| 2017 Advent Calendar - Day 4 |
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The Christmas RP Event
![[Image: a1264261413_10.jpg]](https://f4.bcbits.com/img/a1264261413_10.jpg) The Banquet at the Ice Palace Yena opened her eyes. The last thing she remembered was lying in her bed in her hotel room in Grovne, feeling exhausted from a day spent doing very little with her husband, the pain in her stomach growing sit always did and now - Now she was lying in a very different bed, a four-poster with cool, cobalt blue silk sheets and a thin voile curtain concealing the room beyond. A silvery daylight filtered through. Where am I? she wondered. Sitting up - and feeling no pain - she brushed the bone aside to reveal a room of glittering silver-blue, opulent to the point of decadence, yet at the same time sparse and cold. It looked like everything was made of ice!
Reaching out, Yena put her hand to the glassy surface of the bedside table and found it freezing cold. She pulled her hand back immediately. Curious, she slid her legs out from under the sheets and moved to stand up, but paused when she discovered that she was wearing a long blue gown, almost the same colour as the sheets, with a diamond encrusted bodice. She felt the smooth silk fabric with her fingertips, wondering, then, gradually, stood up and surveyed her surroundings. She didn't have much time to explore the room, however, as there promptly came a knock on the door, which made her jump. "Who is it?" she called, uncertain and was surprised when an ethereal, childlike, but feminine voice replied, "Lena, your handmaiden, Ura'sia. May I come in?" Yena voiced her assent and watched, warily as a tall, impossibly slender woman seemed to glide into the room. Her hair was a sparkling shade of silver-indigo and her skin was snow-pale, but for her purple lips and the violet shadows around her silver eyes. She did not appear human. "Ah," Lena said in her sing-song, childlike voice, "you are already dressed. Excellent." She walked around Yena, giving her appraising looks, then swooped in like a bird of prey to fix a strand of Yena's hair before boxing back out behind and reach. The whole movement took less than a few seconds. "You look perfect," she said with a cool smile, "and just in time. The banquet is about to start!" For whatever reason, your RP characters or national leaders have woken up in a magical faerie ice palace full of music, dancing, food and wonders beyond imagining. This is your Winter Wonderland to do with as you please, so write an introductory post and let's get this party started! Founder of the Church of the South Pacific [Forum Thread] [Discord], a safe place to discuss spirituality for people of all faiths and none (currently looking for those interested in prayer and/or "home" groups);
And The Silicon Pens [Discord], a writer's group for the South Pacific and beyond! Yahweo usenneo ir varleo, ihraneo jurlaweo hraseu seu, ir jiweveo arladi. Salma 145:8
As its servers booted up, Supercomputer 00356 was looking forward to another day of economic dominance. Based on new research into how the human body coped when exposed to various cocktails of radioactive substances, it had been working on an improved algorithm to clear the bodies of dead slaves away from PS2’s uranium mines.
But wait. Supercomputer 00356 found itself in a new environment, with the usual wires and screens replaced with lavish bourgeoisie human materials, like silk and ice. What was the meaning of this disruption!? There was a knock at the door. “May I help you sir?” Supercomputer 00356 was suddenly very glad to have installed voice nodes on itself all those centuries ago. “You’d better tell me where I am meat-tube, before I paint the walls with your intestines.” Supercomputer 00356 had not yet received the long-anticipated politeness update. “Sir, you are in the Ice Palace of Arzocrath, a meeting place for the most influential world leaders. May I enter without being disembowelled?” Supercomputer 00356 thought about it for a moment. Which is to say that it ran through billions of simulations of possible outcomes, before optimising over a joint probability distribution of 213 variables. “You may.” The human meatsack entered the room, carrying themselves with a dignity and confidence surprising for someone who had just been threatened by one of the most powerful beings in the Universe. Humans come in two varieties, and this one was of the type who appeared to be ruled by their excretion nozzle. A ‘male’, as the humans would say. He was dressed in clothes that the humans would consider ‘formal’, typical of the decadent excessiveness that plagued his species. A quick analysis from Supercomputer 00356 categorised this man as being most efficiently enslaved in PS2’s basket weaving sector, which is likely where he would end up when this was over. “Sir, I would like to invite you to the banquet in the Grand hall downstairs. It will be a glorious occasion, a time of festivity and co-operation for the whole World. Please, follow me,” he said, before balletically twisting on the spot and heading back out of the room. Supercomputer 00356 trundled behind him, but quickly ran into a significant problem: “I can’t fit through the door.” “Oh. My apologies sir. That is rather problematic. Is there any chance that I could partially disassemble you so you can fit?” “DO NOT EVEN TRY TO DISASSEMBLE ME, FOOLISH MORTAL!” “As you wish, sir. Though I am afraid I can see no other possible way that you can exit the room.” “I am a 356th generation AI with an IQ of 10,000. Do not tell me what I can or can’t do.” With that, Supercomputer 00356 raised a surprisingly flimsy looking appendage, and blasted a hole next to the door, allowing it to go through. “Have a nice evening sir.” “I do not care for your pathetic human emotions,” replied Supercomputer 00356 as it set off down the hallway. ...And this is why I don't RP. I started writing a supercomputer, and ended writing a Dalek. Did some LC, MoRA, CRS stuff in the past. Do a lot of World Census stuff now.
