[September 2017 GM Event] The Gallery

[Azraeth]

This thread is reserved for anyone who has been eliminated from this thread. Participants may watch the ongoing game, make commentary, take bets, and generally just have a good time. There is no wordcount, and no obligation to participate once a player is eliminated from the game, but I figured the option would be appreciated! <3

[Azraeth]

“Well that was an interesting play.” In one hand, he held a remote with only a few buttons, including a rather large red one, which he used to kill the lights in the game room. Az was sat in the gallery, with one arm dangling, fingers saved from brushing the ground by his grip on the device, and in his other hand was a wineglass with a little something from the Arbor Vitae. He had naturally been observing the whole game from the start. Of course, he didn’t really have a part to play other than as a member of the ‘back stage’ crew, so to speak. That is, if the whole thing was meant to be seen as a play, which was a little too overused a metaphor for Az. The event had the look of a party, but the feel of a social experiment, and both were equally right in their own ways. Ever since the townhall meeting hosted by Doc, the young mystic had been contemplating many things. It was one thing to take guesses about how things might turn out in various situations - everything was perfect in theory - but to see it in action was another thing. And Az was all too aware of how good intentions could explode. In fact, every time the vampire community tried to get its collective **** together, something bad seemed to happen. Consistently. However, he was something of an eternal optimist, so he wanted to hope that the right players working together could create something good.

The party wasn’t really a proper experimental group; but it was a microcosm of the greater vampire community, including the fragment of the human population that knew a lot about vampires and actively worked with them (thank you, Amalea for providing that demographic). The game was meant to reveal any number of things, but the one that Azraeth was most interested in, was seeing if a small group ‘in the know’, was able to pull the strings effectively enough with a large group to not only survive, but thrive. Already he could see that the control of information was something vital to success. The Red Death had gotten rid of not only the Doctor but also the Detective, and the collective innocents were left ‘alone’, with only each other to rely on. Still, the witch hunt was going to continue until the set was done, and the cards were all put away. If the Red Death was not found out in the latest round, then they were almost undoubtedly going to win. Which was a good thing, because it meant that a unified vampire community had a chance in the world. That was what it demonstrated to the mystic. He suspected at least a few of the participants were likely of the same mind about that.

But knowing who to trust, and controlling information were both difficult things. If only there were some way to make vampires blend more with humans, to make them imperceptible, to make them truly vanish into the population.

He glanced up when he heard a movement, the shuffling of footsteps, and he caught sight of Amalea making her way through the door. He lifted his glass to toast her joining the land of the exiled and dead. “Welcome to Limbo. You should try the meatballs. I hear they’re fabulous, and I almost regret that I can’t try them myself.” He murmured with a flash of a grin before those slitted pupils dragged their way back to the display in front of them. It looked like the next round was about to start. What was going to happen?

[Amalea]

The red-head had slipped out of the main room as the remaining players sized each other up. Snagging a napkin from the bar, she attempted to wipe off the black paint as she ascended the stairs to the gallery. Had it been that fake blood, there may have been some real blood split as she had come to love this dress. She might be out, but there was a curiosity to see how the rest of the mystery unfolded. It promised to be some interesting entertainment.

Amalea laughed softly at the greeting she was given, “Thank you. I believe I will.” Snagging a glass of wine and a plate of assorted hors d'œuvres, she settled into the seat next to the male Dragon. “Interesting game you’ve set up here,” she grinned, “rather enjoyable honestly.” A delicate bite of the recommended meatballs was washed down with a sip of wine before she continued, “They are amazing. Both the meatballs and the Red Death. If I were placing a bet, my money would certainly be on them. They’re quite efficient for being so few in number.”

That she had correctly sussed out one of the killers only to be killed off at the same time didn’t even sway her vote. They had taken out the two roled players with such accuracy that it spoke of them being highly efficient. Of course, she had her suspicion on another of the killers and was eager to see if her instinct was correct. It was to be an interesting round that had begun given this vote would decide if the night ended soon with the Red Death winning or if the innocents survived to hunt the remaining Red Death.

“That’s interesting,” she commented lightly as the groups seemed to break up and change. “Seems like trouble in paradise.”

