Game:

Garry's Mod (2004)

Duration: 13:00

831,731 views

17,549

This is a continuation of the story begun in the description of this video (http://bit.ly/1PQUPPs) and continued here (http://bit.ly/1LYeDdD and http://bit.ly/1CJACFa and http://bit.ly/1MBTcC7 and http://bit.ly/1lXyClq and http://bit.ly/1P9hWCF)

On Tapping Day, all the prospective Pompers assembled at the Great Lawn of the University. Each Pomp had set up a tent - the oldest, richest, most distinguished Pomps had built veritable mobile castles, with multiple floors, pennants and banners streaming from the corners. The Boy and The Courtesan elbowed their way through the throng, exhausted from a long night of deliberation.

They hurried past the members of The Empty Flagon, squatting inside what could hardly even be described as a lean-to. A few of the members were keeping watch while a small group snuck out the back and around the corner of Kestorhouse’s massive pavilion. The Boy made to follow them, but The Courtesan grabbed his elbow. “We’ve made our choice,” she hissed.

“Yes, but what are they up to?”

“That’s not our concern. Let’s keep moving.”

The couple sauntered through a crowd of Kestormen, who tried to smarm them in a final attempt. One even had the audacity to offer a chalice of mead, as a bribe, to join, but they ignored these entreaties and continued through the field. Past The Gilded Scallop and Bunkers, through a crowd of Vanderoosts and a drunken mob from Coxcomb. As they were walking around an impromptu debate between Wot’s Boys and Lamplight, a huge roar went up from where they’d come. The Boy and The Courtesan turned around to see Kestorhouse’s pavilion smoking - a BANG went off, flames shot out the 3rd story windows, and an enraged group of Kestormen descended on The Empty Flagon.

When they finally they arrived at Pepperpots’ tent, they were welcomed with cheers, two flagons of fine ale, and a rousing chorus of The Old and Distinguished Pepperpot - a song, they’d come to know very well that day:

Hail! to our old friends - the loyal and true!
Hail! to companions - the ones that are new!
Hail! to the folks who deliver our brew:
Hail! to the barman, the barmaid, and YOU!

Pepper, Pepper, Pepperpots
The Pomp that pours you lots of shots
The other Pomps can go to rots
Pepper, Pepper, Pepperpots!

Every time a new member joined them, they were toasted with the same song, and every time the crowd shouted “Hail!” everyone lifted their glasses to drink. By the end of the day, many kegs had been tapped, and many more Pepperpots were added as full members. Drunk and happy, The Boy and The Courtesan made their way back to Pepperpots with their new friends.

“I’ve never had this much to drink before!” The Boy confessed. “The soil on The Mountain is too poor to grow grains for beer, so we have to distill a very thin drink from bloodberries. It’s so scarce we only have a thimbleful, twice a year, on Waning and Waxing. But I suppose that’s what makes it special - its scarcity. Or is this more special? Sharing many drinks, with many new friends? Both are good. But which is better? I can’t tell right now! Where are we going, anyway? Are we supposed to live at Pepperpots now? How long are we going to be at The University? I’d like to learn so much, but the world is so big. Do you think other lands have beer like this? Will the war with Duke Cheswyn keep us from traveling? Or worse - will it keep other beers from far away from coming here? Do you think we have enough money to both attend classes here? What would you want to study, if you could attend any class at the University?”

The Courtesan looked at him. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk at once! So many questions!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

They walked a while through the town, enveloped by the warmth of the ale, and surrounded by the other chattering Pepperpots. Suddenly, The Boy was aware that The Courtesan was still holding onto his elbow. Suddenly, The Boy was aware of The Moon. Suddenly, The Boy was aware of the air, and of the clothes he was wearing, and of the feeling of walking down the street with someone you’ve been getting to know for weeks on end.

Suddenly, The Boy pulled away.

“I probably shouldn’t drink any more tonight, should I?” he asked.

“That’s another question. And it’s one only you can answer.”

The you want The Boy to stay out, type “Stay out” in the comments
The you want The Boy to call it a night, type “Go home” in the comments

This story will continue if One Dollar One Hour continues…

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