The battle was nothing short of ferocious. Pax and the muscular woman faced off, annihilating pie after pie with relentless determination. Minutes slipped away as the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the fierce competition. The crowd swelled, drawn by the spectacle of the increasingly towering stack of empty pie plates. Nearly an hour into the competition, Pax held a slim lead, his tally a few pies ahead of this strange yet formidable opponent. However, his plump, pasty cheeks were reddening alarmingly, flushed with exertion and strain. What had started as a confident, almost effortless rhythm of devouring entire pies now turned into a struggle to finish even a single slice. Each bite seemed to take more out of him, and to all the onlookers, it was clear that his pace was visibly faltering. The pig-like man, sensing his limits, finally let out a resounding, guttural belch with half a pizza left on his plate. With a dramatic flourish, he threw himself backward off the bench, landing heavily on the ground. He removed the white towel from his swelled waistband and waved it in the air, signaling his finish.
"Oh no! Are you okay?" one of the locals rushed over to him, but he quickly shooed her away.
"I'm fine—just uh—BELCH! Just lemme' lie here a minute."
"Are you tapping out, sir?" Mr. Sport, a tall, skinny, local clothier in a suit and top hat, asked. He was twirling his waxed mustache and glaring at Pax with one eye.
Pax looked over at his competitor's stack of pie plates and then looked at his. "Yeah, she ain't gonna' catch up."
"Alright, folks! Pax Lumpstone from the White Moon Café is tapping out with twenty-three and half Ancient Moon Pies!" Mr. Sport announced. The crowd clapped and cheered while Pax fought off the urge to vomit. Despite the amount of food he put away, Pax's pig-form condition does grant him some rather bizarre abilities. One of them being rapid digestion—all he would need to do is rest for an hour or two and then he could pack away another two dozen pizzas.
"Okay, miss—uh, miss…" Mr. Sport looked at the large woman wearing scantily clad bear skin armor.
"Hrmpff…" The hulking lady didn't acknowledge that he was asking for her name and continued to eat pizza, slice after slice.
A few awkward seconds passed where Mr. Sport didn't move. He just stood there, in between the two competitors, with his arm extended toward the buff woman. "Uh," he said softly, leaning closer to her, "What's your name, sweetheart?"
She swiftly reached up and seized him by the bow tie. Before he could even register what was happening, she gave it a sharp tug, causing his face to slam into the table with a solid thud. Mr. Sport sprang back to his feet, clearly disoriented, and spun around in a dazed little twirl. His balance wavered precariously, but somehow, he managed to remain upright.
"Damara is my name," she said. Both of her cheeks were packed with so much pizza that she looked just like a chipmunk preparing for winter. "You…" she paused to chew, "…can call me…" then swallow, "…Dama. Don't ever call me sweetheart."
Mr. Sport somewhat started to regain his composure. He touched the bridge of his long, hooked nose to make sure it wasn't broken. "My apologies, Miss Dama," he was still a bit wonky-feeling, but otherwise alright, "duly noted; won't happen again."
"You're right," she sneered, "it won't."
Mr. Sport picked up his top hat and dusted himself off. "The competitor here, Miss—uh, Dama from…?"
"Golden Bone Tribe," Damara responded, stuffing two slices in her mouth, one after the other.
"Miss Dama of the Golden Bone Tribe…has finished seventeen pizzas so far, and she is not slowing down! Can she beat the legendary mouth of the south, Pax Lumpstone?"
"Mouth of the south?" Justice asked. She was standing in the crowd with Beth, Harper, and the others, watching the food battle play out with the majority of the celebration-goers.
"So, you know how Pax uses his employee vacation every year to head up north to Palico City?" Harper asked.
Justice shook her head, no. "I didn't know that, but go on."
"Well, he enters an annual eating competition up there that's been going on for generations. It's a brutal one, not for the faint of heart," Harper explained.
"You can say that again," Beth winced, thinking about it. "They call it Gorgefest. Which is quite fitting, considering you literally gorge yourself for an entire day."
"Really?" Justice asked.
"Yep," Beth confirmed. "First, all the participants go get to get weighed in at midnight, which starts the whole event."
Harper scoffed, "Yeah, and then it's pure unadulterated garbage mouthing after that."
"Garbage mouthing?" Justice asked.
"Eating anything and everything," Harper shuttered at the thought. "I went one year to support Pax, and it was quite literally the most disgusting thing I ever saw."
"After weigh-ins, all the participants report to a breakfast buffet with food from all over the world, but instead of serving it on plates or trays, as one would think, everything is dumped onto a tarp in the middle of town, and the contestants are only allowed to use their hands to stuff their faces with as much food as they can."