[Azraeth]

There seemed to be a few mysteries involved in the Masque game. On the surface, there was the string of murders itself. There was no real evidence. No tangible clue to determine who might have laced the Prince’s wine, or sunk a blade into Zodiac’s chest, or shot Amalea between the eyes. The entire exercise was one of behavior. Who acted like a killer? And did acting like a killer mean that they were, in fact, the Red Death? The thing was, people were playing the game very differently, and the Red Death seemed to be taking advantage of the confusion, the lack of concrete proof to turn the whole thing into a frenzied witch hunt without visibly doing so. There were a few wild cards though, some people who had remained totally silent for the duration, for whatever reason. Would they make a difference, or would they let their inaction write their story for them?

A serpentine gaze swung from the display back towards Amalea. The mystic noted that she ate the way he envisioned a lady might, such that one never really saw her doing it. “Thanks. With Enzo sadly MIA at the moment, I thought I might take a little initiative and put something together.” In truth, Az had been a little distracted over the previous few months since the fall of secrecy. Part of that was self-preservation. Raeth never had been the sort to get out in front and in the public eye unless he had to, and when there was a magnifying glass on the entire community? Well. Better to lie low, in his book. Plus he’d picked up some short term work at one of the local universities in a new program for late night classes aimed at the undead. That, and his obligations to the Dragomir and Voodoo Dragons took up a majority of his time. It was good to be able to relax and socialize. Or at least his version of socializing. “I will take that bet. Lets say 50,000 I say the innocents win against your saying the Red Death wins. Of course, I know who the contenders are, so if you think that’s an unfair advantage in this case, just let me know.” He winked then.

“By the way, you made a good call on your last round. It’s too bad you got eliminated, or you could have really turned things around fast.” He commented before lifting the wine glass to his lips to give a sip. The Venetian ceruse he wore seemed to be applied well to his skin, and none of it came off on the rim. He had opted against staining his lips or adding any pink or red to his cheeks, so he looked almost two dimensional, save for the natural cast of shadows across his skin. Unearthly.

And then things began to happen. Fingers began to point everywhere. Would they ever find a majority vote? He supposed if Ripper didn’t break his silence, that might cause some issues, so he was going to have to consider a way to fix that little problem. Whatever the case, things were sure to unfold one way or the other. “It will just take one more bad vote to end the game, so I’m rooting for our innocents.” He commented, before glancing around the gallery. Limbo. To see if anyone else who had been eliminated or killed had made their way to the area.

[Amalea]

“So no one’s heard from him then?” Amalea queried quietly; she supposed she could have asked Mortll the same question ages ago, but it seemed to be in bad taste. As she considered the last time she had seen Enzo, she self-consciously nibbled on the other half of her meatball; it was still weird to her to eat in front of someone who couldn’t enjoy the same foods. Granted, she was used to attending parties and outings where blood and wine were served side by side; sometimes food was even served, but she rarely indulged. The toga party sprung to mind – had it really been that long since she – or anyone else- had seen the Dragon?

The red-head laughed softly, “Hardly an unfair advantage to be had given a one name difference. Your terms are acceptable, so you have yourself a wager.” She supposed she could up the ante by adding a side bet on who the other Red Death were but she wasn’t entirely confident about her suspicion. Given the additional information she had acquired in her role as the detective, she figured she had a fifty-fifty shot of her guess being the correct one. It would be interesting to see if she was correct.

“Thank you,” she sighed, “I should have trusted my instincts and called on that one the first round like I had originally planned.” Red tresses bounced lightly as she shook her head, “I certainly learnt that lesson for the future. It would have been interesting to see how things went had that been known sooner. Not that I don’t agree with the idea things would be a bit different had they picked a different victim.” Would she have been able to subtly nudge her companions to accuse the killer? She would like to think so, but it seemed this group had strong opinions of their own so it was hard to predict without the actual data.

“I have to commend the Red Death’s apparent strategy of attempting to eliminate the Doctor first with the Detective second,” she sipped her wine as she collected her thoughts. “In honestly, it would have been my strategy as well. Take away the healer and the source of reliable intelligence, leaving the others to fend for themselves.” When outnumbered, no shrewd killer would allow any sort of healer to live; live victims tended to talk and point fingers. Not to mention a live victim was counter to the goal of evening the odds. Eliminating the reliable information source ensured that people would always question what was being presented by the others. Suspicion was great for that.

