perhaps you have learned it without a book - MOONLIT RIVALS LOG 1

[libraryassistants]

Who: Readers and Actors galore!
What: The Story begins- and so do preparations for the Masquerade!
When: The three days prior to the Masquerade [ooc timeline: 1/23-2/5]
Where: The city of Montica
Content warnings: Please include any warnings in headers!

First Quarter Moon

Now that most of the Editors know what to expect, the draw into the Story is likely more obvious this time. There’s a subtle urge that encourages their feet to turn towards the Stacks; a slight shimmer in the air that thickens the closer they get to the book laying open on an innocuous library cart.

Those who resist the Story’s pull will be drawn in eventually. Whether the compulsion is successful, or whether the Librarian passes by to sweep them in - all Editors will enter, and all will experience the Story’s start together.

(Editors who have gained the skill Ex Media Res will be able to resist the Story’s pull and hang out in the Library. Drop us a note if they’re using this skill!)

Our Beginning

The Story begins as night makes its transition to morning. Montica is a city that never sleeps, and some Editors may find themselves taken aback at how the absence of sunlight has done nothing to deter the nightlife.

In particular, at the hour our Readers arrive, there is a clean-up going on at the centre of town. People are grumbling as they sweep debris from the streets, and those who are familiar with supernaturally-powered fights will recognise this scene for exactly what it is: the aftermath of some powerful entities having had at it. Hang around too long and you may find yourself with a broom or hammer thrust into your hands, the expectation that you’ll help having been made clear.

Those who leave the clean-up will find themselves welcome in the city’s inn, where visitors hover by the windows, chattering excitedly about the fight that had just broken up. Some people think they’re lucky to have seen it - others think they’ll be luckier if they go the next few days without seeing another one.

The inn is warm, full of gossip, and by some marvel still has private rooms available to rent. Readers will find themselves with enough coin in their pocket to afford quite a bit, this time around - but don’t go spending it all at once. Those who are astute will hear the talk of a masquerade going around, and if you want to attend, you’re going to have to dress appropriately.

Welcome to Montica

Montica itself is a city built from stone, with the buildings packed closely together along cobblestone streets. Flowering vines creep along trellises, their gentle fragrance perfuming the air. The sky is clear and smog-free, the water flows cleanly, and a sense of magic drifts comfortably in the breeze.

The city is almost evenly bisected by loyalties, a hard divide running clearly through the centre of the town. Only a small ring in the centre is considered to be neutral territory - though that’s becoming more and more disputed with each passing moon.

To the north, buildings seem to have a fondness for silver. It seems they’ll take any excuse to work the precious metal into everyday items, from cutlery to window fastenings; and some particularly zealous citizens proudly don silver jewellery and pins in their day-to-day wear. In this section of town you will find the dwellings of the old vampire clans, littered with antiquities and casual opulence.

To the south, the people are fond of spices. Garlic flowers pepper garden beds and the dried bulbs hang from doorframes, and there’s hardly a meal cooked without it. Some industrious workers are busy building small moats of flowing water through this half of the city – you’d better mind your step, lest you get in their way. Located amongst these homes are the dens of the werewolf packs, warmly furnished and brimming with life.

No matter where you are in town, whether you’re surrounded by silver or dodging moat diggers, whether it’s day or night or nebulous twilight, there’s one topic that’s on everyone’s lips: the Umbra Masquerade.

It’s a once in a human lifetime event, and the city is abuzz. Some of the elderly may have been once before, in their youth - but likely at an age where they were too young to remember. There are stories about these masquerades, of the favours that can be won and the deals that can be made. More than one wealthy family attributes their successes to parties of the past, and while the werewolves shouldn’t be there – who’s going to stop them?.

The Market

At the centre of the city are Montica’s most dreary buildings. Markets are held here during the day, bright banners and exuberant stallholders calling out their wares. People of all kinds shop here, and it’s the best place to find quality goods. Some patrons give each-other hearty side-eyes, some sneer and mutter insults under their breath - but by and large, this a neutral zone, and the regular citizens treat it as such.

Behind the fuss of the market, astute observers will note the broken and boarded-up windows hidden by the bold stalls. Some buildings are outright abandoned, damaged beyond repair. It becomes even more obvious as night falls and the number of stalls thins, the night vendors setting up with wary looks in their eyes.

