WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.
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Word Count → ??? :: Come all ye who seek the twinkling lights of euphoria! Welcome to our formal Saturnalia Banquet thread! Put on your best partying attire and make your way to the old castle-grounds for a tantalizing night of debauchery and revelry. Marked M for alcohol, substances, and general implied naughtiness.
There is no posting order in this thread! We encourage players to have fun and make their own spin-off threads based on this event.
This thread takes place on Feb 22, at the Feasting Hall in the Ruins proper. It is twilight. A coy wind carries the scent of smoke and ash through the winding earth and cobblestone pathways. It is cold, but many lit torches light the loitering shadows and keep the pervasive chill at bay.
The sky was a parchment spilled all over with vivid purple pigment, seeping into royal blue and the deeper hints of true night along its infinitesimal hems. Spectacularly cloudless, it was emblazoned all over by thousands upon thousands of sparkling eyes. The silver moon, waning now and lonesome in her meager crest, nonetheless stood vigilance over a wide grey loch below.
Without a bruising overhead to trap it in, the day's weak heat bled steadily away. Robbed of it the frozen earth refused to thaw, and those who lay too long above it would feel the life leeched steadily from them. But in the heart of the old stone Ruins waited a mimicry of the stars above. Many torches winked and spat, their warm golden light a beacon throughout all the hills and tussocks of lower Tantramar. Come, called the torches, the scent of their smoke carried far on the fingertips of a coy and tricky breeze, come! Merriment awaits!
And so it did.
Lit by fire and the splendor of its inhabitants, the Feasting Hall had never felt more alive. Perhaps a canny or critical eye might spot absences from the usually decadent Supper fair - there was less meats on display, certainly, and the aroma of ash was mightier than that of the thin-stretched meals displayed with propriety down the length of the long table. The blizzard had taken much of their larders, and in the woods prey numbers were still recovering.
But what it lacked in food, the banquet made up for in other wanton rarities.
Overlooking such a thing was the queen. Her copious dark hair flowed as rivulets of ink over her shoulders and her small bust. She wore misleadingly simple clothing - fine wool dark as pitch, loose at the elbows but cinched narrowly at the waist with a braided doehide cord. Her clever fingers dripped obscenely with rings, rings of all shapes and colors and sizes, so many that her hands seemed almost lost to them.
And between her tall dark ears was the goldentine crown, sharp and resplendent as the day of her coronation.
Elphaba was pleased with the relative bounty of their preparations. Plenty of the aged wine on display had come from her own private cellar. Numbered among them were some of deep purple cherry, pear, and juniper; others paled with elderberries and dandelions. By her hand she favored the mulberry and persimmon mix that had been a gift from the Portland traders a season prior. Each time she sipped at it from a silver chalice it stained her lips a wickedly enticing magenta.
There were myriad other drinks available. The last of their good honeymead had been carted out from storage and thinned just a little with fundy water. An endless variety of glass bottles decorated the overladen table like lanterns, their precious innards sparkling kaleidoscopic by torchlight.
Her people would drink until they forgot about their hungers, those natural and those unnatural. Then, and only then, would they truly revel.
The festivity was overdue. But with the curse behind them, and spring somewhere not-so-distant ahead, the timing was just right. Per the old ways, she had chosen a Lord of Discord from among her subjects, and had bid Odalis to fashion a peculiar mockery of a crown out of dry twigs and thin black ribbon.
Then she sent it and a hand-written note with the fox to its intended recipient. Paimon would see her decision delivered safely into Silas' hands - what the Indentured Servant would do with his sole night of power would be his own choosing, and that was the good sport of it.
Tonight was a night of chaos. Tomorrow, the Law would resume its rightful mantle.
Eager now for the late hour approaching, Elphaba tipped back her dark tresses and sang, and sang, and sang. The words were old but somehow familiar - calling to those who would take their delights at the Saturnalia Banquet.
