Let's Play a Drinking Game

Artorias didn't let Artisan's sulking or bitter words get to him. He couldn't begin to understand the hurt and confusion he must have been feeling around his abandonment. No, he wanted to try to make amends, no matter how difficult it might be. Mercy and forgiveness had been instilled in him by his mother, and even though he did have stubborn pride he truly did not want to harbor grudges when the pack he led was supposed to be a place of healing and rebirth. Begrudgingly, Artisan stood up and began to follow him, the hateful glower on his face expected but not ignored. Artorias closed the cell door and motioned with a nod of his head for the pirate to follow him, leading the wolf up the stairs with Romulus bringing up the rear as security. He wanted to believe Artisan could be trusted to not do anything stupid, but this was the same wolf that had stabbed him and threatened his pack with destruction, so certain precautions had to be taken.

The dark-furred brute led his "guest" into the Great Hall, illuminated by torches and the fire in the grand hearth as well as the occasional flash of lightning from outside the windows. The room smelled of roasted meats and sweet fruits, all laid out for the two wolves. Romulus took position by the door while Artorias led the way over to the table, roasted legs of venison and fresh fish laid out for them. Artorias grabbed the first of several bottles of vintage wine from the table and popped the cork with his teeth, the heady scent of alcohol hitting his nose in an instant. Into two goblets he poured a healthy amount of the rich red liquid, making eye contact with Artisan while he lifted his own goblet and took a sip to show him it wasn't poisoned.

"You said that all you pirates wanted to do was have fun and a good time," Artorias said, moving down the table to the pile of horseshoes at the end. "Well, now's your chance. Between you and me, you don't strike me as much of a fighter, so I don't think raiding is really your thing. But you did make some good jokes that night, and I'm betting games are more your speed." Artorias tapped the horseshoes with his paw. "You ever play horseshoes before? We take turns throwing them at that metal stake from here." He pointed down the hall, to the metal stake about 40 feet from the wolves. "If you hit the stake, your opponent has to drink and you can ask them any question you want and they must answer truthfully. Miss, and you have to drink." Even if the pirate didn't care to ask him anything at all, at least it got him out of his cell and active, as well as got him drinking and maybe helped their tenuous relationship.

With the general rules of the game explained, Artorias moved back down the length of the table with a horseshoe in his mouth, testing the weight of it. He set it down on the table beside Artisan with a thud, then gestured to it while he snatched a few honeyed strawberries off a plate and popped them in his mouth. "You're the guest, so you get to go first. Oh, and I do have stronger stuff than wine to drink if you're feeling confident."

"Artorias Carpathius" | "Carpathian" | "Corbin" | "Argent"