Open The Nitrozian Party (Closed)

[Melenna]

Torture, it was torture of the cruelest kind as Melenna was forced to step away from the table. Her fingers had been mere inches away from a freshly hot fruit tart dusted with powdered sugar, but then Mr. Sitanos had to go and ruin it. She reflexively froze as soon as he headed for his place at the table, wishing she was more fish than woman so she could turn transparent or shrink into some hidden crevice. Her intention had been nothing less innocent than to grab a snack as she had been bidden to, but with the sudden onset of finely dressed schmoozers, she knew she was in trouble. No one would forgive a slave for trespassing on what was now prime real estate for opportunity—most especially not her master.

The Konti snapped away from the table, wrists touching behind her back as she ducked her head and slunk towards the wall. Such a small gesture, however, wouldn't save her, as the room was flooding with guests, making the air suddenly full and hot as well as diminishing what space she had between herself and them. It didn't help that there was so much black, either, the stark contrast to her comparatively bright and opalescent gown drowning scale and skin. Despite the sudden, silent drama, she couldn't help but roll her eyes—just because it was the city of the Black Sun didn't mean the aristocrats had to indulge the dull color scheme. At any rate, she'd have to find some way to cope and blend in so she could escape without drawing attention to herself.

So she did what most Konti do best—she swam. Melenna had to adopt the right posture for the task, keeping her stride long and smooth while dipping her head just enough to let its silvered strands obscure her face. Rather than skimming the walls, she made right for the oncoming crowd, letting her shoulders slip past the arms and bodies of the humans without ever actually colliding with them. Something about the way she moved was just too slippery, bending here, giving there, parting the whole length of her gown through the eager crowd like a strand of water. When she made it to the other end, finally within the safety of the hall, she fully realized the magnitude of what she had escaped.

In the dining room, the decorated Nitrozian family sat at the head of a great number of guests, all dressed like Spring's first flowers. She caught sight of the white-haired man she'd run into just moments before, along with various other men and women whose faces were too intense to forget. It wasn't really the shapes of their lips and brows nor the lack of scales that made them haunting, but rather, the eyes, dancing with malignant thoughts and schemes. To a creature that had spent a lifetime on the hallowed White Isle, those sharp gazes and false smiles were stark and cruel.

A body-length shudder looped through Melenna's spine before she turned away from the elegant sight of the dining room, making her way back to the music hall with a slight pallor. She could only pray that her efforts for a slight meal had avoided Valerius' attention—he had seemed pleased, perhaps even made happier by her earlier performance, and she didn't want to loose what little headway she'd made from that moment. So until the guests were out and about the house again, she'd just rely on the strength from a previous meal, and it did come with silver lining. With everyone in the dining hall (or otherwise making themselves scarce with business and other sorts of engagements), she could simply relax with the musicians.

Blaze seemed to have a different idea. He was pacing across the stage with a furrowed brow, and the other members of his group were simply watching him with similarly frustrated expressions. When Melenna approached, she received nothing more than nods acknowledging her presence—she was nothing more than a slave, after all. The Konti wasn't in a particular mood to talk about what had just happened, either, and was thus more than happy to simply retake her seat on the stage and mildly pluck at her lute.

“So much for opportunity! 'You'll be a hit,' they say, 'receive hundreds of requests after such an auspicious appearance,' and what happens? We get abandoned while this stuffy lot stuffs their faces! Bah! No one appreciates art nowadays. It's all about glitz and glam and bad taste.” Blaze wrung his hands as he turned about, heading straight for the other end of the stage. He repeated his same complaints in about twelve different ways before Melenna finally had enough, raising her gaze from her lap to look at him.

“Do you think you're the center of the party? Who do you think all these people are here for?” The Konti's voice was rather sharp for being so light, only able to reach Blaze due to the quiet of the room.

“I'm paid to perform, not to be ignored! Do you know what recommendations I'll receive after this? None! These Nitrozians will forget I even existed!” The angry musician planted his fist into his opposite hand, grinding his teeth.

