A Festival of Brews
Published 10.10.2024
A short story about Freshbread’s Brewfest adventures!
In-game items mentioned:
“I don’t want to stay too long” I huffed at Beep, my mechanical companion, as we landed near Orgrimmar. A few days ago, Beep had come across a flyer in Undercity about Brewfest, and held it out to me, beeping and spinning ecstatically until I said we could go. While he is excited about this little outing, I have found most holidays not worth celebrating since I’ve become undead. Brewfest is no exception. Besides the occasional jobs I take to make some gold, I have stayed mostly to myself these days. The idea of attending an event full of cheerful, drunk people makes me nearly sick.
Leaving my mount Vexe at a nearby farm, I walk through the Durotar desert towards the wafting music. It’s a clear, sunny day and the red dirt of the desert cakes my boots as I walk towards the festival, Beep just a few paces behind me. Kicking at small pebbles as we move along, I quietly mourn my freshly cleaned boots, but I keep trudging along as the rust color deepens. Old Gods, I hate this desert! Many Forsaken still prefer places that more closely resemble their homes from the time while they were living, and it is rare to find Forsaken in lands like this aside from in the major cities. After a few moments of walking and wishing I was elsewhere, I hear a high-pitched ping, and turning around, I see Beep has a large yellow scorpion attempting to crawl up him, pincers clicking together in a fury. His beeping is nearly a squeal now, and he kicks his little leg so fast I fear it would fall off. I jog back to him and quickly throw the scorpion off, careful not to let its stinger touch me. It flies away from him in a hiss. “Never have I met a robot that is afraid of bugs, Beep. You certainly are an anomaly.” I say as I glance over his frame, making sure nothing has been damaged from the ordeal. He straightens up, gives me a little chime and continues towards our destination like nothing happened. I sigh and march after him, the hot sun beating its rays down on us.
We arrive at the festival grounds and an unusually cheerful Orc greets us with a wave. A smiling Orc is far more unnerving to me than a bloodthirsty one and I quickly increase the distance between us. Looking around, there are hundreds of people gathered here, and with just a quick glance, I notice they are all absolutely hammered. I stop and take it all in but try not to look too approachable, the last thing I want is a conversation. An inebriated troll stumbles to the ground in front of me, red dust now covering their trousers and hands. With a cackle, the troll gets up and runs off to catch up to their companions, almost tripping again before reaching them. To my right, a large Tauren bellows at a nearby table about needing another pretzel. I snort, but quickly look away as the Tauren turns to me and narrows his gaze. From the corner of my eye, I see the gleam of the ring in his nose move upwards as he huffs in agitation. I consider myself an able fighter, but I don’t think I would fare too well against a Tauren that’s fueled by drunken rage. Luckily, his interest in me fades quickly as a waiter brings another round of drinks and several pretzels to his table. Close one.
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“So, I just need to chug this drink, and throw the empty stein at the mechanical harvester?” I say, raising my brow at the Goblin manning this game station. “Er, that’s right! If you can hit him 5 times, I’ll give you some prize tokens! But this game is not for the faint of heart, you see. Many a warrior have been bested by my game! Are you skilled enough to win?” The Goblin’s grin is nearly as wide as his face, no doubt convinced he has hooked me in. My ego is not so fragile that a simple taunt can get me to do something, but clearly this Goblin does not think I can win and proving him wrong would make this trip worth it. A small victory. Biting back a laugh, I move to the small wooden roundtable a few feet away where several mugs are laid out, filled to the brim. I flex my hand and move it to pick one up, and I hear Beep bleep enthusiastically behind me.
I chug whatever bitter tasting liquid is in the mug, and with a grimace, I throw it towards the mech. Direct hit. A second passes and then the Goblin says “Ah, beginner’s luck I see!” the grin still painted on his face. I nod nervously, trying to be the fool he imagines me to be and pick up the next mug, chugging it faster than the first and lob it towards my target. Another hit. Not looking to see the Goblin’s reaction this time, I drink three more mugs and toss them at the harvester, hitting it each time. Satisfied, and sporting a new foam moustache, I turn towards the Goblin and hold out my hand, awaiting my promised prize. Mouth agape, he stares at me, clearly not expecting this outcome. His calm façade faltering for only a moment before he collects himself. “Ah, I see you are a truly talented individual. Someone of such ability would surely be interested in double or nothing?”
“No.”
“No? C’mon, darling! Surely you- “
“No”. I say firmly, my eyes darkening as my gaze bores into him and cuts him off from his next pitch. I slowly move my hand towards the Forsaken blade fastened at my side, making sure he sees it. “Give me the prize you promised.” It is at this point that I wipe the foam moustache off my face, realizing it distracts from the menacing glare I’m trying to achieve. “My tokens. Now.” I say firmly. I don’t even want them, honestly, but I certainly won’t let this Goblin con me, I’m too worked up now. “Fine, fine” the goblin says waving me off, acting like it was no big deal after all, but keeping an eye on my hand that hovers near my sword. He hands me a small pouch of tokens, and I hear the jingle of the metal coins inside as it lands in my palm. He starts to say something else to me, but I walk off before he can finish. Beep runs out from behind me and starts making his way towards another Goblin located a few stands aways. I look in that direction and see a small group of people surrounding the Goblin, and it appears they are exchanging their tokens for prizes. “The last thing I need is something taking up bag space, Beep”, I shout to him as he gets closer to the booth, not paying me any mind. We arrive at the exchange, and he starts to beep enthusiastically, turning himself in circles and making a scene. “I’m not getting anything, Beep. I’ll just give my tokens to someone else.” Beep turns to me, makes a distressed sound, and lunges for the token pouch in my hand, giving me no time to react. He takes the bag, hands it to the Goblin, and points at a woven crown with a fake pretzel on it. The Goblin smiles at him, takes the tokens, and gingerly removes the crown from its display. Once Beep has the crown in his hands, he scuttles over to me and holds it out expectantly. I shake my head but reluctantly take the crown, hoping to keep any further outbursts from Beep at bay, and place it atop my head. I don’t need to look in a mirror to know that I look ridiculous. Beep gives a small, excited jiggle, and I shake my head, smiling just a little.
We stay a while longer, and I drink a few cheap grogs while Beep people watches. I find myself, if only for just a brief moment, forgetting I’m no longer human, and simply enjoying the music. Somehow, amongst all the grief and chaos of the last several years, I find peace in this moment, however fleeting. I catch Beep snapping a few pictures of the celebrations on his camera, and when he hands it to a passerby and jumps up onto the table I’m sitting at, leaning in close to me, I smile for the picture and mean it.