Merthoc had found herself advancing rapidly through not only her guild but the
social ladder as she spread the holy word of The Party through the Inn of the
Eternal Star. She had learned the wisdom of the Party Attendees before her,
being granted the ability to stave of both enemies of The Party and the
greatest weakness inherent to all mortals who wished to worship it:
exhaustion. Being unable to keep the party going. A failure equally spiritual,
social, and personal. The worst faux paux available. The first step on the
road to becoming forsaken by The Party: a Downer.

And yet, as she danced, rhymed, and generally dizzily spun herself through
life, she felt slightly left out of it. Something was fundamentally missing
from The Scene. In moments of doubt, the retinue of dancers that constantly
followed and narrated her life through movement would vanish out of the
corners of her eyes, replaced by unfamiliar faces. Immaculately powdered faces
hard and distant, their bowler caps sharply tilted downward as they rolled
their shoulders back accusingly.

To Merthoc (and probably only Merthoc) the message was clear: She was relying
on others' wisdom and talents to help her keep The Party going rather than
continuing her holy mission of becoming one of The Party's Lives. If she was
to be remembered forever amongst her fellow adherents, she would have to
become a self-sustaining party. Able to sew new costumes for both partying and
dancing, creating sustenance for not only the mortal vessel through food but
also for the ritual used to become more in tune with The Party: mixing really
fantastic drinks.

In order to become a Life of The Party, she would have to host her own,
created and sustained entirely on her own. As this was kind of a big ask for
someone who had only just become a Herald, she had settled on just hosting one
first while becoming proficient in the other Herald artistries.

The dancers, in response to Merthoc's "Does that work for you guys?" gesture,
tucked their knees in sharply and kicked out rhthymically, begrudgingly moving
their elbows and hands in counterpoint, before fading out of sight.