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    1. HazmatMedic 11 yrs ago

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The Ball

With Raelyn gone, it fell to Aggrippa to go the all-important ball at Knightcliff. Being the only one who could actually attend, it fell to him to represent the city of Orsini, and to persuade his foes not to attack - a list that now included the fabled Greenskins, since Raelyn's mission had clearly failed.

He was not alone, however, although whether his ally would help him or hinder him was yet to be seen. Occasions like this where the perfect time to meet nobles and monarchs, and to establish healthy, cordial relations - or slip some cantarella into a rival's drink, or a stiletto in an enemy's back. His race had been referred to by many odd titles, such as "those winged bastards" and "chicken-people". It seemed racism was alive and well, and his presence was bound to cause a stir. As of such, precautions had been taken - a small vial of Gunus Depoisoner, a powerful anti-venom, was in his pocket, he had taken to wearing ceremonial, yet stab-proof armour, he had brought along his sword. But ultimately, his best protection was sitting opposite him in his carriage - Lyra.

Lyra was a true rarity. Uniquely amongst her own people, Lyra suffered from heterochromia iridium - at least, that's what Aggrippa called it. What it meant was that her eyes were two different colours. One was a bright teal colour, the other a dull golden tone. As if this didn't make her stand out enough, the golden-coloured eye never seemed to point straight, instead pointing in a variety of directions whilst her teal one looked wherever she wanted it to look. If she focused, she could straighten the golden eye, but it invariably started wandering the second she thought of something else.

She wasn't necessarily big, nor was she strong, but Aggrippa felt far safer in her company than he did anyone else's. They had been friends for as long as he could remember, despite the fact he was twenty years older than her. And whilst she was being ostracised for her unusual eye conditions and less-than-attentive nature, Aggrippa had always treated her as an equal. It seemed fitting that she should come with him. He wouldn't feel right leaving her behind.

As the carriage pulled up to the venue, neither Lyra or Aggrippa could hold back gasps of wonder. It was stunning. They had seen some very nice architecture on the way here, but this topped the lot. The craftsmanship was exquisite, far greater than that of Orsini. Mind you, the buildings of Orsini are built with practicality rather than aesthetics in mind. Not to say they are all ugly, but the end up looking rather... plain. It was nice to see something a little grander than usual.

The carriage stopped just outside the entrance to the ball, and there were suddenly butterflies in Aggrippa's stomach. Would someone really try to kill him in front of all these others? If so, would his precautions be enough?

"Are you sure you want to do this? It could be scary." He warned, his eyes flicking over to his blonde bodyguard. She countered his glance with a stare of her own.

"And watch you have all the fun? Yeah, right." Lyra giggled. "Let's do this"

As the two entered, side by side, the first thing they noticed was how few people were there. They must have been early. Yet even in these early stages, they couldn't avoid the stares of some of the others already there.

"Remember, they'll be looking at your wings, not your eyes" Aggrippa whispered

"Thanks. That makes me feel much better" Lyra's voiced dripped sarcasm.

"Don't worry. A bunch of weird creatures will show up. We'll soon be forgotten"

"Weirder than us? I doubt it"

The scientist could only grin in response. It was true.

"Well, shall we find our host? I bet he'll be glad to finally meet a real Seraph..."
Wait, so what's the technological limit? I was thinking late Renaissance
Titanic said
The ball... Sounds like food...


Don't even think about it, Ghazghkull (Google him). You start snacking on any more of us "chickens" and I'll give you meal you can chew on...
HounderHowl said
I'm off of the boat. I'll post a picture when I get a laptop.All who are apart of the ball in going to post now. :)


Yay!
I was planning on having my own troops as mercenaries I.e. If someone wants to hire a unit of my region's soldiers, they can do it for a cost.
Is this acceptable?
The bastards! How did they move so quietly?

It was Atticus who demanded mercy from the greenskins. He disgusted Raelyn, a slimy little worm who did little more than whine and complain. It was almost a shame when the leader (Was it?) asked his troops to spare him - she would have been happy to see him go.

She didn't think the two dead men deserved their punishment. She didn't really know one of them, but the other had a wife and two kids. He had always been nice to have around, often bursting into song or telling jokes to lighten the mood. Now he was dead, and if the big creature (Was that an Orc? Or was it something different?) had its way, he would end up replacing the food they had stolen.

