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Origin Story (Jenna and Mycroft)

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Post  Nephilim Mon Mar 26, 2012 4:21 pm

"To the left" spoke a rather fat, balding man, who seemed to have uttered the phrase one too many times, as his tone implied an apathy that only a hundred repetitions can generate. He ushers you to rows of low, uncomfortable wooden seating along the outside of the main room of the town hall, where there are probably four score of other such individuals. They range from wheat farmers in the fields, to woodworkers and other such craftsmen. Mycroft, you know that it would be touch and go today, as only a few candidates would be chosen to be grouped up into the groups known as "The Eye to the Sword." You don't care much for the name, only what it means. You will be grouped alongside 5 other like minded individuals, and given a charter to map one of the most wild sections of the Stolen Lands. Nothing has been set in stone, however rumours have passed between many a local of Restov that the group that returns with the map of the highest quality, would be rewarded with a section of the explored land for themselves.

You pass the time by trying to picture exactly what it is that each one of these men and women stand to gain from this venture. Money, perhaps even the chance to get out and explore, it is all here. But just about when you had started to drift into absent-mindedness, you hear another sharp voice.

"Come along, this way!"

You are taken to another part of the town hall, where a tall thin man sits behind a wooden desk, with a quill in hand. He speaks, in a heavily Stetven accent.

DC 16 Knowledge (Local)
Spoiler:

"Tell me in two minutes or less why you deserve to be given a charter as a member of the eye to the sword, and why your abilities are superior to everyone else who is here for the Selection?"




Tell me Mycroft, if you could describe yourself in the scene, and then the most important question in all role playing games, what do you do?
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Post  TimMarsh Wed Mar 28, 2012 12:18 pm

"Two minutes." Mycroft repeats, in a tone half-skeptical and half-confirmatory, glancing aside to meet the knowing eyes of his daughter. She begins her steady, silent count.

His voice swells with a well-rehearsed tone of confidence, seemingly too loud and enthusiastic for a two-man conversation.
"My dear Mister Rithe, I am at once wounded that my reputation has not reached ears so high as yours, yet am over-joyed for the increasingly rare opportunity to play the part of my own herald." Mycroft's eyes meet Svilenius's rising gaze. He doesn't need to turn his head to know that everyone within earshot is now looking his way.

"I, am Mycroft Calfast, honoured Barrister of the high-courts of our Lord Varthus, and renowned artist and dinner-guest among the noble-elite of Restov. Though my esoteric and judicial contributions within these walls are a matter of public record and acclaim, I present myself now as a loyal citizen seeking to apply his considerable talents where they are most needed." He paces a small figure-8 as he speaks, turning his back, now, to Svilenius, before pivoting on his heel to continue. The pace of Mycroft's voice quickens, as much to conserve time as to demonstrate his domination of language.

"My suitability for your charter reduces to 3 points, and they are as follows... Firstly! You are in need of a cartographer to map a swath of the Stolen Lands. In myself, I can offer you service a degree beyond the criteria you seek, for with my noted mastery of all forms of technical documentation and my gods-given gift for rapid artistic rendering, I possess the skills to supply not only a fine map, but a fully illustrated travel journal so replete with detail as to convince a stranger he had visited the lands himself!" He holds the confidence in his voice deep and intense, locking eyes briefly with Svilenius to assure that his boasts are grounded in fact.

"Second! You require your voice in the Greenbelt to one of diplomacy, who will not only avoid antagonising regional hostilities, but who may barter good favour with any powers discovered to be sympathetic. In this regard, it would be wrong to claim I am suitable, for the only fitting world would be ideal. Beyond my near-unanimous regard as the most persuasive and commanding barrister active in the courts today, I am formally fluent in both the speech and writing of every common regional tongue, and more importantly, every uncommon tongue. You will be hard-pressed to find another emissary who can at once hold treatise in Orcish, while penning correspondence in the fey-glyphs of Sylvan..." Mycroft affords himself a short pause, allowing the weight of his claims to sink in.