Melenna laughed, a strained, brief sound. “You don't pound a ballad over someone's head as if it were a cudgel and expect them to appreciate it. Much of the power of music comes from the power to establish mood, and that is what your talents were requested for.”

“Yeah, well, the only mood these people are in for is a bad one.” Blaze stopped his pacing long enough to glare back at her, folding his arms.

The Konti couldn't help but offer a small, puckered smile. “You can hardly expect good profit if that's what you mean to offer your employer. Your job is to please these people, and it shouldn't be so hard if it requires their lack of attention.”

“Goes to show what you know. Events like this are all just show—what matters is whose coin you attract. No listeners, no money. How long is that meal going to last, anyways?”

“Does it matter? Do you have to play for a crowd? The best music played is the kind you make for yourself.” Melenna stood to face the man, taking care to set her lute down at her chair's side.

Blaze only pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “Spoken like a true Konti.”

The strangest thing happened then—Melenna grinned. “I am but a puppet waiting for inspiration's pull. It is my true master, the only one that makes good use of my strings. If you can't play for your adoring audience, then why not play for the sake of your own enjoyment? Why not dance, have fun? Isn't that what a party is for?”

Blaze wasn't the only one who sneered at that. “Great, I'm getting social advice from a slave now.”

Melenna stretched her arms out for him, one foot poised in front of the other. “Would it hurt so much to dance?”

[Verilian]

The dinner was going smoothly. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, whether they were eating, mingling, or listening to the music. Sevris was quite the envy of the crowd, having taken the initiative and moved to sit right next to the patriarch of the Nitrozian family. Usually such a seat would be reserved for a more esteemed guest, but nobody in their right mind would put up a fuss in public just because the best seat had been taken. The social embarrassment would not be worth it, though it was possible that Sevris would get a scolding from the rest of his family after the party was over. "A pleasure, young lad. I make it to my business to know everybody worth knowing. You were recently made a soldier in the Ebonstryfe, were you not?" Small talk with Sitanos may not have seemed like much, but it could score big points in Ravokian society to do even that. Sitanos was of course probably sizing Sevris up as a potential investment, but at that moment, he seemed interested only in his food and casual conversation. As Valerius ate in his usual serious manner, he was joined by another Nitrozian, Trevinus, who took a seat next to him. Sometimes in a family as large as the Nitrozians it could be hard to tell how one was related to another, but Trevinus was a direct cousin to Valerius. He was rather well known and respected in the family, primarily for his efforts concerning the terrorist organization, The Rising Dawn. Trevinus had been at the center of some of the most lethal blows against the terrorists since they first surfaced, and was one of the main Acolytes in charge of the efforts to hunt them down. "Well, at least the food looks good," he commented as he took a seat next to Valerius. "How has life at the KRI been treating you, cousin?" Zeke, along with the couple who introduced themselves as Adam and Bridgett, as well as many others including Amelia Cross all took seats at the table a bit further down from the head. Across from Amelia was a rather large man who was busy stuffing his face. He stopped when he noticed the woman, however, taking a gulp from his cup of wine before leaning forward and squinting at her, studying he face. "You're the Cross girl, aren't you? Dominick's daughter? Yes, yes, I thought that was you. I used to be friends with Dominick." That bit was a lie, though it was possible he had some sort of interaction with Amelia's father in the past. "My name's Aaron, by the way. Aaron Nitrozian. So what does a young Cross girl like yourself do for a living?" As for Clyde, he would never make it to the dinner table. After Aislin left, Clyde was approached by a familiar, yet likely unwelcome face. From a distance he might not have even recognized her, she looked terrible, but up close there was no mistaking her. It was Samara. She was dressed as beautifully as any woman attending the party, wearing only the finest clothes as was befitting of a woman of her rank, but physically she looked terrible. The sleeves of her gown were long, though when she lifted her cup to her lips Clyde could see fresh scars covering her arms. She was thin, and pale. "Well, well. If it isn't mister Clyde Sullins," she said, trying to sound smug, but there was a faint hint of something, an undertone that suggested something was wrong. Gone was the confidence and sarcasm that usually saturated her voice. She was but a shell of the woman Clyde last saw out in the Syliran Wilderness. "And what have you been up to since I last saw you? You didn't come straight back to Ravok, from what I heard." Outside I'tram was trying to search the belongings of one of the guests. The man's initial reaction was surprise, and then he became defensive. He tried to argue, but in the end relented. "Alright, you can check my bag, if you must." The bag was offered, rather roughly, to I'tram to be checked.. but if the slave paid attention, he might notice that the man quickly slipped something from the bag and dropped it into his pocket before handing it over. And if he did try to check the man's pockets, the man would throw a fit. While all this was going on, things inside were going smoothly.. but there was something missing. There was no music, not that anybody noticed. But that would soon change. Blaze was angry, he had nobody to perform for, but there was still one set of guests who had not arrived. Walking past I'tram to the other guard and being let in right away, a group of five entered the building. The Lark family, fashionably late as usual, had finally arrived. No party was complete with out a Lark. Three of them joined the others at the dinner table, while two headed straight for the music room. Noticing the band was not playing, one of the Larks immediately called for a good dance tune, putting Melenna and the rest back to work. It wasn't long before others joined them, and Blaze got what he wanted. All the while Inoadar spied on the guards, and they spied on him, and nothing happened. At least, not until Inoadar heard a familiar voice approaching him and drawing his attention. "Oh my, look who it is! I wouldn't have expected to find you here." Alice Lark, the flirty barmaid from the spot who liked to tease Inoadar every time he came in, had somehow managed to spot him and walked right over, a huge smile on her face. She was beautiful, as always, her hair done up and wearing one of the finest dresses Inoadar had ever seen. "Well, aren't you going to ask me to dance," she asked, offering a hand to Inoadar.