Something wicked that way came - or, perhaps, had always been there. Her cool gaze taking in the evening's splendor, the pale cat stalked from the trees with blood on her paws. Scarlet stained her mouth, a gift for the queen in her grasp: a snow-white pheasant, colorless save its caruncle. The flesh was as crimson as the wound on its next, and Margaux had been stalking a nest of pheasants for days to find it. White feathers found only through scent had been her one clue, and then came the tracks, the calls, the scat.
Every languid stride was confident. The cat had killed another pheasant and left it - alongside a couple of rabbits, some mice, and three squirrels - at the Lykoi tower. She would've given up her special bird for Lady Lykoi, but Margaux wanted to make a statement. Proud cat she was, the cougar wanted to show the Queen how fierce a hunter Lady Lykoi had. She wanted to show how special that house was by having such a hunting-cat at its command. Margaux could only hope her Mistress would be as impressed and approving as Margaux imagined.
Trotting up off to the side, Margaux paused on the edge of the darkness. She debated how best to address the Salsolan queen. Should she walk out with her head low, only to raise it with her prize? Should she calmly approach and then bow, as she had done with others above her station? Would it be better if Lady Lykoi were to introduce her marvelous beast? Oh, so many choices to make, and so much potential for a faux-pas!
In some ways he blamed himself for not having a good time, for not being able to provide more meat and food for the banquet, but he had done what he was able to. They had trapped a few pigs, and gotten a deer or two, but there had not been much as far as pickings when it came to anything that was not so far away from Salsola that it would be a pain to bring back to Salsola without being sniffed out, or seen. He had resigned himself to letting the banquet happen, and he had informed Elphaba of the shortage of meat before hand, and it had seemed that she was more than ready to have this banquet with no food if it came down to it.
Frankly, when Till showed his face at the banquet, with the ash and berry/blood mixture hiding his pink scarred face, he found himself embarrassed at the lack of food that littered the Feasting Hall's long table. The Jagermeister thought to turn away then, to go back home, or to go out and find a way to get more, fresh food for Salsola's patrons to devour. He knew it was too late, much too late for them to do all of that, so he settled within his designated seat at the table, looking at his empty goblet and he sighed gently. He did not want to be so hard on himself, especially since this is his first time having little to show for the banquets of Salsola.
Till had begun to think that him killing that white stag(M) had something to do with the unfortunate lack of prey animals this early spring. He did not want to think about it, but he had avoided wearing the rarity to show to the pack to avoid being blamed for the lack of food. He had done his best, and it was not his fault that the ice melting had driven prey away from the marshland that was Salsola. It was not his fault that the rivers swelled and made the lands dangerous to traverse inside and outside of Salsola. The Gods had not let him become this rank to see him fail. They had given him a message within the eyes of the White Stag, and he had tagged and killed the beast as he was destined to do.
The Gods had something else in mind for this night, and Till had to remind himself that he did not fail at his job. He only could not provide in excess because of outlying circumstances.
He grabbed a pitcher and filled his goblet, and as the celebrations begun, he simply sat in his seat, his smile wide and bright eyes like the night sky above watching the others as if they were all little mice and he, a hawk.
Till Van Ulrich-Lykoi Stone the innocents, Know they deserve it. Rejoice in carnage, Know they deserve it!
Mark my words, Retribution will never come. Character Wiki • Player Wiki • Extra Links (Art Credit)
And in the darkest night, before the break of light
Even though the Ulrich clan had a made valiant effort to fill the bellies of all of Salsola, Coaxoch was disappointed to see how empty of food the banquet's table seemed to be. The only thing more disappointing than that was the fact that he had been goaded by his father into wearing this silly suit, as well as coming in general. The Henchman was not particularly known for his social aspects, and he honestly would have rather been home doing something else than being here. He was obligated to be here as not only the eldest of the Ulrich sons, but also as Oathsworn.