Right now the market is bustling with vendors sending goods up to the Umbra Clan's mansion. There is a constant stream of traders passing back and forth, hurrying to get their contributions in place before the ball. Regular goods are still for sale, but the busiest stalls are those selling - of all things - masks with varying levels of decoration. They’ve cleverly set up outside of stores selling clothing; beautiful dresses and tailored suits visible through the cracked and dusty windows. Editors will find they have enough local currency to afford something modest. If their tastes skew toward the more extravagant then, well – they better get to work.

The Umbra Mansion

The sprawling building stands tall, overlooking the city of Montica. Vines budding with fragrant flowers grow up the sides of the building, curling around windowsills and balconies in a curated fashion. A large hedge maze sits at the rear of the mansion, behind the grand ballroom; and the gardeners are in top form today, brandishing tools at anyone who looks like they're about to enter it. It's one of many things being tidied up and decorated for the ball, so you'd better not get in their way.

The mansion's front doors open to a foyer that is connected to an upstairs level by two grand staircases. A gilded chandelier hangs down between them, casting rainbows across the wooden floors as the sunlight strikes its crystal ornaments.

Those wide, curved staircases lead to a mezzanine that overlooks the ballroom below. Doors to private rooms branch off from here; all of them locked.

During the daylight hours, the mansion sports large windows covered by thick curtains that are drawn firmly shut. Those who try to peer through them will find an additional layer of security in the form of tightly-fastened metal blinds that block any slivers of sunlight from eking through.

On all three days the mansion is crawling with people setting up for the masquerade. Over there, someone’s hanging strings of lights. Over here, a florist is carefully arranging flowers. The kitchen is busy, human cooks overseeing the production of hundreds of canapes – and on the third day, over in the ballroom, are a band of musicians getting prepared for the night.

Security is lax everywhere except the underground floors, where the clan sleeps. The doors that lead to the underground complex are barred from the inside, and human guards keep watch outside of them to redirect any wanderers.

[The info/plotting post can be found here!]

Comments

[birdchasingecho]

"Some." She pauses. "Another part is who is doing this petty killing."

[icanhearscreams]

"Who is it, then?" As much as he wants to say something snarky like 'out with it', he holds his tongue. If there really are vampires and werewolves here, then he's probably one of the weakest people in the town.

[birdchasingecho]

Her expression turns particularly sour. "Who else would with fist and fang hit others, and leave their wreckage with nary a thought, for reasons even those centuries-long minds, drinking deep that draught bitter vengeance, have neither the recall nor desire to? Please, take this chance, and go down to the coast. It is not a good week, for all the Manor beckons."

Thank you, exposition soliloquy.

[icanhearscreams]

He pauses. Considers his words for a moment, and then - "You could have said 'it was the vampires'." Why use seven words when one will do? "And I'd like to, but all of the transit is headed towards here, not away. At least as far as I've found."

He'd like to be out of this Romeo and Juliet nonsense, for his own sanity if nothing else.

[birdchasingecho]

She laughs. "Forgive me my rare lapse into drama. But no, were it only vampires, or only wolves, 'twould be more calm, for certain."

Foool. She's a fool who has never read any pop urban fantasy. Ignore her.

[icanhearscreams]

He just stares at her blankly for a minute. "What are they even fighting over, anyway? Territory? Injured pride? Those things are stupid."

It's not like the fate of the world rests on them... probably. "Can't they see what they're doing to the place?"

[birdchasingecho]

"Most don't," she agrees. She could explain some of the factors at play, but figured that June is angry enough to turn his hand to help her. How odd she had missed these things before, these moments where she could turn someone to advantage. And all the better, she can maintain her control over her transformation-- in her anger, she had sometimes had to disengage before, or risk serious social problems.

"Some will." There. that's the small debris picked up. "Some do, but they have little power, yet-- A lack of strength reducing their insulation from the will of others, but also making turning the tides... Difficult."

[icanhearscreams]

"... It shouldn't matter how strong they are." He's quiet as he goes back to sweeping, thinking about that. "I mean... if you're smart you can outwit without fighting. Fighting should be the last resort."

The whole thing is dumb. But he's getting the sense that people here prefer violence over most other options. ... Not that he's great at talking things out, either.

[birdchasingecho]

The chuckle she lets out is warm, and rich, and she starts to clean up the large debris of the window facing with her bare hands. "You're not wrong. Why, the current head of the packs did just that."

As she speaks, her voice takes a slightly darker tone, and her hands tear into the broken timbers. "Together, Vetle and Alisae were both inseparable and unstoppable. but a wolf without support is soon defeated, and no matter how strong a strategist a wolf may be, even once in a while he may fall prey to feints."