[Clyde Sullins]

It would be clear to anyone at the party that saw Clyde, that he was not normally overly sociable, and the entire party made him a bit uncomfortable. It was not helped by the fact that the first person he had gathered the courage to speak to, had said hello, and then summarily dismissed him and left. He fought the sudden urge to create a ball of flame, and toss it at the back of the woman's head... She would have no idea how close she came to just that happening. But that was just his djed talking, and he quickly pushed the thought away, taking in a deep calming breath to clear out the bad thoughts... He had no reason to be doing magic, it would simply be superfluous. Besides, while they might fear him more if he did it, they would not truly respect him. Using that train of logic, he was able to beat down his magics urgings. He almost did not notice as another person greeted him, so deep in thought was he fighting off the thought. But as he looked up, standing but a few feet away speaking to him, was Samara. The last they had met, she had enjoyed causing him misery, and lording over him for her position of power. Which was not really a wise thing to do, or so most would say, when dealing with a powerful mage. Such things could come back to bite you. Of course, in the course of that adventure, which had ended with many men dead, Clyde had excelled and proven his strength, and been one of the reasons many many more did not die. By comparison, many thought Samara had failed, and brought dishonor to Rhysol. Even if it was out of her control, as Clyde knew. For that, he felt a bit of pity for her. Being treated as such for something out of her hands. But only a small bit of pity. He did not so easily forget being wronged. Looking her over as she spoke, she appeared ill. Weak, thin, pale, with fresh scars marring her body. And her spirit and manner seemed almost... Downtrodden, like a slave beaten once to often. Clyde could not help frowning a bit as he saw Samara, but he still listened to her words without interrupting, and answered her back. "No, I did not. I made a stop by Mura. Got some healing done. As you have clearly already seen by my face. The burns that once marred it are gone. Well worth the trip, to have all of those issues removed." Of course, he did not mention the less visible ailments he had cured, ones he had not even known he had. Besides the scars he had both ear and eye damage, though only slight damage apparently. But they were all removed now. Along with the wound from when he had taken a crossbow bolt fighting the Rising Dawn. "What have you been up to, since returning? Anything of interest?"

[Inoadar]

Inoadar did his best to show no surprise. He had made a ritual of flirting with this woman every time he entered The Spot. But hadn't realized she was a member of the Lark Family. All he knew was she was called "Alice" and she always encouraged his innuendo, shooting it down when it broached the realm of seriousness.

