It's fun to be plastered 01
Last night I was sitting in Cheydinhall Bridge waiting for a couple of other paupers I had an appointment with - I was to judge their argument about which one of them is the master and who is the slave.
But it's not what I wanted to talk about. With nothing better to do until the given time, I was enjoying some of the finest beverages from the vast array the inn had to offer.
At one point I found myself staring blankly at the wall, and decided that either I'd had one drop too many, or the folks who plastered these wall got totally plastered themselves.
I quickly rejected the former, as it turned out I still could stand pretty much upright, straight like one of them Altmers with corks up their arses. Therefore it meant I had to do something about the latter.
I rolled up my sleeves, fumbled for a knife in my purse, and set off to work. After some chiseling, scraping, ripping, dressing, chipping, and a generous amount of cursing, I produced
a beautiful arrow-struck heart a mess of scratchy lines. Who knows, maybe in the end I had one flin or mazte too many...
Would you like to have this retex of Cheydinhal walls? For now it's only Cheydinhal, but as I visit pubs and inns in the other cities there may be more.
I'm going to use it anyway - I can just as well upload it, so that you don't have to ponder who's been plastered - you or the walls.