"Third, and most pressing! You require a man-in-the-field who will not only perform his duties in the Stolen Lands, but who can be relied upon to return from them. A man who will not only survive the dangers of the south, but who ideally, will best them! Admittedly, barristers and artisans can seldom be counted on in combat, I however give exception to the norm, for in combat one would be best served not counting me out. Owing to the distant challenges of my youth, I possess considerable skill not only in the execution of espionage, but in the physical domination of opponents. If I may indulge but a single anecdote..."
With deliberate hand-gestures telegraphing his benign intent to the onlooking guards, Mycroft reaches to his hip, and draws his finely-adorned rapier from its sheath. He holds the blade level before him, guiding the eyes of his audience to the intimidating blade.
"As those well-versed in the semiotics of cut-throat blade inscription will corroborate, this blade has a rich symbolic history, telling tales of high-profile assassinations ordered by the most daring of criminal lords. It was presented to me after it served as evidence for an attempted murder that I myself averted. I first saw it unsheathed by a captive assassin, who concealed it magically on his person, having contrived his own capture and trial in order to publicly strike down the high and honourable Magistrate Pycus. This was during the initial questioning of my second ever case as a criminal prosecutor, and while I knew my case was strong, I doubted it would do much to sway a dead Magistrate. While the specific details of my martial prowess are immaterial, the results are matter of public record. I saved the Magistrate, and all others present, by single-handedly beating an armed assassin unconscious with my bare-hands, after which I presented without a single scratch on my person, save for some deceptive cuts to my clothes..." Mycroft sheaths the blade slowly, throwing knowing glances to guards who nod with awe-filled recognition.

"But I digress... Put simply, Mister Rithe, it is your ultimate goal to bring the law to Stolen Lands, one charter at a time. And if I may be so bold as to insist, sir, in every sense of the word that you may wish to credit: I am the law..."

Mycroft relaxes his stance, awaiting a response. His attention turns briefly back toward his daughter, who touches his large arm softly.
"2 minutes and 33 seconds, Daddy, with the story included..." She speaks softly. Mycroft lets out a loud chuckle, directed more toward Svilenius than his daughter.
"It's just as well I didn't add 'brevity' to my list of criteria, eh Princess?"

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Post  Nephilim Wed Mar 28, 2012 2:56 pm

OOC: In future when there is a skill check, would you be able to post your roll?




The man behind his desk raises his eyebrow, and a curious expression appears on his face. "Well, I have heard the promise of many a valiant soldier, demonstrations of incredible craftsmen. I cannot, however boast that any individual has entered this room proclaiming to be a dinner-guest of nobles, nor has anyone been so direct as to address me directly."

He leans back in his seat, toying with a quill betwixt his thumb and forefingers, and continues. "Tell me one more thing Mycroft, for I am so very curious. Every man and woman who has entered this floor before me has had something to gain. Honour for the soldiers, wealth for the craftsmen. What is it, that you stand to gain from this expenditure, as you did come here of your own accord."

Rithe appears to have had his interest piqued by your introduction, and is awaiting for you to answer.


Last edited by Nephilim on Wed Mar 28, 2012 3:30 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Post  TimMarsh Wed Mar 28, 2012 3:29 pm

Mycroft smiles warmly.
"It is a rare occasion indeed, sir, when one man can ask another his intentions, and the latter would not condemn himself with the truth. But this is such a one."
He approaches Svilenius's desk, laying his hands on its outer edge in a gesture of sincerity.
"I speak the truth, when I say that my concern is for the future of Restov, the rule of Swordlords, and the ultimate fate of the River Kingdoms, but that is not the full extent of the truth."
Mycroft once again stands his full height, and gestures his head towards the meek, small girl standing behind him.
"I care for these lands because she has to live in them, and I mince no words when I say that she is my very reason for being. I can gather my finances until my coinpurse bursts, I can climb every social ladder until I sit empowered at their tops, anything that is within my grasp to have a long and safe future for her. But all of that is moot, if the threat of Issia boils over, all of it will count for nothing. Be it through the strengthening of Rostland, or through a desperate, last-second break for independence, her future now rests in the Stolen Lands, and if I have to talk-down or cut the throats of every bandit in the greenbelt to ensure she and I can share that future, I will."
Mycroft's eyes search Svilenius's. There's a chance Svilenius isn't even a parent. Perhaps the predictable self-interest angle would have worked better...
"My reasons are selfish, I'll admit, but my goals for this land align with those of Lord Varthus, and as we are both men of character, I suspect it shall always remain that way."

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Post  Nephilim Wed Mar 28, 2012 4:00 pm

"I understand that we have a mutual interest and goal, and you are directly correct when you say that we are all in a very interesting situation if Issia decides to have her day of fun. Mycroft, I dare say that our company is above that of most of these serfs, and I'm surprised I tolerated it for the time I have."

Rithe stands, and gestures to one of the town guards present for the interview. "I have seen enough, anyone who has not seen me is irrelevant. Except find that Ranger, the quiet one with the impressive swordsmanship from yesterday."

