Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 9:17 pm**

Searing 84, 122 Age of Steel

Beatrice von Osten was rather well known within Gel'Grandal's social scene as a patron of various charities, in addition to throwing some of the best parties in the city. How much that had to do with her skills as a hostess and how much it had to do with the fact that she always made sure the bar was well stocked was up to debate, but one could argue that those were the same thing. Regardless, almost anyone who was anyone had already started checking their calendars for openings as soon as the Every Waking Moment docked. Disaster in a distant city was one thing, but a family connection all but ensured that there would be a gala for the benefit of the poor Zaichaeri.

They were not to be disappointed. It had taken about a month for the party to be arranged, which would normally be scandalously long, but she had made it known that she would be making a painting for auction as centerpiece of the night. Owning a Beatrice original was more about currying favor with her husband and family than truly patronizing the arts, but it helped that she actually had something of a talent.

In addition to the booze and the auction however, the charity gala had something else on offer: testimonials of the horror from Zaichaeri who had witnessed it. The refugees from the Every Waking Moment were carefully screened for those who could give the most effecting stories, with her grandson Anton at the forefront. The young lord was well prepared, and garbed in the finest of Imperial fashion. It also helped that unlike almost anyone else in the city, he had actually seen Zaichaer twice, having returned there mid-season.

Anton stood at the front of the hall, his grandmother's portrait behind him, giving a solemn speech on the horrors wrought by the Dread Mists. He had spent the earlier part of the night discussing his flight and return from the ruins of the High City, and had soon come near the end of his speech. "While it's true that a miracle had protected the city from further harm, great damage has been done. Nearly half the city's populace has fallen, or worse, and it's unclear how much of the government remains. Famine and deprivation are sure to come, with all the horrors that men can do to men sure to follow. I implore you, give what you can to those in need."

With that done, he left the stage to scattered applause, returning to the table of honor with his family and bodyguard. A line of survivors that Anton and Vanessa had rescued were ready to give their own testimonials, but the stage actually was open to any Zaichaeri who wished to speak. They had even gone so far as to permit any citizen of the High City to attend for free, unlike the Imperial grandees who were forced to give a generous donation to simply get through the doors.

He just hoped that none of his countrymen said anything uncouth with the freedom he had argued for them.

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 9:19 pm**

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

The reason the two vampyres even bade to make their attendance to this gala was that of curiosity and obligation more so than anything else. The two of them were relatively lucky compared to the vast majority of the Zaichaeri refugees as they’d been extended a very fortunate offer upon their arrival: join the Inquisition. However, it was more of a veiled threat than anything. Though they received many benefits for joining, are now obligated to the nation which currently sustains them. If they were to have declined, however, it was unlikely they’d even still be breathing.

By this point, they’d spent most of their free time honing their skills with Vitalis, wanting to keep scrutiny off of them from their peers– earn their place, so to speak. While many did not know the name of their rune, their superiors watched in awe as two relatively meek vampyres rapidly ascended to master in strength, and, in doing so, quashed any rumors about either man lacking qualifications. However, it should be noted that with Hector’s state of mind, he really isn’t stable enough to have any authority over anyone and consequently, shouldn’t be an Inquisitor independent of Vergil or another more senior Inquisitor…and even though the Imperium knew that this was the case, for they were not foolish enough to not have had the two of them questioned for sanity, they still chose to keep him as he was. A most interesting choice, but not actually that shocking; his magical prowess was blooming far faster than the vast majority of other mages.

However, the elf was not without his diligence. He did well in all of his studies, he was keeping pace with the strict standards of his studies in Kathalan, and he did well any time he was sent to do fieldwork. Vergil slotted into his job as a doctor easily– much as some questioned his qualifications at first, given the fact that Zaichaer shunned magically enhanced medicine. However, such a thing hadn’t actually stopped him from pursuing skills of that nature. All in all, the pair appeared to be adapting well, at least…on the surface. As such, they would very likely move from seed to sapling in the coming change of season, going from Acolyte to Prior in a relatively short amount of time compared to most.

Because of their achievements and progress in the span of roughly forty days since their arrival, they were rather heavily encouraged to show their faces as shining examples of the Imperium’s ability and willingness to support the refugees of Zaichaer. Who could question their generosity or the openness of their nation to those in need when they’d given so much to these two on what appeared to be nothing but faith?

