Crimson Hawk Hotel [Page 28]

Eternal Dirge Wrote:

> **Location: Crimson Hawk Hotel - [Grand Ballroom](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3ORBn4YLw0) Time: *Evening***

There was a huff from the door to the ballroom. The hell was this? This was supposed to be a fighting tournament! And here, all these people were sitting around all gussied up, dressed to the nines, sipping fancy beverages from crystal glasses and listening to old-timey slow music. He'd worn his nicest armor getup for this? It was...well, it was awful. Just plain awful. This sucked! And they had some kind of weird masks on too. Well, screw that noise. Screw it all with a giant middle finger right up the ol' bunghole. Fighting tournaments were supposed to be about fighting and having fun, about gritting your teeth and showing your stuff! And parties with zazz, and DRINKING!! No one could possibly have fun with music this slow, this...bland! Oh no. This wouldn't do at all.

Not at all. ******** that noise. Rance turned right around.

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

*SKRRRRRRRRRRT. SKRRRRRRRRRRT. SKRRRRRRRRRRT. SKRRRRRRRRRRT. SKRRRRRRRRRRT.*

There came a noise from the ballroom entrance as Rance reappeared. In his arms, clearly pulled from the hotel bar off the foyer, was a jukebox. Regardless of whether or not he had paid for the thing he was now dragging directly toward the nearest electrical outlet, he made his way through the fancy-pants folks around. At least one monocle dropped, and at least one comment of this being "Most unorthodox!" was uttered. Rance gave exactly zero ********. If he was gonna have fun, he'd have to have fun his way. After dragging the thing to the wall outlet nearest his team's chosen table, he plugged it in, pushed a few buttons, grunted, then kicked it.

Almost immediately, a much better selection of music started to play.

Seemingly satisfied with this, he sat down with a thud next to his teammate, kicked up his boots and produced a flask filled with something with more bite that the champagne and other bubbly drinks enjoyed by the other guests. "Raven and Squishy-Tits should be coming down shortly." He took a swig from the flask and offered it to the aelf. "Have a sip Pointy and enjoy yourself a bit. This is a party, not a funeral, regardless of the band boring everyone to death over there." Rance snickered and nodded to the band, who despite the jazz flowing from the jukebox continued to try and play without distraction.

It was a pretty alright little get-together. Not really the brave's cup of tea. Although already, he spotted some problem "children." The ah, demon god was a large man, but Deitric had seen and stepped up against larger opponents before. His eyebrows seemed to twitch almost imperceptibly, as if he could sense that his opponent was inhuman by some unknown means.

With the same stoicism that seemed to guard the tribesman's every move and thought, the man stood up from his seat. Clash did stand taller than the champion by more than half a foot, but the apparent size difference was deceiving. Deitric weighed in anywhere between two-forty and two-fifty on a good day, and he only looked to be around 220. Like one of the big hunting cats, the warrior wore his weight well - while others were physically larger, he maintained an extremely dense musculature; built for raw, explosive power and movement.

Unfortunately for most opponents, they could only take his weight and size at face value until they began to throw fists, where his true strength became much more apparent. Where Clash carried an extremely large set of armor to fit the typical image of a larger fighter, Deitric had smaller weapons; tomahawks and the like at his disposal. Despite this, he didn't take hold of any weapon, opting to keep open handed for the time being.

The dark-skinned man's arms were held open, palms out as if to prove he held nothing in his hands.

"If you're ready," Deitric offered quietly, his tone and demeanor belying the growing storm inside the warrior. His voice would creep out of the void of nowhere, washing against the private investigator's backside like an unwelcome wave of cold air.

The Ethereal Reaper Wrote:

**Location > Crimson Hawk Hotel - Grand Ballroom | Time > Evening

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Annual masquerade ball? Since when was this an annual event? Surely she would have heard about something like this, even all the way in Aekea. As a former, regular, competitor in the Heaven or Hell tournaments one would think an invitation would have been extended long ago. It was strange but nothing more than mildly unexpected.

As such, Ryke set out to enjoy the festivities. She wasn’t usually much for fancy parties and dressing to impress. It was often out of her comfort zone. However, after dragging herself (and everyone else) all the way out here originally on a false lead, only to learn of the masquerade, she resigned herself to joining in anyway. Why not make the most of it while they were here, was her reasoning to her three friends, though it was obvious she said it more to convince herself rather than them.

The Grand Ballroom was steadily filling will bodies, hotel guests milling about and making social niceties with one another from behind decadent masks. It seemed the slightest sense of anonymity made people feel brave enough to mingle with perfect strangers and find kinship where they least expected it.

