Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-16047389-20140226184337/@comment-16047389-20140310163047

Deciding that tonight is a time for celebration, not anxiety, Ulfgar joins his fellow kinsman in revelry. He finds a man in dark robes and approaches him.

"Hello friend," says the stranger. "My name is Sam Guevenne. You look like you could use a drink."

Ulfgar nods and boasts about his drinking abilities.

"Is that so?" responds Sam. "Well it just so happens that I am the best there is when it comes to drinking. I'm so confident in that, that I will wager this staff of mine on it. If you can beat me in a drinking contest, it's yours."

Ulfgar accepts the challenge and the two begin a long night of drinking, until it comes down to the final mug. But just as Ulfgar is about to down it and win the contest, his body fails him and he drops the mug and collapses onto the table.

"Too bad," says Sam. "Guess I'll have to find someone else. Maybe I'll try Whiterun this time."

Sam Guevenne just seems to disappear before Ulfgar's eyes, though that may just be the mead playing tricks on him. As he begins passing out, he hears the music from the bards, the laughter of the crowds and then...screaming.

When Ulfgar awakens, he finds himself not in his warm comforting bed in the Silver-Blood Inn, but on a hard cold stone floor. He looks around. He's in a locked cell. He can see other cells across from his own. Some filled, some empty, some covered in blood. The one directly across from him holds a male Redguard, who is lying down on a blanket and facing away from Ulfgar.