[OPEN] FRIGHTENING FESTIVITIES

[heirring]

WHO: Everyone
WHAT: Celebrating a totally 100% legit wedding.
WHEN: Summerday
WHERE: Edlingham Hall, the Vinmark Foothills
NOTES: cw: Spectral Violence and Ghostly Gore; if you don't want to deal with the spooky ghost adventure half of the evening, feel free to say your character went back to Kirkwall early rather than staying the night.

PARTY;

A few hours' journey from Kirkwall, the great old shape of the house known as Edlingham Hall rises up from out of the Vinmark foothills. In the decades (ages?) since it's abandonment, what must have once been a very imposing stone structure built in the mountain's shadow has given way to age and the elements. What remains is unequivocally a ruin, albeit a stunningly elaborate one. It's a place of columns and alcoves, gutted passages and weather worn stairs leading to the skeletal remains of old towers and chambers, with everything turned to varying shades of brown and green and as it's been grown over or into by the surrounding landscape. There's hardly a roof remaining to be found in the whole of the place.

Luckily, this particular party doesn't require one. In what might have once been the titular hall, a series of tables and benches (borrowed from the Gallows, thank you very much) have been set up around a stretch of cracked tiles which has been more or less cleared for dancing and everything has been lit amply by a collection of merrily burning braziers.

Party-goers will be treated to a host of entertainment, included but not limited to: at least one speech (thank you, Provost Stark), a half dozen toasts, a rather impressive spread of Orlesian-styled cuisine (no doubt prepared by someone devastated to be expected to do so under such rugged conditions), quite a bit of rather good wine, music, dancing, and a few more avant garde Rifter-influenced party games including a vaguely wyvern-shaped pinata and some heinous game called Snap-Dragon.

And if none of that sounds like a good time, then there are ruins to explore, discreet alcoves to investigate, and a campground pitched in the ruin's shadow where one might retire early from the party with only a stock level of scorn.

AT THE STROKE OF MIDNIGHT;

An eerie mist begins to stream from the cracked tiles of the dance floor. Riftwatch does not count a fog mage among their midst. Was one perhaps hired? Is this a trick of some science? A peculiar feature of the weather in this region? Such murmurs begin to circulate as the mist continues to thicken, and rise, and sour to a sickly pale yellow. It clashes with the decorations. Its touch seems to wither the impossibly sumptuous meal, curdling cream fillings and souring fine meats.

And then the screaming starts.

In the stone frame of an upper window, see her: a woman, in a long pale gown, with a horrible wound around her neck. Her slippers peep over the sill. Blood begins to drip down her front as her mouth opens, and opens, and opens, until her jaw rests upon her bloody chest.

Guests seated at the table will feel some creature bumping against their legs--something big, and solid, and hot, and hairy. When they pull away in horror, they will find nothing at all beneath the table. But the growling will not stop, nor will the crunching of teeth on bone.

The twisted figure of a man rises from a pile of tumble-down stone. His limbs hang at loose and unnerving angles. One arm has been crushed and droops down too low, brushing at his warped knee. His face is a mask of pain, and his left eye bulges as if ready to burst. Pressure has thrust his circlet of gold low on his brow, cinching his balding head. He shuffles toward the party, reaching with his ruined hands for human flesh. Or perhaps a cup of wine.

A headless body comes running out from the rotting main keep. It is wearing armor but is otherwise without identity. From its stump of a neck sprays a great geyser of blood, spatting party-goers and the ground and the food and whatever else is in its way. Its graying hands are reaching, but without a head, its path is random and monstrous, trampling over anything and anyone without regard. Or it would, if it weren’t spectral.

The ghosts must be stopped. Find the source of the haunting or this marriage will be ruined.

Those not interested in tracking down the source of the haunting will soon discover that the fog which has wreathed Edlingham Hall has become quite impenetrable. Attempting to escape the grounds will result in being impossibly turned around and eventually spit any would-be escapee back into the ruin. Solving the mystery may be optional, but experiencing the haunting by the aforementioned ghosts (and any other thematically appropriately specters your heart might desire for the convenience of creeping out your characters) apparently isn't.

Comments

adrasteia | ota

[kantikoy]

early arrivals & setting up;

It's barely sunup when Adrasteia, in a green and cream dress (Riftwatch colors! kind of) arrives at Edlingham Hall along with several wagons of borrowed Gallows furniture, braziers, and party decorations.

She's busy for the next few hours running around, lifting things with her small but strong arms, listening as Pierre, Madame d'Asgard's personal chef, yells about the time constraints, the lack of amenities, and how it is frankly quite insane to expect him to pull a party of this size out of a ruin in the mountains, a few servants, and one mage.

Adrasteia nods along, understandingly, as she winds streamers around pieces of pillars and stuffing the (slightly misshapen) Wyvern pinata full of small wrapped candies and treats. There's also an open bottle of wine next to her that Pierre declared was not up to snuff for cooking; she may be taking sips from a glass of it.

