The annual Bachanalia had arrived in the largest venue in the city. All of the most influential people known to the world were going to be there to get drunk, party hard, and indulge in the primal pleasures of man.

And you had to serve these people drinks. As you go to grab another large bottle of grape wine, you feel a hand grab the empty bottle from your tray. You look behind you to see a man with long purple hair and tan skin. He gives you a small smirk.

"What a pretty mortal you are," he purrs, his voice slurred slightly.