Open Chronicles The Upper Crust (Romance Among Elites)

Tzuriel Alanthis

Merchant King Of Arethil
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108
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An auspicious occasion is called to order in the heart of the great city of Alliria. Courtesy of the merchant counsel a huge market square was cleared out and decorated, market stalls replaced by refreshment tables, banners and streamers replaced with hanging lights of Dwarven craft strung through the air between buildings and providing a soft yellow light over the square.
A huge bubbling fountain took center stage but left plenty of room for guests to meander, dance, eat, drink, or what have you.
Several bands of highly talented musicians were cued up to entertain for as long as the celebration continues.

Yes, celebration. The granddaughter of one of the counsel members is having her birthday of twelve years old and the doting grandfather decided to share his joy with all of the upper crust of society.

Wine flows freely, food and other drink in great abundance with servants, maids and butlers attending to the guests or their personal charges.
Tzuriel Alanthis sat on the lip of the fountain nursing a glass of red wine, he was dressed in the customary finery of his dark suit. The musicians were in full swing, a light-hearted tune to get the night going, pockets of dancers formed among the crowd twisting and twirling with the lively music.
Many who knew him observed that Tzuriel would normally be among them but he suddenly found himself in a more thoughtful and reflective mood, while ladies skirts billowed around there legs as they spun about him Tzuriel found himself staring deep into the third of wine that remained in his glass. The night was young and so was he... But it was almost as if shadows clung around the edges of his mind and made him suddenly feel terribly old.

Thus it was with great effort that he averted his attention back to the sights around him and stood up, abandoning his glass of wine while he stepped out in search of an open hand to dance with. This melancholy state was simply not like him and he had to distract himself quickly to regain a sense of who he was.

A pretty face eventually did stand out to him, so he approached with practiced elegance and politeness.
"Would the lady honor me with a dance?"
 
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Reactions: Farzad Oldsummer

Farzad Oldsummer

Dungeon Delver D.D.
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46
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He stumbled and fumbled his way into the court of colour and noise. A display of finery and influence laced the merchant isle, the customary song of haggling replaced with the muse of lyre and violins as woman forlorned their earthly duties and let loose into the swing of dance and display. It was a good thing it was night, but even than the pinch and sting of heat that radiated the world gave Farzad a migraine. One would ask how he made it here, the man of ignoble birth, a bloodline mired in explosion and ill-control and finally a reputation for ditching before paying. Overall, Farzad wasn't exactly a reputable name.

Yet, he managed to flounder his way in.
Assuming he had to pay. With a concerto of fantastic like this, colour, people and influence he was sure he wasn't meant to sneak in. He was mainly here for the food. Influence was often daunting, powerful and overall burdensome. "People asking for favours?" He said to an unlucky woman forced to be near the obvious wizard wannabe. "Seems like so much effort. The mail, the.." He looked at what was in their effeminate hand, a single toffee apple, still lacquered with fine amber sludge. "Oh wow we got toffee apples? Hey where did you get that from?" He asked like some lout of informality, even uncouth amongst street sailors. She tried to speak up but he took another deep spill of amber coloured wine, which he was starting to assume from it's foul and bitter taste to be beer. "Damn this wine is foul though." She wasn't able to get a word in edgewise with the man of a million vibrancies. "Oh, I see where they are. Here." He took out a small sliver of paper, the calligraphy at least was some high quality, the ink perfumed with the smokey scent of charred magic. "I like you." He said as he side stepped past them putting the sharp corner edge into the toffee apple, giving them a finger gun and a wink, "You ever need a Wizard to solve like a monster problem..." He paused and shook his head, "Call someone else on that actually, but you need something deciphered hit me up." He took another hefty swig of the amber liquid passing with a rolling step around and through the danvers, matching their grace with the agility of a street urchin between a canopy of legs.

He was quickly ingratiating himself as someone not to be welcomed, nor invited again.
He didn't pay too much worry for that, peoples opinion of him were often skewed into dislike which never phased him as he passed through towns like a fish passes through an ocean. Always more land to cover, more people to tick off and always a way to avoid the tide of hate. It was a poor mindset but when you face death as often as he did and in his line of work, the opinions of people become nothing more than white noise in the background of life as he passed and bumped into something he shouldn't have. An elegant lady, the face of the party he'd say. A man draped in black was heading her way and Farzad gave nothing more than a, "Whoops. 'pologies." An informal, halfway rude as he kept moving and sliding between the twirl of skirts for a toffee apple.
 
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Divina Rosenstern

Merchant Noble
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14
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Divina loathed large gatherings.

She could be negotiating a new trade deal to Elbion, or talking to her foreman about the latest developments of expansion tenant housing near the Reach. She could be doing so many more important things, yet here she was, standing alone, avoiding most of the general wealthy crush. Long dark brown hair was pinned back away from her face, giving her a clear view with sharp, cool blue eyes, pale skin highlighted by a demure cut azure gown that, despite its' simple appearance, had the sheen of wealth to it.

Only one piece of jewelry glinted, a necklace around a pearly throat, and a lightweight black jacket over her shoulders. And yet, worked into the cloth were subtle designs in matching silk thread; those of oceans, of stars, of murals of lands long established as myth. If one looked closely enough, they would see the rich embroidery on sleeve cuffs and against her throat.

She could hear the whispers, she hardly cared. The Black Widow, she knew the rumors and despised them. Let small-minded, petty noblemen with beds poorer than the finest merchant hands whisper behind foppish hands and snicker.

One day, this could all be hers. She played the game of patience well. Her gaze panned over a colorful young man causing a small ruckus to the eastern corner (Farzad Oldsummer ) and peripherally, another young man (Tzuriel Alanthis ) as well as many others.

She did not deign to socialize just yet, but to take a sip of pale golden wine and enjoy the heat, the sounds, the fortunate few that attempted vain joviality.

Farzad Oldsummer Tzuriel Alanthis
 

Victoria O'Connor

Red Vampire
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16
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Three... two... one...

Sunset.

Victoria stepped out of a large marble building near the festivities. She had been biding her time by selling a few pieces of jewelry. "Family heirlooms," she had lied. She would never part with any of her own family's collection, but she had picked up a few trinkets over the centuries that she no longer desired, and the shopkeeper was very impressed with how well preserved the pieces were, given their age.

She still held a black parasol above her head, and wore long thin gloves to further shield her skin from the light. The shadows of the city had grown long, however, and so long as the sun was no longer directly beating down on her, she would be alright. Once she was certain that indeed this was the case, she handed the parasol to one of the manservants that accompanied her.

"Keep back, I don't want you getting in my way," she spat at the thralls before continuing on to the illuminated square. It was a treasure trove of wealth and influence, and she wouldn't have some mindless buffoons embarrassing her. She moved gracefully, almost ghost-like, through the crowds. The food and drink did not interest her, although she made sure to feign an interest.

What did interest her was the young Divina Rosenstern. The vampire had come to this event not as a monster, but as a Lady. If Greyrock were to regain its former wealth and influence she would need to reestablish the trade routes that had been dissolved by time, and make friends and allies of the elite. This woman had the look of riches about her, and something else that drew Victoria's attention. Obviously Divina's beauty helped, but her expression spoke of more. She wasn't dancing, she was watching. Victoria liked a sharp mind.

Before she could approach, however, she was intercepted.

"Would the lady honor me with a dance?"

Not wanting to start her introductions poorly, she turned, smiled, and gave the young man her hand. "Of course, sir. The honor would be mine." She glanced back at Divina. Their meeting would have to wait.

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This evening's attire