Justice had a disgusted look on her face. "That doesn't sound sanitary at all."
"Like I said, it was quite literally the most disgusting thing I've ever seen," Harper repeated.
"Around halfway through, the event runners dump lunch foods onto the tarp, adding to the rest of the slop that had been sitting out for hours. Then again at dinner time."
"What about if someone quits or gets sick?"
Harper's face became flushed, "Quitting is fine. You don't want to know what happens to the puke." She could hardly finish her statement without gagging.
"What do you mean?" Justice didn't understand.
"Let's just say competitors aren't allowed to leave the tarp area. If you gotta' puke, it stays right there with everyone and everything," Beth tried her best to explain the grotesqueness of the situation without saying it outright. The last thing she wanted to do was for someone in the crowd to hear her talking about contestants eating puked-covered food.
Justice finally understood. "That's h—horrib—" she gagged twice and then covered her mouth. Beth and Harper waited to make sure she wasn't going to be sick. After a few seconds, Justice waved her hand at them signaling she was probably okay.
Beth felt obligated to finish explaining Gorgefest despite the thought of it turning all their stomachs. "To sum it all up then, once the competition ends on the following midnight, all the contestants are reweighed. Whoever packed on the most weight is the winner."
"Wouldn't the heaviest person at the beginning most likely be the winner?" Justice asked.
"Nah. They take the percentage of weight gain based on your weigh-in total. So, in theory, tiny, little you could sign up and eat ten times your weight, and you'd beat someone like Pax who just ate their weight's worth of food."
Justice raised her eyebrows once she understood it all. "Ah! Well, no need to worry about me signing up for Gorgefest anytime soon. But, I don't know—it might be cool to see someday."
"Ew," Harper scoffed. "Why you would ever want to go see that archaic competition knowing what it is beforehand is beyond me."
"Aw, don't say that," Beth playfully sneered at her friend. "Lots of folks like lots of things; maybe Justice'll like it. Besides, we both went to check it out and now we have our own opinions on it. If you ask me, Jus, I say live your life, girl! See everything you want to see and go everywhere you want to go."
"You would say something like that." Harper momentarily scowled at Beth but quickly concealed it before either of them noticed.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Beth asked. Even though she missed the expression on Harper's face, she heard the disdain in her tone.
"Nothing, sweetheart," Harper beamed, "I just meant that you're the free-spirited type. You go and do whatever you want, regardless of things, that's all."
"Things?" Beth was minorly offended by how Harper was coming across.
"And it looks like we might have a new winner!" Mr. Sport announced. The crowd erupted with cheers as Damara held her hand in the air. She was covered in pizza sauce, but otherwise, she looked far better off than Pax, who was still lying on the ground. "Dama of the Golden Bone Tribe has just finished her twenty-fourth pie! That's half a pizza more than Pax Lumpstone of the White Moon Café!"
Pax's half-eaten pie still sat untouched on his side of the table. Damara rose from her chair and stretched, her muscles rippling beneath her skin. The sound of her joints cracking echoed through the room, followed by a window-shaking belch that reverberated off the walls. The towering Amazonian woman then marched over to Pax's abandoned plate. A hush fell over the crowd as no one knew what to expect of this newcomer to Crest Town. Without hesitation, she began to devour the remnants of his meal; her appetite was more like that of a ravenous wolf than a human.
Pax managed to tilt his head up enough to barely see over his gut—watching his competitor eat the last few bites of his pizza. "Damn. I think I'm in love," he muttered with a burp.
Dama licked the buttery grease from the crust off her fingers and walked over to her competitor. "Very honorable attempt," She kissed him on the forehead despite Pax being covered in thick, mucus-like sweat. "There are men who claim to be warriors near my homeland who couldn't compete with you. You—have the stomach of a champion."
"Do you want to go out with me sometime?" Pax grumbled. He was lying in the most unflattering position possible for a man his size.
"No. You may have the stomach of a champion, but you also have the appearance of a pig-faced bog troll. I would bring shame to my tribe to breed with you."
"Oh," Pax belched. "I wasn't talking about breedin', but maybe Gorgefest next year?"
Damara's eyes glistened against the twilight moon. "Gorgefest? You compete? I always wanted to go but was never able."
"Compete?" Pax scoffed, "I guess you can call it that. I win, baby. For the past five years, I've out-eaten everybody in Palico City's famous Gorgefest."
"Well, in that case, consider it a date," Damara patted him on the head. The crowd began cheering once again, so she turned to flex and let out a victory roar to appease her newly acquired fanbase.