But she was always on the job at those times and he understood and agreed, you don't distract yourself with such dalliances when you are on the job. He had never taken any genuine hurt by her refusals, but had often bathed her with sad puppy dog eyes. She always responded with syrupy consolations, but there was a twinge of heat there, he believed.

'Perhaps tonight is the night to put it to the test.' he thought as he stood with a look of mock hesitance on his face. "I don't know, what if you're just trying to have your way with me? They say that dancing, with all its close body contact and seductive moves, is the first step to getting a gullible man into bed."

By the time he'd finished, he was leading her onto the dance floor, their smiles equal parts carefree and calculating. He knew that gaining any points with the Larks would only aid him in whatever dealings Mr. Barton had in mind, as well as offer protection against the possibility that Barton would prefer silence to association.

Inoadar had virtually no dancing experience, but knew that like many things, if you were not intimidated by the first few chimes of clumsiness, it would come smoothly to you. "So, if you have two Right feet, we should be a perfect match." he joked. "I trust that you'll show me the moves that really make you feel the rhythm."

[Amelia Cross]

While eating, Amelia had heard over a few sentences from the people around her. But sadly, nothing that would interest her. Most of the chat was about family, casual speak. She began wondering where her father was and will he be joining them by the table? Would the seat next to her still be open when he comes or would eh attempt to sit closer to the head of the family? However her inner discussion and questioner didn’t manage to end.

Across from Amelia sat a man, who didn’t speak, he was just eating. She wasn’t even that sure was it impolite to be just stuffing your face, because from one point of view, it complimented the hostess. Either way, the man didn’t bring much attention to himself, and Amelia wouldn’t have paid attention to him, until, from the corner of her eye she spotted him looking at her. The look on his face wasn’t the most pleasant, it seemed as if he was disapproving of her presence or perhaps all of the wine he gulped down had already managed to get to his eyes and he had problems telling apart her features?

As he referred to her, she was about to frown, but surpassed the urge to argue with him ”Cross girl?” what kind of man refers to a lady like that? She toke a nearby napkin and pressed it against her red lips a few times before she answered the man. ”Yes, I’m Amelia Cross” she stated with a smile, beginning to wonder what kind of business could a man like this have with her father, and what on earth was he even doing here?

Soon enough, her questions were answered, a Nitrozian, that alone explained his presence here and the contact he might have had with her father. Amelia had a good guess that some of the members of each of the families weren’t all that polite, but she assumed that here they would be at the top of their manners. After all, they had to make a good impression about them, did they not? ”It’s a pleasure to meet you, but I must say my father has never mentioned friends from the house Nitrozian” Actually, Dominic was quite secretive, and all Amelia knew about him were scraps most people did, well, aside from a few details that he prefer the outsiders not to know.

The horrible question, the question of her job, the one question Amelia was instructed to avoid at all costs when it comes to the ‘noble’ families. Well, this was the time to start lying and hopping they believe it. ”If you have been friends with my father, you must be sure to know I’m a traveler and that my father refuses to let me work” this was true, her father wished to support her on his own, and wasn’t all that pleased with the girls decision to live and work ”I spend my time studying at the Institute of Higher learning…but occasionally I do a few services to my father’s friends, fortune telling” she confessed, but as long as she made it sound as if she does it to wealthy people and by her father’s request, it should be good.

She hadn’t noticed that the music had stopped some time ago, but as soon as it came back, she shocked a bit. Turning her head towards the music room for a blink of an eye, wondering who had come by and asked them to play, wasn’t the main gathering happening by the table?

[I'tram Bearguard]

It was clear this man was trying to hide something, every other guest obliged to searches without putting up too much of a fuss but this man was kicking up a storm.

I'tram stood there for a good five chimes listing to the man ramble on "This is an affront to my dignity! A free citizen of Ravok being given demands by some mere slave, I will not have it! The nerve of you! My invitation is in perfect condition, I see no reason why I am being denied entry! I'tram just stood there until the man quieted down, out of breath and red-faced, he had drawn the attention of many of the other guards at the main entrance to the manor.

