Oblivion Mod:Stirk/A Most Unfortunate Party

Book Information A Most Unfortunate Party
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A Most Unfortunate Party

by Ardarlunwe of Sunhold

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found the very notion of his invitation most horrible. Caradhayon, through an acquaintance in High Rock, had the most unpleasant honor of being invited to a party held by the nemer King of Wayrest. Naturally, Caradhayon found the offer most unappealing though he could not fathom being rude enough to reject, and he was resolved not to go through such an ordeal alone. Having most of his associates suddenly finding themselves important duties which would last for a month or two, he had come to my residence at the unusual time of fifteen minutes past three in the afternoon to personally ask for my companionship. Without any knowledge of the ulterior intentions of his visit, I found myself unable to remember any important duties I had which would unfortunately occur for the duration of the said party. As such I was inclined to agree. After leaving my residence, Caradhayon immediately sent message that he and I would be attending.

Having no understanding of the bizarre nemer aristocracy, if one is allowed to be so crude as to use the honorable word to describe it, I conversed with Itertilar the Zoologist as to what to expect. He informed me that the food would most likely be of the poorest quality, the music would be of the most awful noise, and the attire of the beast-like guests would fail miserably at appearing extravagant. He suggested that I ensure my Sound spells were exceptional and that I ensure to practice (the nerve!), that I be careful no neither eat nor drink anything other than what I bring with me, and that I show them true extravagance and style through my attire.

As I arrived at the pristine harbor to leave Alinor for the wild lands, word of my departure had reached an Ymga of the Valenwood who gifted to me a perfumed cloth, and a warning that men have a most unpleasant smell. Both Caradhayon and Itertilar had failed to mention this fact, and I admit I was most furious. I confronted Caradhayon who, instead of conversing about the fact, abruptly changed the subject to him having a heart attack. He then had the nerve to ask me to summon a healer for him. I told him that I would not, and that I would be most unpleasant with him for the trip. He wasted no time in clutching for his chest and falling dead. I could not believe that he would go as far as die to weasel out of attending the party, even worse was that he left me to go there alone.

The sail to Wayrest was most disastrous. The ship was of a poor Colovian design, and the captain was a brutish and unpresentable nemer by the name of Garius Assadumploodus, or something along those lines. When I walked onto the ship, he had the nerve to dare ask for my hand for assistance to get on the ship. When he caught me staring at his disfigured face (his face was most disfigured and hideous, and I could not help but observe it for a prolonged duration), he told that he gained his "scars" as he called them in war. The horrible brute. Worse still was the crew. All of them were nemer with sub-par manners. In the evening, they consumed wines from their own horrid homes, laughed and talked loudly, and played terrible musical instruments called the fiddle. I was most pleased when other nemer boarded the ship and killed them all. My good faith however went unrewarded when they then had the nerve to demand I gift them my jewels. I shamefully admit that I lost my temper at this point. When I finished with my fireball spell, the nemer were dead and the sailing vessel began to lose buoyancy. With other passengers, I had to move my luggage on to another boat which miraculously was placed next to ours with a plank for ease of access.

This second vessel was most insufferable. If the gods had taken such care as to give me another vessel, the least they could have done was make it adorable, painted white with gold leafing and encrusted jewels on the trims, perfumed, shaped like a swan, and complete with a crew of even the lowest species to work it. This boat was cramped, effluvial, and it lashed around with the waves. It took a lot of effort on my part to get all the other passengers to work the vessel. They were completely incompetent and useless, and they had no appreciation of how hard management was. The journey was taking far longer than expected. I informed them that I was a very important Altmer who was going to a party held by the King of Wayrest, and that I could not be tardy in arriving. The jeered at me, and said they had no food. I told them that they should have been prepared like me and brought their own, and that it was their own fault they were hungry. It was a week before we finally reached the Iliac Bay. By now, they were quite thin and demanding I give them some of my food. Despite my best efforts, they could not understand that a zoologist and a talking ape warned me that the food at the King's party would be unpalatable. One night, I awoke to find one rummaging through my belongings searching for food. After giving him a thunder shock, the nemer were most obedient for the rest of the voyage.

As luck would have it (although I am still unsure as to whether it was good fortune or not), I reached Wayrest the morning of the party. Even from afar, I could see the city was clearly putrid. The men of High Rock have clearly tried, disastrously I might add, to emulate the fine architecture of the Altmer. Their buildings were low and crude, made of common materials such as stone and wood. The colors and styles of their dress were most uninspired and unappealing. The gardens were clearly managed by those untrained in horticulture ('). I could continue at length at the shortcomings of the city and men in general, but I fear I would go on for quite some length doing so.

