[ORP] Toreador New Years Bash - Open!

[Yayoi]

Once again it is that special time of year in which the Toreador Antediluvian throws open the doors to his mansion and invites kindred and mortals alike to come and celebrate the timing in of a new year. Each room is meticulously decorated in the most expensive and exquisite fashion. Glitz and glam are heavily emphasized.

Not only are the Toreador celebrating the New Year they are also celebrating the return of the Disciple, Caius.



As you enter the mansion you find yourself in a large open room and notice security giving you the eye. The rules of Elysium apply here. Any found breaking them will be swiftly dealt with. We don’t want the Masquerade broken at any costs. But security is not the only eyes you have to worry about. There are others milling about that could give you a bit of trouble if you step out of line. All clans are welcome and all rivalries must be left at the door. This is a time of enjoyment and celebration, not fighting and sniping. Though feel free to whisper among yourselves about the Mallavians scratching at the wallpaper as if it were cheese to be spread upon a cracker.

Off to one side is a glamorous ballroom where fancy dancing and the more refined will find it most comfortable. On the other side of the room is an area more so liken to that of a club. Where fast music and even faster paced dancing is appropriate. The younger Kindred may find it a bit more palatable in this room.

Feel free to approach the master of the mansion if you feel it necessary but just realize he is a very busy man entertaining so many guests.

 

[Yayoi]

Kitrye Orbdrin was a man of very fine tastes. And here he found himself, once again, hosting the nnnual New Year’s party for Kindred and mortals alike. But there was much for the Toreador clan to celebrate this year. Their Disciple had returned and they were, albeit slowly, rebuilding the clan. Which tended to be a bit difficult with the flakey nature of the artists in the clan but it was what it was.

He enjoyed this yearly party. Most of the year he was too busy with his art dealing business and sniffing out new talent to throw many parties throughout the year. So the end of the year was a welcome respite from the hustle and bustle of clan life. But even so the party preparations had kept him quite busy and now that the time to open the doors to his mansion had arrived he was still busy making sure that nothing went amiss. Making sure security kept the other Kindred in line, keeping mortal drinks and those laced with vitae out of the hands of said mortals. Busy busy busy. This party would go off without a hitch. He was determined of it.

Grabbing a glass of vitae laced champagne he made his way to a nearby lounging chase. One of many about the mansion as well as smatterings of tables and chairs for any who wished to find themselves a seat instead of standing around like a schmuck. But then….they were all achmucks to him. If it wasn’t bad fashion it was an ineptitude that gave the Antediluvian a headache. Gods he hoped the Gangrel would behave this time around. Unlike last year where a small fight had almost broken out. Settling onto the chase he watched as guests began to trickle in. A small smile on his lips as red eyes sparkled dangerously in the dim light of the chandeliers.  

[Yayoi]

Armistice had not been in the city of Hemlock for very long but he knew of the annual Toreador party through the grapevine. To the Justicar this would be the perfect time to put a finger on the pulse of the Kindred society that skulked about in the shadows of this filthy place. At least the Toreadors kept their establishments well cleaned. Unlike some of the places he had recently visiited in pursuit of quarry.

Being a Ventrue he was, of course, dressed to the nines in his best suit and silkiest shirt. White gloves adorning his hands. His two toned hair hung immaculately down his back as soft as silk as it fell in soft waves. When he entered the mansion his red gaze swept across the main room, taking in all the extravagant and glitzy decor of the party. The Toredor really knew how to throw a bash. But he was, mostly, here to work. To scope the others out. See who might be breaking the traditions. And with a mix of mortals this place would certainly be filled with all sorts of crime and debauchery. Though most of it would probably be kept under wraps, very little escaped his notice.

As he moved about the room others seemed to give him a wide birth. While most didn’t know who he was personally there were whispers about his return to the city for sure. That was fine. He wasn’t here to socialize. Security eyed him as he made a circle about the room, scooping up a flute of champagne off a server’s tray as he made his way to a table that would give him a good view of the door as people came and went. Settling in to watch.  