He could not be mad at his Queen, for she had given them riches. She had given Till a "place at her table", but even then, it did not seem like his father was happy where he sat on this eve. Coaxoch was not so stupid as to not know "why" the smile on his father's face was not one of entertainment, but one of boredom, one of disappointment. Till had many tells, each and every one of them so minute and different that those who did not know him would not know what they meant. Those who did know him, would know that this smile was not something that was happy. The look in his star-lit eyes told him that the eldest should be on his best behavior, but not draw attention to the Jagermeister or the feast if at all possible.
Coaxoch looked at his father, and he put his goblet down to pull a finger at his collar that hugged his neck in a rather uncomfortable way. While this suit had been custom made for him, it still was unworn so often that Coaxoch was not used to the slimming way that it made him look or feel. It also took away from the fact that he was missing an arm, though the jacket did have a buttoned end on the left arm, which was obvious when one really looked at him. Most others would be too drunk to likely even notice him, hopefully.
Coaxoch picked his goblet back up and drank from it, noticing that the honey mead that he got from the pitcher was not as sweet as he would have liked it to be. It was much too early to seek out his own wine bottle that had been donated to the various and vast amounts of alcohol that had been provided. The plum wine laced with mushrooms would have to wait until later in the evening, he figured.
He rose a toast to Elphaba's beautiful singing and he also sung with her, the words of Old as they came from her maw. He would have danced with her, but he was not the best dancer, and a man so bold to ask the Queen for a dance was not the Henchman.
He'd always watch her magical beauty from afar. He was one fly that refused to willingly fly into her webs, if he could help it.
OOC - Here's the SpartyParty. (he is wearing his Kilt+sash) WC: 418
Right before my eyes — The world that decayed
The Confidant looked at the front of the table from the lower ranked designated seating arrangements. He felt the little seed of jealousy rise in his chest as he looked at his eldest brother who sat with the other Henchmen, and then to his Father, who was even further away than that. One day, he would be the one who looked at others from that side of the table, but right now, at this very moment, he felt angry that he was now already well on his way like Eden and Evelyn were, seeing as that they were barely older than him and sat as equals with their father, and his brother.
"What made them so special anyways?" were words that could not help but cross his mind. Maybe it was because they had already chosen their path — nay, this was the reason they were so special. They had the tools for their futures right in front of them, while Spartacus struggled to figure out his own path. Would he walk as yet another Warrior amidst all the others who found themselves as part of the shield, or would he find something that was entirely his own? There were many Jobs that were empty in Salsola, and there were also specializations that he would need training for. This was what made the decision so hard. Spartacus had even thought about going to Portland to see if he could get someone to teach him the things he needed to know, but he also did not want to abandon his apprenticeship with the New Caledonian.
Spartacus did not drink too often, admittedly. He had only had a few glasses of wine with his father occasionally, and it was mostly because he did not to seem like he was a wimp in front of his father, so he would match his father in drinks. He had been lucky that Till did not see it as competition and would have his two glasses and be done.
They were encouraged to drink at this feast, and Spartacus had been pretty shy about getting a goblet at first, but once everyone else started filling their cups, he had no choice but to do the same. He poured his goblet, raised it in a toast and he chugged the first goblet of the honey mead.
Spartacus was ready to party. He likely could get away with doing stupid shit because he was young, and he was not going to let his opportunity get past him.
You murder somebody too tragic to stay with you
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(ಥ﹏ಥ)
Note: Spartacus is blinded in his right eye as of June 2020. His eye appears to be a cloudy silver-ish color.
A meager feast, he thought, but the alcohol was flowing.
The scarcity of the days was felt by O'Riley, who was constantly hungry and always unsatisfied when he did eat. He was looking forward to spring and the bounty that was likely to come with it. The first fawn he found he would eat all by himself.
Without Igor to keep him company, O'Riley had settled for Nickodemus. The older wolfdog was prattling on about his newest designs, and seemed exceptionally excited about the shaking earth.
...it will expose things, you see, crack open stones. I'm certain we'll find something by the coast, I have before, but I want to look around the mountains.
