The Exhilerating Adventures of Adjanah

[Adjanah]

Something tasting not entirely unlike a used dish-rag seemed to be located in her mouth. She smacked her lips a few times, identifying the foreign object to be her tongue. She tried, exploratorily, opening an eye. Bright light struck her hindbrain like a brick. Gathering her strength, she turned her head away from the offending window, and promptly found herself face to face with the bare wall she was lying against. Slowly, her thoughts started churning into motion, a few questions emerging like fat bubbles surfacing on a thick swamp. Firstly "where in feck's name am I?", followed by a short, confused "Who am I?", and ending with a supremely more urgent "Why does my feckin' head feel several sizes too big and is it really full of angry bees?"

Several more questions threatened to emerge as well, but her chain of thought was cut short by a gruff voice bellowing far, far too loudly that "breakfast's ready, luv" and that she had to "get her skinny arse upright 'fore other customers arrive", ending in a laugh that seemed to shake the walls. She managed to roll onto her back and turning her head left, seeing Roggins' squat shape leaving the room. Roggins. Using her keen senses of deduction, the rotund shape of the dwarf told her that she was likely at the Mistyvale Inn. And his promise/threat of breakfast seemed to suggest that it was morning. But which morning?

With another supreme show of effort, she managed to swing her legs (still fully-clothed, she noticed) off the sacks of...grain, apparently...that she had been lying on. No wonder her back felt like an abused accordion. When the effort didn't kill her outright, she tried standing up. Wooziness threatened to overtake her for a moment, but through superior skill and agility she managed to not fall over. The raggy taste in her mouth suddenly grew in intensity, making her eyes water and desperately scan the room for something, anything, to vomit into. An old bucket in the corner of the small stockroom she hazily figured out she was occupying fit the bill nicely.

Ten minutes later, she staggered into the empty, main room of the small inn, making her way to the bar and slumping into a seat. Roggins stood on the other side of the bar, humming gently to himself. He seemed to be engaged in an alchemic project, pouring various odd substances and rather a lot of ground garlic into a mug. He stirred it, added...something...and grunted in satisfaction. Then he slid the grey-brown, frothing drink across the counter towards her and nodded, matter-of-factly. When she failed to respond to the nod, he nodded again, sternly, with the intensity of a whiplash.

Somehow, her fingers managed to grab the handle of the mug. So far so good. She dragged the mug closer, while pushing herself off the counter and into a proper sitting position. Lifting the mug was another story. Her arm seemed have been replaced with soggy dough. She tried with both hands and finally managed to lift the tankard to her mouth, bracing herself for whatever, and at the same time making sure not to drop backwards off the barstool.

The liquid hit the back of her throat triumphantly. Had the drink had the gift of voice, it would have emitted a thunderous battlecry, such was the force of it. She gagged for a moment, but the drink seemed to laugh at her gagging and forcing itself down her throat, where it the bottom of her empty stomach like a tidal wave. She scrunged her eyes up tight, trying not to choke, somehow managing to keep pouring the liquid into her mouth.

A seeming eternity later, the mug rammed down onto the counter again. A war was being fought inside her. She could literally feel the charging hoofbeats of advancing cavalry in her abdomen. Her wide eyes met Roggins', who had a knowing smirk plastered across his squat face, his arms crossed expectantly. "Me mam's recipe, bless her soul", he grinned. "Never fails."

As the minutes passed and Roggins poured more eggs and beans onto her platter, she felt something akin to life beginning to pour back into her veins. When he saw the question in her eyes, he tutted and wagged a finger. "Family secret, that. And it's your own fault, lass. Should have known better than accepting a dwarf's challenge to a drinking competition. He'd asked for the Good Stuff after all." She nodded slowly, the events of the past night starting to slur into focus, like treacle going down a drain, only in reverse. It didn't form a pretty picture. "Ya may be onta somfing there, stunty..." she groaned, smiling at him.

[Maximillian]

(claps softly) a vivid description of the start of the day indeed.

[Namariel]

Excellent writing as always Janah

[Redleafe]

Yes, very good Adj.

[Cythis]

Good job Red!

[Redleafe]

Good job Red!

I hope you meant Adjanah, this is for intent and purposes his/her work.

[Adjanah]

Fanks, y'all. Figured I'd offer up something not steeped in either Insurmountible Darkness or Malicious Secrets. ^^