This story came about while me and Hanne (@craftyGolem) were talking about being 'blackout' drunk where you are basically a third party in your body while it does as the liquor commands. Thus the idea bout liquor which possess you. Be warned that this is only the first draft, thus there will probably be some inconsistencies, writing errors and other mistakes. If you see any and feel generous, please comment below so that I can fix them. Well then, without further delay, here is the prologue of THE QUEST FOR THE PEACEFUL LIQUOR. Enjoy.
Prologue (The Empty Bottle Club)
Clack-clack-clack.
A gavel pounded against a stone table.
Hakrij started,
but he didn’t take his eyes off the two shots of vodka in front of him. What if
he were a Water Specialist, and Pride possessed him? But what if he weren’t?
Would the other Club Members turn on him? A lump caught in his throat.
Beside him, three
girls, no older than he, licked their lips and stared at Vice-Chairman Kkai who
sat behind the stone table. The long-barreled pistol hanging from a bandolier
on his shoulder swayed with each of his lazy swings of the gavel. When the
pounding stopped, silence fell on the camp between The Wasted-Lands and Vaken.
After taking a
deep breath, Hakrij grabbed the first shot glass and lifted it into the air in
imitation of the others wishing to join the Empty Bottle Club. Father always
said, ‘don’t think about it, just do it.’
“Your honor,”
Everyone, including Hakrij, said, “we are drinking Ffurronr.” The want-to-be
members turned their shot glasses upside down and downed the clear liquid.
A fire burned all
the way down Hakrij’s throat, and his stomach twisted in a knot. Vomit rose to
meet the high-quality vodka. What is this foul substance made of? The
two hot liquids collided around his chest, and his brain felt like it would
explode. With tears in his eyes, he choked it down then blinked.
Everyone else had
raised their second shot glass. Vice-Chairman Kkaj nodded.
Moonshine!
Hakrij scrambled to grab his second shot of vodka and lifted it to his nose.
Thump! His heart moved as if to leap from his chest. “Huzar!” he said just in
time to echo the others. Despite his reservations, he downed the second shot of
vodka. A gust of dizziness whipped at his face, and he stumbled backwards.
Smack! He crashed into the person behind him before regaining his balance. He
turned. “Sor—”
The short-haired
young woman’s eyes glowed a deep brown as a wicked smile tugged at her full,
red lips. Chunks of rock leaped from her hands and encased him in a rock
prison. It contracted like a giant hand.
His breath
caught, and his lips quivered. “Stop! I —”
A blazing inferno
sprang up around him and blasted the stones into dust. A split second later, a
prison of fire sprang up around the young woman.
Hakrij fell to
his knees, coughing.
Kkaj tisked as he
approached. “I would have thought that one of the chosen would be able to hold
their liquor better.” A sigh escaped his tight mouth. “Nonetheless, it is good
to have the Earth Specialists out of the way.” He clapped his hands. “Bring out
the tequila!”
Two young women
with matching faces stepped out of the far tent. Each carried a large bottle.
The one holding the bottle of Ikej black tequila had large breasts and inviting
smile. Though, the one marching forward with the bottle of Rifle had a slim
figure and long, long legs. Her lithe steps made Hakrij’s heart beat faster and
faster.
A lump caught in
his throat when he held his shot glasses out. “Miss?”
“Roffor.” She
rolled the Rs in her name but gave only the briefest attention to the
other letters. Her voice was melodious. She winked then turned to the next man.
For a long
moment, his heart stopped. She’s … foreign. He gulped. And so
beautiful. Totally my type and — He followed her eyes.
Every so often,
she glanced at Kkaj and his arsenal of weapons. Four long-barreled pistols. A
three-shot rifle. Two long knives. A mini pistol. He even had a Breakdown.
Being a part of the Jak family carried too many advantages.
Hakrij spit then
ground his foot in the dirt. Why is it the guys like him who
are so lucky?
The big-breasted
woman, clearly Roffor’s sister, filled his second shot glass. After glancing at
the ground where he spat, her smile turned into a frown. She leaned in close.
“This is supposed to be a celebration,” she said in the same accent as her
sister. “Be happy that you have been given this rare opportunity.”
She’s right.
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention
it.” A grin split her face, and the cutest dimples formed in her cheeks. “No,
seriously, don’t mention it. Kkaj is not really the jealous type and the sky
isn’t blue.”
Hakrij blinked.
“Wait —”
She chuckled then
walked off.
But … but the
sky is blu— Oh. His mouth dried.
Soon, everyone
had tequila in their glasses save for the imprisoned Earth Specialist. Those
four would have more tests later to see if they were a Penta — someone who
could manipulate the power of all five liquors.
