Nif raps his knucles on the counter and clears his throat to try and get the Smith's attention.

"I am perfectly capable of handling my drink, thank you very much! I will have what these dwarves are having."

Karl rubs his hands with glee and a maniacal grin appears on his face. "So its a drinking challenge you want, Zandar?" he says looking directly at him. He turns to Toblen and says "line 'em up!" 

Toblen gives Vondal a curt nod, his face going stony. "Most of 'em are about my age or younger. They've been allowed to terrorize the town, and the townmaster, Harbin Wester, has done nothing to stop 'em." He takes a deep breath and some of the redness which has crept into his cheeks fades. "I ... well, I don't do anything about it, m'self." He glances around and looks as if he's a little ashamed of himself. "I'm scared for my family."

At Karl's words, the barman brightens. "Comin' right up!" He begins filling mugs with an amber liquid which smells of hops and oak.

At Nif's knock, the woman looks up and blinks at the dwarf. "Be with ya in a mo," she says. She turns back and continues to assist the man for another few minutes. Finally, she walks over and greets Nif warmly. "G'mornin'," she says, not smiling, but looking welcoming enough. "What can we do for ye?"

Zander's eyes widen, and he says, "Er... wait... no... I just wanted a beer!" But when he looks at the others staring at him, he caves under the peer pressure. "Oh, alright. But don't go about gloating whe-if you win, I've never done one of these before."

(If Zander actually manages to win, that would be the greatest! What even is Karl's Con, 20? Even if it isn't, he is so screwed.)

Toblen lines up several mugs full and Karl and Zander both begin drinking. Karl drinks, sure of himself. Zander drinks, aiming to prove himself. Both individuals finish three drinks with little trouble.

OOC: Karl and Zander, go ahead and roll 5d20.

As the pair put down their third empty mugs, an even younger version of Toblen comes bustling out of the back with a tray full of food. "Here's those orders, Pa," he says. When he sees the drinking competition in full swing, he puts the tray down and watches with interest. Some of the other patrons have begun to watch — a few have even moved closer to the bar to spectate.

(Is it plus Con, or just straight 5d20? And is it a saving throw, or something else?)

Karl's rolls (14, 22, 20, 24, 13)

 Karl belches "'scuse me" he says looks over at Zander and says with a grin "that lot barely wet me whistle, another round?"

Thank you both for helping me refine how this is done (as a new DM, this is my first drinking game.) Let's do CON saving throws instead of straight CON checks. Also, Dwarves do get advantage because they are resistant to poison. Karl, I have added 2 to each of your rolls. Zander, just roll 5d20. I'll add your CON save modifier (+5). Actually, just in case you roll really well, roll 8d20. Karl, go ahead and roll 3 more at advantage again.

Here's just 8d20, no mods: 10 20 8 13  14 11 10 2

Aaaand Zander is wasted after the third drink.

Vondal gave Toblen a hard look at the confession. But a few moments of that, he blinks rapidly, seemingly snapping out of a daze. For some time after, he watches as the others fall into drinking contest. Though he smiled throughout much of the contest, it never quite reaches his eyes. "... It sounds to me this Harbin Wester does not got business in mastership then. Where does he live? I would have words with him before the day is out." Vondal asks of the barman, then glances outside. "You would not also know of where local temple might be?"

Karl looks over at Zander face down in a puddle of ale with a benign smile and says “he tried and that is all you can ask of a man, dwarf or anybody else for that matter. And he put himself in danger trying to save somebody else. As far as I am concerned he is an Hononary Dwarf and I dare anybody to take objection. Mind you he does need some practice with drinking but we can work on that.” 

 Realising that Zander has left ale undrunk he says “no point in letting good ale go to waste” as he drains the three remaining pints. He then stands up and completely unaffected by the amount of beer he has drunk says to Vondal “I’d better go see what trouble that young ragamuffin, Nif, has got into. You stay here and look after this bloke.” Karl then walks outside to see if he can find the Smithy that Nif had said he was going to look for.

Zander smiles drunkenly in his puddle.

"Ooo, Imma dorf. A nonorary dorf! Tha'sh... tha'sh... tha'sh real good. Y-yknow, I... I feel fine, y'know? I could ashully go fur another drink, y'know? Hey... hey barguy, go gimme anuther pint, or sheven."

OOC: Zander, it wasn't until your 7th mug that you failed. Pretty good!

Toblen laughs as Zander succumbs to intoxication. To Vondal, the human says, "I ... don't think the Townmaster would appreciate me giving strangers his home address. If you really want to speak with him, stop by the Townmaster's Hall. It's just one block south. Look for the notice board out front. Temple? The Shrine of Luck is Phandalin's only temple. You must have passed it on your way here if you came by Barthen's." He throws a thumb over his shoulder toward the west.

"Sister Garaele left town last tenday" comments an old farmer who had stepped up to the bar to watch the drinking competition comments to the barkeep. "She was gone for a few days, then returned wounded and exhausted," he continues. He raises his eyebrows to add emphasis to his news.

Looking at the old farmer, Toblen says to Vondal, "Sister Garaele is an acolyte of Tymora. She oversees the Shrine of Luck."

Karl exits the Inn and heads north, looking for Nif at the smithy.

"Yes, Uncle." Vondal states in a tone bordering on mockery. "Just don't be too long." He grins cheekily as he watches Karl leave, and then turned to keeping an eye on Zander. As Toblen talked, Vondal wrote down the details in his book. "Really now? Hmm... I almost do not wish to see her disturb her, but maybe something can be worked out there... Two more things, Mr. Torben. Those redbrand ruffians... Do you know where they usually hang around at in town? Not planning any throuble through them. Would rather avoid them, in fact." He glances and gestures over to Zander.

"As you can probably tell from company, holding back is not 'xactly strong suit. Also! How much do we owe you so far Torben?" He asks as he makes ready to pay for most things thus far with an extra gold tip. 

"Hey, where'sh allayou goin'? Whash out there? Imma, Imma follow you guysh ta wherever yer goin'. Imma do that. Yeh."

Zander attempts to stand up but unsurprisingly ends up with his face in the floor boards. He drags himself up and staggers over to the smithy, following the others.

Merry Christmas (a little late), everyone. I guess I should be saying Happy Kwanza now. Anyway, I’m down south visiting family, so let’s take a little hiatus since I’m only on mobile. I’ll be back home Sunday and should resume posting that night. See you all in three days.

Sounds good, [insert synonym for happy] [insert December holiday]!

Toblen looks uneasy about continuing to talk about the subject, but he replies to Vondal, "The Redbrands frequent the Sleeping Giant tap house at the east end of town."

“Carp said he found a secret tunnel in the woods," pipes up the much-younger version of Toblan, "but Redbrands almost caught him.”

Toblen puts a hand on the boy's head and looks him in the eye. "Go help your mother in the kitchen," he says. The boy marches off obediently.

Looking equally uneasy as Toblen, but seeming to let her desire to gossip outweigh her fear, a woman with braided red hair comments to Vondal, "The Redbrands hassle every business in town, except for the Phandalin Miner’s Exchange. They don’t want trouble with Halia Thornton, who runs it." She gives the dwarf a knowing look before returning to her table.

Toblen gives the woman's back a look of displeasure as he says to Vondal, "I think 15 silver will cover the lot."

During all of this, Zander has managed to stumble his way out the door.

Karl finds Nif in conversation with a tall, slender Damaran woman at the smithy.