In response to the man's outburst I'tram just held out his arm and spoke in a polite, yet stern tonear "Sir, you're going to have to let me search the bag or I'll have to turn you away, using force if necessary".

The man finally relented, "Alright, check my bag if you must"That didn't stop him from saying it in a sour tone or glaring at the slave though. He shoved the bag forcefully into I'tram's chest, taking something out of the bag simultaneously.

While I'tram didn't notice him taking something out of the bag, he did however see the man's hand leaving his pocket, and a bulge remained that wasn't there before. For the moment I'tram pretended not to notice.

Inside the bag was the regular things you might find, some Mizas, some toiletries, and a book. While I'tram was rummaging through the bag an idea began to form in his mind, if he asked questions the man might stumble and give himself away if he was indeed using a false persona. Picking up the book he began to speak "Where'd you get this book?"

He would wait until the man had answered before continuing on with the next question. "Are you in a relationship? If so, what's your partner's name?"

"What do you work as?"

"Where do you live?"

"How many siblings did your father have? What are their names?"

What did you put in your pocket?

It was unlikely that the plan was going to work but it was worth a try, if the man refused to answer the final question I'tram would be forced to search the man's pockets, forcefully if needs be.

[Valerius Nitrozian]

Valerius had always been somewhat jealous of Trevinus. They were the same age, but while Valerius had failed to attract Rhysol’s attention so far, Trevinus had already received his first mark when he had been fifteen and joined the Black Sun. He had two marks now. Valerius didn’t ever show that he was jealous though. As far as he was concerned it was a sign of bad manners, besides he had absolutely no interest in feeling inferior in any way. In time Rhysol would mark him as well. Maybe he would even surpass his cousin one day. Who knew? As Trevinus sat down next to him, Valerius looked up and nodded at him. „Cousin“, he greeted him. He didn’t smile at his relative, but spoke in a very polite tone of voice, as he always did when he was with his family. „The food is always good these days. The cook seems to be quite capable.“ „Things at the KRI are going well. Aunt Amanda recently decided to promote me. I will assist her with her experiments from now on and familiarize me more with the research conducted there.“ He sounded proud. „And you? Things also seem to be going quite well for you at the moment from what I know …“

[Verilian]

Trevinus let out a sigh, then took a sip of his wine. "Things are slow. The Rising Dawn is in hiding. Lazerin keeps putting on executions, but those are mostly for show. We caught those traitors nearly a year ago. I haven't seen a sign of the rebels since the turn of the season. I'm almost worried they have given up." Of course if they had given up, it would mean that the things keeping Trevinus in such high standing would be gone. Without a final glorious defeat to officially seal the victory, all the Trevinus had done would soon be forgotten. Such was the way of things in Ravok, you were only important until you weren't. The man across from Amelia listened intently to what she said. He seemed very interested in the girl. More interested than anyone else at the table, at least. "A fortune teller, eh? Maybe I will have to get you to come tell me my fortune one day." Alice wrapped her arms around Inoadar, and soon they were dancing together. His inability to dance was offset by the Lark's natural grace and talent. Everybody who frequented The Spot knew Alice had a talent for dancing, but the type she performed there was nothing like the more sophisticated and stylish form of dancing that took place that night. When the song changed, and the steps became more complicated, Alice couldn't help but laugh as Inoadar stumbled through the moves trying to keep up. Meanwhile, the guards he had been watching went inside the room, taking advantage of Inoadar's distraction. "Well, you certainly aren't as hard to look at anymore," Samara replied, throwing a halfhearted insult to Clyde while she was at it. But she just wasn't her old self. When he asked what she had been up to the smile instantly faded. "I've been... busy." In truth, Samara had been severely punished for what was seen as her failure. She had only been recently allowed back onto the streets, and while she was not demoted, the mental and physical scarring was plain for anyone to see. She was trying to get her old self back, but the Ebonstryfe were very effective at breaking an individual down. One thing was certain, when the Ebonstryfe gave you a mission, it was not a good thing to fail. "But enough about me, I'm here to talk about you. Your Crucible is coming up this summer. There are many in the Ebonstryfe who have high hopes for you. Do you think you are ready?" Outside things were beginning to heat up. The man's refusal to allow himself to be searched was drawing the curiosity of the other guards. When I'tram began asking him questions the man answered all of them without hesitation.. that was, until I'tram asked him about his pocket. "My pocket? Oh, um.. nothing. I mean, just my keys.. to my house." Obviously the man was lying. The bulge in his pocket was certainly not shaped like any key I'tram had seen, and as a slave he had likely seen many. It was more cylindrical in shape. When I'tram inevitably tried to search the man's pocket, things would suddenly turn violent. From some hidden place on his person, the man produced a short stiletto and stabbed I'tram between the ribs as the slave moved to check the pocket. After that, the man spun and ran towards the door to the Nitrozian estate. Inury ReportI'tram has been stabbed between the ribs, though the short blade did not pierce anything vital, or go very deep.