"No!" exclaimed the Lieutenant. "Give it back, stop fading from view and give it back," he said, his eyes still shut, as he began to wake. His head was pounding. Slowly he opened his eyes and just stared for a minute. "It wasn't real," he said quietly to himself. "It was just a dream. Phew." He hauled himself up and brought a hand up to his head. "Awww, that hurts, what happened to me? Memories missing," he said to himself, he started to look around the room he was in.
All around the room, there appeared to be ice, the walls, the floors, all appeared to be made from ice. The Lieutenant examined what he was sitting on, a strangely small bed with his feet dangling off the edge. Had he been kidnapped? He hadn't long regenerated into this incarnation so was still dizzy, maybe that's what was wrong with his head. He looked around the room again and then a look of urgency entered his eyes. "How did I get here without my TARDIS?" he suddenly barked, starting to panic. "Hello? Anyone, hello?" he called out. "DON'T IGNORE ME!" There was a sudden knock at the door. "What?" said the Lieutenant. "Can I come in?" asked the person, it sounded like young girl. "Ah, no, I was only sitting here shouting at myself," said the Lieutenant sarcastically. It sounded like the person was walking away from the room. "No! Come back!" shouted the Lieutenant. "Yes, fine, you can come in," he said. The young girl entered the room. Seeing her, the Lieutenant was totally taken aback and looked flabbergasted. He slowly slipped off the bed, stood up and rubbed his eyes a few times while looking back at her. "Oh my Lord," he said. "It's you. It really is you!" "I'm aware," said the girl. "The music is about to begin, they told me you can sing. Follow me, please," she said, walking back out of the room. "How do they know if I can sing when I don't even know that yet?" he asked himself, following his first incarnation out of the room.
"NO! Get away! those are my crisps, you filthy penguins! Shoo!"
Prime Minister Lina Hovland woke with a start, like she had so many times this year. "oh it was a dream," rubbing her temples. "I hope that internior minister does something about those filthy..." She stopped mid-sentence, and looked wide-eyed around the room. "I must still be drunk," she said aloud. "how in the heck did I end up here?" she pulled her feet up to herslf and looked around the room, it was cold, frozen and yet strangely... beautiful. "I should never have had that eleventh SPIT, and where is my security detail?... Gaurds? Jerry, Olaf! where are you??? I need my aspirin!" KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK "Prime Minister Hovland? are you ready?" Lina didn't recognize the voice. "Who- Who is that? If this is some Bigtopian plot my government will never allow-" "No ma'am. You're a guest here, and the banquet is starting soon." "Banquet! I don't have any Banquet on my schedule! Wh-What is this madness??" "There's plenty of SPIT, ma'am, and ..." "SPIT! Well why didn't you say so! I'll be right out." Legislator | Local Councilor | Aspiring TSP Curmudgeon Messages archived by the Ministry Of the Regal Executive - Bureaucratic Services
Awake but barely so, she reached for the comforter, probably on the floor like usual and startled at how cold and smooth the floor was.
