Submitted for your approval - Merle Highchurch, sole holder of 1999 Party Points. None can hold a candle to him at partying. Even the party gods hold him in awe. He has not held a party so huge and rowdy that he passed out and woke as the new deity of parties and partying… yet.
Nevertheless, the Dwarf knows how to tie one on.
Chesney’s is in full swing. The liquor is flowing, the music is blasting, and the nibbles are on fucking point because Merle got Taako to make them. He was insulted that Merle would dare to put on store bought pretzels and cocktail franks and therefore made his own.
Elves tend to exceed at everything they do. The Taaco twins are merely more so since they feel they have more to prove. It doesn’t matter that they’ve been surviving and proving it for the better part of two hundred years, they still have to go overboard every single time.
So, too, does Merle.
He’s had fifteen tankards of his Special Nectar Mead[1] and is dancing with anyone who can still stand after five. That list includes the Reaper crew, half of Team Sweet Flips, and (just barely) Taako, who won’t be outdone by his sister this time, damnit.
The decorative plants around Chesney’s started to dance along with the beat. Lianas and creepers spread out, wriggling like they, too, were dancing.
“Stoppit…” warned Lucretia.
“The party’s gonna come out somewhere,” he said, still jiggling. “If it ain’t the greens then…” he shrugged. 1999 party points, under certain circumstances, could alter reality itself.
“There are children present, Merle,” snarled Lucretia.
“Aight, your funeral,” Merle gestured and the plants returned to what passed for normal. It took a few more moments for different realities to assert themselves.
“AWRIGHT BOUNCE HOUUUUUSSE!” Magnus yawped, shedding his sharp corners and rushing in.
“HEY DAD, WHERE’D YOU GET THE BALL PIT?”
“HOLY FUCK IT’S AMUSE BOUCHE!”
“WHEE! FUCK YEAH! FIREWORKS!”
In ten minutes, the party would be off the hook.
[1] At this point in the game, it’s not wise to ask what the nectar is, or the exact process involved when Merle brews it. Suffice to stay that Barry invented a special, non-exploding still to brew it in within five cycles.