[3.5 Victorian] A Jubilee and A Chance

[graymachine]

The ochre stain across the the London skyline casts long shadows at the evening's onset. Away from the stink and squalor of the city proper, Felwhire Lane stretches ahead, brightly-burning gas lamps clearly lighting the rows of mansions and estates, the constant presence of policemen making rounds that only the rich can afford.

Most of the palatial homes are dim, the owners out for the evening to the theatre, or more likely, at the ball being thrown at the end of the lane.

Tonight Lord Aleksander Richard Mayweather celebrates his 51st year, a life long-lived in service to Britain and her people. In turn, the people are celebrating him, lords and ladies attending a gala to honor his achievements, or at least to be seen in the right circles.

At the end of the way sits a sprawling estate, done over in white limestone and sheathed in marble. Torches, rather than gas lamps, light the grounds, flames dancing on their ends. Inside the grounds, glimpses of actors, musicians, acrobats, and the dancing lights of small cantrips, an extravagant expense, can be glimpsed, there to entertain the guests. Perhaps it is telling that, although the care is taken to the estate, it seems in some small state of disrepair even from the outside, as though upkeep was an absent thought.

Still, royal guard in full livery, bright red and shining gold, hold the gatehouse and protect the dignity of the gentry, a sign of honor from the Royal Family to the host. Sharp-eyed, disciplined men watch on, checking guests and guarding the amusements of the powerful.

In your possession is an invitation for the evening, black paper with silvery scroll-work and writing, bearing your name. Perhaps, for some of you, this is the last place you would expect to be, but the name clearly drawn out on the paper is unmistakable. Perhaps, this has something to do with who the lord of this manor is, and what he represents.

[Timeless]

Walking briskly Benjamin treads up the pristine street his staff clicking firmly on the paving slabs with each step he takes. His bearing is upright, steps firm and unhesitating despite the area being unfamiliar.

He is of course no stranger to the presence of wealth his position in the church ensures that he spends a great deal of time around it, though he spurns it himself fearing the corruption that follows it.

It has been a long walk on this dry and warm evening from his lodgings in St Thomas' street near the hospital and he is glad it is soon to be done. The area he lives in is squalid, cramped and filthy though by no means the worst in london and he is glad he lives where he does instead of here - it is the people who matter, the many as well as the few. To live here would be to be forget that and quickly.

The filth near the hospital is unlikely to be good for the patients, especially if that paper before the censors contains any truth he muses as he passes his invitation scroll over to the sergeant of the the guards at the gatehouse to the estate of the party.

The sergeant reads the scroll and compares it to a list he carries before returning it to him.

"Very good sir" the sergeant says with a salute before waving him into the estate of Lord Aleksander Richard Mayweather.

Walking through the grounds, past men in suits and ladies in the dresses of the latest fashion he heads to a ornamental fountain after taking a glass of wine from a passing waiting.

Sipping his wine slowly he watches the party quietly.

[shugyosha]

Herrod both liked and hated these function. He pressed down his dress uniform for the umpteenth time. If one could understand the ribbons and other decorations on his uniform he wore they could see that he was a captain, served in the calvary, diplomatic service and in Africa.

The sword at his side felt awkward unlike his pistol. It kept bumping his leg in a subtle way. He handed his invitation and returned the salute.

As he entered he tried to recall as much as he could about Lord Aleksander Richard Mayweather.


Knowledge Nobility check. 26 if I can take 20, 16 if I can take 10.

[Isenvrill]

As Cyrus made his way to the party, he kept a quick and graceful stride, flowing as the shadows themselves. His coat flutters around him as he walks, revealing the sword at his side.

Upon arrival, Cyrus glided past the guard, stopping only briefly to display his invitation.

As he slips into the party, he instantly looks out Lord Aleksander, to congratulate him before joining the party. While he searches, he grabs a wineglass off the tray of a passing servant.

[Lyndworm]

Jim makes his way to the estate, obviously perturbed and in a hurry. He stops to show his invitation to the guards, trying not to let his annoyance affect his treatment of them; it's hardly their fault he has to be here, after all. Dressed in clothes better suited to safari than a ball, the only thing about Jim that appears appropriate for the setting is the dress saber on his left hip, though it's juxtaposition with the worn revolver on his right makes for a strange look.

[Eldest]

Fiona walks slowly towards the party, openly staring at what is (to her) ridiculous opulence. The English do love their parties. If they just kept it to a couple of regular days a year it could even be planned for, but no... She starts walking faster as she approaches the guards that mark her destination, and show him the overdone invitation. After passing the time a bit by chatting with him, she walk on into the gala.

