The lavender clad porters bowed out behind golden doors as the spectacle we had all long awaited began with the ceremonious music's first reverberations filling the hall, our heads, and indeed, our very souls. Seemingly solid wave-forms of sound emerged and engulfed, drawing us into the haunting tones of the spectral composition that dominated this, the grandest of all halls in the palatial estate of the Forever Non-Existent-but-Always, Master of the Infinite-Nothing, The All-at-Once-and-Never, Lizard King.
This was his affair and our expectations would doubtlessly be exceeded as the festivities intensified through-out the evening, always seemingly at their greatest apex, only to rise to higher and higher levels still, until the lightening of the eastern sky would signal the coming of the Dawn Beast. The fiery golden orb would herald the conclusion to the chaotic splendor, and our bodies, minds, and souls would embrace the gentle lull of the dreamless, death-like slumber that we would come to so richly deserve.
The invisible servants brought out a tray of immense proportion, made of an opalescent material, refracting a myriad of lights, shimmering with the beauty of the Aura-Borealis in the most violent photon rage of the Dawn Beasts history. Without the slightest disturbance to the carefully laid out table settings, unseen hands placed the giant covered platter in the center of the huge table.
Scents of seasonings so perfect and exotic that they inspired an erotic and nearly orgasmic reaction from those present wafted across the great hall. The undulation of pleasure from the mere aroma of this feast was already in excess of the loftiest critic’s expectations, and, in fact, the feast had yet to begin. Intonations of the ascension in mood and spirit were carried through the shimmering, pulsing air on waves of sound that teased and alluded to a crescendo, a climax to be long and rich, an eternity made of a single perfect moment.
A silhouetted hand slid through the steam pressing out from beneath the smooth rounded cover, feeling along the surface to find a hold by which to raise the throbbing, sweat-shrouded dome. In a raptured daze the party collectively took a deep breath of anticipation as the tempo aligned to the soft pulsing aura of the platter. With the luminous throbbing, the tempo gained from the driving roll of long ocean waves to the ready pulse of expectant lovers. A susurrus wave of hastened breaths and soft panting began in the guests as the steady acceleration of the tempo reverberated through us all, caressing our bodies, wooing our souls.
A cacophony of shattering crystal and intense screams rang through the hall as the tempo broke into a blanket of hard white noise, the now lurid crimson dome shot skyward, releasing a thick fog of succulent vapor, and staining the hall blood red. The aroma of the feast was full upon us, and the intensity of it was far beyond mortal pleasure's comprehension. The intensity of the screams belied more than mere orgasm, they were our efforts to remain cognant and aware of who and what we were, to not yield to the absolute darkness of release. The chaos ensued for what could pass for a lifetime--for a score of lifetimes. In the haze of the feast an innumerable orgy of pleasures gripped us, each intensifying until it became an unbearable Hell, and salvation was only a new pleasure, another wave crashing on our over-stimulated bodies, minds, and souls.
This was indeed no ordinary gathering, that was already quite certain, and as the mist dissipated and the ocean's waves ebbed, the realization of exactly why began to dawn on us all. This was to be the grandest feast, the most intense of banquets. Every bite was to be a new apex, every morsel a transcendent high. No words would pass as the entire congregation devoutly devoured the sacrament in abandon, reveling in the experience. This was the Lizard Flesh Banquet, and the main course, there amidst a garnish of exotic fruits and delicate blossoms, was no less than the elusive Broiled Host.
With the arrival of dawn, and the passage into a dark and forgiving slumber, we quietly and for one last time, thanked our Immaculate and most intensely Now-and-For-Never Friend, Host, and Main Course, The Lizard King.
The first floor was the working space, with crafting equipment for blacksmithing and tailoring, the two main professions in UO. There was also a mock stable with a stable hand, and in the kitchen, there was a cook. You could purchase NPC's and give them things to say in response to keywords spoken in their presence... the cook and the stable hand were that sort of NPC.
This was an early shot of the second floor... the dining room and seating area remainded the same, but the rest of the area was eventually filled out with more homey appointments as well. In UO, there was no global Auction House system, but you could place personal vendors in your home to sell your stuff at prices you set. The suit of armor was one such vendor. I always sold reasonably nice stuff I looted off my victims or stole at rock bottom prices to the benefit of my friends (who were the only ones who would visit my god-forsaken corner of nowhere).
The third floor was largely decorative and went thru many itterations. The entire floor eventually became a library designed to show off my collection of system generated and player-authored books, as well as a lot of the curiosities I had accumulated.
The one element of the third floor that always remained the same was this garden terraced room... the glowing orbs made the room a very nice space to be in at night. The Pentagram in the center concealed a teleport-pad that would send people to the 'top' of the forth floor.
