[September 2017 GM Event] Masque of the Red Death

[Azraeth]

OUT OF CHARACTER SECTION

Okay folks, so hold onto your britches, because things are about to get strange!

By now, each of your characters has been given the role they are going to be playing inside of the Masque of the Red Death game. That's right, you're going to be roleplaying, inside of roleplay. What's the worst that could happen?

Gameplay shall be broken into two phases: Lights On and Blackout.

During the Lights On phase, people are free to chatter, enjoy refreshments, accuse each other of being members of the Red Death team, make attempts at convincing, etc. What moves the game forward? Voting! Voting will take place in the form of #Vote:Name. An example post is provided below:

"I caught sight of Red Rum outside of the window of Innocent Victim's room last night when everyone was at the party. They've got to be the killer!

#Vote:Red Rum

A person may similarly unvote using #Unvote:Name. The game progresses when a majority vote is reached. The moderator (in this case Azraeth), will be keeping up with votes, so while you can vote and unvote each post, be careful not to do so frivolously! People may post as often as they want during the Lights On phase, without posting order. This is to simulate the 'reality' of conversations and side conversations.

When a majority is reached, the moderator will post "BLACK OUT" meaning posting is to stop. The person voted on is banished after it's revealed by the moderator what their role was. From there, those roles become super important.

The Detective: May PM the moderator during black out phase with the name of 1 other participant to find out what their role is. It should be noted that the detective may not want to reveal his 'hand' early on, as he might be taken out by the Red Death.

The Red Death: Work in tandem, they may select one person to murder during the blackout phase. It is encouraged for them to speak privately between rounds to come up with some sort of strategy. The one person they kill during Black Out phase should be PMed to the Moderator at this time.

The Doctor: Selects one person to save per round. If they are lucky, they will save someone the Red Death would murder. Though they may also choose to save their own hide every round. The doctor should submit the name of the person they are protecting to the moderator via PM during the Black Out phase.

Everyone else is an innocent.

Once all of the roles have done their thing, the moderator will post "LIGHTS ON!" along with any events which may have taken place during the night, such as the death of a participant, or the attempted murder and then saving of a participant. Roles will not be revealed, obviously. Things will continue accordingly.

The game is over when all of the members of the Red Death team are eliminated OR when there are more Red Death members than other players (including doctor, detective and innocents).

Those who have been 'eliminated' by vote and 'death', may not participate in this thread anymore. However, they can socialize here until the event is over! The linked thread has no word count limit and no requirements. People may obviously speculate as to what's going on in the game (which they would be watching IC anyway), get drinks, leave, or do whatever they want really!

[Azraeth]

IN CHARACTER SECTION

The night starts right as you pull up, with a pair of men identically clad in dark colors, charcoal coats with black cravats. On their faces are what look to be heavy brass masks designed after a style which makes them look like skeletal birds. They are nondescript otherwise, and though they may help you into the Dragon Tower, or park your vehicle, they are uniform in their silence.

Once led inside, you are directed to a previously inaccessible set of rooms, which are richly, luxuriously, and comfortably outfitted, which gives the impression of Victorian decor sensibilities, but intimacy of atmosphere. One room seems to be a sitting area, with a handsome, crackling fire, plenty of space for everyone to be seated, and a black glass mirror, which seems to reflect nothing. Through a plain door, you have access to an eat in kitchen, which seems mostly abandoned save for the smell of food and the coppery scent of blood. There is a lone figure in a red cloak, who stands behind an improvised bar. Apparently his selection of drinks is vast. Horderves are numerous - everything from seared shrimp on skewers, to clams, to thinly sliced salmon on crackers, crostinis, sweedish meatballs - all of it designed to be eaten standing, quickly. A taste of something delicious for those able and desiring.

Past a lone door on the other side of the kitchen is a corridor leading up some stairs, and a viewing gallery, the entrance to which has the phrase 'Purgatory', scrawled above it. This limbo is where eliminated participants will go to watch the remainder of the game, if they so desire, able to see through the black glass mirror from the previous sitting room.

Speaking of that previous sitting room, as you enter, you will notice a figure standing in the middle of the room. Azraeth is there in all white - hair powdered under an elegant French wig, face and hands painted with Venetian ceruse to make his already pale features stark white, with clothing undoubtedly inspired by the Victorian era. When all have gathered, he speaks.

"Good evening, and welcome to the Masque of the Red Death. You have all been called here, on this woeful occasion, because I, the good prince Prospero, have been killed by the Red Death itself.

Look around you. Drink in every little detail, watch everyone here, and trust none, because amongst you are killers. To free my spirit from this mortal coil, you must find those who took my life. That, or join me here for eternity."

And with that, the first Lights On phase begins.

