The laughter continues as more ale is served, ghostly figures are drawn to the raucous like moths to a flame. You tell vivid stories from your past and revel in the newfound company. It feels like home. Food begins to arrive and each succulent morsel is met with vocal appreciation and hearty laughter. Every flavor and texture reaches a new level of magnificence as you stay, present and content in the moment.
But, unbeknownst to you, time begins to slip away. Your worries slowly drift from your thoughts as the warmth of life fades away, your senses slip into a dark abyss of some unfamiliar realm. The peaceful, content atmosphere suddenly turns as your final resting place becomes solidified in ghostly translucence.
Without you noticing, you have become one of them. A soul lost in time, a soul caught in a timeless warp to celebrate the new Jarl in an endless feast. A coronation assembled by the dead, for the dead.