Greeting to my associates! Please, please, pull up a seat. Help yourself to some of the…"wine".
Tell me, do you have any ongoing ventures with which you might want some aid?
A distinctly bandaged Tomb-Colonist walks up to the table, a large, ornate goblet topped off with something vicious is in his left hand. He casts a quick glance over the guests, his head snaps at the sight of the wine. He sidles over and tips his bowler hat commensurate with lady Pillbox’s introductions, "Apologies, hope this isn’t inopportune. Hate to be a bother, but I can’t find any good spirits around here. Mind if I just quickly, er, yes-" He indiscreetly snaffles a bottle and walks off with it, "Why, thank you, you have plenty, anyways. Please, have a nice evening."
As the dinner guests look on, the Mirthless Colonist walks off while inebriating himself with the contents of the bottle.
Greycoin watches the wine-thief with a raised eyebrow and a shrug. “I was assumin’ dat ‘e was lookin’ fer ghosts at da masked party, when ‘e said spirits. Otherwise, I would ‘ave defended our drinks better.”
Greycoin offers a bottle of Black Wings Absinthe as a replacement.
A gentleman strides in from the street. The second you look away you forget exactly what it is he is wearing. He begins towards the bar but stops seeing the Tomb-Colonist has already taken the good wine. Letting out a sigh he heads to his seat and begins to chat with Jo Greycoin and Lady Pillbox, taking the offered bottle of Black Wings with a hearty "Thank you for the drink."[li]
edited by Sajach on 10/31/2016[/li][li]
edited by Sajach on 10/31/2016
Greycoin looks at Pillbox, “Ongoing ventures, hmmm, I do ‘ave a salon dat I keep up fer appearances. Would you like ta speak dere sometime? I’d be interested in what you’d ‘ave ta say.”
–
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/JoSPACESYMBOLGreycoin
[quote=Jo Greycoin]Greycoin watches the wine-thief with a raised eyebrow and a shrug. “I was assumin’ dat ‘e was lookin’ fer ghosts at da masked party, when ‘e said spirits. Otherwise, I would ‘ave defended our drinks better.”
Greycoin offers a bottle of Black Wings Absinthe as a replacement.[/quote]
More the pity him, frankly. A wise man wouldn’t ask what the wine was made from, but, as I am neither wise nor a man, I can say with confidence that we are likely better off. I only picked it because it looked good, without having read the details. Yours is likely a more… hygenic solution, if nothing else.
I’d be delighted to speak at your salon! Your guest enjoy infernal odysseys, I assume?
edited by pillbox on 10/31/2016
Greycoin smiles at Pillbox’s reply. “I enjoy infernal odysseys and da purpose of da salon is ta set what pleases me ta be in fashion.”
Greycoin sits back and observes the others at the table. Wearing this goldfish mask, a Ratskin suit and Kingscale boots, only a strong jaw and clean-shaven face are visible below the bottom of the mask. Short, unkempt dark hair sticks out from the behind the mask, tousled similarly to the tailfins of the fish on the mask. The eyes behind the mask are dark and flit from person to person, table to table. Pausing briefly on the wine-thief now at table four.
–
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/JoSPACESYMBOLGreycoin
edited by Jo Greycoin on 10/31/2016
(That drunken scoundrel of a tomb colonist! I propose some form of retaliation. We must avenge our muffled gagging wine!)
edited by pillbox on 10/31/2016
Greycoin pauses to think, “What would irk a tomb-colonist?”
http://fallenlondon.storynexus.com/Profile/JoSPACESYMBOLGreycoin
A thing to ponder, perhaps. We might send him a surplus of rats?
We might tell him horrifying stories. I have quite a few rattling around in my brain. I tell them to him and he won’t sleep for a week. Lord only knows I won’t.
Most excellent! Now that that’s been decided, tell us about yourself. We’ve had our taste of confessions, it is sure, but perhaps you have something of substance that we may feast on?
I see I have perhaps gotten ahead ofthe crowd, I apologize for my abrutness. Allow me to start: I’m the academic sort, though I’ve drunk fully of the sins of the 'Neath, and have expended most of the pleasures our city has to offer. I wait in idleness upon rumours and plans, living from season to season and story to story. Few pleasures are left to me, but for the people with whom I spend my time. Perhaps I will one day find the truth’s of Hell’s sphere for myself, or be called upon by the University for some mentally strenuous task.
You sound like you ‘ave seen much of dis world. A pleasure ta get ta know you better. As fer me, I train weasels in my spare time and supply drinks and other entertainments at parties as a business. I ‘ad been keepin’ a low profile, but my benefactress, Appolonia encouraged me ta be a little more presentable. So ‘ere I am.
Well I might as well share myself. I fancy myself something of a public figure. I was a minor noble on the surface before coming down to the neath in search of excitement. While down here my stories found a degree of popularity among bohemian crowds and I started to write for a living. I have just recently returned after several months away serving as the governor of Port Carnelian.
[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)]-(Posted from Table Four, in light of Malthaussen from Table Two trying to start a food fight)[/color]
[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)]The Mirthless Colonist stares on at the fracas impertinently for a while, biscuits and morsels are flung both-ways throughout the room, guests join or take cover, or try to ignore this outburst of deranged stupidity and immaturity.[/color]
[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)]Finally, something cracks in the Mirthless Colonist. Literally, that is. A stuffed crab-claw hits him right on the mask, leaving a nasty split through the right eye. Carefully, he takes off his mask and puts it on the table in front of him, puts his wine-bottle on the floor, and empties out his goblet. [/color]
[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)]Now, he throws over his chair and pulls a derringer! He stares at the [/color]ape[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)] and empties the derringer’s cilinder into the ceiling above it. The sound is deafening, and the room quietens as white dust and small ceiling-debris settle on Malthaussen’s figure. As all attention is upon him, the Mirthless Colonist gracefully picks his chair up and stands it at the table, sits, wipes his mask off, and puts it back on.[/color]
"Now," [color=rgb(194, 194, 194)]he continues, [/color]"Where were we?"[color=rgb(194, 194, 194)] [/color]
The food fight continues, and several laughs are thrown in the humiliated ape’s direction.
edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/1/2016
“My God! Who brings guns to a food fight?” exclaimed the woman in green, while craning her neck to get a better view of the mayhem.
[li]"As long as dey don’t knock over any of our bottles," Greycoin tries to shield the table’s drinks from any flying food. "And I was tryin’ ta get more civilized comin’ ta da party." Greycoin’s head shakes in mock disappointment.
A piece of the chandelier has bounced off the ape’s head, leaving a noticeable bump. With a roar of displeasure, he grabs it and hurls it, but his eyes are so obscured by dust from the ceiling that his aim is right out, and it goes sailing crookedly in the direction of Table Eleven.
– Mal (Xpost from T2)
edited by malthaussen on 11/1/2016
Infinite Gremlins is here incognito (by which he means that he isn’t wearing his zubmariner’s hat). Since his mask looks precisely like his face, this is less of disguise and more of a statement.
“I say, is this a dinner party or a zoological garden? If the invitation had said something I would have brought a net.”
He pulls his notebook out again and makes a quick note about some names at the next table.