1501 Monomacy Court

[Asa]

Asylum.

Most nights, it's a freak show. Half costume party, half fetish scene, you can find anything you're looking for -- except vanilla AKA boring. Tonight, it's closed to the general public.

Private party.

Having an exclusive party is always good for business, but the accounting for tonight has little to do with cover charges and bar tabs. Asa had learned the first year that he was Prince why Freddrick had put the onus of throwing Courts on everyone else. Monsters need to be fed... and they were all monsters. Sometimes it's Blood, and sometimes... it's Blood.

He was also curious to see what effect the very public announcement had. How many had let their Requiems be pulled into the orbit of this evening's entertainment?

Security is attentive at the door, with a list of names. For those not on the list, their entry will be barred. For those that are... welcome.

The usually bustling club is empty, but all of it accouterments are on full display. Suspension gear, oddly shaped furniture, rings set in walls to affix chains to, and more than one Saint Andrew's cross. All of that is peripheral, though, to the set piece erected for the evening.

Inside the cage, on the pristine white leather couch, sits the Prince of the Domain, dressed neatly in a tailored black suit.

[Cabochard]

Rina arrived, as early as she thought appropriate. To most Courts, she would have meandered in at some point, unless she had important business to deal with. Not so tonight. Tonight, the Invictus had to show its colors, show its strength, and put it behind Baldwin. That way, when he won, the united front would be terrifying. If one Unconquered could do that, they would think, what could they all do? And they would be appropriately cowed. Not that they weren't already. But a reminder never hurt.

In that spirit, she had dressed properly. A comfortable black dress, with red stripes. As she entered, she affixed a pin bearing the symbol of the Invictus prominently upon the left side of her chest. She moved over to the Prince, and bowed deeply before him. "Your Grace. How does the evening find you?" She kept her eyes fixed on the ground at his feet, her head bent down even as she stood from the bow.

[Thomas Galilei]

The Prince is there when Thomas arrives; he knows more by the protests of his inner Predator than by the gentleman lounging in the cage--no one in the city emits a bigger Beast, something always known, but never fully understood until present, when every step forward is an act of courage.

[ri]http://kern.humdrum.net/wp-content/uploads/2013/01/stylish_20urn.jpg[/ri]He reassures his Beast that if Grace Alder Clarke, Duke of Sacramento, Prince of the Domain wanted Thomas dead, it could be arranged in any number of ways: a burst of explosive violence, too fast to be seen, too powerful to be resisted, as happened to Korvin, who failed for decorum; a snap of his fingers or a word spoken, and the Kindred of the City would descend upon Thomas like a swarm of killer bees, as happened to Gunnar, who failed for obedience; the Prince could seize the helm of Thomas' will, make him denounce his God and saw his own head off with his fingernails; or, the Prince could simply ask it of Thomas, who has sworn his will to both decorum and obedience--and it would be done. It proves little comfort, but danger aides in the display of respect.

At last, Thomas approaches the white leather couch and the man with the tailored suit upon it. He bows, deeply from the waist, beside Ms. Yui. Surely the Prince, who'd first recognized Thomas' heart for servitude, would see the invisible word "Fujita" between the ones "Thomas" and "Galilei." "Your Grace: as always, it is my great honor to offer my humble service and utmost respect. May it ever be so between us."

Thomas wears a simple black suit, respectful without claiming any importance. He bears a silver burial urn adorned with cherry blossoms beneath his arm. However the night goes, he is sure to need it. Handy to have priests around for such things.

  Tatemae, Perfect Calm: 3 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2015-01-14 22:20:59		Thomas Galilei rolls 7 to Manipulation + Expression + Kamen (10 Again)		10, 1, 10, 6, 8, 7, 4, 4, 2		3 successes

[Martha Villiers]

Conscious that the Aslum is a public place with strict expectations of dress code, Martha made sure to dress the Hell up.She spent hours on her make-up, pressing her blouse and getting the scarlet gloss of her lipstick just right.
As she hobbles into the Asylum, she emits no Beast and is alabaster pale.