[Amalea]

Receiving an invitation to a Masquerade-style murder mystery had been a pleasant surprise and Amalea had been more than happy to attend. The distraction slipping into the assigned role for the evening would provide was perfect to allow her mind a break to unwind from recent events. A simple Victorian-esque black dress had been chosen and paired with a black lace mask. The trek was made to the recently-opened Dragon Tower, where she nodded politely to the doormen before slipping into her role for the evening as she was led inside.

The décor was marvelous; the red-head dawdling slightly to take in the myriad of details within. The smells of the kitchen were enticing and drew her in. The variety of refreshments was astounding but it was the layout and décor in which she was currently most interested. Finally entering the sitting room, she nodded politely to their host and the other guests as she took up a suitable spot. After their missive was given, she headed to the bar ostensibly for a glass of red wine. Leaning against the bar as she waited, she watched and listened to the bits of conversation taking place around her.

[Doc]

Having been ushered in by the footmen, Doc clad in the attire as requested by the invitation, finally had a chance to get his bearings, when Azreath, or rather Prince Prospero began to tell his tale. The Prince was dead and someone in this room with him, was the killer. He looked at the others all gathered about the room. He wasn’t sure how he got invited to this soiree, he almost wondered if Lizzie was behind it, until he spied Amalea. Could Amalea have been behind his invitation?

Doc hadn’t had a chance to scope out the place, because the Prince had started his welcome only moments after he had arrived. The group was small, humans and vampires, socializing at a party. Hopefully this would end well and not turn into an ‘us vs. them’ free for all.

Doc moved to the bar, where Amalea was watching the other participants. “Evening Amalea. Lovely dress, and quite proper as we are in mourning for our dear departed Prince.” He wanted to ask her if she was behind the invite, but decided it would ruin the game for him and her, if he broke character. So he causally continued his conversation, “It came as quite the shock to me, when I heard he had been killed.”

Doc looked at the bartender, “Bourbon if you please.” Turning back to Amalea, “Do they know how he was killed? Knife to the back in the style of Caesar? Pushed down the stairs, perhaps?”

The bartender sat his drink in front of him. Doc looked his drink, and then looked at Amalea’s drink which seemed to remain, untouched. “Perhaps it was.. Poison?” He picked up his drink, and then sipped it.

[Romeo]

T H E L O O K

I have been around the room a few times. It is exactly what I would expect given the invitation I received. I move with care as I am the pack horse hauling at least fifteen pounds of venetian lace. White lace no less. I feel wrong about it already. Not the lace or the fact that I am at the party to begin with. It is the abundance of white that only pales in comparison to the tiered wig and heavy porcelain powdered dust that sits on my skin. I feel far too clean when deep down I know I am as dirty as they come. Not only that, I am wading with each new step into the darkest waters imaginable. I can smell the sources of cool liquid power around me. They forget to add the disclosures and warnings to one’s health at the bottom of the limited invites. Of course, for me, it was too tempting to resist.

More observations are needed. I do this while adjusting the sage organza draped over my bare shoulder. I see dark colors and enough black to satisfy a funeral procession. Perhaps it is going to lead to that. I am invited so it isn’t probably meant to be spiked punch and lady fingers with a side of salacious chatter. Then again...who really knows?

Why I was invited is a mystery but I assume given enough time the reasons will come to light. I have taken into account the guests as they arrive. Each are wearing something falling under the victorian theme and the masks hide enough that will require me to get in closer, eventually. For now I shift my focus and attention to the one who seems to be stepping up as the ringmaster of this shindig.

[Urchin]

I almost threw the invitation away. Another masked event? How unlucky was I? Two in about two months? Who was Prince Prosperity, or whatever his name was, anyways? And how did he get my information? I almost think it has to do with my old boss, given the fact that the last event that required a mask came from 'friend's of his.' After a quick and friendly chat, he's as oblivious as I am, so that narrows it down to my new boss, or maybe, just maybe, the detective. The former is possible, but unlikely. Wouldn't she have said something at work? Which leads me to believe it has to be the detective. I'm not longer interested in tossing the invite away.

It seems that it's not only a masked party, but a costumed one too. I spend the better part of a night getting measured for a suit, because nothing I have fits the criteria of a ball that is set in the Victorian Era. The guy asked me what I needed the suit for and when I tell him, he seems to want to take charge of what I'll be wearing. I'm game. I let him go for it and he tells me the suit will be ready the night before the party. The last step to do then is to get a mask and he's given me an idea of colors to choose from. Last time I wore a black one, so this time I'll opt for a little color.

The suit wasn't exactly my usual, and I was skeptical that it would fit me the night of the event. But, it does and while I think it's a little off the beaten path for what was expected tonight, it's too late now. I partner the coat up with black boots and then put on my mask before grabbing my wallet and car keys. I've never been to the Tomkin area, so I program it in my GPS and it takes me right to the Dragon Tower. I park across the street and head inside the party, not disappointed. The tailor had been right. Red was the choice of the night after all. I head over to the bar and grab a drink of the red variety, my pupils dilating a little before I move to the corner of the bar, observing the people around me. Murder was on the agenda tonight and the prince had been the first to pay the price. I was on defense mode.