Thankfully, their leader was of a more mercantile mind, telling his troops to take them back to their leader rather than eat them. It at least gave her a chance to explain herself.

As they were forced to their feet, one of the orcs put his hand in a very, very taboo place - Raelyn's wing. It took every ounce of her not to knee him in the groin for his perversion, consoling herself with the fact that he just didn't know that was unacceptable. Still, she couldn't help but let out a curse in her home language "Get your filthy hands off me. I don't know where the hell they have been, but I can assure you, I don't want them on my wings"

Unfortunately, he didn't speak Orsini, or he didn't care enough to listen, and kept his hand on her wings, which got her thinking - what would the chieftain do when he saw them? Probably rape her and slaughter the rest, or spare them to get some amusement out of them later. She wouldn't put it past them. From what she had seen, that was probably how they spent their Saturday nights, just raping, pillaging and eating. Probably at the same time.

"You there, big one" she called to the Ogre "Tell this degenerate to let my wing go."

There was no further resistance. Even the proudest of Seraphim knows when a situation is hopeless, and they all just shut up and went through the motions. They had training for what to doing captured, probably even more training than Praetorians on this matter, as that was the risk they all had to take. This what they were meant to do. Betray nothing, endure everything. Surely it was better for one man to die than for the entire city to suffer for his loud mouth?
When Girus first walked into the Belladonna, Arabella thought he might just break down on the spot.
She could power every light in the place with the heat his cheeks were giving off alone, and he was shaking like a kicked dog in an earthquake. She knew he was shy, but she didn't know it was this bad. She started to doubt her choice, which was very, very rare.

A few days down the line, and he had almost completely changed. He was chatting happily to customers about pleasantries such as the weather and the embargo, which had hardly scathed Orsini at all, and the deep Vermillion colour of his face was had died down to a dull Persian pink - still miles away from its typical alabaster pallor, but enough to stop people from trying to make toast with him. Even his trembling had almost stopped, but if one looked closely enough, they could see the occasional twitch.

But he didn't move from behind the desk, and he had taken to binding his wings to stop them stiffening up in front of anyone, courtesan or customer alike. It was embarrassing enough to be seen in such a place - the last thing he wanted was for his wings to stand up straight behind him like a couple of custard-yellow, feathery soldiers.

In the midst of his colour maelstrom, he had a relatively simple job. Every time a courtesan was "hired", he had to take a note of who it was, the customer's name, how long they'd be occupied, what room they were in, and most importantly, how much money was being made. If anyone tried to skimp, or the Courtesan was hurt, it was up to him to catch it out and decide a punishment.

Not that there ever where such problems, of course. The threat of public mutilation and execution was enough to stop customers from doing anything untoward, and the Courtesans were happy enough to pay their dues. Occasionally, someone would try and skimp, but he always saw through and pulled the "I'm just doing what I'm told" card whenever someone complained. It worked surprisingly well.

Hunter and Aggrippa came to visit him. Agrippa was there solely to talk to him, often about his latest experiment or upgrade. He never looked twice at the multiple available women and the two available men, claiming "There are more important things in the world than pleasure."
Hunter, on the other hand, put her name down in the book several times in the week, often with a variety of Courtesans. The first time she came in, she booked five of them at the same time, and only smiled at Girus's stunned stare "What? Did you want to join in too?"

But all-in-all, things were going well. Every day Arabella went out to market, leaving the younger Seraph in charge whilst she was out. People would come in, come out, they'd make a shocking amount of Vehrin ("It's the tourists" Arabella told him once "People come from around the world to visit the Markets and Brothels of Orsini") and Arabella would come back, often with ten times the amount they had made. Girus would go to bed inside the Belladonna in a private room - although Arabella told him that the normal beds were perfectly clean, which was mostly true - and he'd get up the next day, wash himself sand say goodbye to his friend before setting up. But it couldn't last, and Girus found himself longing for Raelyn's return so he could go home. He started to miss the Pariahs, the Bastion, the groves. He'd had enough adventure for one year.
Alrjight, Titan, you got me. Now, how to worm my way out of this one...
I'm just wondering if the rp died or if people are just posting slowly.
It seems like half of us haven't been on at all lately. Oh well, I can wait.
Douple post. Damn it, Mahz, where is the delete button?
Placeholder. Don't forget about me, okay?
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