Not in winter you don't.
This weather has been severe indeed.
Haven't heard anything strange, have you?
The stars are right, was all Nickodemus said, and hailed a familiar face from across the room. He excused himself, leaving O'Riley to finish off his drink. Plenty of the stores were old, and some of it was unexpected – summer flavors and autumn spice had already touched his tongue. He wanted to eat and smoke and felt his cousin's absence keenly. Bothered by it, O'Riley reached for a different bottle to refill his cup.
Drawn by the dancing flames of the torches and their Queen’s lovely singing, the Nocturne women arrived. Clad in dresses from Maelyx’s wardrobe, the matriarch dressed herself and her daughter to impress, knowing that if they wanted to be nobility, they must first look the part. Padding silently through the row of banquet tables, the jackal and her albino daughter padded a direct path to the royal table, Pandora marching a pace behind Maelyx to show deference to her mother. Your Grace, Maelyx greeted as they arrived, lowered their eyes, and curtsied deeply to their queen. Thank you for this bounty that your House and Kingdom shares with all the people of Salsola. Pandora, having been instructed to shut up and look pretty, did just that, remaining silent in the Queen’s presence – but now that the formalities were dispensed, Maelyx waved her daughter off, allowing her to enjoy the party as she saw fit…
…or, mostly…
As the diminutive white jackal receded, Maelyx scanned the early partygoers and found the one she was looking for. Padding to his table, the witch curtsied again – this time not as deeply – to the Jagermeister. It has been some time since we have consorted, rearing babes has commanded much of my time. Might an old friend bend your ear for a time?she asked. It seems a life of servitude to the crown has paid off, Sir Ulrich. Congratulations are in order. You have done your house and pack well. Maelyx smiled a closed-lip smile and leaned over the banquet table, bracing her palms on the smooth wood as her low-cut top revealed two of the witch’s more magical features.
Her icy blue eyes averted from the Ulrich Patriarch long enough to gaze at his two-toned offspring just as the boy downed a his mead. Maelyx waited a beat to ensure both Till and Spartacus knew who she was looking at before her eyes slowly turned back to Till. I wonder, might I have a word with your boy some time tonight? Oh, no, there is no need to draw him away from his reveling right now. I just have some… business, with the boy. Did you hear how he saved my Pandora during the blizzard?Maelyx wore a catlike grin as she glanced over at the Ulrich Confidant once more. As if she wasn’t being obvious enough, she raised a pale hand and wriggled her fingers at him in a coy wave. She knew her words would be swallowed up by the cacophony of the crowd long before they would reach the young man’s ears.
Meanwhile, Pandora padded quietly to the drink table, black dress dripping over every curve like slow-rolling magma. Her pink eyes caught sight of Spartacus there and she deliberately avoided him, stepping to the far end of the table as she poured herself some dark cherry wine. As a witch, she was quite familiar with the spirit, so she downed her first glass almost instantaneously. She didn’t have to look over her shoulder at Maelyx or at Sparta’s face to know that her mother was up to something. It would probably do her some good to be anesthetized for this.
To rise and shine is so hard to do When all the light has been taken from you
OOC: The Lord of Discord is here. +400 words.
Silas had been preparing himself to leave before Aidan, as it was common place for the servants to arrive before the others in assisting with getting preparations done. He heard about this celebration, one where the servants were granted more freedom, and were even said to be given the permission to dine with ranked members. The notion itself was something that made him feel very uncomfortable. The thought that he would be on their level, even if only for a day didn't sit well with him.
He should always just be beneath them. It would make things so much easier.
Still, in the spirit of the celebration, he had gathered the shirt that he had used when Aidan and himself left Salsola for the nearby bar. It was at least something nicer than just his care chest and his pants. He carefully fit his collar over the collar of the shirt, soon making his way to the door.
Only to be greeted by the Boss' familiar.