It may be early, but this promises to be a long day.

Feel free to interrupt her as she busybodies around, or to have ridden up into the mountains with her; she won't have turned away assistance.

the party underway;

The bottle of wine that Pierre had 'gifted' her has long since been finished, and Adrasteia has not stopped drinking as people began arriving from Riftwatch in droves. She welcomes most of the arrivals in person, in the earlier part of the day, and thanks them for coming, pointing out where the food and games are.

Once people are eating, and dancing, she stops with the greetings and decides to enjoy herself, which means occasionally sampling the food, or putting out a brazier that got knocked over (by the wind?), rehanging streamers, or simply coming up to someone and asking "Would you like to dance?"

She won't be too put out if you say no.

a haunting we will go;

Adrasteia is good and drunk, come midnight, and she frowns at the fog rolling in, peering at the sky first before sweeping an arm to try and cast the fog away.

It doesn't work, and that just has her frowning more deeply.

Then the food turns bad and several specters show up and Adrasteia literally throws her hands in the air. "What is going on?"

haunting

[lumelume]

Mado has stepped carefully to put his back to Adrasteia's, close enough that they can speak quietly and positioned such that they can call out in warning to one another, if necessary.

"I don't think this is part of the party," he whimpers, clutching his tambourine to his chest.

[kantikoy]

"It is not, and I should know." Adrasteia hears someone at the table yelp in surprise, but she can see under the table, through the fog; there's nothing there. "Andraste bless it all, we're being haunted by something."

She turns and puts her hands on Mado's shoulders. "Come on, let's get you all out of here before we figure out what's going on."

[lumelume]

"Wait," Mado says, and his voice is still a whine as he holds his hands up as if to still her, "I may be able to help."

A wince and a hard swallow, and he smiles sheepishly. He's got a trick up his sleeve.

[kantikoy]

"Okay," she says with a little more bravado than she feels in the moment. Annoyed is currently winning out over scared however; she pulled this party out of thin air, the Morale Officer's budget, and the assistance of one rich friend of Wysteria's. Ghosts with terrible timing are not about to ruin it.

"Just... be careful, Amador." She gives his arm a little squeeze.

I promised a dance

[muckspout]

Edgard is taking a sip of wine when Adrasteia approaches him to ask for a dance and chokes a little on it. He coughs violently until he's able to swallow it. He pauses for a moment, waiting for Adrasteia to laugh or say she's joking. When it appears she is quite serious, Edgard's face lights up.

"Alright," He says quietly. He wipes his dirty hands on his dirty pants. A symbolic gesture only.

[kantikoy]

Edgard pauses and Adrasteia waits, because this initial response she was expecting. She doubts many people ask him to dance, honestly, but she's had enough to drink that she doesn't care if he's dirty; he's a friend, and that is what matters most.

When he agrees she breaks out in a grin and offers her hand and they move on towards the rest of the dancing. If people give them a wide berth, she's not going to muster any desire to care about it.

"How are you liking the party?"

[muckspout]

They should give a wide berth because Edgard wiggles his limbs erratically, dancing with every inch of himself. It's not pretty, but he smiles widely.

"Pretty nice time. Plenty to drink. Plenty of people. Not been to many of these."

He puts his arms in the air and waves them back and forth.

"You?"

[kantikoy]

Goodness, Edgard. It takes Adrasteia a moment to realize this is just how he dances, and then she spends the rest of the time both dodging his arms and trying to match his enthusiasm.

It's a lot of fun.

"I'm proud of how it's turned out. My wedding was a two-person affair. No dancing, no wine, no food." She spins in place, because why not? "It's nice to throw a party."

[muckspout]

Edgard pauses mid-dance to count on his fingers. "Two people? Don't there have to be at least three?" He scrunches his face up.

"Don't know that I'm an expert, though."

He resumes throwing his arms up and down, does a jump, and then spins. "Glad this one has dancing."

[kantikoy]

"I don't count the Sister who was there, she was bribed into it."

Adrasteia has to laugh, gently, bending at the waist and clapping her hands in time with the music. "So am I."

[muckspout]

Edgard laughs and claps with Adrasteia while prancing around her in a circle.

"Why did she need to be bribed? Did you bribe her?" He claps three times in a row.

[kantikoy]

Time to put her hands in the air and spin in a circle? Yes, yes it is.

"Because elves aren't to be married in the Chantry. Helec did it, not me." It wouldn't have occurred to her to try.

party

[youwonscience]

Adrasteia had welcomed her earlier, but it's a few hours into the party that Cosima seeks her out again. "OK, dude, I deeply need to know. What are the little pastries with the sort of blue paste inside, because they're amazing but also I have no idea what they're made of. So if you don't know, can you like, point me to the right caterer to ask?"

