Tournament Play (1709 Formal Court)

[Yumyumcrow]

On the rural fringe north of Sacramento, out where North Natomas and Rio Linda fade into the rural countryside, there was a little hobby farm. Not a big acreage but well situated away from the main roads and screened by a combination of deliberate landscaping and orchards - orchards now ripe with the scent of fruit ready to be picked. The neighbours were not particularly close, and given the properties habit of running through owners briskly, no one really cared much about what went on there. Thanks to the clever landscaping, the adage "out of mind, out of sight," was very much the local mindset.

That was why it was so perfect.

And that was why a certain Mister Marvyn Stax, Librettist of the Invictus, had sought to obtain the property. After all, he had a Formal Court and Tournament to organise.

A line of lanterns cast a warm glow into the rich blue-black of the night: glittering breadcrumbs that lead from the entrance up to the house proper. The house is lit up within and without, a cozy brightness of low wattage bulbs to create a homely glow. Inside it is all fashionable wickerwork and cushions, setting off the red brick of the walls. The courtyard has been prepared for the tournament: a circle for melee and hand-to-hand combat; a line of mannikins for gunplay. There is even a long trestle table filled with expensive food. It is a waste, of course, but Stax has cunningly ensured the food is also serves a decorative purpose for it surely will not get eaten.

The real food stands at attention or else sits with artificial ease. Some of them have even been given leave to go off and play in the pool that Stax had recently added for just this occasion. Some have gravitated to observe the disturbing and strange artistry of the small Carnival troupe. A few brave souls have snuck off into the orchard and are doing what comes naturally.

Marvyn Stax, dressed snappily in up-to-date formal fashion with spats on his black shoes, makes one last round before he waits for the Kindred of Sacramento to appear.

There are other guests of course. The price he must pay for his allegiance. The cost of transacting his business.

This is a Formal Court. All Kindred in the Domain are expected to turn up. Whether or not they join in the festivities is up to them.
Selena Saber Sloth @unlimited_sink Orianna Parable Deltaomega Psychangel Woland deltadream

And yes, if anyone needs to ask:

There is a small, but discreet, security detail on the perimeter; and the herd has been sufficiently to not remember / not speak of the night's events.

[Robert Cross]

Cross parks at the farm, having followed the directions on the notice posted by Mr. Stax. The ride out to the location had been pleasant enough. Pleasantly quiet at least. All the windows of his town car rolled down to let the fragrances of the night wash over him. He'd even stopped for a snack on the way.

  Feeding Roll, 1 suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2017-09-04 15:30:18		Robert Cross rolls 4 to Strength3 + Subterfuge1 (10 Again)		6, 4, 8, 7		1 success

Beside him, on the passenger seat, is a duffel bag. He looks at it for a long moment after cutting his engine. In that bag is a hunting knife, a 9mm handgun, and a shotgun. The last is a new addition, taken from a member of the Brood no longer among the living or the undead.

Before stepping out of his vehicle, he places the bag back behind the passenger seat, out of sight. He's not sure if outside weapons are welcome at this tournament. For now, he'll leave it in the car. And if his collection of toys should be necessary, he'll return for them.

And then he's out, striding through the night air. The car locked tight behind him. He follows the lanterns up to the house and into it, ignoring the Breathers scattered here and there. Taking in the decor and looking out over the courtyard, inspecting the preparations for the tournament.

Well, this is different...

Finally, his eyes land on the man himself, Marvyn Stax. He almost snarls at the weaker Beast, but doesn't. There will be plenty of time for snarling later. Instead, he approaches the smartly dressed Pale, his own understated black suit and white dress shirt open at the throat looking cheap by comparison. Not that it matters, given the state of his scarred flesh.

"Good evening, Mr. Stax. A pleasure to see you again. This," his eyes take in their surroundings, "is all very impressive, I must say." The last time the Burned Man had spoken to this, particular Kindred was the night he'd told Cross about the Book possessed by a certain hunchback. Wonder how long it will take for that to come up...

[Alice Hart]

It had been Lyssa in the end who brought the notice to her attention, and it was Lyssa who directed her to the sight, making sure her lady didn't end up in some other field. Though with the effort Strax had put into transforming the farm into something magical, Alice thought she'd find her way regardless.

Alice was trying something new, which seemed to be a recurring theme since her waking. She allowed Lyssa to choose her outfit, and had been....mildly creeped out that Lyssa had been buying and hording clothing that she wanted see Alice in.

While Alice didn't feel comfortable with the causal nature of the choice for a formal court, she appreciated the simplicity and the modesty of it. Or the perceived simplicity. Lyssa told her it was blue, and that there was no embellishments, and Alice couldn't feel any embroidery or detailing.

On their approach, Lyssa was quickly whispering the visual details into Alice's ear, who was here, which Alice didn't need. Twin spikes of hatred and fear rushed through her as the Wraith hisses, thrashing. It takes her a moment, now long out of practice to rein in the Wraith, to quiet it until it was an intelligible murmurer beneath her skin.

"Good evening," comes her always hollow voice, addressing everyone, then she turns to way the Wraith and Lyssa directed. "Mister Strax, thank you for putting all this together."

[Alessandra]

The night of the Tournament had arrived. And what made it weird, was that it was also a Formal Court. Which meant dressing up, but dressing up too much because of the Tournament.

So instead of a dress, she settled for a sheer black dress shirt with black dress pants. Which had tiny, silver pinstripes, which made them dressy. At least she thought so. But should she decided to take part in the games, she could move. Instead of heels, she had on a pair of boots, which fit under her pant leg. Functional and looked ok. She piled her long hair up in a messy clip, curls and numerous pieces fell around her face.