[icanhearscreams]

"Maybe. But you can't stop trying. Otherwise, why are you even in the world?" Maybe that's harsh of him, but... well, he doesn't care. "If you give up just because you might die, but you could change anything... that's cowardice."

[birdchasingecho]

"Oh, you're not wrong. But the matter was settled. Alisae cannot lead the packs again." The emphasis on the name, as she slaps the replacement timber into place, and begins to hammer. "Do not presume my tale of woe as resignation, friend. Far from it."

[icanhearscreams]

"Good." He can't really relate - he's never led anyone, despite some attempts. Still... "Surely the packs can see the sense of not letting people get into this kind of trouble though, right? Why aren't they trying to work with the vampires to stop it? Even if you hate each other, it seems like the obvious thing to do."

[birdchasingecho]

"When someone has killed your family, do you greet them with open arms?" She responds, immediately. "... It is difficult. So difficult, for beings with long memories. But there are those who are making the attempt, even now."

[icanhearscreams]

"Depends on whether the greater good counts on it." He spits back just as quickly, bitterly. "My sister died, but she loved the world and only wanted peace." Keep it vague as to how she died, even as his anger burns in his chest.

"But good. At least some people don't want everyone to die. ... I can't imagine how many people get hurt here, caught in between the fighting."

[birdchasingecho]

"... A grand, unattainable dream, for all the world to be at peace." She nods at her handiwork and continues to the next place. "For myself, I will settle for cutting this sore of a feud from my life, its poison words to run on the cobble when before did blood."

[icanhearscreams]

"... I wish you could, too." He hunches his shoulders, brushing more vigorously at a stubborn spot. "Being angry all the time... it can be exhausting." He spent years being angry. He's still angry. He doesn't want to be, but that's his natural reaction to... most things.

[birdchasingecho]

"... Spoken like my father. And I mean that in the kindest way."

[icanhearscreams]

"I'm not sure if that's a compliment or not." Hopefully it is. "But it's still true."

[birdchasingecho]

There's a pause. A long, hesitant pause. "There are rules about this sort of thing, but..."

She kneels down to meet June where he is, reaches into her work jacket, and pulls out a small card. "This card is not much-- an agreement to meet with me at my family home on the times listed. But it may afford you some minor protection from questioning. If you are hounded by anyone, if someone troubles you, you may reach me here, in that townhome, on Garden Street near Quarry Road in the south side of town. There will be lavender, onion, and wild roses in the garden, but-- I must stress-- no moat."

[icanhearscreams]

Lavender he can recognize, at least. He knows very little about folklore, so the lack of moat goes way over his head. But he nods. Garden Street near Quarry Road… he can remember that much. He’ll write it down later on the card, just to make sure.

Protection from questioning is pretty valuable. And a place to go if things get bad is also valuable, even more than what he could have imagined. He tucks the card into his pocket and looks up at her again. “If you need someone who can move around without too much suspicion…” Nothing is free. And a new person in town who is small and easily overlooked is hopefully payment enough.

[birdchasingecho]

"I am welcome many places," Amalia says. she takes a deep breath. "Your bravery does you yet credit, child, but I am loath to risk your life on that. Should you not mind rubbing shoulders with actors, I shall be at the Laurelthirst tomorrow night. You'll know it by the crown of laurels about a pint mug."

... Of course, if he does go...

Well.

Who he meets might not be Amalia.

[icanhearscreams]

"Why would I mind?" It's not like there's anything wrong with actors, despite his dislike of fiction in general. And hopefully he can find something decent at the pub... vaguely he wonders if they have blood on tap for vampires. Probably not, and even if they did it's none of his business.

He sets the broom down for a moment, looking her over once again. She reminds him a little of someone... though she talks a lot weirder. "Are you an actor, then?"

[birdchasingecho]

There is a brief moment where she looks scandalized, but remembers that she is talking to someone new in down, and merely shakes her head. "Ah. No, though I am a patron of the arts. I find myself far too occupied with my own matters to take up an actor's role."

[icanhearscreams]

"That's understandable." Why'd she look so shocked? Something to look into later, maybe. Quietly. "It seems like there's plenty of things to keep people busy here even outside of the arts."

Speaking of keeping busy. ... Hm. There's got to be a library around here somewhere, too... or maybe a bookstore with an understanding proprietor. Newspapers might be a thing? He's not sure - this might be pre-printing press, he's got no way of knowing. History isn't his subject.

"What do you do in general, then?"

[birdchasingecho]

"Management, of lands and persons. Especially ships and caravans, though I do have some small retinue I help train." A merchant princeling.