In direct contrast to her usual wardrobe, the otherwise rugged and boyish engineer crossed the threshold into the ballroom wearing a dress and mask. The rust-orange gown itself just grazed her shins, as opposed to sweeping the floor, while the bodice lacked sleeves and sported a deep v-cut. Her arms, collarbones and just enough of her chest were plainly visible, which meant the majority of her tattoo work was as well. Oddly enough, the inked designs didn’t clash with the paisley embroidery of the dress and made for a pleasing aesthetic. Her ginger-red hair was swept over one side and twisted into a thick side braid that hung over her left shoulder, leaving the right-side of her undercut exposed. Concealing part of her features was a well crafted mask in the guise of a fox, which seemed all too appropriate for her, dressed as she was in shades of red and orange.

The doorman checked her invitation just after stepping inside and she nodded wordlessly to him as he welcomed her to the party. So far, from what she could tell peering out from behind the mask, no one she knew had arrived yet. Feeling only a little awkward, Ryke crossed the ballroom and through the crowd at a casual pace, hoping to bump into someone - anyone - she knew.

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”Cthulhu Wish” Wrote:

”Melech Dawntreader” Wrote:

”Just a Kroww” Wrote:

"Huh?" Hearing a voice behind him and having felt a blast of cold air at his back, Clash turned his head and noticed a tribal warrior standing nearby, challenging him to a fight, no less! He felt a little intimidated by the man who stood a head shorter than he, for the tribal warrior outweighed him by a good one hundred pounds, so Clash did not hesitate to start shaking in his seat. Nevertheless, he finished his coffee and got up from his seat, answering the challenge before him. He did not have a single weapon on his person, so he would be going into this one with only his bare hands, all powers aside. His hands started to clam up and sweat, and he felt a nervous tingling in his finger tips as Deitric put his hands up. Preparing himself for battle, he sprouted thick, stud like bone spikes from his knuckles and used his hands to make fists, walking toward the tribal warrior with his dukes up at around chest level. He charged the tribal warrior, saying, "Yea, mother-." Then, leading with his right foot, he attempted to punch holes in Deitric's palms by throwing a one, two combination at the tribal warrior's hands using his spiked knuckles, throwing his right fist at Deitric's left hand first and his left fist at the tribesman's right hand second.

Timeline Point: Masquerade

…Ball?

A…Ball?

Izette remembered receiving the invitation and having many questions regarding it. She was never considered to be a member of the fancy-a** crowd, ever. But that never seemed to stop the glorious Izette from making an appearance. Although there was much debate about wearing her bear kirgumi as she did for the Halloween party a couple years ago, this was clearly not the time or the place to do it. This year, the punker was sporting what appeared to bea purple corset dress that reached the mid of her thighs with her combat boots to match. To ensure that her shoulders weren’t bear, the punker sported a leather jacket that had spikes poking out of the shoulders. To help with the appearance of the spikes, the punker sported a set of spiked collars and bracelets.

Honestly, it wasn’t THAT fancy, but it was fancy enough to consider her to be typical Izzy. What helped keep the outfit together was her mask. Overall, it was a large rabbit’s mask that was black with silver detailing around the eyebrows and cheeks and the nose. Although normally, masks tended to have two eye holes, hers only had one where her eyepatch would normally sit.

Although the punker had only been here for half an hour she was already bored out of her skull. However, she knew she was supposed to behave. Especially seeing as the level of security that wandered through the crowds. So naturally, she stood waiting for her moment. Her hand twitched slightly as she debated on lighting up a smoke. She promised herself she was going to start cutting back, however, her nervous twitch didn’t seem to help her much. She was feeling anxious surprisingly enough. Having a room full of masks might have that effect on people.

“Appetizer, madame?” One of the wandering waiters made their way over to her and offered her a tray of delicious treats. This one especially caught her interest seeing as they were mini hotdogs wrapped in dough.

“Oh…my goodness. You…I think I love you.” Whether the punker was talking to the tray or the server was questionable entirely. Grabbing the tray from him the punker merely grinned and began to scarf them down accordingly.

"Uh...what?"

“TELL YOUR CHEF TO KEEP THEM COMING BIG BOY. WE GOT A BUSY NIGHT AHEAD OF US” Laughing slightly the punker merely walked away with the tray of miniature processed meat. Maybe this party wasn’t going to be so bad.

OMNOMNOMNOM.

Location > Crimson Hawk Hotel - Grand Ballroom | Time > Evening | With > Izzy

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After several minutes of searching, there didn’t seem to be any familiar “faces” in the sea of masks, or anyone that Ryke could pick out immediately. Being a masquerade, of course it meant that everyone was disguised, in a sense, so it made sense she might not pick any figure out of the crowd instantly. However, this left her feeling mildly self-conscious and feeling some gratitude for the fox. She had, of her own free will, chosen to dress for the occasion after all, but regret was quickly settling in and hiding her growing discomfort behind a mask was convenient.

Assumed strangers greeted her cheerfully as she brushed past them in her attempt to find the bar, the most obvious place she could think to find either of her three companions. Where there was food and booze, Izzy was surely to be near by, followed closely by her devil-tailed beau and everyone’s favorite parasite hosting, smart-mouthed, slipper slinging blonde. The memory of that year’s competition elicited a snort from her. Good times were had by all. Well, there were some low points but this was not the time to stroll down memory lane and revisit everything that happened, good or bad. It was time to party, even if she felt like a fish out of water.