[Yayoi]

It had been quite a long time since the last time Ravnos had been to a party. And just as long since he had last been out in public. Most of him time has been spent at the temple. Tending to his children. Or out adventuring, investigating and exploring along-aide the God of Vampires. Their adventures had taken them many places and he had seen so much in that time they had spent together without and serious worries about the world around them. Nothing in particular had cropped up that warranted the Gods or his attention. His clan was growing nicely and nothing seemed to be threatening his people so why not take a little time to relax.

Not that they hadn’t been relaxing enough in the vardo.

Tonight though would call for a change of pace. Instead of sequestering themselves away from the rest of the world the Disciple proposed that they attend the Toreador party like they had done so last year. Though hopefully this time they would stick around a little bit longer than they had last year.

They didn’t enter through the door. No. Instead the God had, as he usually did, simply hand waved them into the mansion. Instead of his usual layers of attire Ravnos wore a suit. A stark change from what he normally wore but this was to be a slightly fancy party after all. Of course his coat simply buttoned up halfway exposing a bit of bare chest. Long dark hair was left loose, unbound from its usual cloth wrappings. He almost looked like a completly different man. Green eyes shone bright with mirth as he leaned over to the deity beside him. “Let’s try to have a good time tonight yes, Dragul meu?”  

[Aria Starstone]

Ertéan walked in with his lady on his arm, and his children, and one of his sons' partners, accompanying the group as well. He glanced around, checking to see who all was present and if he knew anyone (or had dressed anyone) present. He was wearing his most recent Men's wear creation, an elegant work in velvets and silks with embroidery, and he had gifted his companions all the clothing from his collections that they could ever want... He did love to spoil those that mattered to him, after all.

He turned towards their host, considering greeting their clan leader, but decided to leave that for later in the night, when perhaps he might be less mobbed. "Darling, would you care to dance?" He murmured into Miyako's ear.

Noir Songbird

 

[Aria Starstone]

Issey controlled the urge to prance, because while he was normally a very fancy lad, tonight he was dressed to the nines in an elegant dress from his father's women's wear line, because he always felt more powerful in those beautiful flowing gowns, and tonight it was a deep purple velvet with gold accessories, and he beamed as he walked in with his lovely partner.

He might not have known anyone else present, but did not care... All he cared about was how good he and his partner looked. He loved showing off, and loved the eyes on himself and his partner.

Uta

 

[Seussi]

The last time one of these events had been put on, Mithras had been away on business and sadly missed it. Word and rumour from the little soiree had spread like wildfire afterward, leaving the Ventrue Methuselah feeling more than a little envious. Disciples, disputes, and Deities? Ah, what an experience that would have been. No matter how important his ventures may be, he decided that next time, he would be sure to keep his calendar clear.

That was, perhaps, easier this year than last. Part of what made Mithras so successful was his ability to hide in plain sight exactly what it was he did. At times, however, hiding it wasn't quite enough. Sometimes, his empire was scrutinized a little too closely for comfort and a full shift in enterprise needed to occur. Whispers of the Justicar Armistice returning had reached his keen ears, and Mithras knew that the time for the shift had come. Books needed to be burned, ledgers adjusted with fine penmanship, his headquarters meticulously scrubbed so that no amount of searching would turn up anything considered illegal or even suspicious. He knew the other Ventrue to be relentless in his endeavours, and Mithras also knew he needed to be several steps ahead of the ancient vampire so as not to be caught within his own intricate web of lies.

With his business gone "clean" for the moment, Mithras found himself with a lot less to keep a close eye on. Well, save for the Justicar himself, though the Methuselah had yet to actually run into him or have the other Ventrue pay him a visit.

Soon enough, he was sure.

Arriving at the party, Mithras was dressed to impress as always. His lavish attire practically screamed of wealth, and the dark suit he wore was decorated with ornate golden embroidery. His hair was swept back from his face in a style that was roguishly dishevelled, yet closer inspection would show just how carefully each strand was placed to perfectly frame a strikingly handsome face. He came alone, leaving those he trusted most to look after things back at the office. Dark, hazelnut eyes roamed the room behind a beautifully painted, half-lidded gaze while a small smirk adorned his lips. Moving further inside, those he recognized were offered a friendly gesture, either by a nod of the head and a smile, a little wink, or a two-fingered salute. Always so charming, on the surface.

