Owlor
Posts: 152
2/4/2012
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The dining hall of the Brass Embassy was lavishsly decorated, there where wines lined with tastefully arranged mushrooms and lanterns with infinity symbols on them, slightly buzzing form the luminous beetles stuck inside. Across the hall where an impressively long table, lined with all manner of Neathy delicacies, some of it even imported from the surface. Waitors where circling the table, making sure that the mushroom wine was flowing freely. At the end of the table, a gentleman with chestnut hair, wearing a scholarly robe and sporting a rather impressive handlebar mosutache, signalled silence. He rose from his chair with a glass in hand, its content moving slightly.
Laidies, gentlemen, beings of indistinguishable gender, he said, I trust you all had an enjoyable Festival of Endless Action? This have been a bust few days for all of us, fortunes made, fortunes lost, and friendship forged in the fires of ambition and hardship. I am sure we all have out stories to tell, and I promise to listen patiently to every single one, be they true or fabricated. This have, more than anything else, been a festival of oppertunity, and how you've spent your oppertunities, that's your story. Did you feel like you got things done like never before, or where you paralyzed by indecision? Did you waste it away on a streak of bad luck and bad decision, or did fortune smile for you? Whatever happened, that is your story. Ahem, that is all from me.
He seated himself again to the sound of polite apllause. The festival of endless action was over, but the warp-up party had just begun.
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"He never really loved her. Or her money. He wanted her secrets."
Jack Owlfisher's profile (@Owlor on twitter)
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