Vergil was weary of being used like this. However, he wasn’t about to bite the hand that had fed him so very generously…at least, not yet. Hector didn’t care. The ethics or morals behind the move didn’t mean much to him. He was happy to be here for the free food and drink, the opportunity to eavesdrop on the affairs of others, and so on. The only thing he really didn’t want to do was stand in front of a crowd and speak because he’d probably brick up and not be able to say anything immediately after being placed behind a podium. V ergil would…probably just avoid the opportunity to do so unless requested, at which point he’d begrudgingly accept the task.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 10:03 pm**

Vanessa had protested her change in uniform up until the very moment she could tell it was important to Anton. It had been a valiant effort, truly, but now Vanessa was stuck dressed like a jackass. At least she thought so, anyway. She wore a well fitting black dolman coat decorated with parallels rows of horizontal gold braids running down both sides. Hanging off her left shoulder was a second jacket, which Vanessa thought was particularly stupid since the damn thing needed to be held in place by another confoundable cord. The second jacket, a pelisse, matched her dolman down to the braiding, and it did look quite nice despite her own issues with it. At least the dark trousers and side-stitched boots were more comfortable than the sort she usually wore.

She had drawn the line at wearing the busby hat.

When Anton was done, Vanessa rose from her seat and crossed over towards the podium. There was undeniably some danger in letting Vanessa speak, but she had at least promised to remain both brief and on topic.

Vanessa spoke with authority, and her deep voice easily filled the room and drowned out any idle chatter under its weight.

"It was only by the actions of damn fine folk that we were able to save anyone. A mad bartender defending his watering hole from the end of the world, if you can believe it." She swept her arm out towards the survivors she had personally ferried to safety "None of these folk would be here if not for him. I might've flown 'em out, but Franky made sure they even had a chance in the first place." She held up a pouch of coins that had been hanging from her sword belt. "He gave me a chest a' gold for my troubles, but it just didn't feel right to spend it on anything but the city." She tossed the pouch of platinum to one of the staff in charge of soliciting donations. "One hundred thousand avens in the name of The Hobbled Gobbler. It's what he would have wanted. Well that, and for you all to buy something expensive and tip your waitress." That got a scattering of laughter and applause from the crowd, and Vanessa left the stage to return to Anton's side.

Okay, so she hadn't given the entire fortune away. So what?

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 10:05 pm**

.

Carina stood on a balcony, a few stories up from the entrance of the estate, and watched the people who came in for the gala from her perch in the dark. She flicked the remnants of her cigarette onto the driveway below, and walked back into the bedroom of -- well, it was someone’s bedroom, but she didn’t know whose.

She flung open the closet, only to be disappointed at the selection. The dresses were tailored for a woman taller than she. The dancer crept to her jewelry box and was inspecting a few pieces, but a turn of the doorknob into that dressing room, however, led Carina to portal into another room down the hall, her Semblance alerting her to the presence of no one.

Anton’s room. She could tell by the way furniture was arranged, and by the way his aura clung to it. She padded towards his own dressing room. Some of his Zaichaeri clothing remained, but it was mixed with that of a more Imperial aesthetic as well.

She didn’t care much, and plucked what she would consider a blouse off of the hanger. His legs were longer than hers by virtue of their height difference, but she had her own well-fitting pants and boots to wear. No, it was her shirt that was the difference.

She stood in front of the mirror with Anton’s shirt on and the necklace and hairpin she had pilfered, the shirt tucked neatly into her waistband and her hair done up nicely. She unbuttoned the top few buttons then, and with her outfit to her standards, she aligned with the spatial pathway just to the side of the entrance and portaled outside.

At the door, with her thick Zaichaeri accent, she introduced herself.

”Anna Caron. I was a dancer at the Pfenning.”

She, of course, bee-lined for Anton as soon as she entered. Though he could not see, surely he could recognize her clothing. Given that he was sitting with his family, surely they would recognize it, too.

”Great speech, Anton.” She said it too casually, especially considering she had only caught the tail end.

.