[Yvette Marie]

Yvette thought about the invitation she had received as she was allowed into the door by what she fancifully thought of as footmen. She was not sure exactly how they knew she was 'in her right mind' again, but it did not truly matter. Only the excitement of visiting somewhere new, and doing something that should prove to be entertaining filled her mind as she raised the hem of her pale green gown to step over the threshold into the sitting room. She caught the faint smell of blood from another room, but shook her head, deciding to pursue refreshments later.

The movement of her head made the delicate rose gold mask shift slightly, and the blonde touched it to make sure it was still in place. The beauty of the decor made a smile bloom across her face. One that was soon lost as she looked around her. She dressed incorrectly it seemed, pale against the darker colors,but she would enjoy the evening nonetheless.

She wandered aimlessly, catching fragments of conversation as she moved by. Her eyes flitted over each, as well as their host for the evening, and her lips twitched, quirking. "Interesting," she murmured, but said no more.

[Amalea]

Amalea was more than a bit surprised to see Doc heading her way. Had he arranged her invitation to the event? Or had Mortll been behind both of theirs? It had appeared without warning one day in her mailbox; she had not realized the exclusivity of it until the small number of guests had been gathered. The mixture of guests gave nothing of the source of their beckoning away.

The red-head curtsied slightly in greeting, “Evening, Doc.” It was certain to be an interesting evening and she was grateful that each had a role to play. “Thank you,” she continued demurely. “Your manner of dress is quite appropriate as well; it suits thee.” She paused a moment as she took in the guests around them. “It seems not all are considered with mourning our Prince.” Her eyes glancing at each of the ladies dressed in such pale attire as she continued, “It twas quite the shock. He was beloved by many. It is hard to believe he had enemies.”

As Doc ordered his drink, Amalea glanced at the other guests to see what other pairs or groups may have formed. At his questioning, she turned back to him with a shake of her head, “I dare say our poor Prince was quite shocked at his death for he never stated the circumstances that brought upon his demise.”

With a coy smile, the blood thief turned slightly to rescue her drink from the bar. “Given how well…and unblemished… he looks for being deceased, I would not rule out poison,” she agreed, taking a sip of her own drink. “Of course, one also cannot rule out that his death state does not give way to the manner of death; therefore possibilities remain endless.”

Amalea watched the others for a quiet moment. “They seem to wander without purpose.”

[Doc]

Doc gave Amalea a wide grin at her use of old world speech. Then he followed her gaze as everyone did seem to wander about without direction. He rested his elbow on the bar, and watched one in particular, “I have heard it said, that one does not willingly enter a place without know how they will get out.” He fell silent for a moment, “Perhaps our killer is scoping out his or her way out, should we ferret him,” He glanced at Amalea pointedly, “or her… out?”

Doc looked past Amalea to the male in red velvet threads at the the other end of the bar. “Now that is a suit.” He looked down at his own attire, “I feel like a funeral director in comparison.” He grinned suddenly at Amalea, “Let us go make the acquaintance of the young gentleman opposite us.” He paused, “Unless you are already acquainted, then if you would be so kind as to introduce me?”

He straightened, and smiled at Amalea, “With my proper title and name? Doctor John Watson.” If Azreath could have a pseudonym, so could he. He offered her his arm, “Shall we?”

[Amalea]

Amalea would have laughed at his reaction to her attempt at period-accurate speech had she not been in character; she wasn’t sure she wanted to know if it was particularly bad or just unexpected. She took another sip of her wine as he spoke of ensuring ones exit strategy. An eyebrow raised at the pointed look Doc gave her as if to say ‘you suspect me?’. She could have voiced the question, but they were gathered to find a killer and it would not be wise to draw attention to herself with it, lest she be thought to have played a hand in the demise of their host. “A mouse will always be assured a way to escape the feline of the house,” she commented softly in agreement to his statement. “I dare say the Prince would be most gracious should his killer(s) be revealed. Thus it is our duty to do so, is it not?”

Her gaze followed Doc’s to rest on the red-clad male she knew as Urchin. “It is rather appropriate for the occasion,” Amalea agreed. Red tresses bounced lightly as her head shook faintly, “Nay, your attire conveys well your mourning at the Prince’s passing.” Smiling, she gave a slight nod, “It would be a honor to make the acquaintance of such a well-dressed gentleman. ”

Amalea laughed ever so lightly, “Of course, good sir. It would be most improper to do otherwise.” Eyes twinkling, she continued, “It is a pleasure to make thy acquaintance this eve. Please pardon my manners, I am Sophia Pond.” She took the offered arm, “Lead on, Doctor.”

The red-head knew their target as he was her employee but to acknowledge such would break role. After the festivities were over, she’d properly introduce the men, but for now, she would stay within her character. She smiled at Urchin, “Evening, sir. Though the occasion for the gathering be somber, may I introduce to you, Doctor John Watson?”