[I'tram Bearguard]

As he moved to search the man time seemed to slow, from seemingly nowhere a dagger appeared in the man's hand, it all happened so fast I'tram hadn't any time to defend himself. The dagger punched through his breastplate and found the soft flesh between his ribs. Fortunately the armor took most of the damage but that's not to say the wound wasn't bad. While he was pretty sure it hadn't gone deep enough to do any major damage the pain was excruciating

I'tram made a move to grab the man but all he could do was fall to his knees, for a moment his vision went black. When he regained his senses he saw the man entering the manor, he couldn't let him get away! Staggering to his feet I'tram motioned for some of the other guards who had just been staring dumbly to help him. Biting his teeth together he set after the assailant, shouting for the alarm to be raised.

The fastest pace he could manage was a jog, and even at that darkness was creeping at the edges of his vision, but if there was one thing he had learned from his time as a slave it was how to endure pain. The endless lashing of a whip had that effect on you.

As he entered the manor he saw the man shoving his way through the few stragglers left in the reception area. If he hurried he might be able to catch him. He chased the assailant, still shouting, perhaps it would have been a good idea to keep it low key and not interrupt the party but he wasn't going to let the families of Ravok get hurt. He let the other guards run ahead, there was no way I'tram was going to catch him in this state. Drawing his bow I'tram quickly notched an arrow and drew back the bowstring, he wasn't too skilled in the usage of a bow but hopefully it wouldn't let him down. No doubt this was going to be the hardest shot he ever made, shooting a moving target ( who seemed to be going in a more or less straight line) with a serious wound and his vision swimming, but there was no room for error, a botched shot could cost someone their life. Adjusting his aim to allow for the distance his target would cover. He managed to fit in a quick prayer to Rhysol in the time it took for him to get the aim correct. I'tram took a breath and let his fingers relax, the arrow thrummed as it began it's journey through the air, if this shot didn't hit the man would enter another room, which one he could not tell but there was no telling what havoc he might cause.

[Sevris]

Sevris picked up over the corner of his eyes younger male about his age take a seat next to Sitano's. He was unfamiliar with the man but the moment he looked at him he couldn't help be interested. Something about him he couldn't quite place. So as he answered the patriarch, he purposely turned his head in his direction and gave him a fleeting glance. Hoping Sitano would pick up the head movement in his interest of Trevinus's arrival. "Why yes, you are well informed. An aspiring Soldier of our proud city. Hoping to make a name for myself like so many others." He said. He grabbed a glass of red wine that had been placed down in front of him by one of the waiters. Sevris then took a quick look around the table at the people sitting down. From the end of the table he immediately picked up, a large man speaking too...Amelia? Amelia is here? Its been... He would have to see her in between all of this. It was definitely a kind of hectic timing to notice her right now. His eyes narrowed slightly as he got back to business. He was surrounded by some powerful people in this city. Their attention needed to be treated with care. He turned around and waited for a reply. With a smile. But he was interrupted by some yelling over the music, he could hear it faintly and that's what caught his attention so quickly. He was trained to always be listening for such things. He held his hand up and said, "Excuse me sir." He quickly got up before the rest of the crowd began to notice the shouts. He moved quickly and grabbed his double-bladed sword and stood ready by Sitano's. Something was wrong.