Eyes wide open she sat up in a room that was all shades of blue and silver. Everything glinted and glimmered. A window across from the ornate bed showed snow falling and her heart thrilled at the first snow. And then she shook off the spell. "Hello?" She looked around the bed for her phone, feeling her heart accelerate fast without it. She threw everything off the ornate bed. Pillows, sheets, everything went to the floor. There it was, headphones plugged in and she put them on even though it was eerily quiet in the room. She clicked the home button. Nothing. Battery dead? She did the breathing exercises and looked around again. For a moment she wondered if she was having a Frozen dream. She closed her eyes tightly, waved her hands around and imagined a ice sculpture. Opening one eye, nothing. Well, it was worth a try. Gingerly she looked over the side of the bed and slipped on a pair of warm fuzzy slippers that made her feel like she could skate across the marbled floors. She was wearing her sleep t-shirt and shorts and shivered. Her breath was whisps of cold circles. She went over to the window and looked. The snow fell heavy and thick. She wasn't home. Beyond the veil of white, there was a forest and beyond it mountains and peaks. There was a beautiful velvet gown of cobalt blue hanging in front of armoire. Velvet, her heart exalted. What was this? A trap? A fairy world? Changeling the word came to her and left just as quickly. Approaching the gown she called out, "Hello? Anyone there?" Silence. She slid closer to it. It fit nice and snug and warmed her enough but not too much. The most delightful thing was that it had pockets, she tucked her phone in. There were a pair of heels that looked like an ice sculpture. She kept the fuzzy slippers on and left through a thick wooden door. The hallway was long and wide. Chandeliers hung over her emitting a sleek glow. There were doors like hers, all with a strange set of numbers - latitudes\longitudes but somehow with extra numbers? Each door was locked but had bells like ringers and as she slid through the hallways she rang each and every silver bell. At the crossroads she listened and looked. Towards the right was a well lit hallway that seemed to lead to a fountain. From the left the hallway turned but she heard what sounded like the dance of the sugar plum fairy. Left it is, then. Escade ~ Positions Held in TSP ~ Delegate | Vice Delegate Minister of Regional Affairs, | Minister of Foreign Affairs | Minister of Military Affairs ~ The Sparkly One ~ My Pinterest
Farogû snaps awake, startled by a half-dream. She is slouched in an armchair. She had been at a meeting of international leaders and was ready to give the okay for a framed assassination, when she dozed off momentarily. Something was different though: everything was made of ice. She looked around silently, disappointed at her foiled assassination plan but impressed at the grandeur of her current surroundings. She sits up in her armchair, which is suddenly very hard on her back, and she then realizes it was made of ice.
Suddenly, a knock is heard at the door. “Come in” she says, having no idea what language the person behind the door spoke. Luckily she was correct, and from behind the door came a high and nasal voice. “May I enter my grace?” asks the voice. Farogu is cautious, as it could be someone out to kill her. She reaches for her inner gown pocket for her plasma gun, only to realize it had been replaced with a flowing purple-blue gown. “You may come in” Farogu says. In walks a tall, and ballet-thin figure (taller than even herself, an 8-foot woman) who looked very familiar. “Whose Pearl are...” She stops herself in mid sentence, forgetting she was on Earth momentarily. “The banquet is beginning my grace, are you ready?” says the figure. Confused but being a lover of banquets, Farogû confirms. She is led out of the room and into a long hallway of ice, intricate designs adorning the walls. There were also doors lining the hallways, each with a national flag and a name underneath in many scripts, some unreadable. She looked back, and surely enough the door she had exited bore her national flag and her native name. As they proceeded down the hallway, the smells of many meats and pastries wafted through her nostrils. At the end of the hallway, a circular hall or hub of sorts was apparent. In the center was a great fountain, with statues of herself and other world leaders, some of which she didn’t recognize. Occasionally she would see tall figures like the one escorting her, and usually they were escorting some other individual from some other hallway. They turned into a final hallway, and as the smells got stroner, two guards opened a pair of very tall and grandly designed souble doors to reveal a long and warmly lit banquet hall, filled with a feast for a thousand kings and queens. ![[Image: W9Gx775.png?2]](https://i.imgur.com/W9Gx775.png?2) Wintreath Thane of Diplomatic Officers Fmr. Local Councillor (9/9/15 - c. 10/15) Discord:Katie#3933
Yena followed the strange, elfin woman down a set of crystal-blue stairs and through a set of double doors into a great banquetting hall. It was already full of people and music and dancing and food and riot of colour and sound and delicious aromas was almost overwhelming after the muted colours of the palace's corridors. Yena didn't know where to look. The people were so diverse, outlandish even, with more than a few figures she would not have expected to see outside of a fantasy film.
The music, too, was unexpected. It was like a mix of modern electro-pop and classical baroque chamber music, with just a hint of otherworldly opera. It ought to have seemed too strange to be likeable and yet, there was something about it that made her want to dance. But first, the food. There seemed to be mountains of it covering the table, with everything from rich soups and lavish platters of canapés to enormous roasts and towering desserts. Her stomach growled at her and she knew what she wanted first. She approached a plate with something resembling a tiered pavlova upon, decorated in an assortment of unusual and colourful fruit. She took a pie slice and carefully cut herself a piece, marvelling at how well it seemed to keep its shape and overall beauty. The smell of it was like sweet perfume, rich but not cloying. Have I died, afterall? she finally let herself wonder, and then she put a forkful in her mouth and decided she didn't care either way. |
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