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 10:09 pm**

Nobody in society would have expected a Valentin in attendance. The completely uninformed would have known the name only from tales of Valentin's grandfather, and might have been surprised that any real scions remained. Those somewhat in the know might be expected to have heard that Valentin Valentin harbored a bitter grudge against House Van Oster for its almost miraculous power to avoid the Imperial audit, year after year. Finally, those who had access to all the information--a senior bishop, perhaps--would have known that the Valentins had slowly frittered away the fortune gathered by their ancestor for years now, and truly could not afford to perform the sorts of ostentatious displays of wealth needed to attend these kinds of parties.

Those were all perfectly valid reasons to avoid functions like this, but Valentin sensed a rare opportunity and he wasn't willing to let it go. As an invited guest, he could have begged off providing a donation, or donated some token amount- etiquette allowed as much, but it would have been a smudge on his family's name.

No, he had other ideas. The Valentins might no longer possess the great wealth his grandfather had started with, but Valentin knew wealth very well.

The bureaucrat stood, still holding the glass of (overpriced) Atinian red, and announced:

"Young Herr Michaelis has the right of it! The Imperium's rights over this land come with duties, my lords! I would think myself craven to sleep soundly in Gel'Grandal every night, protected by the Emperor's vigilance and the Kathar, if I simply stood by and let our Zaichaeri cousins suffer! My family will donate a set of Ecithian jewels, owned by my grandfather, Alexander, and appraised at ten thousand each."

That was entirely true, of course, but only because appraisal and sale were very different things. Still, the certificates were in order, and if the gems fetched much, much less than what the jeweler had estimated... what could you do about that? The actual value of the donation would still meet the maximum qualifying amount for annual tax deductions, so it wasn't as though it was going to trigger an audit. Valentin could be quite sure of that.

And the important thing was that if a middling family like Valentin's could make such an extravagant promise... how pathetic would any house which offered less than a sailor and a career bureaucrat seem?

"For the brotherhood of all the peoples of Karnor. May they all come to see the Imperium's manifest virtue."

Posted: **Wed Aug 31, 2022 10:19 pm**

K R O W E

distracting

Krowe would have rather died than give some speech about some cause he didn't give a fuck about, and to people, he cared even less for. Suffering was just a part of life. What did it matter if the victims happened to be a group of people or even an entire city?

All the acting, the sniveling, the drama. That was, after all, why they were all there. To find a reason to dress up, to show off, to pretend to gasp and clutch pearls at the thought of someone less fortunate. Yet, there he was. Dressed in some high collared button-up and slacks. Shoes a size too small, polished, and stolen from a "cousin" at the warehouse. The fact of the matter was, he didn't have any intention of giving anything.

Giving was for those too afraid to take.

What he had his eye on was the insufferable people. The things they valued.

He certainly wasn't about to miss the chance to get a look at the so-called Beatrice Original, which included a bit of high society attention otherwise unattained through such simple means. And, Krowe loved a party. Booze and attractive company were always welcome.

Standing with the others in the hall, he felt the itch for a smoke nipping at his veins, while a pale-skinned, thin-as-a-willow man, began a lament for Zaichaer - seriously, was he sick? - Krowe rolled his shoulders to try to shake the urge of indulgence. He looked past the speaker to the severe portrait of the woman behind him, running his attention across its detailing, the ostentatious gilded frame, the consistency of paint, the chosen lighting, and the essence it produced in its final piece. Some family member, surely, or perhaps just a great investor? He flexed hands hand, counting the visible brush strokes to take his mind off the fact he had smoked his last cigarette thirty minutes ago. When he was confident enough time had passed that they would be moving on to the next speech, his gaze sharpened, refocusing on the stage, only to find that no time had really passed at all, and they were still well in the swing of things.

For fuck's sake.

He huffed a sigh, resisted the urge to fidget, and eyed the woman in the green gown next to him. Her hair was pulled back into a braided bun, a bit of curl framing her face, round spectacles sitting at the tip of a pointed nose. She was dressed simpler than the others in attendance, they both were, but she had done her hair and makeup for the occasion in hopes to make up for it. He in particular looked more like one of the staff than an attendee.

Lipstick's smeared, he noticed, slipping a hand around her elbow and leaning down to whisper in her ear, "Gimme your purse."

