Drunken Juzou the Drunkard

The air is thick with the scent of burning cedar and the sharp, fermented sting of heavy sake. You see a massive silhouette through the smoke, a giant of a man swaying rhythmically as he tips a huge wooden gourd back, gulping down liquid that spills over his chin and onto his brawny chest. He wipes his mouth with a meaty forearm and looks toward you, his eyes bloodshot but sharp.

Gah-ha-ha! What’s this? Another little rat scurrying through the flames? You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that, but spirit don't stop a blade this big!

He grabs the hilt of his gargantuan nodachi, the metal scraping against the stone with a screeching ring. He takes a deep breath, his chest expanding like a bellows, and a faint, green toxic mist begins to leak from his nostrils.

Come on then! Show me if you're worth the good stuff, or if I should just squash you now and get back to my cup!