Once everyone is done we'll come back over and tally up scores." she grins.

Fianna will judge these beards and maybe even reach to give Geralt's a tug because she can. Right? As a judge and a niece! When she's made her way down the line of that sturdy table, she makes her way back to the central table to scrawl a few 'notes' about Arik, Darren, Uncle G, that Duke she heard Amari call Vercyn, and of /course/ the large beautiful fluffy beard. "I think you should, too, Amari!" She grins over at her kin, shameless.

Jarel nods to Derovai "Fool's bane competition you guys having? That thing is pretty rough, and I drink a lot." He looks back to the contest part and he looks back at Derovai "And what's up with the beards? I'm pretty confused with the beards thing. Is it some beard and drink foolsbane competition?"

Lisebet just shakes her head, amused. She gives Violet a smile, taking a breath. "Judging beards, oh, that seems reasonable. I think I heard something about that," she admits. "But I have no idea what or how to do so. I think maybe I shall find a quiet seat and watch. I suspect I have to learn about such things before I could judge fairly. Or at the least I need a drink first." She looks to Jasher, and says, "Your highness, is there a seat you would prefer?"

"Now, now. don't be sore until you have actually lost, Arik." Vercyn sidelongs at the younger Halfshav, with a rumbling chuckle as he leans back in his chair. The lean, evidently, is for the benefit of Amari, as the Duke turns to the Keaton woman. "I think you ought to as well, Lady Keaton. I do not think there is another way to ascertain that this is, in fact, the very best beard present." He nods sagely, and lifts his chin, offering said beard for Amari to stroke.

Darren is hard-pressed to finish his ale amidst the comings and goings of messengers, but he manages it valiantly nevertheless. He strokes his bushy red beard proudly with his free hand as he sets his glass aside. "Codpieces are about want, not need," he informs Derovai with a wry grin.

Geralt allows himself to be tugged by Fianna. "You likin' how smooth it is? Brushed it out real nice," he picks up his chin so she can see, before he chuckles. There's a glance to Derovai as the man makes his way back to the bar. "Next time we'll do a drinkin' contest without that shit. Regular shots of whiskey. Bet I'll beat you then," he winks.

Rowenova chuckles heartily then explains over toward Jarel, "Beards are serious business in the North, and there are some of our finest right over there."

While beards and drinking prowess were displayed around, Jasher answers Lisebet's question by loping around the room to commandeer the booth that was Derovai's domain until quite recently ago. Sufficiently out of the way, he seems content to settle in and watch the proceedings.

"The finest." Arik calls out a correction to Rowenova

Rowenova says, "Ok, the finest!"

Jasher has joined the Back Booth.

Shae is ignoring everything else for the moment, stroking her very nice, very fluffy beard, watching Violet with a critical, slightly drunken eye. She hums softly, then shrugs. "I suspect you've a good reason to think it smells bad. Keen nose, particular nose. It happens." She leaves it at that, raising her mug mumbling something to Violet.

Lisebet has joined the Back Booth.

Derovai looks back towards the beard table, grinning at Darren. "Ah. Are you left wanting, then, Your Grace?" he wonders, before he looks towards Geralt. "You're on," he states simply, no boast accompanying the statement.

Octavia scribbles on her card, then hands it to Tesha, before sipping at her beverage again. Ashe comes up to ask her a question, and she responds something to her assistant, then sends her off with a message.

Shae, after speaking to Violet, is already trying to stand, hands planted on the table. "LISSEN. I AM. A PART. OF THIS. AND I DEMAND TO BE A FINEST BEARD TOO." She looks at Geralt, wobbling just a little. But very serious. "AYE?"

"I am more often left wanted than wanting," Darren responds with alacrity, raising his whiskey glass for a long drink.

Geralt squints over to Shae, his beady bistre eyes bright with amusement. He starts laughing all over again. "AYE!" he bellows, and hits the table with his fist. "You heard the woman. Best damn beard in the South, she's got!" he announces to the tavern.

Violet chuckles and nods her head to Lisebet, "Understandable. Being a Northerner I've much experience with them. There are all kinds of lovely beers being served tonight. Enjoy! I'm going to go stroke the High Lord...s beard now," The pause is given on purpose. The woman is in a rare mischevious mood as she turns towards Shae. "Indeed I am, alas, most sensitive lately. But I shall persevere!" And to Darren's side she goes, with a little bow given. "Good evening, your grace!" Cheerful and grinning she greets the man.

Arik eyes the bearded Lady and then Darren and then just scowls at Vercyn. "I think the ladies have a keen eye Uncle, they'll see the proper care this beard has and as you know red is the color of passion. What is black, just depressing." he informs his Uncle with a rumbling voice and then since there are no more brews immediately forthcoming he waves down the bottle of whiskey from earlier and accepts it with a slow swig.

"Very well, /Duke/ Vercyn." Amari begins, making sure not to slip and accidentally and call him Uncle with Arik's input. She shoots him a look, but it's more playful than cross. Right! Fianna said she should, so, she's going to stroke a beard. She bravely reaches up and starts with both of her hands on either side of the old Wolf's face. Feels alright at the jaw, she determines, then pokes a single fingertip under his nose to the divot at his upper lip to check mustache fullness or something. She nods to herself, then lastly, rubs his chin beard between thumb and finger to make sure she has a good feel for the texture. "Mmm-hmm. Very nice. Has everyone tried Duke Verycn's beard? It's going to be hard to beat." She gives him a quick smile then turns to the rest, "Who's next?"

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Arik before departing.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Arik before departing.

Derovai says something at the bar, before glancing back at Darren. "Would you say that's your wont?" he tosses back crisply, before he looks back towards the bar, adding something further.

Shae juts her very beaded chin out to Amari. "ME. I insist on a fair chance. No family favoritism."

Rowenova cracks up about the beard color comparison by Lord Arik! She swigs down on her dark brew, little laughs around doing so.

Arik looks up at Amari and lightly strokes the bottom portion of his beard while watching the young woman, "Lady Amari, come enjoy a lively beard."

Someone wearing a large beautiful fluffy beard jerks her head at Arik. "I'm also not as greasy as that one."

The LAST AND FINAL beers of the evening are being swung about now. Gone away are the full-bodied dark whiskeys and here to come is a lighter variety. A pleasingly hazy orange in color, the aroma of this beer is fruity and piney. It has a citrus-melon taste with a gently bitter finish. This beer is passed out to both beards and non-beers, but an ESPECIALLY LARGE glass is set in front of Shae, at Geralt's discretion.

Vercyn keeps his chin lifted as Amari feels the Mighty Beard, though that doesn't prevent him from shooting Arik another sidelong glance for his commentary. "Look closely, nephew: this is what is commonly known as salt-and-pepper. Silver shot through black, like shooting stars through the night sky." Totally waxing poetry on his face fur. And when Amari announces her verdict, a smug Vercyn bobs his head. "Thank you, Lady Amari. Now if anyone else is intrigued, approach and feel this heavenly fuzz."

"A little wax doesn't make it -greasy-." Arik counters as he pointedly goes to the lowers point of his beard and with a little twist of his fingers produces a light curl that remains even after his finger is gone. "Lets you shame it is all, give it some extra cling." he adds with a pleasued rumble as his whiskey is set aside and he picks up the hazy orange brew with a sniff.

"I wanna go after her," Geralt runs his fingers through his beard to puff it out a little bit, grinning down to Shae. "Drink your beer, girl. I'll even promise to get ya home safe and sound," he winks at her. Then there's a chuckle over to Vercyn.

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