The fox had a strange looking crown with it and a note. Though he assumed these to be for the Henchman, it was made clear these were for him. Confused, he accepted the gifts, pausing at the door to take heed of the note's contents. The Lord of Discord was a role of power in the celebration, one that was hand picked by the leaders... but why of all those in Salsola had he been chosen?
Him?!
If he wasn't feeling on edge and uncomfortable before, he certainly was now. What was he supposed to do as the Lord of Discord? Any other servant would probably see it as a chance to be selfish with their calls, their demands, but what was someone as obedient as him supposed to do? What fun was he supposed to bring? It wasn't like he could turn this down, or ask the Boss to select someone else.
He would have to see this through.
Taking the crown, the silent man carried it in his arms as he made his way to the Feasting Hall. Others were already there when he came, which didn't help to make him feel much better. His golden gaze locked with the item in his hands as he stepped among those gathered. He dipped his head to all of them, hesitant in his movements as he moved to place the crown on his head.
He was waiting for all their gazes to meet on him, this usually four legged man standing on two holding such an important role in the festivities.
Her wife's displeasure was palpable, but Katinka ignored it as she plaited her great length of milk-blonde hair into a single braid.
Let Khael sulk; Tink would not give into it.
The bitter thought was accompanied by a pang of guilt, but the wolfdog affixed a neat blue bow to her hair and banished the feeling. Festivities were welcome after the long dark of Salsola's supposed curse, and Tink especially looked forward to indulging with the blessing of their culture.
She was well-intentioned and modestly dressed, her dark blue garment sleeveless but accompanied by a shawl that hid the small scar that remained on her shoulder from the blizzard. The sweetness of honeymead and the acridness of darkberry wines was a welcome temptation, respite from worry – if for a night. Come morn, heavy reality would settle back onto her shoulders.
She smiled and glanced at her dark wife. Are the girls ready?
The jackal stared a moment longer, ember eyes scorching her bare neck, then offered a noncommittal noise and exited into the main room to wrangle their pups, no doubt boisterous in anticipation of their first large gathering.
When they finally arrived, the girls prancing at their ankles and casting furtive glances up at their mothers as they lingered close (for now), the feast lay before them – or what they could muster. A loner would still think it a feast, Tink reflected; she would have once, too, though she never wanted for anything in Portland. The plethora of drinks waited in bottles and goblets and flagons.
Katinka poured herself a horn of wine and took her first sip of the night.
Saturnaria was a time of celebration for all of them, though Sanguine couldn't help but feel that their efforts should be placed on other matters. While it's true they had some items that could supply the feast, their priority, especially those that were merchants, should be working towards replenishing the food and storage that was lost due to the weather. He would have to see about speaking to Clementine and the Ambassador once more about such things.
They might already have some plans set in motion for this, and would seek to lend a hand wherever he could.
Even so, it would seem rude of him if he didn't turn up. It was a shame that both of his siblings had made the venture back home to the Outpost, leaving him the only one in Salsola proper of his siblings. Perhaps he should have gone on the trip with the other members to the Outpost, if only to see his family again and make sure that his sister arrived safely.
Alas, he chose to stay behind, though there was still the idea about making the trip on his own. There would be nothing stopping him so long as he returned home when he was finished. In that notion, he dressed himself up, making plans to go join the rest of the members at the feast. He wore his usual shirt, vest, and pants, though took much more time cleaning up his appearance before he made the journey to the Feasting Hall.
He pondered if he would see his former roommate there. Word was that another of his siblings had come to Salsola, so they might be there along with his sister. The Greygrief woman seemed to be doing well for herself.
His pushed the thought out of his mind, padding across the land. His hands rested gently at his sides, dipping his head in respect to those gathered before seeking out a drink. There might not have been that much in terms of food, but it was certainly made up for in alcohol. Once he had his drink, he found himself looking to blend into the crowd. He still wasn't much for mingling with so many.
He had gotten better, but social interactions with too many people was still not a strong suit.