[kantikoy]

"Oh, drat." Adrasteia has a glass of wine in her hand and she finishes it before looking around, growing. "Pierre, he's the chef, just left to go back to Madame d'Asgard's in Hightown. Uhm..." She looks around, frowning. "The new Madame de Foncé might know, honestly, or I could write Pierre tomorrow? I do need to thank him properly for all he's done for this... Show me which pastry you mean so I can remember."

[youwonscience]

She produces a cloth napkin with two spiral pastry horns, the cream inside indeed tinted lightly blue. (One of the pastries may be half eaten.) "Look, it's not a big deal, don't stress about it. But if you do talk to him, totally give him my compliments, these are great. Have you had time to try one?"

[kantikoy]

"I will, don't worry!" There's no way she's walking away from this party without a list of people to thank honestly. "I haven't, no." She glances around to see where they might be at the table. "But now that I know, I'll be certain to try one. What do you think of the party otherwise?"

[youwonscience]

"No, yeah, it's great! I mean, I don't know that my opinion is really important, I'm not super close to the groom and I only met the bride recently, but a solid party. Good food, plenty of drinks, dancing. I think you hit the standard wedding highlights. Well," she amends, "I'm not an expert on Thedosian weddings specifically."

[kantikoy]

"Everyone's opinion is important since this party is intended to be for all of Riftwatch," Adrasteia promises. "Thedosian weddings vary widely depending on where they are and who is involved. This one, I think, has done very well. What are weddings like where you're from?"

[youwonscience]

"Also varied, for sure. Not unlike this, though. Gather a bunch of people together, feed them, dancing. Not always live musicians, since we can do high quality recordings, but you know, the spirit's the same. We've got a few weird traditions left from history, like ... it's usual a bride will carry a bouquet of flowers, right? All the women who aren't already married stand behind her and she throws it behind her back, and whoever catches it supposedly will get married next. You know, that kind of thing."

[kantikoy]

"Oh that's interesting." There hadn't been any bouquet throwing at this event, but that's mostly because this is Adrasteia's first hearing of the practice. "Did it usually pan out, that floral prediction, or was it mostly for fun?"

early arrival.

[deuselfmachina]

It's several hours before the party is set to begin. When unloading some of the wine casks, it had come to someone's attention that their order of Antivan red had been left behind, and so a message was sent to bring it up post haste, given the finagling with ferries that would be going once guests began to cross the Gallows for the mainland.

When the cart does arrive—well, no, Florent Vascarelle is not driving it, nothing so useful, but he is there, inexplicably, with his things for the overnight stay. When Adrasteia notices his presence (elf, tall for being so, fly-away blonde hair, dressed loudly enough as to be hard to miss), she will find him circling one of the pillars, paper streamers in hand, placing it all just so. And so, another set of hands is in play, not one that lifts anything heavy or really commits, but fusses with things here and there, offers little improvements.

They are nearly done. He is currently perched on a ladder and hanging a big fluffy paper bow at the end of one draping sheet of decorative silk.

"I went to a wedding once," he says, conversationally, in his thick as treacle Orlesian accent, "where the decorations were pretty women with their clothes off, painted in silver."

[kantikoy]

She appreciates the extra set of hands, even if she doesn't do any heavy lifting. That's what her own arms and magic are for, anyway, plus the few Gallows staff that have come up to assist in this project.

When he starts to speak Adrasteia pauses from her Wyvern-stuffing project, but then goes immediately back into it. "I don't think I'd have managed a budget for that kind of thing, honestly." It sounds like a rich people party, which means things that would be otherwise distasteful if not for the sheer amount of money and power involved. "But that does sound very... pretty." She tilts her head and lifts the Wyvern for heft. "How was the party otherwise?"

[deuselfmachina]

"Très magnifique," Florent says. "Of course."

He finishes fussing with the bow and turns so that he can sit on this perch, the ladder creaking a little ominously, but he seems not to mind. It's not so high up that he couldn't roll out of it, he thinks, worst came to worst.

"It all comes apart anyway, after enough wine has been drunk. Or should, if it's any good. What is that, that you're doing?" he asks, and points to the pinata that she is handling.

[kantikoy]

She chuckles a little. "Of course."

What else would a rich person's party be like? There's still no little concern that this wedding won't meet the standards of those in attendance, lest of which includes de Foncé and Poppell. Her first major project as Morale Officer and Adrasteia is starting to worry that she won't be able to manage it.

Please, she thinks in a little prayer, don't let this be a boring flop of an event. (Later, she'll regret that wish.)

"This? It's something a few Rifters discussed when there was planning for a Riftwatch themed garden party. People strike it with a stick until it breaks, releasing candies everywhere." She wrinkles her nose, trying to remember what it was called. "Paper masshay?"