[ota] nobody's gonna have an orgy in their mansion all over their nice furniture

[hassaran]

WHO: OTA, more or less
WHAT: An all-hands infiltration mission ends up being rather more hands than anticipated.
WHEN: Nowish
WHERE: At an estate outside Ostwick
NOTES: Sending crystals are allowed but must be used with the utmost discretion to avoid discovery. A general warning for Eyes Wide Shut-type party nonsense, but more fancy swinger makeouts than sex dungeon. Please make sure to communicate OOCly to ensure everyone's having fun. NSFW content is likely, but if a thread is going to turn into prolonged porn please shift it to an inbox.

Word has come through reliable sources that Baron Hounsford, secretly a significant financial supporter first of the Inquisition and now of Riftwatch as well, is to be the target of an assassnation attempt. Precisely why or by whom is unknown, just that the threat is imminent. Worse, the Baron has left behind his personal guard to attend a somewhat mysterious event at the home of Lord Esterhauzy, outside Ostwick. All Riftwatch has been able to learn on such short notice is that the estate is secluded and the event extravagant. The massive scale is a blessing and a curse: it's certainly big enough to sneak in quite a lot of people, so long as they look as if they have money, but by the same token it will be easy for assassins to sneak in as well, and difficult to quickly locate anyone.

On arrival, everyone willing to dress the part is ushered in to Lord Esterhauzy's glittering mansion, where the difficulties of the mission suddenly become much greater: each person, whether disguised as guest or staff, will be handed a random mask, and informed of the rules:

1. Masks must be worn at all times.
2. When the musicians play the famous Merry Widow of Wycome, every guest must kiss the person to whom they're speaking, or who is closest. They must continue until the music stops.
3. If they aren't interested in stopping, slipping away somewhere more private is an option (but given the competition for space, finding somewhere completely private may be a challenge.)
4. Any person found to be breaking these rules, or the spirit of them, will be unmasked, removed from the premises, and forbidden from attending in the future.

The dimly candle-lit ballroom is already loud with masked guests, so many that they spill out onto the torch-studded terraces and garden beyond. The room is overwarm, but not sweltering thanks to the efforts of oiled footmen posted near the windows with large fans, and the servants circulating with trays of icy-cold champagne. Somewhere in this crowd are Baron Hounsford and those who wish to kill him, and the only way to find them is to spread out, speak to as many people as possible, and regularly pool information among themselves to try to zero in on their targets. They must mingle as if lives depend upon it.

Those reluctant to participate if it might be avoided will discover that locations where private conversation can be had without complying with the house rules are almost non-existent. Lord Esterhauzy learned his lesson the last time he tried this--it is a common subject of gossip among the crowd that the last party he had advertised as the most debauched of the season fizzled out into merely a slightly racy cocktail hour with underdressed staff. This time he has taken precautions, blocking off most of the house, monitoring access to the rest to ensure it's for sexy purposes only, and empowering staff to have anyone not complying with the spirit of the event thrown out--lest they think that an idle threat, shortly after they arrive several people are unmasked and thrown out for not obeying the musical cue, much to the laughter of the crowd. Even the grounds are patrolled.

There are several spots they've overlooked: a linen closet, a stairwell alcove, a corner of the library, but Riftwatch aren't the only ones to have discovered this, and there is no guarantee any particular hiding spot will be available when the music stops.

As the night goes on and the crowd gets drunker, the tone gradually shifts from slightly giggly titillation to more serious debauchery (much to Lord Esterhauzy's delight. If at first you don't succeed!) but there remains a veneer of decorum that keeps it from sliding into obscenity: people may saunter off to the garden or a private room with someone else's spouse(s), but nobody is just openly fucking on the piano.

Comments

[staysail]

"Sure and I could have been looking for both."

Not that he needs to, now that she's here. Of course she'd found him first. That was half to be expected. Darras lays his hand on top of hers, his arm crossways over his body. It's an easy path. The room is crowded, but not packed. There are paths to take between couples, at the fringe of the dance floor. People should be moving out of Yseult's way. She always looks as if she knows what she is doing, a chill of command that runs her. She's wrapped that away today, striking without catching attention, her hair caught back and her face hidden behind an elegant mask, an easy anonymity that she must enjoy. If she changed one notch of her posture, the illusion would fade. She would look queenly and untouchable. Only Darras can see that, a thread that shows beneath her otherwise flawless mask.

Without attention on them, they're but two partygoers, making a circle of the room. They move along. The music isn't so loud that they can't have a conversation as they walk. Surely that won't distract from the task at hand.

"I know how to spot a man with a weapon in a crowded room," Darras tells Yseult, as they walk. "Though most don't hide 'em, in the rooms I frequent. There's really no other information on this assassin?"

[hassaran]

"No, just the incredibly random bits the source overheard. Marcher accent, maybe Tantervale. Mentioned a shoulder injury and seemed obsessed with horses. We got the news too late to make any more serious inquiries, so we'll just have to speak with as many people as possible and hope something stands out." Yseult continues in an undertone. The lack of notice and information is irritating, her dry tone suggests, but so it goes. "We're more likely to find the Baron first," a lifelike sketch having been circulated before their departure, "but it would be helpful to catch the assassin if we can. So we might find out what the real problem is before they send another."

She takes a sip of champagne and spares a look for Darras, in between scanning the crowd. "We'll have to split up and mingle," she says, giving his elbow a discreet squeeze. "But first, do you wnat to dance? You managed alright at Bastien's event."

[staysail]

Darras had been scanning the room as she'd talked, taking in the other details and adding them to the mental picture he might create of their target--as if he might somehow pick out a Marcher accent from sight alone. At her offer, he looks around, with a little grin.

"I managed alright. High praise, from you." Which is kind of true, really. Yseult is, of course, a brilliant dancer. "I'll pay it back to you: you manage alright to dance in taverns and village festivals as well as in ballrooms, if that means anything to you. I know that better than anyone."

He twists his arm so he can catch at her hand, turns to put his back to the room and press a kiss to her knuckles. Half-bowed over her hand, he looks up at her with a grin.

"All that being said, I accept your offer. Let's dance."