[graymachine]

shugyosha
A 15 is sufficient; he's fairly well known. He was raise to Lordship in his early 20s, for his services in the Near East. He is somewhat a figure of legend, almost a character from pulp fiction rather than a real man. Extensive stories of his adventures stretch belief. In his early 40s he founded the Stalwart Fellows, a social organization made from various former companions and promising newcomers. He is extensively wealthy, although is popularly know he cares little for extravagance, having more in common with they average man (a distasteful fact to the nobility.) he is still a vigorous man with a keen intelligent, cutting the image of a British game hunter.

[shugyosha]

Captain Craster moved quickly to find his lordship. His renown for his service to Her Majesty verged on the fantastic. As well as his eccentricities, which explained the slight disrepair of his estate. Herrod remembered his father's distaste for Lord Mayweather's habit of engaging with commoners and disrespect for the trappings of aristocracy while engaging in his adventures.

In acts of youthful rebellion his lordship became something of a hero to young Herrod. He inspired Herrod's joining the military. The young captain hurried his steps.

[graymachine]

While the gala itself spreads over the grounds of the estate, overseeing wild-growing roses and a few fountains, Lord Mayweather is found with relative ease; less that 200 people make up the festivities, and half of that servants or entertainers.
Even though much of the cream of culture is present, there is a mixture of the lower classes; associates, friends, or even (at least according to the quiet conversations of the nobles present) horrid bankers.
Lord Mayweather is found just inside the grand entrance, surrounded by a group of young lordlings and ladies, regaling them with tales of his trials in Africa and that the horrors of the lizardfolk. Gasps from his audience betray horror, respect, or disbelief in equal measure. The onlooks of the more refined, older gentlefolk say many things.

Anyone interested in the surrounding nobility give me a Listen check if you simply want to catch their words. If you want to interact with them, give me a Diplomacy check. If your character wouldn't be considered from good society, take a -10 penalty. Obviously, interacting with Lord Mayweather advances the plot, but there are potentially other gains. Also, I need a reflexive Spellcraft check out of any casters.

[Lyndworm]

Looking for his paycheck, Jim stumbles across Lord Mayweather. The hunter stops to listen to his tales, both interested in the stories for their own merit, and reminded of his own adventures on the Dark Continent.

I'm not just trying to advance the plot; this seems to be the most logical place for James to be, unless he recognizes the man who owes him money. Besides, I want to see whether Mayweather knows his stuff or is just trying to impress people. I'm not sure what check, if any, would be most appropriate in determining that, though, so here's a whole bunch of'em:

Intelligence:
[roll0]

K. Geography:
[roll1]

K. Nature:
[roll2]

Sense Motive:
[roll3] (+2 if Lord Mayweather is human)

[Isenvrill]

Smiling at Lord Mayweather's tales, Cyrus blends into the crowd of nobles, keeping his eye out for anyone of interest. He moves between groups of nobles with practiced ease, finding those who could advance him further in society, and trying to appease them.
Well, this is kind of Cyrus's thing, so here are my checks:
Listen
[roll0]
Diplomacy
[roll1]

Basically, Cyrus is just trying to make more friends among the nobility.

[Eldest]

Fiona wanders the party, instinctively not interacting with the nobility. She passes the time by talking with the working people, those she feels more comfortable with.
Spellcraft: [roll0]

[shugyosha]

Craster moved across the estate looking for his childhood hero. He saw what he usually saw at these kind of parties. Aristocracy milling with themselves and ignoring the help. It reminded him of why he hated these functions. To think he might have ended up like that if it wasn't for the military. His time in Africa gave him respect for the non-coms. Their birth did nothing to make them worth less than him.

He caught a glimpse of Lord Mayweather. Herrod slowly made his way. He knew the protocol, if he saw someone of sufficiently high social status, it was required to greet them. Another thing he hated about parties like this.


[roll0] Listen
[roll1] Diplomacy

[Timeless]

Sitting on the edge of the fountain he had settled by Benjamin sips his wine with his eyes closed as he listens in on the conversations around him.

Spellcraft [roll0]
and listen [roll1]

[shugyosha]

Are we stalled? Or Dead?

[Eldest]

We're waiting on graymachine (DM), really hope he still wants to run this game.

[Lyndworm]

OoC:
It might not be so simple as whether or not Graymachine wants to DM... His last post on this site was in this thread, over four weeks ago. I do hope nothing terrible has struck him.

[Eldest]

Brilliant. Now I'm gonna start worrying about that. :smallfrown: