Private The Grand Extravaganza (18+)

[Mr.Self Destruct]

"What's wrong, laddy? I hit ya' too hard?" Gorim mockingly jested as the man struggled to stay on his feet, the Nord stumbling and wobbling as he shakily raised his fists. His face was a stupefied and bewildered expression which read as him not being entirely cognizant. A circle had formed around Gorim and the dazed man, with shouts and banter filling the air as the crowd cheered on the fight. The dwarf snatched a bottle of ale from a nearby patron, before turning bottoms up and gulping down the alcoholic fluid. Gorim then let out a satisfied grunt before wiping away the excess alcohol around his mouth with his forearm, and then tossing the bottle aside.

The man let out a groan, his face contorting with pain as he held a hand to the back of his head. He was beginning to return to full consciousness after being struck with the chair. "What in Oblivion...?" He said in a somewhat slurred voice, the back of his head throbbing.

"Wakey, wakey!" Gorim shouted as he charged, boosting himself off a nearby chair and lunging through the air. The man's eyes widened with shock as he realized he was being attacked by a flying dwarf.

Gorim slammed against the man's chest, winding him and knocking him back. The crowd barely had time to part before the man fell back, crashing through the wooden table where Alleras, Vitus, and others were taking various drugs. The table easily gave out under the combined weight of the massive Nord and Gorim in a flurry of wooden shards, alcohol, and narcotics.

 

[Gentleman Adventurer]

Eldric, still sitting alone at his table, took a half-hearted sip from the glass of milk he had received as a replacement for his spoiled juice. At the same time, he stared down at the open book clutched in his other hand, barely pretending to read it. Sure, on some level he was still making an effort to absorb the tales of 'Grand Frost Mage Ice-Light' and his valiant battles against The Udyrfrykte, but the vast majority of his attention was being diverted by the various characters now interacting around the tavern. He watched out of the corner of his eye as two men sat at table and consumed copious amounts of Moon Sugar, as an easily upset dwarf of a man got, well, upset, and as a fanatical Bosmer woman chewed out another of her kind over some petty squabble. It wasn't terribly entertaining, of course; he had seen stuff far more interesting than this back on Solstheim. Rather, it was all so distracting that the young mage's attention was forcibly diverted by all the chaos going on around him.

After taking one last look around the room, hoping in vain that things would die down, Eldric snapped his book shut and tucked it back into his satchel. He drained his mug of milk, straightened his collar, then got up from his chair and began to make his way towards the tavern's only exit. If there was no peace to be found here, then perhaps there was some outside, in the streets of Falkreath. He brushed past Tacitus at the bar, where the Imperial currently seemed to be involved in some kind of drinking competition with a vampire. At least, she looked like a vampire. As he passed, he mumbled a quick farewell, explaining where he was going. He didn't expect anyone to go looking for him, but it always better to be prepared. Plus, with the way things were going, there was very good chance he'd wind up being the only sober member of the group by the day's end.

As Eldric reached the door, he turned around, offering a final wave goodbye to anyone who might have been looking in his direction. Without another word, he pushed through the door and stepped out onto the large wooden porch surrounding the entrance, which was empty save for an off-duty barmaid enjoying a bottle of whiskey. A few more steps took him off the porch, and Eldric found himself standing in the center of the winding dirt road that stretched through Falkreath. He looked around town, looking for someplace where he could remain undisturbed, or, failing that, a shop he could browse.

Falkreath was a small town, and it was mostly made up of small dwellings, with a few small shops tossed in as well, all of which were in close proximity to the small longhouse where the Jarl lived. In fact, it was a safe bet to say that the only thing in Falkreath that wasn't small was it's infamous cemetery. Eldric pondered, momentarily, the idea of settling down there. Surely there would be peace among the graves... but that would almost certainly disrespect the dead, and Eldric knew better than to do that. Shrugging, he continued to look around for a place to sit. After a moment or two, he found an excellent spot: a large rock that lay underneath a towering pine tree, located just outside the town gate. It wouldn't be the most comfortable, but it would do the job. Eldric began to walk towards it.

Before he could get more than few inches, however, there was a loud bang and a blinding flash of purple light. The barmaid on the porch gave a yelp in surprise as she watched Eldric get thrown back several feet, hitting the dirt flat on his back. The purple light slowly began to clear, fading away until there was nothing left. Eldric's eyes slowly readjusted themselves, and as they did he began to make out a figure standing where the blast had been. It was a transparent, ethereal figure, with wisps of energy curling off it's body. At first glance, one might mistake it for a shade...but instead of the blue glow that surrounding shades and other ghosts, this figure was surrounding by a purple glow instead. The details were becoming clearer now. The figure wore a set of ornate robes, Dunmer in fashion, emblazoned with a large sigil in the center that Eldric couldn't quite make out. The figure's face marked it as a male, with a carefully groomed beard as well as long hair tied into a ponytail. Eldric's eyes grew wide. The figure looked at him, and a smile grew on it's face.