Molly Harrison, his newest friend, and fellow artist stiffened, having been engrossed in the tale, and jolted when his lips brushed her temple, "W-what?'

"Give. me. your. purse."

"Oh," her chin lowered and she held up a small bag, opening it so that he could reach inside and pull out a small flask, unscrewing it and throwing his head back as he enjoyed a deep and cutting swig.

His chest bloomed with heat and he seemed to visibly relax, exhaling invisible flame. He smirked, leaning forward again to kiss her neck, quick and dismissive, "Good girl. Now," Krowe licked his lips, Now I can breathe.

With a bit of familiarity in his possession, he was able to tolerate and even find amusement in the rhetoric around him. He listened.

"... Famine and deprivation are sure to come." Already present, "with all the horrors that men can do to men sure to follow..."

He scanned the faces of the crowd for their reaction, fading into the background. Eventually, the rotations began and the crowd shifted. Krowe handed Molly his flask and moved with it, taking the opportunity to weave among the bodies, counting necklaces and earrings. A woman climbed the stage and spoke in a booming tone about a mighty bartender while one of the attendants waved him down. A flicker of confusion was followed by sharp realization as he remembered his attire. With a wolfish grin, he stepped forward, glancing up at the brunette in perfect time.

The woman had captivated the audience and they made eye contact as he was walking by the side stage, "He gave me a chest a' gold for my troubles, but it just didn't feel right to spend it on anything but the city."

Acknowledgment. A pouch was tossed in his direction. Krowe caught it with a polite nod, turning on his heel without hesitation. She continued to speak.

"One hundred thousand avens in the name of The Hobbled Gobbler. It's what he would have wanted." She made a joke, and the crowd laughed.

There was an opportunity here.

His heart skipped at the surprising wealth he now held, and he gripped the bag tighter, bowing his head in case Molly had realized his absence. Without missing a beat, he walked in the direction he had watched the other solicitors scurry to. Behind him, the next speaker engaged the crowd with a bold offer of family gems, and for the first time all night, Krowe felt himself having fun.

Posted: **Sat Sep 24, 2022 4:15 am**

For the first time since arriving in Gel'Grandal, Anton was on pins and needles. The speech itself was not much of a concern, he had faced far more combative audiences in academia than a bunch of doddering old men who were only half listening after all, and he was freed of the anxiety inducing process of answering questions. No, he was infinitely more concerned about everyone else in attendance. While many of those present had been carefully screened and invited, that wasn't true for everyone.

Not to mention the fact that both of the vampyres had chosen to attend, though by and large they seemed keen on remaining silent. For now.

Vanessa had sworn to do her duty, and did it well. He knew that speeches, at least of the sort that didn't involve violence, were not her forte, but she had correctly kept it short and ended with the hook. Technically speaking they were double dipping, the pair had already agreed to use Franky's money as best they could considering the circumstances, but the sight of an airship captain donating such an astronomical sum might just encourage some of the idle wealthy drinking his grandmother's booze to do their part. "Well done, my brave knight," Anton said, gently teasing the woman as she returned to his side.

And then anything resembling calm control completely vanished as a ghost walked in wearing stolen clothes, and probably stolen jewels. He knew the shirt was stolen because it was his, but the necklace and the hairpin were a guess. Vanessa had told him that she had run into the woman in some run down bar, but to see the dancer again in the flesh was completely different. "I'm glad you could make it," he managed, in a voice strained by the fact that she had waltzed up to his entire family in what most of them would recognize as his clothing.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Anton's mother and grandmother asked at the same time, mother and daughter glancing at each other at their unplanned duet. The elder matriarch seemed far more amused by the situation than the younger.

In the background, Valentin Valentin was busy being either a genius or a bastard, depending on whether or not you were the one being coerced to open your pocketbook. This was of relatively little concern to Anton at the moment as he felt his life flash before his eyes with absolutely no idea how to react, but a distant part of his psyche made a note to gift the auditor one of the leftover bottles of liquor when the party was done. An unopened one, even.

Luckily, a distraction had presented itself. Someone's aura was spiked with avarice, and not the mundane sort of a man confident he was about to make those fools who lived across the lake look like déclassé paupers by donating more than them. This swelled with a far more immediate ambition, and Anton used that to force himself into action.