More lies. He wasn't even sure if he was capable of anything else, anymore.

A glass of deep red wine was procured from one of the passing waiters just before Mithras reached the bar, and spinning around, he leaned back with one elbow against it, taking in the slowly growing crowd. His gaze flicked across so many familiar faces and finally landed on the one whose presence in Hemlock had been weighing on the Methuslah's thoughts.

Armistice. The ever-present smirk spread a little wider, and when the Justicar looked his way, Mithras raised the glass in his direction.

yayoi

 

[Uta]

There was nothing better than a party, except perhaps, a Toreador party -- and given this party would be hosted by Kitrye, there was no doubt Caius would make an appearance. It was an opportunity he couldn't pass up, and he would certainly take note of who made an appearance, and who did not. He was eager to bump into some of his fellow Disciples, as well as to show off the splendor of his great Clan -- for surely, Kitrye knew how to entertain.

Caius was eager to see how the night might progress-- what gossip he might catch wind of, what drama might be put on full display. One never quite knew how the Clans would behave when they were all in the same space, but he was eager to take note. Perhaps he'd find something inspiring to paint later, or a hidden gem among all the rabble; perhaps there'd be some gossip to chew on, or even some gossip to spread.

Regardless, he intended to enjoy himself, and expected his Clan to put their best foot forward. He certainly would, with his hair pulled up and styled, his clothing fashionable for the season, with thigh high leather boots, tight pants, and an open, button down shirt. He sported some gold and black jewelry, had made sure not a hair was out of place, and had finished up his accessorizing with the tall, dark, and handsome Asana. A perfect compliment to all his color.

So the Disciple entered the party with his usual grand flourish, letting his eyes drink in the ambiance. The party could really begin now that he'd arrived, and while he usually preferred a more grandiose entrance, this was Kitrye's affair, after all. He wouldn't steal the limelight from the Antediluvian...for now. "Shall we make this a night to remember?" He asked his companion, drawing him further into the main room. To the ball room or the club room or a drink first? Then again, he had every intention of rubbing elbows with plenty while he was here. Tonight was a night of socializing, of enjoying oneself -- and while rivalries were meant to be left firmly at the door, that didn't mean the game of politics had to be... especially for the Toreador.

He'd need to seek out Kitrye later, give his compliments to the host -- but for now, he'd simply enjoy the revelry like the rest of them. Never mind he'd keep his ears and eyes open for any delicious scandal or gossip. Of course, his gaze did fall upon Narcise, tucked away in the corner--tut, he'd remedy that soon enough-- as well as Ravnos and Grendel... Ah, Grendel. The muse of all vampire muses had come -- a true treasure. A pity he hadn't brought his paints, but he'd already spent much of his time painting an ode to the great vampire god -- and if Asana hadn't stepped into his unlife, perhaps he'd be there still, trying to capture his essence on canvas. No. He was here to enjoy himself -- and he planned to do exactly that. Socializing could come later, once everyone was a bit more relaxed, or had something to drink.

"A drink? A dance?" He asked Asana, turning his attention back to the larger vampire. "Or shall we linger in the great room to see who might next arrive?" God knew he already had some opinions about who was there, and who was not... but it was early yet. The night was, after all, very young.

Cheri

 

[Seussi]

This was a ******** nightmare.

Why Ashrad had ever allowed Ambrogino Giovanni to dictate a time and place to meet up, the Banu Haqim would never know. He should have just refused as soon as the summons came. They could have done this anywhere else and it would have been far better. This Toreador celebration was much too high profile and positively crawling with all the highest-ranking vampires each clan had to offer. Ashrad couldn't hope to go unnoticed. He was one of the oldest Banu Haqum still in existence and yet his pale skin practically glowed with an ethereal light. Combine that with a missing limb and a fake eye that glinted and glimmered in even the faintest light and he was sure every ancient vampire in attendance would know exactly who he was. Just as sure was that they were all wondering just what in the ******** a Banu Haqim was doing here.