"Ah, Eldric, there you are!" Said Relyn Telvayn, currently a ghost. "I believe we have some catching up to do."

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

Over the course of their adventures through Skyrim, Thor and Serana had learned a lot about one another; from deep secrets they had never shared with anyone - for Serana, these were some particularly painful details about her family life before she had been sealed away in a crypt, and for Thor they existed regarding his brother's death - to the interests and hobbies and commonalities they shared. But with all they had been through, Serana had never shared one thing, and that was one: she had a wild side.

While Thor continued to relax and sip his drink, she had slipped off to watch the commotion in the middle of the tavern. Due to the fluidity of the crowd and the chaos that was running its course, she could easily watch both the fight and the drinking contest between Tacitus and the Imperial woman he faced, who had come with the mixed elves who were apparently from the end of the 3rd Era. When she had heard this, she shrugged, having woken herself thousands of years after she had gone to sleep in that crypt. She cheered with excitement as both Imperials downed their first drinks, then yelled in favor of the dwarf who was giving the tall Nord a run for his money. As a barmaid went to fetch the second round of drinks, Serana noticed in the corner of her eye a table bedecked with all manner of foreign substances, circled by a few people who looked pretty happy to be partaking. What the hell, it's a party! She glanced over her shoulder and saw Thor and Kjan conversing a little; no worries there, as for the duration of their journey that Nord had been only civil at best towards Thor. She weaved among the crowd, slowly drawing closer to the table, and the disheveled man who sat there. Her heart pounded a little as she approached - she had her wild side, of course, but this was still something she had heard almost absurd tales about.

She found the man sitting at the table looking happy, albeit a little dazed. She approached, and a little unsure asked, "Mind if I...?" He nodded, glancing at a bowl of a yellow-white powder at the edge of the table. Well, I guess... I snort it. Here goes... Serana crouched to the level of the table and picked up a small tube evidently for taking the moon sugar. She dumped a little sugar out onto the wood surface, seperated a little into a line, put the tube to it and- "Ah-choo!" She looked up a little sheepishly, then returned to her task and took in the thin line.

She felt the sugar right away, and it overwhelmed her novice senses a little. Her Dawnguard overcoat was immediately scratchy and stuffy, and she had to unbutton it and throw it down to make herself more comfortable. Now she wore only black trousers and a low-cut linen undershirt. Sounds became fluid, and it felt like she could pour it in one ear and out the other. On a whim, she picked up an apple and bit into it, the normally mild sweetness erupting into a flood of complex undertones of taste. The men around the table were vibrating just a little bit. She was euphoric. "Whew, I'll have a little more of-" her slow descent to take more moon sugar was interrupted when the Nord who was fighting the dwarf smashed through the wooden table.

 

[Delusional]

Alleras was thoroughly enjoying this trip, happily sharing his supply with another woman, a pale Nord who seemed adventurous enough, when suddenly a behemoth of a Nord man smashed through the whimsy table with Gorim latched on top of him, sending shards of wood flying and smashing bowls of moon sugar and phials of skooma up into a colossal cloud of narcotics. Alleras was unsurprised, yet felt compelled to act, as most of his supply was just destroyed by this drunken brawl.

"Hey! Hey there! What do you think you're doing?! Gah!" Alleras got up from the now table-less chair and approached the mess of Gorim and the Nord that now lay in the midst of the chaos of wood splinters and drugs. Gorim rolled off the large man, falling onto a particularly dangerous-looking shard of wood with a loud swear. The Imperial reached down and pulled the dwarf to his feet.

"Those were my drugs, man! What do you think you're doing, smashing into that table and ruining my supply?!" Alleras was a little agitated, but he wasn't too angry. Gorim responded only with a string of unintelligible swears and curses, accompanied with a scowl. Alleras was not fazed by Gorim's angry reaction; rather was amused, stifling a laugh. Heh, he's so hilarious... dwarves. So funny.

"Ah hell, why should I be mad? You're just a little man with a temper and a love for drinks! We can just go find more drugs! Come on, people, let's find some more drugs!" Alleras howled with laughter and patted Gorim on the head as he headed for the door, beckoning for the few who were sharing the drugs with him to follow.

 

[The OP3RaT0R]

"Ah hell, why should I be mad? You're just a little man with a temper and a love for drinks! We can just go find more drugs! Come on, people, let's find some more drugs!"

