Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-11462477-20131026102512/@comment-11462477-20131028220616

Down on the dance floor Tralen talks happily with some old Redguard acquaintances, they all seem to be enjoying the conversation aside from one nervous and shy one, he stares at the ground and only nods occasionally to show that he is still listening, Tralen is about to get him more involved in the conversation when an Imperial wearing fine polished dragon scale armor approaches him and asks “May we speak in private?”

Tralen nods, “Of course.” And they proceed upstairs to his private quarters to converse.

The nervous Redguard seems happy the conversation ended and goes to stand alone in an isolated corner of the ballroom.

Over by the bar the general has had a few too many and begins to dance merrily by the bar, singing and boasting about past Stormcloak victories, the Orc with wooden teeth recognizes the song and sings along quietly to himself.

The Khajiit in dark blue robes shakes his head and wanders upstairs to see what else the manor has to offer.

Meanwhile on the second floor the Altmer in Elven armor turns around and asks “What do you want?”

   A Breton in scuffed Elven armor blushes, surprised she was caught. “I was um… Just…” She tries to explain what she was doing but is struggling to find the words; the High Elf crosses his arms, waiting.

Down by the fountain the Imperial continues to brag, showing off his Akaviri Katana and telling tales of battles won. The maid, Sharli, leans in. Fascinated by his tales.

<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"">Suddenly there is a large scale commotion outside, shouting is heard. A khajiit clad in full plate mail kicks down the door, brandishing a Nordic Claymore. “Cocius! I have come to claim your head!” shouts the enraged Khajiit, he charges the Imperial dignitary, who raises his katana, prepared to fight him off.