The celebration carried into the night, and Arvid found himself sinking his most recent paycheck into an artisanal ale stand that was serving up some of the best brews he ever had the privilege of putting down.
"These are friggin' fantastic, lad," Arvid said, looking through the dark amber-colored liquid in his frosty mug, admiring everything about it. The view through the glass was murky, but he saw someone approach when their imposing figure blotted out the street light, casting a shadow over him. "Hey! What gives?" he barked, looking up to see who disturbed his drinking session.
"People say you're the best drinker in the whole town," Damara stated. "That true?"
"Oh, well, look who it is, 'Miss don't-call-me-sweetheart.'" Arvid rolled his eyes.
Damara tensed up, clenching her fists.
"Hey, alright! Easy now—" Arvid reared back, preparing himself to get decked by the Amazonian.
"I'll pretend that was the alcohol clouding your words," Damara sat down beside him.
"Pretend all you like, lady, but I ain't even buzzed yet. I'm just always this friendly."
Damara smiled, "At least you don't back down or run like a little coward-man."
"Well, I may be short, but I can assure you that I'm no little coward-man," Arvid said, taking a hearty swig from his stein of ale.
"We'll see," Damara signaled for two steins of ale for herself. She grabbed one in each hand and proceeded to chug them both. BELCH! "You accept a drinking challenge from me?"
"Drinking challenge? Lady, I don't think you want to lose to me tonight."
"So, you lie then?"
Arvid looked at her, confused, "Lie? I don't lie, sweetheart—"
She slammed the steins down on the table attached to the cart.
"I mean, Dama."
"Then accept my challenge, or it is true that which you say is not."
Arvid was still confused. "Which I say is not? What in the devil's taint are you talking about?"
"Accept my challenge! Or own your title as little coward-man!"
With a deep sigh, Arvid resigned himself to the challenge. The barkeep set up a row of frothy mugs, each filled to the brim with the finest artisanal ale. The crowd, sensing the impending spectacle, once again gathered around, cheering and even going as far as placing bets.
The competition began with a clink of their mugs. Damara and Arvid threw back their first steins, the rich amber liquid flowing down their throats. Arvid started strong, his drinking prowess on full display as he quickly emptied his mug and reached for the next. He had already consumed half a dozen since Pax lost the pizza-eating contest, but he planned on drinking all night regardless of the challenge being thrown at his feet.
Damara, just as impressive as she was earlier, somehow managed to match his pace effortlessly, her eyes locked onto Arvid's with each slam of the mug. Every time Arvid finished a stein, Damara was right there, matching him drink for drink. The crowd's cheers grew louder with each emptied mug, and maintaining balance quickly became a chore for both the competitors.
Halfway through the contest, Arvid began to falter. His vision blurred slightly, and he could feel the warmth of the ale spreading through his body. Not only was he nearly shit-faced drunk, but he had a piss on deck that could rival a burst dam. Damara, on the other hand, seemed unfazed, her steely resolve focused on putting down frosty beverage after frosty beverage.
As the final steins were placed before them, Arvid knew he was in trouble. He took a deep breath and lifted his mug, determined to see this through. Damara, sensing his struggle, smirked and raised her stein, downing it before he consumed his.
Arvid's hands shook as he tried to keep up, but he couldn't match Damara's relentless pace. With one final gulp, Damara slammed her empty stein down on the table, a triumphant grin spreading across her face. Arvid, still struggling with his last drink, teetered on the stool.
"Here, sweetheart," Arvid muttered, handing her his stein and then falling to the ground in a heap.
In a buzzed state of hype, Damara leaped to her feet, her fists rocketing into the air. "Victory!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the streets. The crowd burst into applause and cheers, celebrating her second victory of the night. Arvid, though defeated, couldn't help but smile. He gave her a thumbs up, which warranted a wink from her. With the drunken grin still on his face, Arvid passed out cold, snoring almost as loud as the cheering spectators. She had bested him fair and square, but she was definitely feeling it.
Beth, who had been watching the woman all night, was impressed by what she saw. Not only did she best Pax, the hungriest person she's ever known, at an eating contest—but she also beat Arvid, who only worked to afford booze money, in a drinking game.
"I'm gonna' test my luck with this beast of a woman," Beth cracked her knuckles and made her way over to the still-celebrating Amazonian. Beth cleared her throat and politely tugged on Damara's bearskin armor.
"Yeah, what?" Damara said, abruptly turning around. Beth's beauty caught her off guard. "Oh. It's the fat-bottomed girl from the crowd. You like what you see?"
"I'm impressed, you can say that. My name's Beth. I own the White Moon Café, and I also employ the two guys you made chumps out of tonight."