Serana laughed as she followed the man toward the door, along with a couple others. "Whooooo!" she cried merrily as the group exited the tavern; the atmosphere was a dim, foggy purple, and other than the noise from the tavern, the only sounds to be heard were the hum of all of the life of the woods in the crisp air and a distant conversation. "Sooooo... Where does one find drugs?" The vampire asked. "And, I didn't catch your name, nice man," she continued, pointing at Alleras very close to his face. "Or yours," she asked Vitus, who had been talking with him before she had approached; Serana had noticed that he was quite handsome, if a little... frilly? She was really not thinking at her best, despite the relatively low amount of moon sugar she had used. The group stopped to look around in a clearing just across the cobblestone road from the inn, and she stopped for a moment, staring at something inscrutable in the distance. Then, despite remaining unmoving for a moment, she put her arms out as she nearly lost her balance.

"Whoa! What in the-" Tacitus exclaimed as the road turned extremely bumpy beneath the wheels of his black motorcycle as he turned the corner. He wiped some rainwater from his riding goggles and looked down at the road, under the yellow pallor of the headlight, surprised to see that it was not just dirt that he and Malborn had turned onto, but uneven cobblestone. "Did you take a shortcut?" Malborn shouted into his ear. "'Cause if you did, I don't think they'll be following us any further! Good gods this is bumpy!"

"I didn't mean to, that's for sure! I-" the Imperial's words were cut off when the rear wheel slipped to the side on bare dirt, and Tacitus had to put everything into wrestling control back. "I have no idea where we are, but there's lights up ahead!" He lifted left arm from the handlebars to point. "Don't do that! I don't trust this road, and I'm not sure how much I trust you! Hands on the bars!"

"I have been driving this beaut' for a while now, and I am perfectly capable-" Tacitus had taken his focus slightly off what was directly ahead of him to direct his words back at Malborn, but a lit-up figure distracted him. "Gods, move!" The brightly illuminated person - whom he assumed was so from the glare of his headlight - did not move, and while Tacitus and Malborn braced for impact, he simply stood, puzzled. The pair on the motorcycle were even moreso puzzled, and when he realized that they had not just undergone a tragedy, Tacitus braked hard, struggling to keep his bike steady on the rough road.

It came to a stop at the edge of Falkreath, and the Imperial and Bosmer both dismounted, looking on with confusion at the too-rustic-to-be-true town on the one hand, and the figure who was still glowing on the other. "What in Oblivion..."

"Serana!" Tacitus turned to hear his Wood-Elven companion exclaim the name as he rushed over to a group of people walking a little ways down the road. "You're all right!" Malborn cried as he ran to the pale Nord that he loved, throwing his arms around her and lifting her with his embrace. "We didn't know if you had made out out, but you did, and-" he looked the vampire in her eyes for a second before putting a hand on the back of her head and pulling her in for a long, relieved kiss. When he finally finished, the Bosmer returned to looking at Serana from a few inches away. "You're all right, and... and, your hair is different, and... Falkreath is different, and- how'd you get here so quick?"

Serana, a little flustered by the kiss - a good one, but unexpected, and amplified by the moon sugar - looked back at her high companions, before returning to look at Malborn. "...Who are you?" Tacitus, meanwhile, was looking around at his surroundings; no lights could be seen through the trees, the buildings were completely different from when he last saw them, and there was a ghost standing next to a solid man who was dressed quite strangely.

 

[Farthlion]

"I'd never! I'd never drink that! It's Jagga I swear! I'd never eat a plant, are you mad? Ciel tell her! And could you please let go of me? I don't do well with violence, I don't understand it nor do I appreciate it, but if you don't let go I will use my hammer on you."

Faolin narrowed her eyes and skeptically studied the drink that this Bosmer was consuming. Was she telling the truth? Realizing that she was currently on the wrong side of a hammer, Faolin let go of the current source of her madness. Her demeanor changed almost instantly, a friendly smile appearing on her face. To anyone else, it must have appeared like a calming spell had been cast upon her.

"J-Jagga? May I try some?" Faolin calmly asked, inviting herself to join her fellow Bosmer.

---

This Imperial was certainly a worthy opponent, Nike concluded as she watched him consume his first beverage. The bartender had already placed another round in front of the pair. Before taking the tankard and bringing it up to her lips, she pondered her opponent, "So what's your story, kid? Rob a palace?"

The former gladiator downed her drink andgrinned cheekily. Tacitus was clearly no kid, but Nike couldn't help but poke some fun at him. Adidas didn't exactly tolerate her fun attitude, especially when it was directed at him. She'd take advantage of this new guy.

---

"Oh, gosh, well, yeah, but she's," Kjan watched his gaze fall upon the vampire, "But she's over there."

"Well flff. Now you ruined my good mood," Kjan muttered and looked at her drink, but then looked at Thor. She leaned a little closer, as if trying (and failing miserably) to be casual about it. If she had been sober, this behavior would be completely off limits. But she was drunk, and Kjan's body was not accustomed to making good decisions when inebriated. "Has she kissed you? Because if not, I can fix that."

Sober Kjan would have never suggested such a thing.