Upon arrival, Ashrad tucked himself away immediately in some dark corner. Adorned in the usual garb of his clan, his hood pulled low to shade his eyes, he had made sure that every visible bit of his eerily pale skin was hidden from view. A glowing gaze was still impossible to obscure, however, as he awaited the Giovanni Antediluvian to make his appearance, eyes locked upon the mansion door. Every minute that ticked by sent more prickles of impatience and irritation marching across his skin. His jaw clenched, gloved fingers idly stroked along the hilt of a knife tucked away inside his cloak as he waited.

Give him the isolation of the wastelands any day of the week over this proverbial hellscape.  

[Uta]

Rapture had been invited to the party by none other than his beloved Issey, and it was safe to say it was the fanciest party he'd ever attended. Of course, he'd never have said no, as parties were something the young Kindred absolutely adored.... But the sorts of parties he was used to were those found in the Sin Bin and other questionable clubs. He was used to dark rooms, flashing lights, liquor, and outfits that revealed more than they concealed...

But since meeting Issey, the wild Clanless had calmed down considerably. When he partied, he wanted Issey there with him, and if that meant going to places that required fancier dress, and had a more dignified air, then so be it. Even now, Rapture had tamed his usual look of mesh and straps into a black suit, a white undershirt, a deep purple tie, and gold accessories, mostly chains, to match. He'd looped his braids back, and had made sure he complimented Issey, as opposed to draw the eye from him. No, when Rapture went out, it was always to show off the gorgeous red-haired vampire by his side.

How he'd been so lucky to catch the others eye, he didn't know...but tonight, with the vampire on his arm, he couldn't help but be stupidly smitten. He had the prettiest vampire in the room with him tonight, and he wanted nothing more than to ensure Issey had a good time. Lifting his hand, he place a kiss on the back of it, before pulling him just a little closer. "Where to first?" He asked, glancing around a bit self-consciously.

He knew not a soul, save Issey and some of his family -- but he'd follow the red-heads lead. Maybe he was used to this sort of party -- unfortunately, Rapture was not.

Aria Starstone

 

[Uta]

While Ashrad might not go unnoticed among the vibrant cast of characters within the Toreador party, there was one vampire whose presence would likely go completely overlooked -- Benedict Giovanni. The dark haired Puttanesca had been sent on behalf of Ambrogino to meet with Ashrad, and the dark haired vampire did so without complaint. This was the story of his unlife, after all -- to stick as close to the Giovanni Ante as he could and keep tabs on whatever it was he was up by assisting him as a fellow necromancy researcher. Neither task was particularly easy, but Benny did the best he could, and over the course of his unlife, he found himself serving Ambrogino faithfully.... too faithfully.

Perhaps it was the fact that his unlife quite literally revolved around the older vampire, but the younger found himself ever eager to assist the Ante, and return to him successfully. Not that it mattered. In fact, it wouldn't ever matter. He did as he was told without question. Any feelings or opinions he had regarding the dark haired Antediluvian were his and his alone, and something he kept buried deep within. His entire unlife was built around doing others bidding, but at least his secrets were his to keep. Luckier still, they were of little worth or interest to anyone but himself.

Picking his way up the steps and moving into the mansion, Benny grimaced as his pink eyes fell over the growing crowds. These were not his sort of people, and he felt like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He'd combed back his hair, and even brushed off a few wrinkles from his garb -- but he wasn't dressed to the nines like everyone else, nor had he any intention of lingering. Still, he doubted anyone would give him much notice -- no one ever did, after all. He was completely and utterly a nobody -- and it's what made him useful when it came to running errands.

Pulling up the collar of his jacket, the ancilla shoved his hands in his pockets, and let his eyes flick over each guest in turn. There were plenty here he wanted to avoid, so the sooner he found this Al-Ashrad the better. It wasn't easy though, and it would have taken longer had he arrived later with larger crowds. Benny was certain if the Banu Haqim didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be, even if the ancilla knew what to look for: one arm, pale skin, and a glowing eye.