Martha is wearing a black top hat and tail coat. Making full use of a simple cane to mesh with the 'look' required for the white tie and white waistcoat vest. In contrast, her hair is dyed raven black and there's more than a hint of scarlet red lipstick and blusher.

A generous sprinkle of lavender scent... minty toothpaste added to the neat presentation with a crisp white blouse... White gloves... Her fishnet pantyhose reveals the sleek tone of her single muscular leg.

A flesh leg more well suited to that of a dancer, or perhaps an athlete. Regardless, she's clearly undergone an amputation at some point: her left leg is replaced with a simple metal peg-leg from high up her thigh.

For those initiated into the mysteries of the DC Universe Martha is dressed as Zatanna, Mistress of Magic.



She was ready to meet the cold gaze of familiar faces and the stares of the new. She was also mentally prepared for the clash of Beasts within.

Yet, oddly, the sight of the grim steel cage seemed novel. Unexpected.

Latin mottoes seemed, she mused privately, to feature at the Elysian Fields. As she limped within the dark and eerie remodelled Asylum, she saw the cage and the Duke waiting. Imperious.

It brought to her mind Suetonius.

Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant

Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you

Seeing the Prince, deciding he'd likely be in no mood for frivolity, she gripped her cane and dipped a curtsey as deep as her peg leg would allow. When the chance arises, she will offer, with her very best, most sincere, humility;

"Good evening, Your Royal Highness."

[Konrad Roth]

The news about Court is no surprise to Konrad. He's been anticipating it for a good while now since Michael came to him hoping for a miracle bullet. There just wasn't an easy fix for the guy, and now the Gangrel might as well have his ash on his hands for it. Ah well, they'll both get over it.

The Savage comes dressed in his usual black leather jacket, like a second skin to the cautious Kindred. The Fetish club Elysium, Asylum, is new to Konrad though since it's lacking the usual crowd he can only imagine what the place must be like in full swing. He stands at the door with a hard-shell carrying case in hand, shut tight with a key lock whose partner lie in his pocket. It is merely a method of transport for the goods he promised the Daeva Priscus. Something tells him the item may have a bigger role to play in tonight's main event.

Konrad checks in with security, but stresses to them that no one is to touch the case, and that he's willing to wait while they contact their superiors if necessary. He might have just cloaked the thing to avoid the hassle, but rules were rules at Elysium. Besides, he needed to speak to a higher up anyways at some point tonight so might as well get that over with.

He waves politely as familiar faces pass on through ahead of him smirking as if everything is hunky dory. Beneath the surface his Beast paces impatiently, eager to strike out at the competing blood-suckers.

Was that Martha?

[Jaqen]

August Galloway enters the Asylum. Oh how he remembered this club.

The now beardless man smiled in rememberance as he leaned on his cane, walking through the area making it painfully clear the cane was a necessary impliment on which his skill at walking depended. While at a glance the cane might appear wood with it's dark mahogony tones, it's shine and occasional hollow tap revealed it made of metal, likely aluminum. Only a fool brought something like a wooden cane to court, even if a cane was necessary wooden canes never were.

Not wishing to take any of the spotlight of tonights somber yet exciting event, Galloway finds himself a seat out of the way. First he would see who had arrived before him and who had yet to show...however Upon seeing His Grace, the Alder Duke of Sacramento 'Gus had to go and say hello. It was not a question of should he. It was necessitated by Courtesy.

He waited until after Miss Villier curtsied and gave her introduction, not knowing how similar their timing had been lately. When she had, August made no move to talk, he simply bowed deep. As deep as someone who had left his post unattended for months without word, as deep as someone who had done his Covenant a discourtesy. Then August bowed lower. The whole motion took less than two seconds, but August knew that the Princes well trained eyes would see and understand.

Finally he simply smiled, looked exceedingly happy to be there, and didn't say a single damn word unless someone felt like addressing him standing in his fresh new Ivory White suit with it's Golden accents.

August 2.0

487px-Galloway_2.0.jpg

[Hildegarde Bingen]

Hildegarde appears, her pale face blank, and hidden behind large sunglasses and a black beret (a new one). She is wrapped in a black coat with black boots peeking out underneath; it would appear the Lord is waring black fashionable jeans this night. The Lord paused on the threshold as she normally did, managing to control the pose as it locked, briefly about her.