Despite every
member of my family being a Drunkzard, none of us have been lucky enough to be
Pentas. He opened his mouth.
Clack-clack-clack.
Kkaj beat the gavel again. “Swallow the darkness within! Then take a shot into
the night!”
Inkej down.
Rifle down.
The cool burn in
his chest didn’t hurt as bad as the vodka, but the twisting in his stomach
intensified. A slimy chill rolled down to his toes, and he shivered.
Something cold
rested on his shoulder.
A second shiver
raced down his spine, and he turned.
A tree of ice
grew out of the ground and scratched at his back. Two stumps down, the tree had
impaled three of the chosen.
His flesh parted,
and the icy branches reached deeper into his body. His blood went cold, and his
teeth chattered. Where is —
Boom! A bolt of lightning
crashed down from the sky and shattered the tree.
The two men with
glowing teal eyes started then stumbled backwards. Sneers pulled at their plump
lips and blocks of ice wrapped around their hands.
Jumping energy
danced across the ground and spun around Hakrij. Buzz. It touched the feet of
both men and climbed up their bodies, cocooning them like some sort of insect.
The two screamed
until their bodies thumped to the ground. Neither moved when the lightning
dissipated.
Kkaj sighed. “And
here I was hoping for more than two Water Specialist this time. Kokibrak’s
recent population boom could have used the healers.” He squeezed the bridge of
his nose. Was he getting a Possession-Hangover? Did Penta’s even get
Possession-Hangovers and lose their ability to use magic?
Hakrij wobbled to
his stump and sat down. I need a breather. No matter how much wine or beer
one consumes to prepare for this —
“Bring out the
rum!” Kkaj’s voice squeaked, so he coughed. “We don’t have all night!”
Kkaj's two women
brought out a bottle of Rabbi and Puzer, filling everyone's shot glasses.
Hakrij's knees
trembled when the beautiful women turned away from him, and he
licked his lips. What I wouldn't give — He shook his head. Must
focus. I can't let the spirits of the spirits possess me.
Around him, the
other initiates trembled. Excitement. If they were Fire Specialists, they would
be given a place in the king's court. That would be the life. Never having to
worry about money.
A smile split his
face. Here goes nothing. He grabbed the first shot and downed it.
Kkaj blinked, and
a jumble of words clambered from his mouth.
Hakrij kicked
back the second shot. His chest burned, and tears rolled down his cheeks.
The other initiates
followed his lead and swallowed their shots of rum. Fire wrapped around six of
them and spiraled into the sky.
He was not one of
them. A fit of hiccups blurred his vision. This isn't fair. "I'm
tired of waiting!"
"Yeah!"
a group behind him shouted.
"What kind of
nonsense is this?" Kkaj pulled a blue flask from his pocket and flipped
the cap off. "Six Fire Specialists this year?" He placed the flask to
his lips and began to gulp down the tequila.
{His two women}
pulled out flasks of their own — one red and the other yellow — and took a
swig.
Hakrij pulled the
tent flaps back and stumbled inside.
His group joined
him in the tent filled with liquor bottles.
He pointed to the
two — maybe three or four — crates on his left. "There's the gin." He
scanned the other crates that came in pairs of three. "I think … ."
He staggered forward. Thunk. His shin caught on stray crate, and a bellowing
scream burst from his lips.
His group cracked
open the Gin and began to pass the bottle of Onkej around.
Hakrij reached
the whiskey crate and pulled out a bottle of Tataj — probably. The letters
blurred together too much to tell. He wrapped his fingers around the top and
twisted with all his might. Nothing. "Moonshine! Open you stupid —"
The largest
member of his group, a woman at least two heads taller than himself, strode
over to him and snatched the bottle from his grasp. "Let me help you,
little man."
Blood crashed
into his brain like a runaway river barge. "Hey —"
Boom! An array of
explosions shook the tent. The supports gave in, and the center of the tent
collapsed. Blue lightning sparked from the other members of his group before
the tent hit the ground.
Now.
Hakrij took the bottle of Tataj from the overly large woman and chugged it. The
whiskey turned his blood to fire and his eyes glazed over.
Metal objects
around him — the tent spikes, belt buckles, crate fastenings and other things —
lifted into the air, spinning like a tornado.
A monstrous laugh
escaped his mouth, but it was not his own. Inside his head, a voice said, "I
will destroy everything! Kill everyone! Rip the souls from my enemies!"
The voice laughed again, and Hakrij watched his body storm out of the tent. "And
every living human is my enemy." His entourage of metal objects
grew, and blood filled the air around him.
Next: Chapter 1