Her attention turned back to the main floor as accusations began to fly. It seemed as though each was aimed at a different person which would provide entertainment as they fought their way to a majority vote. To see if they would even be able to come to a majority vote between the four of them would be interesting given majority was set at three as there were still five players. Granted, if the missing player made their re-entrance, things would end up playing out differently, but would he was the real question. “Indeed,” she gave her companion a coy smile, “though it should be intriguing to see if they can even come to a majority.” Settling herself more comfortably into her seat, she nibbled on a shrimp skewer as she enjoyed the unfolding drama. This was certainly better than any soap opera.

[Azraeth]

“I’m certain he’s just off dealing with something, and will return when he can.” He commented. There had been a point when Az and Enzo had spoken nearly daily, but something had taken the Italian dragon away from Harper Rock for whatever reason. Of course Raeth had done his due diligence - leaving messages, checking memories, etc. Enzo wasn’t dead, and Az assumed the man would get in contact with the Dragomir whenever he could. He supposed there were some bloodlines that might have held that against Enzo, but the mystic had never understood that philosophy. He missed his brother, but vampires were, on the whole, adult men and women who had their own lives to which needed attending. He knew when the man returned, he would be the first to pull him into a hug and welcome him back. “Mortll might have heard something.” He added. He honestly hadn’t discussed the matter with her. Both of them had seen dozens of vampires come and go over the years, some permanently disappearing. It was a sort of understanding that one had to hope for the best in these situations. Still. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to leave her a few flowers or something.

“Instinct is the name of the game here. I think we’re going to see the dominoes begin to quickly fall as soon as this little stalemate is broken. In my experience, accusations are infectious. One person comes out against someone and the next thing you know, everyone is wiggling out of the woodworks to lay their little slice of blame. I think it must be some aspect of human nature.” He considered even as he let his legs straighten in front of him, his back arching as if he were stretching and popping his joints. The gesture was familiar and human, but the way he did it seemed just a little bit off. Like having a row of red balloons, with one of them slightly lighter in color. It was barely noticeable, this difference between life and mimicry of life, but it made him seem more serpentine. “I’m curious if there was strategy at all. I imagine the original plan was to…” He stopped talking for a moment, because he realized that even making an observation might give away who one of the Red Death members was. “Anyway, I think at least some of this has been luck, or bad luck for the innocents. I think your elimination was intentional, and a very good play. But I think adaptability is proving to be the name of the game here.”

It occurred to him in that moment, that he and Amalea were like spots commentators. He smiled to the image in his mind of them pulling up stills of the goings on in the room. Drawing little circles, and lines (He honestly knew almost nothing about actual sports, so trying to decipher what those guys were saying was legitimately harder for him than deciphering ancient manuscripts).

“I think they will sooner rather than later. Come to a majority vote, I mean. But tell me. If you were analyzing what you see in front of you, looking for social patterns, what would you have to say on the subject?” He asked, because he loved to get a diversity of opinions on the same raw data, especially when said data was largely qualitative or anecdotal anyway. Really what he wanted to know was whether or not a community as small as the vampiric community could really hold its own as a drop of water in an ocean of ‘otherness’. The game made it seem like it was possible, but the experiment had been far from perfect. And even with a perfect population sample, that didn’t necessarily mean anyone was going to care. Raeth, for example, had been harping on the idea of community development for years, and nothing had ever quite come of it.

[Yvette Marie]

Yvette walked in, stumbling over her dress as she tried to clear the doorway, and nearly spilling the drink she'd acquired as she'd made her way from the main room. Laughing, she shook her head as she pulled her mask off. "It is good that I was not in any danger, because I made rather terrible choices. The least of which was apparently trying to walk in shoes." Her face now visible, she turned her eyes to the others in the Gallery and offered a small wave. "It's lovely to see you again, of course," she said, before sitting down gently in the chair. Her feet did not quite reach the floor, and so she dangled there, leather boots moving back and forth as she idly kicked her feet.

The blonde was not usually so talkative- in fact, the last time she attended a party, she had hidden against her 'sibling' and spent the whole time hiding in the internet. The fact that she often seemed half mad didn't help either. She just simply was who she was. In fact, the thought that she had spent so long without a whisper or buzzing flying through her mind and taking over made her feel a bit odd. She wasn't sure if she quite liked the feeling or not.

Taking a small sip of the blood in her glass, she made a face at the taste, before she asked inquisitively "Why the masks though? Was it to allow the accusations easier to make?" Here she stopped, rolling the last sentence in her mind, trying to figure out if it sounded correct, before she shrugged a single shoulder, her face one of apologetic embarrassment.