Once that ritual, particular to her had been forced through, she stalked into the Asylum. For the moment, Hildegarde appears much more interested in the clubs accoutrements than the cage, or indeed, the company of her fellow predators.

[Josephine Sterling]

Josephine Sterling, Priscus of Lords and Ladies, entered the dungeon that was the Asylum in a new Uniform. She much preferred her old one, for such was much more suiting to her appearance, but this new garb was more representative of her. Her dedication and her authority. For, in addition to her black and purple robes, a golden necklace graced the front of her vestments, the precious metal worked into the explicit shape of a spear. Such was more than demonstrative enough for the Kindred, and though odd, not terribly interesting for the kine, and such made it a perfect adornment. Well, perhaps not perfect. She would much have preferred it in the metal of her namesake, though that would not fit her Clan's colors. Symbology could be, at times, tiresome for those with artistic inclination.

The same could not be said for those who designed the equipment which adorned the walls of the Asylum, however. They looked delightfully inventive. She would have to try them out sometime. Perhaps Cordoba might be interested, she thought with a pleasant smile as she glided further into the room. Nevertheless, it was an idle thought, and thus passing and unfitting for the events of the night to come. That was the true reason for her change in garb. Tonight was a night devoted to death, to shedding these immortal coils and witnessing the last vestige of a soul bound for Damnation. Thus it was a night ripe for passing the word. An opportunity to prey upon the vulnerabilities in their ignorance, or to beseech their curiosity. Either would serve their Purpose. The Lord's purpose. That was anything but idle.

Her glide turned into a stride as she hastened forward, smile disappearing behind a placid mask of porcelain flesh, her trajectory set for Galilei and the Prince, though she slowed upon seeing a face she was not accustomed to. One which was surprisingly less -- hairy compared to when she had last seen it.

"Galloway," Josephine pronounced melodically, stepping towards the man. "How fascinating to see you here, in the flesh. Might I ask why you have arrived? You and I have not spoken yet."

August Galloway Jaqen

[Edwin Bridges]

Asylum. Eddie had yet to venture into this world but was quietly excited to be doing so tonight. Sure, it wasn't on a 'normal' evening but even though business had picked up, the Lord was not going to miss an event like this.

Monomacy. The word filled Edwin with small part dread, Hel-of-a-lotta interest. He had never witnessed such an event in person, only hearing about it through word-by-mouth. The Right of Destruction was a precious commodity to have, both for protection and as complete control over the populace; for good reason, in Eddie's opinion. You simply don't go around causing harm or potential harm to kindred for whatever whim springs to mind. This wasn't a reflection of being 'good'. It was a matter of survival. Monsters roamed everywhere and he had seen first hand what could happen if one ventured down the path of the Beast. Civility was the key in maintaining the Man.

So, for tonight's little party, Edwin had dressed according to the dress code for the club. Basically, black jeans, as tight as a can be with chains dangling from the belt loops, held up with yet another buckle, this one more in tune with his heritage. His boots were shiny black, the laces open and pulled over his jeans. And that was it. A bare torso for the evening, no weapons to be hidden, tattoos on show for the club that reveled in the fringe.

Despite the appearance of a thug, Edwin was an artist and his body (and the bodies of others), his canvas. However, even though his work had grown with clients, it had opened up an opportunity to appreciate another art; the martial kind. Same canvas, different tool. As he passed security, Edwin had a grin on his face that told him that he could perhaps learn something else tonight as he looked upon the erected cage. The Beasts present were one's known, at least peripherally. The Prince stood out on his crisp couch and Edwin had to give the man more credit for the way he simply was. Powerful and forthright.

Well, that's new. His current Priscus talking with his former-Priscus. Looks like shit can float up the river.

Konrad was present, which was cool. Edwin tipped a nod towards the Gangrel. As was Martha! She wasn't dead then, so to speak? Huh. He honestly thought she had met FD. It was cool that she hadn't.

And Vivian York . Always looking hot. Always enticing. He couldn't help himself.

"That necklace is beautiful," Edwin commented honestly as he approached her, wondering if she wanted company or not.