The bitter Autumn winds have finally blown through Sacramento and turned the freehold icy cold, making the week of Christmas the perfect time for the Court of Autumn to make way for the Court of Winter, and the season of sorrow to rule for another period
The Iceland skating rink has been hired by the Court to act as a suitable place to hold the event, and it is feeling very festive. Red, gold and green decorations stream across the walls and hang from the ceiling, and an eight foot Christmas tree has been arranged also with a large number of presents underneath. Next to the tree is a temporary stage area and a microphone, and the enscorcelled DJ of the Empty Orchestra has been hired to provide the karaoke. Even Sam, the mortal bartender, has been drafted in to prepare the food and the drinks, paid quite modestly as well if anyone asks. Tables and chairs have been laid out for those in attendance and Big Swilla minds the door, cold eyes staring out behind his hoarfrost laden beard. Despite his appearance, someone has also stuck a 'PRIVATE PARTY' sign on the entrance just in case the 7'1 bouncer isn't noticed.
Oh, and the big patch of ice in the centre of the building is open for anyone wishing to have fun ice skating, and skates have been laid out at the side free of charge. The snowskin on hand helping with the sizes, Duncan, is Iceland's hockey coach and someone who doesn't get out much. Slim build with short, icicle-spiked hair, his crisp blue eyes watch and wait for the party to get started.