"I'm sorry for shaming your staff, but they both put up valiant efforts. Perhaps my greatest eating and drinking challenges ever, if I'm being honest. What of you, though? Why do you tug on my armor, fat-bottomed girl?"
"Remember what happened when Mr. Sport called you sweetheart?" Beth asked.
"Yes."
"Call me 'fat-bottomed girl' again, and I'll break your stupid kneecaps. I told you my name; use it."
Damara could sense the major attitude in Beth and bowed her head. "Fair point; my apologies."
"No problem," Beth gave her a half smile. "So, you're good at drinking, eating, and beating on the boys—how would you fare arm wrestling a girl?"
"Arm wrestling? You?" Damara sized her up. Beth was half expecting her to laugh at the challenge, but Damara appeared approving instead. "You want to go toe-to-toe with Damara the Amazonian?"
"That's correct, yes. Yes, I do."
"So be it. Beth of White Moon, I accept your challenge.
"Are you sure about this, Beth?" Harper asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.
Beth nodded confidently while stretching, "I've got this."
The crowd gathered around once again, murmuring in anticipation as Beth and her opponent prepared for their match. The giant woman's muscles rippled like a stormy sea as she took her place on one side of the table.
"Ready when you are," Damara said, extending her hand.
Beth took a deep breath and grasped her opponent's hand firmly. The air was thick with tension as they positioned themselves. Mr. Sport, seeing what was about to take place, quickly rushed over to officiate the contest.
"Everyone! Gather around while Damara the Amazonian attempts to obliterate yet another contender! This time, it's a feat of strength!" he called out. "Are you both ready?"
Damara nodded.
Beth nodded.
"Be careful!" Harper cried out.
"On my word," Mr. Sport announced, "One, two, and go!"
The match began with an explosive start. Damara instantly took Beth within inches of defeat, but somehow, the little challenger managed to keep her knuckles off the table. It took Beth some time, but she managed to get the match back to a neutral position. The two women strained against each other, their muscles bulging from the sheer display of power. The crowd watched in awe as they remained evenly matched, neither competitor gaining the upper hand.
"Come on, Beth! You can do it!" someone from the crowd shouted.
"My money's on the Amazonian chick!" someone else yelled.
Beth gritted her teeth. Damara scowled at her challenger. The table beneath them began to crack under the immense pressure, but neither one of them relented. The struggle went on for minutes, their arms trembling with the overexertion.
Harper and a small handful of Crest Town's people had a general idea of Beth's strength, but they were in for a surprise as most had only ever heard of her feats, never witnessing them up close and personally. With each passing second, Beth continued to tap into a deeper well of power, becoming more and more fierce.
"Where is she getting this from?" a woman cried out.
"She's a beast!" a man in the crowd exclaimed.
Justice, having wandered over to see what the commotion was about, caught sight of the tail-end of the match. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she watched Beth, who had seemingly transformed into a veritable force of nature.
"Go, Beth! Kick her ass!" Harper cheered, her voice rising above the crowd.
Beth let out a primal yell, summoning every ounce of strength she had left. With one final, monumental effort, she gave it everything she had, but would it be enough?
The celebration had gone on for so long that the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon. As Beth and her opponent continued their fierce struggle, the morning sun cast a golden hue over the scene. Suddenly, Beth's horn began to glow sky-blue, catching everyone's attention.
"Whoa, look at that!" someone exclaimed, pointing at the glowing horn.
Harper, noticing the change, quickly stepped in. "Alright, that's enough. Beth, stop!"
Beth, sensing the urgency in Harper's voice, relaxed her grip and conceded the match. The Amazonian woman, though technically the victor, looked at Beth confused. "Why can't we finish? That was becoming quite fun."
"Relax, Barbara the Barbarian," Harper snarked, "your challenger here just recovered from a coma and shouldn't be exerting herself to these extremes."
"You just came out of a coma, and you're this strong?" Damara was impressed. "You've got a real fighting spirit."
Beth, panting, shook her opponent's hand. "Thanks. You're incredible, too."
Everyone watched, utterly amazed by what they had just witnessed. Most were cheering, while others were still processing the incredible display of strength put on by both competitors.
"Wow, Mom, you're amazing," Justice said, her voice filled with awe. "I hope I turn out like you when I get older!"
Beth, panting and sweaty, looked up and smiled. "Thanks, Justice. Sometimes, you just have to dig deep and become the monster within. You might be surprised about what you can do once you learn to control the beast." Her horn's glow began to fade as the first rays of sunlight bathed Crest Town in a warm morning glint.