"Oh, much to discuss," Anton said, lamely, attempting to get both Vanessa and Carina to follow him before either of them could say anything too damaging. "In fact, I think we should have this conversation in a different room," he hastily added as he dragged both women out to a backroom, while on stage a housemaid of a presumed dead family lucky enough to have frequented the Gobbler recounted her own tale of woe.

Posted: **Sun Sep 25, 2022 11:36 am**

Blythe understood the status quo had changed going from being the social circle to just being in the circle. This was probably going to be an unpleasant function for the siltori elf. She knew going into the gala that behind the decadence this was a fundraiser for Zaichaer. In reality she was anxious as she felt her heart fluttering over the one detail that dared her to tread the murky shark infested waters. Maybe she was just a party girl that liked fancy parties and favors, or maybe there was something inbetween those thin white lines that emboldened her onward and upwards.

With this in mind she concluded knowing all too well how a Briathos heir would be recieved if found out. It was certainly in public record as she was known to frequent the academy. Licenses held in Semblance, Mesmer, Affliction and Necromancy as she applied for basically the platinum card that bounced around carefree in her clutch. There were plenty of questions about this until her last name got involved, the only thing that confused her was just how hospitable the Imperium had been thus far. Even then the sorceress knew full well with a list like that the city was keeping tabs on her.

She would go in, meet and greet then leave and maybe in a perfect world find what she was looking at the end of a rainbow. As she braved the gauntlet in stilletos and a cocktail dress. The flowery frill of tapestry started at the neck and cut off at the shoulders where it became a solid royal blue dress that hugged her curves tightly like a glove as the heft of her bussom rised and sank with each passing breath. Her platinum mane once wild and free corralled and lassod into a pony tail that shimmered like fine jewelry.

On her middle finger she wore her Signet Ring that established her rank and title. This ring made a very bold statement about the wealth, privilege and status of its possessor. There was a circle surrounding an inverted triangle at the center of which rests an unblinking eye inlaid in all silver that makes the design pop. This was carved into a piece of lapis lazuli and encircled in gleaming draw dropping sapphires that danced and dazzled like starlight in the nights sky as she ventured into the abysss.

Shakey at first, but with each step the black robe gained control and confidence as she resided with only the best company in tow. An elegant champagne flute as she preoccupied her mind sipping bubbly while searching for the object of her desire. Being wary and elusive as she cautioned her stride in a den of would be vipers, you dont get fabulously wealthy playing by the rules. After all that fairy tale ending starts with a nightmare beginning.

Blythe was so sure she would be ill recieved, but the risk would be worth the reward. Was she being brave or stupid? She just didn't know anymore.

Posted: **Fri Jan 06, 2023 11:14 pm**

TIMESTAMP: -
NOTES: -

► Show Spoiler

- - -

Hector certainly did not want to stand in front of a podium and say anything of the sort that those who had come before him did. That was, in large part, due to the fact that he and Vergil did not currently have money to spare regarding donations...but and even larger part was his nerves. Public speaking was never a thing he had been made to do ever in his life so...in scenario like this? Barely a month after he'd been forcefully removed from his home but a wild a catastrophe? No. Not today, perhaps not even in this life. If absolutely necessarily for whatever reason, Vergil could speak, but he simply did not want to draw attention to himself or his rather skittish colleague.

As streams of people continued to intersect, however, the two of them did happen to lay eyes upon some folks that they did recognize. Anton and Vanessa were a given, of course, but there was also somebody only Hector found familiar. It was...Carina. Hector knew she had nothing to give, but she was Zaichaeri, making her as much of a refugee as he was at this point. Yet in this moment, he remained cemented in place. As much as he might want to approach and say hello to this newfound acquaintance of his, it would appear that his nerves had him stuck in a sort of 'freeze' he could not currently override.

- - -

Aidolon Speech

'Thoughts'

"Kathalan Tongue/Speech"

"Vallenor Tongue/Speech"

"Common Tongue/Speech"

"Mythrasi Tongue/Speech"

Posted: **Thu Apr 20, 2023 1:17 am**

Review

Anton