Stepping through the crowds, moving through the shadows when he could, Benny might well have passed him over completely in that shadowed corner had he not caught sight of the smallest ethereal glow which stopped him in his tracks. A shady figure in the shadows wasn't unusual in the company of vampires, but as he approached, there was something else that caused Benny discomfort -- that feel of power radiating from that corner. Sure, the feeling was all around the room, especially among the Disciples and the very God of Vampires himself... but he could feel it from this corner as well, and it put his Beast on edge.

Benny's own hands fidgeted with the knives and blades he kept tucked within his jacket pockets as he bridged the distance between them. There might have been rules of conduct in place, but all it took was one vampire to break them to really ruin his night. Brows knit, frown on his features, Benny approached the cloaked figure, striding over with a confidence he didn't feel. If this was, indeed, who he was looking for, he could only hope to steal enough time alone with him to get the information Ambrogino sought. He didn't dare ******** up this encounter.

Slipping into the seat across from the stranger, as if they were nothing but old friends, he quietly spoke. "If you're waiting for someone in particular, they won't be coming." Benny's words were casual, playing the conversation off like they were nothing but good friends. If he was mistaken, there'd be no harm, and he could pretend he'd had nothing more than too much to drink and was at the wrong table, with no information compromised. Additionally, the ancilla wouldn't dare drop Ambrogino's name if he could help it. Not with so many vampires around, and many of them looking for some sort of gossip or juicy rumor to start.

Seussi

 

[Yayoi]

He had been so fixated on watching all the guests arriving. Picking out those he knew, those who needed investigating. The Ravnos Disciple. A true criminal who, by all rights, he should have been able to persue. But the Deity of all Vampires was another issue. An issue he preferred not to endure the wrath of if he wanted to exist further this night. The Lihannon Disciple. Her only true crime was the outdated dress she was wearing. But he couldn’t fault the forest witch her inability to select a more in fashion style. The Toreador Disciple, the man of the hour. Surely there was some crime…..there. Somewhere. Ashrad. He was surprised to see the ancient Assamite here of all places. It didn’t seem like a place fitting to the weirdly pale vampire and his action of moving to a dark corner seemed in line with his feelings about this whole affair. There was an Elder and a few minor level vampires milling about.

But none were truly his top priority. No. There was really only one who the Camarilla deemed high enough on the list of suspicion to have sent him here for. And he almost missed him as he slipped through the door like a serpent entering a hen house.

Mithras.

Oh, he had to give the Methuselah credit. He did look quite fetching in his attire. The way his hair frame his face gave it an almost roguish yet elegant way added to his charm. But Armistice was no fool. Not like the rest of them who would all be so easily charmed by his fellow Ventrue. Armistice watched as the man crossed the room to the bar. Making note of every person he made greeting to. They would all need investigating as well.

When he leaned against the bar and glanced his way, lifting his glass Armistice didn’t hesitate to slip from his own seat. He wasn’t shy or trying to obfuscate within the crowd. No. He wanted people to know he was there. A cold smile reached his lips as he began to cross the room, champagne glass in hand. His movements were purposeful, poised, elegant. Almost ethereal in nature. But that was just how the Justicar was. For all his brutality. His true nature as a Ventrue still shone like a beacon in the storm. His shoulders were squared and his chin lifted in a confidence that came so natural to him. His red gaze sparkled dangerously upon his approach. He was a hunter in the prowl afterall.

“Mithras.” His voice was smooth like silk. Dripping with refinement, a testament to his breeding. “I see you’ve crawled out of your hole long enough to make an appearance. Good. I was hoping to see you tonight.” Settling his glass on the bar he simply leaned an arm against the dark wood fixture. Even though he was leaning he still was poised. With a mild smirk of his own he leaned in so that his lips were close to the other’s ear. So that his words could only be heard by him. “After this party expect a visit from me. It should be rather enlightening I think. Hopefully you’ve scoured your books clean I would hate to find anything that might indicate that you were dirty.” That was a lie.

Armistice leaned back. Taking his glass by the stem and taking a long sip of the slightly red tinted liquid within. Normally the Justicar wouldn’t drink while he was working but it would seem an odd thing being at this party if he wasn’t. So what harm was there if he didn’t enjoy a little light libation.

Seussi-