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The Imaginary Party


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At this point GPM staggers from one of the many bedrooms followed by a blushing slave girl just in time to direct Klingan toward the impluvium where he embarrassingly empties the contents of his stomach into the pool, after handing him an handkerchief to wipe the bile from his chin, GPM tells Klingan to come and see him tomorrow and he'll see if he can help him out in advancing his career.

 

He then stumbles over to GO who's still spinning uncontrollably in the middle of the floor much to the amusement of the other guest who are now placing wagers on which wall he is going to go crashing into first, GPM grabs him by the toga which unintentionally comes loose and falls to the fall leaving GO standing there in his birthday suit, the matrons cover the faces and giggle, the men look at each other and snigger and in the back ground Cato has recovered from the effects of Pertinax's weed just in time to see GO's embarrassing little problem at which point he starts whooping with joy and cartwheeling around the room (maybe he hasn't fully recovered from Pertinax's medicine!)

 

GPM slumps on to the nearest couch laughing uncontrollably :angry::angry:

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The god-Consul is terrified by the otherworldly look on the Domina Livia's face. He wonders what calamity is to befall The Empire!

 

I'm guessing the group of us will get fed...and well!

 

Doc claps her hands, and out comes the slaves with platters of roasted delicacies from all over the known world...and bids everyone to enjoy themselves!

 

She also raises an eyebrow toward those parties who tend to spill biscuit crumbs...hoping that they won't slop meat juices all over.

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The notorious Thracian Gladiator Brittanicus Brutus Maximus, having polished off the biscuits and displeasing the gods greatly, challenges allcomers to arm-wrestling contests and winks at a few likely ladies of quality. More wine slave!

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Having being used to eating with the legions in barbarian lands for the past three years, GPm's eye's light up when he see's the array of delicacies on offer, he head's straight his favorites, the stuffed doormice and otter's noses first!

 

He needs a full stomach before he even thinks about attempt to take up Brittanicus's challenge and probably a few more goblets of strong un-watered wine too!

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Having being used to eating with the legions in barbarian lands for the past three years, GPm's eye's light up when he see's the array of delicacies on offer, he head's straight his favorites, the stuffed doormice and otter's noses first!

 

I'd lay off the jaguar's earlobes and wolf's nipple chips for a bit...they're hot..but lovely!

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I look around - seemingly, a screen of silk or fine muslin has been thrown around me... or perhaps that is the effect of drink and herbs. People laugh, scream, drink and make love - I hear no sound. I sit in my corner, nursing the indignities of my fumbled pass at a fine Roman mistress, and contemplate my fellow celebrants. I get up, walk around, and no one notices me - save for a half naked thracian type who beckons me. This is merely transient. His interest is diverted by a fresh plate of delicacies, and my anonimity is intact. This room, to me, is deadly silent, though there are revellers in profusion, and much activity, music, dancing and laughter. Pertinax looks concerned, grasps my shoulders, and gives me a tincture in a tiny glass, which I drink. I offer him no thanks as I walk on, expressionless, although I will feel guilt at this tomorrow and make amends. I regard two dancing girls - they appear to be patrician types, although they dance in the vulgar style of the subura. Is one of them the matron of the house? Surely not. One of her friends, perhaps. But she seems fine to me, and a little familiar. Gaius Octavius senses a developing problem and strides towards me, rapidly discarding his half - full goblet. He is too far away. He whistles to Pertinax, who looks toward me through the compact press of guests and shrugs. The baby -eating thracian, totally out of character, assumes some responsibility, spots the danger, and attempts to divert his acquaintance from a path of disaster.

 

What the hell. Chat up line on standby...

Edited by Northern Neil
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Aha! A Babe! Caldrail the Inebriated Thracian cannot make out who it is but stumbles in front of Northernus Nielius who falls into the arms of an elderly matron. Not deterred, Caldrail grins wildly as he forgets the subtleties of cat litter....

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