How would you feel up you woke up having no recollection of the night before? Confused, right? Well, how would you feel if you woke up next to someone you didn't know with no recollection of the night before? This was the case for poor, unfortunate Lemoran, who had downed about six two many bottles of ale, with no drinking experience whatsoever prior to this. Today, we, @Faunfire and @Emo_Bunny , bestow unto you, the most eventful night of the Mayara's life thus far. Too bad he can't remember it. The next morning, however, is one he would surely never forget...
The night before was a night of fierce passion and… Sword fights? A brunette nelfin, accompanied by a ginger ailor clad in red were sparring relentlessly with two heavy fighters. A blackmark and a feer-drakken, both clearly experts in their field. Through some sort of miracle, the ginger and the elf emerged victorious, exiting the ring with smug expressions plastered upon their features.
Meanwhile, a certain Maraya had been busy drowning his sorrows, in ale, whiskey, whatever he could find about the fact he simply could not find a dance partner. Be it male, female… Void, even the plants said no to him. It was a dark time for the poor Maraya, Lemoran. By the time he was finished, he could no longer see straight and his legs had apparently all but lost their ability to properly function. The rush the alcohol had provided him with gave him the sudden urge to piss off the nearest friend in the vicinity. Shakily traversing the uneven plains of the event location, he neared the victorious nelfin and ailor. Yes, he was walking well. Now all he had to do was address Ka--.... Splat. The poor Mayara fell face first into the muddy terrain.
"Oh, hello, Lemoran."
The brunette nelfin addressed the fallen Lemoran in a surprisingly casual manner, to which the poor, felled bug could respond only with:
"Mrrrrrrrnnnnn…. Get… Me up…"
The duo, surprisingly, obliged, with the elf taking up his posterior… Well, his legs.. No way did her hands want to go anywhere near his bug butt, whilst the soulless ginger took up his shoulders. Then, a devious expression appeared on their faces.
"What do we do with him Kat? Where do we dump him?"
The ginger, known as Gideon inquired with a smug look.
"In the lake?"
"In the fire?"
"Off a cliff?"
"In a tree. I did that once."
"Yeah with f**king Valentius.."
"True."
Suddenly, Katrina's expression lit up, and an evil smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She had got it; the perfect plan! A whispered conversation occurred between the two completely- well not completely- sober pranksters.
"Ooooh, Kat, you're evil! I like it."
Gideon broke out into a maniacal fit of laughter, at which point poor Lemoran's expression turned into one of concern.
"Suddenly… The thought of being… Dumped in a lake... sounds appealing.."
The Maraya groaned out helplessly. Then suddenly, the two began to rock him back and forth. Lemoran didn't stand a chance, and soon enough, both him (Lemon moreso than Gideon), found their shirts caked with bug vomit. Gross! The ginger grimaced, before moving off with Kat whilst carrying Lemoran, at which stage his consciousness had faded and his sight had transitioned to black….
When the man's consciousness finally returned, he found himself in a surprising comfortable, yet weirdly squeaky bed. Alone, at last- he thought, turning around to roll onto his side, when suddenly…
"Eep!"
Lemoran gave a rather unmanly squeal as he leaped out of the sheets, only to find the only garments on him were his undergarments, with various pieces of his own clothing strewn haphazardly around the room. However, his lack of clothing was not the most concerning thing in sight. What had initially caused his alarmed yelp, was the fact that he had awoke not next to a fine Mayara lady, but a hulking great lump of green meat, identifiable as male. He snored soundly, only for his slumber to be abruptly disturbed by Lemon's squeak.
"Mrn. Oi- You.. Blue Lad!"
The orc called out in a roar to Lemoran, who was now shaking in his boots. He wasn't actually wearing boots, but… whatever. The metaphor still stands.
"Be bei'uhn t'eh best ten shinies Grolash ever be spending. Be havin' a good one, yub!"
At that, a look of horror appeared on Lemon's features, and his blue skin seemed to pale even further. Without so much as another word, the bug threw on his clothing as quickly as humanly (Or Mayaranly possible), and bolted out of the room. And oh my was he shocked. The poor soul had somehow found himself in the middle of a brothel. "Oi, blueberry!" A feminine voice called out. "You've not finished your shift at Exquisite Orcs yet!" The worker exclaimed, chasing after him. However, she was not fast enough. The blue Mayara had scattered. He was not staying to find out who his next client would be. Almost immediately after he had exited, the full extent of his hangover hit him. He staggered off into the sunset, vowing never to drink again.
Outside the window, Gideon and Kat had been peeking in. The two snickered at the antics of Lemoran, as their purses felt just a tad lighter. Paying off the workers at the brothel to convince Lemoran that he was a worker there had been an outstanding idea. Regals well spent! The two gave a devious chuckle, exchanging a high-five before departing off into the distance.