I made sure my entrance from the sailing vessel was most impressive. I wore my finest clothing of the highest Summerset quality, and the most fantastic jewels I purchased in Shimmerene. I espied some truly vulgar-looking nemer dockworkers and, falling below my dignity, informed them that I was attending a party at the King of Wayrest and I needed to be supplied with a gold coach drawn by silver stallions for an appropriate entrance. Instead of making the arrangements post-haste as one might expect; they chose instead to stare at me as if I were mad. I then realized the full extant of the uselessness of men so I had no choice but to arrive at the party on foot, walking through the foulest streets I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing. When I arrived at the palace (which resembled little more than a moderately-sized crude hovel), the guards had the audacity to ask who I was and what business I had at the palace. I informed them that I was Ardarlunwe of Sunhold, a very important mage in residence in Alinor, and that I was the most important guest at the party being held at the palace. For the first time on the journey, these men had the proper manners of formally welcoming me to the palace and opening the gates for me. They also informed me that great lengths had been made to ensure that the party was most entertaining and memorable.

I ambulated through the gate to the door of the palace. Other guests had assembled there, and I clearly saw they were little more than common riffraff from all untamed corners of Tamriel. I did, however, have the dignity of being the only Altmer in attendance. As I (begrudgingly) approached the rabble of guests, they all averted their eyes from me. As much as they vociferously tried to pretend it was because my clothing and jewels were reflecting the sun into their eyes, I knew it was truly because me attire was so exquisite that they could not bear to look at me due to the shame of their own inadequate attire.

Realizing that nobody at this party was worthy of my acquaintance, I positioned myself toward the front of the guests so that when the king arrived he would see how spectacular I had prepared myself, and also so it was unlikely I would be approached by any upstart pretenders. Unfortunately I was approached by a mere human, who had the audacity to consider himself worthy of my acquaintance. He introduced himself as Prince Edwayn (or some other horribly archaic nemer namesake) and informed me he was a cousin of the king. Oblivious to my failing to be impressed by either his title or his relations, Edwayn continued to ramble about the party, how they had the finest meats Tamriel has to offer hanging in the meat locker, how they imported vegetables directly from some untamed regions of High Rock, the silverware purchased in Cyrodiil, and other topics of little importance. He then continued to speak of other, far more uninteresting matters such as the wellbeing of his family, a failed Imperial succession, and so forth. I was about to paralyze him when the King timely arrived and Edwayn fell silent.

The King and his consorts arrived in a golden carriage pulled by silver stallions. I was most unimpressed with the craftsmanship of the carriage and the breed of the steeds, and was most glad I did not arrive in one. The King proceeded to introduce himself and his entourage, welcomed and thanked everyone for attending, said that fine entertainment had been planned and wished everyone partook, and wished everyone enjoy themselves. I knew already he was mad thinking that it was possible to enjoy this party but as any respectable Altmer I kept such failings of their reasoning to myself. The gates to the palace were opened and everyone, myself included, entered.

There, in the entrance hall, hanging by a noose created from poorly woven bed sheets, was a poorly dressed and lifeless human boy. Hitherto that moment I had been under the distinct impression that only the Bosmer consumed their deceased. I found that they called the entrance of a palace a "meat locker" as that Edwayn had said was most illogical; what was even stranger was that the guests seemed upset that they had decided to eat this boy and were crying he was so young. The King, upset like the rest of them, proceeded to usher everyone into the next room and asked them and myself to try and enjoy the rest of the evening.

The music played in the hall was a most horrid screeching noise. They had clearly not gone to any lengths to try and make the food served palatable, or to purchase finely made silverware with which to place it on. I took a position by the window and cast a sound spell on the room so I could no longer hear the painful screeching of their musical instruments, nor the unintelligent babble of their attempted conversation. I stood for what must have seemed two hours and thirty-seven minutes when suddenly a band of their guards burst into the room.

And so began the awful display of entertainment they had tried to get everyone involved in. The guards proceeded to start hacking at the guests with crude swords and the guests proceeded to act like they were being mercilessly slaughtered. This entertainment was so vulgar and distasteful that I immediately proceeded to leave the palace and return to Alinor. The Bretons proceeded to block my exit and began to start waving their swords at me. I blasted them with a fireball and swiftly left the palace. Seeing that the entire city was in pandemonium, I recalled to my study in Alinor.

[At this point you are unable to discern any further information, as the pages beyond this one are covered in doodles and scratched-out scribbling.]