Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25828117-20190929011112/@comment-25828117-20191002205123

Scaldor was greeted with something he might not have expected.

A big party was going on with perhaps hundreds of people.

Music was played by bards, delirium inducing beats meant for scandalous dances. One of the bards Scaldor recognised as Jorland, the Nord they had rescued in the jungle. The middle-aged man was playing his lute like a madman with an equally mad grin on his face. His eyes glossy and nose red, it was clear he was quite drunk.

People sang along if they knew the lyrics to the songs while others downed large tankards of ale or wine, provided by the large caskets at the back. Which were being serviced at a brake-neck pace.

When one of the caskets ran dry a fight ensued at the back that most people didn't seem to notice. Those that did, laughed at the foolish antics of those fighting for more wine.

Perhaps the most noteworthy thing was that not everyone was wearing clothes, or only partly. Lots of flesh was on display and any sense of modesty seemed to be tossed out of the window.

The smell of the place was absolutely fever-inducing. Alcohol, drugs and love. Pure debauchery. A corruption of Dibella's ideals. No, this was the work of another diety...

Clodagh saw a woman, a ginger Breton perusing a stand of books filled with poems.