As she pulls up in the Torino, she secured her guns in their case on the passenger seat. The lock was secured and the key placed in a pocket. Sure, she could throw on her holster and wear them around, as Reeve she had the privilege. But she was choosing not to. She could come back and get them if she wanted to. The black box was slide under the seat, out of sight. Cause you never know and she didn’t want to have to hunt down a thief tonight.

Walking into the area, she was taken aback by the amount of effort Stax had put into it. Seems the guy had a knack for these things. The Kine were a surprise, and looked quite tasty. And she wondered their purpose.

Her steps pause as she observes those present, and her Beast makes its displeasure known. Stax caused sheer anger and fury. His weak Beast causing her own to see red, and wanting to see the red beneath his skin. The same with Longstreet. His weak Beast on display and almost insulting. Her Beast beared its fangs in her mind, cooing in her ear to allow it to tear into those weak ones. Vivian, her Coterie Mate, was different. This was a challenge to hers, and it wanted to show its strength, so it was the dominate Beast here. But not tonight.

Cross and Alice’s Beasts were pleasantly quiet, which was welcome.

Approaching the crowd, a small smile appears on her lips,

“Good evening everyone.” A bow was then offered to Alice, “Seneschal Hart, love the suit on you, looks great!” It was something different than she had seen Alice in, but it looked good on her.

Looking to Stax, “Mister Stax, I must say, this looks amazing. You certainly pulled out all the stops, quite impressive.” She complimented.

“Deputy Cross,” she says with a nod of her head, “Madame York, a stunning look,” another nod, “Robert.” All said with a smile to each face. It still felt weird and odd to say his first name, but he had asked, and she agreed. The last time that happened things quickly spiraled out of control, and she didn’t want that again. But then again, the attitude that went with the last one lead to a lot of the headaches.

[Yumyumcrow]

Marvyn Stax is a peacock, strutting his stuff on his stage. He moves smoothly to greet the first arrivals, the expensive cloth of his suit whispering while his gleaming shoes crunch on the gravelled courtyard. His face is a pleasant mask that even manages to reach his eyes on this occasion.

"Well hello! Welcome! Please situate yourselves. Partake of the venery provided by the Unconquered this night."

If offered a bow, he responds in kind. If someone extends the hand of friendship, the Librettist will take it. His touch is warm, blushed, and curiously strong despite his apparently limp grip.

"Thank you, Mister Cross. I hope the night will give you ample diversion from your usual routine. Please enjoy."

"Mister Longstreet... Robert?" The Librettist's eyes dart to the Reeve for confirmation. He does not press the matter once it becomes clear Robert Longstreet wishes to be left alone.

"Why thank you, Madam York. I may yet hold onto the place... If tonight proves a success. Please enjoy the venery. It is there for your pleasure."

"Who is your tailor? Please, Seneschal, you must tell me! Delightful! Why thank you. I do my best with the tools at my disposal."

"Thank you, Madam Reeve. I hope that you have an enjoyable night." He moves closer and whispers carefully. "I have a guest who would like to make your acquaintance. I understand you hold similar positions and share the same problems. If you are interested, seek me out later." Alessandra Orianna
Robert Cross unlimited sink has taken the time to pass through the open house. The ground floor is rather empty at the moment. A small group of breathers are singing, enjoying the fragrant warmth of the conservatory attached to the house. The rumpus room has been claimed by a couple: a tired looking woman in a party dress, and a man in a rumpled suit who has claimed as much of the seat as he can; a man with a partially shaved head, forelock and moustache; he see's Cross and grins with ruby red lips. Ambient sounds drift from the upper floor. Something is going on there, too.

[Robert Cross]

Cross grips Longstreet's hand, happy to see his fellow Haunt and Believer despite the protests of his Beast. "Brother Longstreet," he says by way of greeting. He'd like to add some joke: Long way from the catacombs, aren't we? But doesn't. Not in front of their host.

And then the procession starts, the parade of stronger Monsters. As always it's difficult, when your predatory instincts keep telling you to get the fuck out, but your eyes report only stunningly beautiful women. For a moment, Cross clenches his jaw, forcing himself to relax.

"Ms. York, a pleasure as always," he says, scarred lips drawn into a tight smile. "I hope you're ready for a little action tonight?" Was that a bit of risqué word-play from the Burned Man? Wonders never cease.

Before he can continue, Alice approaches. And it's clear that Cross is caught off guard. In a good way. Those cold, blue eyes light up for a moment as he looks the Seneschal over, and the tightness of of his smile loosens into a grin. Then the display is all over, his expression returns to its normally neutral caste. It's as if he'd forgotten to don his mask of professionalism for a moment. He offers the Doll a half bow. "Hello, Seneschal. You're looking lovely this evening." As always. Cross doesn't spare Lyssa a look.

A respectful nod is given to Alessandra, even as he swallows another growl, struggling with his Beast. "Reeve Antinori," the Burned Man studies her for a long moment. "Looks like we'll finally get to train this evening, in a manner of speaking..." Oh yes, Cross is definitely looking forward to tonight's festivities.

Finally, his attention returns to Stax. "Yes, diversion. Speaking of, I trust you'll inform us when the tournament is set to begin. And of the rules we should observe, of course." He takes a step closer to their host, "And may I ask, who are the guests back there, the woman and the man with the...interesting haircut, on the couch?" Cross hadn't liked the look of that grin.