And that, my friends, is the tale of one Marayan's spooky encounter with an orc. Poor Lemoran was left traumatised by the experience, though has luckily yet to find his prankers.
The moral of the story is don't annoy a soulless ginger… Ever!
The night before was a night of fierce passion and… Sword fights? A brunette nelfin, accompanied by a ginger ailor clad in red were sparring relentlessly with two heavy fighters. A blackmark and a feer-drakken, both clearly experts in their field. Through some sort of miracle, the ginger and the elf emerged victorious, exiting the ring with smug expressions plastered upon their features.
Meanwhile, a certain Maraya had been busy drowning his sorrows, in ale, whiskey, whatever he could find about the fact he simply could not find a dance partner. Be it male, female… Void, even the plants said no to him. It was a dark time for the poor Maraya, Lemoran. By the time he was finished, he could no longer see straight and his legs had apparently all but lost their ability to properly function. The rush the alcohol had provided him with gave him the sudden urge to piss off the nearest friend in the vicinity. Shakily traversing the uneven plains of the event location, he neared the victorious nelfin and ailor. Yes, he was walking well. Now all he had to do was address Ka--.... Splat. The poor Mayara fell face first into the muddy terrain.
"Oh, hello, Lemoran."
The brunette nelfin addressed the fallen Lemoran in a surprisingly casual manner, to which the poor, felled bug could respond only with:
"Mrrrrrrrnnnnn…. Get… Me up…"
The duo, surprisingly, obliged, with the elf taking up his posterior… Well, his legs.. No way did her hands want to go anywhere near his bug butt, whilst the soulless ginger took up his shoulders. Then, a devious expression appeared on their faces.
"What do we do with him Kat? Where do we dump him?"
The ginger, known as Gideon inquired with a smug look.
"In the lake?"
"In the fire?"
"Off a cliff?"
"In a tree. I did that once."
"Yeah with f**king Valentius.."
"True."
Suddenly, Katrina's expression lit up, and an evil smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She had got it; the perfect plan! A whispered conversation occurred between the two completely- well not completely- sober pranksters.
"Ooooh, Kat, you're evil! I like it."
Gideon broke out into a maniacal fit of laughter, at which point poor Lemoran's expression turned into one of concern.
"Suddenly… The thought of being… Dumped in a lake... sounds appealing.."
The Maraya groaned out helplessly. Then suddenly, the two began to rock him back and forth. Lemoran didn't stand a chance, and soon enough, both him (Lemon moreso than Gideon), found their shirts caked with bug vomit. Gross! The ginger grimaced, before moving off with Kat whilst carrying Lemoran, at which stage his consciousness had faded and his sight had transitioned to black….
When the man's consciousness finally returned, he found himself in a surprising comfortable, yet weirdly squeaky bed. Alone, at last- he thought, turning around to roll onto his side, when suddenly…
"Eep!"
Lemoran gave a rather unmanly squeal as he leaped out of the sheets, only to find the only garments on him were his undergarments, with various pieces of his own clothing strewn haphazardly around the room. However, his lack of clothing was not the most concerning thing in sight. What had initially caused his alarmed yelp, was the fact that he had awoke not next to a fine Mayara lady, but a hulking great lump of green meat, identifiable as male. He snored soundly, only for his slumber to be abruptly disturbed by Lemon's squeak.
"Mrn. Oi- You.. Blue Lad!"
The orc called out in a roar to Lemoran, who was now shaking in his boots. He wasn't actually wearing boots, but… whatever. The metaphor still stands.
"Be bei'uhn t'eh best ten shinies Grolash ever be spending. Be havin' a good one, yub!"
At that, a look of horror appeared on Lemon's features, and his blue skin seemed to pale even further. Without so much as another word, the bug threw on his clothing as quickly as humanly (Or Mayaranly possible), and bolted out of the room. And oh my was he shocked. The poor soul had somehow found himself in the middle of a brothel. "Oi, blueberry!" A feminine voice called out. "You've not finished your shift at Exquisite Orcs yet!" The worker exclaimed, chasing after him. However, she was not fast enough. The blue Mayara had scattered. He was not staying to find out who his next client would be. Almost immediately after he had exited, the full extent of his hangover hit him. He staggered off into the sunset, vowing never to drink again.
Outside the window, Gideon and Kat had been peeking in. The two snickered at the antics of Lemoran, as their purses felt just a tad lighter. Paying off the workers at the brothel to convince Lemoran that he was a worker there had been an outstanding idea. Regals well spent! The two gave a devious chuckle, exchanging a high-five before departing off into the distance.
And that, my friends, is the tale of one Marayan's spooky encounter with an orc. Poor Lemoran was left traumatised by the experience, though has luckily yet to find his prankers.
The moral of the story is don't annoy a soulless ginger… Ever!