The crowd thinned just enough for Ryke to cast her sights across the room at the refreshments tables where a few party-goers mingled as they sampled the spreads. One particular figure cut a recognizable profile in shaded of black and purple. Even behind the gilded and black rabbit mask, the wild mane of dark hair and various spikes and studs paired against a corseted bodice and frilly skirt were not a common sight among the other guests and seemed a staple of someone she knew very, very well.

“TELL YOUR CHEF TO KEEP THEM COMING BIG BOY. WE GOT A BUSY NIGHT AHEAD OF US”

The voice which accompanied the purple-garbed guest was equally unmistakeable. After pushing past the bodies in her path, Ryke could see now that the woman in spikes and satin had been sampling from a tray of cocktail beefs, or to Izzy they were simply miniature hot dogs. Amused, she snarked after saddling up beside her, ”Fueling up already I see. Glad we’re not sharing a bathroom. That’s for damn sure.”

Cthulhu Wish Wrote:

OMNOMNOM.

Naturally, the punker was engulfing everything that was on the platter. It was always amazing how much she managed to put away considering her size. However, the moment passed when she found a much taller fox lady sliding up to her. At first, the punker grasped around the miniature hotdogs protectively as she continued to scarf them down without any word.

If she wasn’t going to smoke, she was at least going to put herself in a food coma.

”Fueling up already I see. Glad we’re not sharing a bathroom. That’s for damn sure.”

“HOLY ********. ZANDY?!” Food crumbs sputtered slightly from the punker’s lips as she was overjoyed to see that her friend was here. Not to mention that she dressed up nice for someone who was normally covered in oil.

“Look at you! I would never have recognized you with your hair brushed. You are…what’s the word…quite foxy this evening.” Izette began to chuckle to herself at her own pun as she then proceeded to wipe away the mess she had over her lips. As another waiter walked by, Izzy reached with her free hand for a glass of champagne that was being handed out. Thank Christ there was some sort of alcohol. Sure, it was fancy as ********, but it was still booze.

“Oh come on, you used to live with me. My s**t isn’t that bad.” A few of the other guests looked with disgust at her comment as she was not subtle about her bodily functions in the slightest. Taking a sip of her champagne, the punker allowed the liquid to sit in her mouth before quickly spitting it back into her cup.

“Oh my god. What kind of horse piss is this?”

“It is an 1820 Juglar Cuvee…Mr. Noah wants to ensure the best for his guest so that they will enjoy their evening” One of the waiters quickly chimed into the response of the punker’s disgust. Clearly, he was also not having any of Izzy’s sass as his voice was rather condescending.

“Well you can tell Mr No-No that what we really need is some shots up in this place. RIGHT?! At that moment the punker turned to Ryke expecting a response from her. Handing the glass back to the waiter who was giving her a great deal of sass, the punker quickly proceeded to reach for another passing waiter’s tray to refill with a fresh glass of champagne.

Rolling his eyes, the waiter continued on his way mumbling to himself in French as she began to chuckle and taking another swig. This one was a light pink colour and actually tasted a fair bit better than the other rat piss that she was given. Shrugging, the punker continued to take a few more sips before holding the tray towards her best friend.

“Would you care for some of my weinies?” Her mask moved up and down slightly as she was making eyebrow wiggles towards Zandra. Although it covered most of her face, it definitely did not stop her.

You. Meat. Share."

Almost instantly the punker turned on her feet to see the tall lanky man who had been standing beside her. Paused, the punker turned her head slightly and blinked three times as she was pretty sure she saw what seemed to be some sort of tentacle mess. She had been dealing with her share of tentacles lately, she really didn’t need to see more.

“Do I know you, stretch?” She was still offering the meat tray to Ryke, but her attention was on him as she quickly looked him once over before narrowing her eyes to him.

“Cause I only share with people I know. Like Zandy-pants here. I’ve known her for… for… s**t. How long have we known each other Zandy?” Izette turned her head and looked at the ginger-haired fox for a moment before taking another sip of champagne.

Sins of an Angel Wrote:

Better Than Gore Wrote:

Quote: Wrote:

> *Crimson Hawk Hotel // Glacier Reunion Table*

"Okay, I heard that one. None in my pack sound like that."

Miranda recalled the year Fracture (or Rage, to be specific) brought a polar bear to stay in the room with them. Her eyes narrowed as she considered a repeat event or something such... a dire-something, a yearling dragon, et cetera.

"You look really concerned," she noted. Miranda didn't question Sierra's ability to hear, nor did she question much her danger sense. "Are you interested in checking it out, or do you want me to ask Twitch to look into it?"

Miranda wasn't too keen on pulling too many strings with Twitch, because she didn't like seeming like a total moocher and annoying the busy woman, but... y'know, if something like a small black dragon was in the place, or something pointedly more dangerous, D' would likely want to know ASAP.