She had no lust for food or wine. She had no real interest in the daft party full stop. She felt bloated and ugly and she was more tired than she could ever remember being. But her presence here was vital. As the Proctor's wife, however, begrudgingly, and the mother of his children (Narcissa could scarcely hide a smirk when she thought about this little white lie) she had a duty to parade herself and her sham of a marriage around for all of the Thistle Kingdom to see.
Andrew played his part sickeningly well, his hands roving all over her in what they both hoped others saw as loving gestures. She applauded herself for somehow finding the restraint not to break his hand when it snaked around her waist and thumbed her stomach, for she had very patience this far along and at this time of night.
The Amazon watched bitterly as the other's drank themselves stupid and made merry. Without the companionship of wine, she found the night very dull and found even those whose company she usually appreciated, utterly intolerable.
Narcissa picked idly at her food, unable to stomach much, something that surprised her given her voracity in the past few months. The fact that, at some point, she would be able to excuse herself early was a blessing, but that point in the night was slow to approach and she gritted her teeth as she suffered through more well wishes and faux displays of happy marriage.
The Lady Greygrief would be glad when this entire debacle was over. This display of womanhood didn't appeal to her, and the anger and frustration it brewed was not easily exhausted when one had to ensure one's comfort and safety.
Narcissa sighed inwardly, deeply, and took another long sip of the berry laced water. Wine in it's palest imitation.
My power's turned on Starting right now I'll be strong
OOC: +200 words.
Many others had come to join before she had, but that was to be expected. Idrieus and Grievous had been far more focused on the ceremony that was done between the two of them far more than they had the real celebration that was going on. All of it was a combination of events wrapped into one feast, as was the most logical thing to do anyways. It would make no sense to have a small feast for Saturnaria and then try to do another one to celebrate her marriage with Grievous.
Though, it had been mostly his idea anyways. He knew very well the kind of woman his wife was, and the type to let loose and have fun was not her. In the end, it didn't matter too much so long as they were able to have their ceremony with one another, but she knew well it wouldn't be enough to satisfy them.
So she agreed, and so long as she was with her husband, everything would be fine.
The Paladin appeared, dressed in her wedding armor. This was still just as much her day as it was anyone else's. Her eyes had drifted about the room, watching the others gathered. Still true to her nature, she hung a bit off to the side, waiting to feel the touch of her husband against her.
She had taken notice of the crown that rested on top of the silent servant's head, causing her to cross her arms a bit. Seemed like a bit of a strange decision, but she was supposed to be having fun wasn't she? Perhaps this would turn out not quite as she would expect.
Evelyn had not been able to attend a supper or gathering such as this she felt since she became an adult within the ranks of Salsola. They had been held off in light of the curse that had gripped the pack for as long as she could remember. It was like a breath of fresh air with Spring just around the corner and the curse supposedly lifted from their pack.
Winter had been harsh, and it was showing in the lack of food that usually overcrowded the tables of Salsola's renowned feasts. Yet, in place of the food, there were many types of drinks around and Evelyn could not help but be enticed by the pleasant aromas that gripped her as soon as she entered. Evelyn was dressed in a simple pale silk shift that was a little more feminine than the typical garb she wore while caring for the horses and other animals. Familiar faces poked out of the crowd and after saying her quick hello's to those she knew the girl went over to the table and poured herself a wine that was heavily spiced, the aroma magical to her as it was nothing like anything she had ever scented before.
Bringing the goblet to her mouth, she gave one last little sniff, before tilting it back and letting the warmth of the juices invigorate her senses. A shudder went down her spine, and it took a moment before she could gather herself to swallow it. Running her tongue over her lips, she thought about the spices and berries that came to mind when she finally was able to collect herself and decided she liked it. She turned from the table and pushed her way through the crowd in hopes of finding a familiar face feeling scantily clad in this outfit, and wanting to throw a huge cloak over her bare shoulders.
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pen-quote; }![[Image: 88x31_v1.png]](https://salsola.soulsrpg.com/public/pride/88x31_v1.png)
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