Xiang Lu's Journal

Tales of Xiang Lu

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Downtime

Way of the Eight Drunken Masters

The forest is calm tonight, the gentle evening breeze rustling the leaves of the trees all around a small camp made for two. They sit on logs, conversing idly about their travels and previous adventures. One talks much more though, a broad, muscle-bound man who calls himself Xiang Lu, loudly reminiscing about crashed parties, blackout drinking, and (most importantly to his audience) tales of adventure and danger. Lohse, a tiefling woman, plucks at her lute, adding a little bit of melody to his story, though quiet enough not to interrupt. It's been a little over a week since the pair met and began to travel. Fast friends, they make, though Lohse prefers to act as though that isn't the case. Xiang has rationed his alcohol consumption on the road, so he has been a bit more lucid than before. His stories remain the same, though, tales about a damn-near abusive teacher who he calls Sensei. Stories about his old friends and their dangerous exploits trying to survive their tutelage. He points to scars on his chest, arms, and legs, recalling where and how he got them. No, Xiang is not a terribly knowledgeable individual about books or magic, but he knows a lot about himself, as he has forged his instincts in the flames of constant danger. He learned countless lessons through slamming his head against them, perhaps one of the many reasons why it doesn't appear that he has so much going on up there.

"Lohse, stand up with me, I want to show you a technique," He says, reaching to the drinking gourd at his hip.

"Don't blame me for the hangover you get tomorrow," she says, watching as Xiang takes a long gulp of his high-quality “wine.” She's tasted it before, more like poison it is. Surprising he can stand straight after taking such large mouthfuls, though she's had her suspicions about how much he actually drinks in the first place. After his long swig, Lohse sees his legs beginning to shake. She raises her eyebrow at him, unsure of whether to help or stand back and watch. He begins to step forward, unstably swaying from side to side. His wine has spilled down the sides of his mouth onto the side of his robe, leaving a darkened stain to join the countless others. 

"I want you to hit me," he says with slurred words, mouth pulling up into a dazed grin. "Come on, it'll be easy, right? Hit me!" He starts turning, looking out and up towards the trees and towards the stars, beginning to him a melody in his throat.

Lohse leans down to grab a rock, then tosses it at him. Xiang steps just out of the way, stumbling to his right with a little laugh. "Oh, what? You call that a throw? I could do better and I'm *hic* tipsy." Lohse reaches for another one, slightly heftier this time, throwing it with a little extra juice. This time, Xiang directs the rock away from his body, using the back of his hand and his forearm to deflect the projectile to the ground. "Wow! You're a weakling, Bahahaha," he taunts, taking another step forward.

Lohse grits her teeth, "Yeah, and you're drunk, go to sleep," she says before strumming a fiery chord. Three blue fireballs ignite around her, outlining her in a cobalt glow.

"What’re ‘a gonna do with that, huh? Light me on fire?" Xiang says, taking another stumbling step forward. He reaches out lazily, and makes a "come here" motion with his hand.

"Your funeral," Lohse says as she plucks the lute three times, sending the scalding projectiles towards Xiang. That dull, inebriated expression suddenly changes to focus as the blazes swirl towards him. He steps forward, twisting his body back and to the left as the first fireball streaks past where he would have been standing just milliseconds ago, though this seems to put him into an unstable position. His leg muscles twitch as he leaps up from this awkward stance, cartwheeling with one hand in a backwards flip to dodge the second flame. The third attack comes swiftly afterwards, targeting the center of his abdomen. He goes limp, dropping straight to the ground in a plank, the back of his robes left with specks of black burns as the final fireball speeds past him into the forest. He looks up at Lohse with a confident grin before using his arms to throw himself back up to a standing position, directly from horizontal to vertical, a small puff of dirt emanating from where he pushed off.

Xiang begins to laugh madly, smacking his belly a few times. "Oh, wow, that was really close, remind me not to piss you off too much," he says, strolling jovially back to his spot next to the campfire. "The Eight Drunken Masters are unpredictable, and easy to underestimate. Their strength not only comes from here," he points to his arms, "but also how they get into there," he points to Lohse's head. She takes a few steps forward, mostly in disbelief of his trained athleticism. "'Woe to fools who believe the Masters' movements to be unstable, for those who underestimate their opponent are sure to receive swift punishment.' That's what Sensei said... He said a lot of things, really, he even tried to get me to stop drinking!" he shouts with a laughter, "What do you mean that we're not actually supposed to be drunk? Why's that the name then??"

Lohse shakes her head, taking her seat across the campfire from Xiang. "If that's what keeps you standing, then keep drinking big guy."

"Aha! Don't need to tell me twice!" Xiang says after taking another swig from his gourd.

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