After speaking to his cohorts, he pulls a rolled piece of paper from his pocket, and speaks, this time in an official tone:
"Ahem. Mycroft, do you accept this request, to become one of the Sword to the Eye, and to be placed with other like minded individuals, to carry out the following charter for the good of our lord Varthus, and to stand by it's words, and adhere to it's principles? For the charter itself reads:

Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, has granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west, and sixty miles south of Oleg's Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behaviour to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of Calastril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova current regent of the Dragonscale Throne."


He rolls the paper back into it's original form, and says less officially:
"Is this something that you will uphold if you accept this?"


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Post  TimMarsh Wed Mar 28, 2012 4:19 pm

Mycroft lowers his head slightly, his face expressing a mixture of satisfaction and reverence. Kneeling, he announces is a loud, ceremonial voice:
"It is with pride that accept this charge, both in my own name, and on behalf of my daughter. I will serve and embody the interests of Restov, with my deeds and with my very life, until the this charge is fulfilled, or my very soul departs this mortal realm."
He smiles to himself, admiring his own wording. Taking her fathers cue a moment too slowly, Jenna kneels at his side, a soft nod of her head summarising her endorsement of everything he says.

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Post  Nephilim Wed Mar 28, 2012 4:29 pm

"Very well. If you sign here, then you will be provided with any equipment you require at cost, so that you may be prepared for your voyage. There will be men here ready to acquire what is needed, and you will meet you travelling companions in three days, once the eye to the sword has been assembled."

Svillenius strides up to you with purpose, hands you the rolled up charter, and looks into your eyes with a look that you can only determine is that of a man who has been impressed.

"You shall hear from me again." he says, as he turns to leave the town hall.

What do you do?
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Post  TimMarsh Thu Mar 29, 2012 2:36 am

"Many thanks, my good sir. You, too, can expect word from us in the none-too-distant future, and you can expect it to be news of the most positive sort." Mycroft projects his voice, while producing his ink-pen from his coat, and signing the charter and its companion with a flourish.
"Come, Princess. We have some affairs to sort with Madame Dalage. The quality of our lodgings are about to take an exciting down-turn."
Jenna averts her gaze shyly.
"I left a note for Madame Dalage this morning, explaining that we would be leaving... She should have already hired men to assess our furniture for sale..."
Mycroft raises his eyebrow, feigning surprise at his daughter's words.
"And where did you imagine we were going to live if I failed to secure a charter?" He asks with a tone of mock-concern.
"...You never fail at anything..." She asserts meekly, hooking her elbow unobtrusively around the familiar nook of his arm. Mycroft chuckles warmly.
"Well, with the possible exception of teaching my children reasonable expectations. Come." He touches the side of her cheek softly, and leads her back to the entrance of the grand Town Hall.

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Post  Nephilim Thu Mar 29, 2012 2:37 pm

Mycroft, with Jenna in toe, leave the town hall, and enter the busy street, as all of the people who were inside have been now moved onto the street.

Now tell me Mycroft, you have three days before the Eye of the Sword is assembled. What do you plan to do in this time?
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Post  TimMarsh Thu Mar 29, 2012 3:33 pm

With the proof of the charter now in his possession, Mycroft plans to settle his affairs city-side, cultivating the necessarily seedlings of rumour and gossip to glamorise his noble quest into the greenbelt. He knows that whether matters go well, or poorly, it will be in his best interest if conversation among the social circles of Restov continue to swing in his direction for some weeks yet. Whether he needs to call for aid, or lay the ground-work to maximise on a triumphant return, the Calfasts shall not be out of this city's mind when they move out of its sight.
Furthermore, he must secure the finest trail-comforts he find, in the form of a quality bedroll and tent, so that Jenna may have some comfort when she needs to sleep far from warm beds. He will also require some expanded cartography and record-keeping equipment, and some materials to ensure he may climb and grapple even in terrains that lack sufficient hand-holds. He and Jenna will also require some sturdier boots, and more robust travel-cloaks for the merciless weather that awaits them in the wilds. (OOC: This is basically the stuff currently listed as his character equipment, which I have already deducted from the starting wealth)
Beyond this, he will seek to ease some of Jenna's uneasiness at the prospect of the charter, by taking in a tour-de-force of high calibre lunch- and dinner-engagements among the slightly neglected nobles on Mycroft's rotation. It will likely be some time before she has a chance to eat well again, so he hopes she will take this chance to gorge some meat onto her all-too-visible bones.

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Post  Nephilim Thu Mar 29, 2012 4:18 pm

As a man with his daughter's health in mind, you visit noble friends and secure all of the supplies you require for the charter.

This all goes to plan, until the morning of the day before the Eye of the Sword charter comes into effect. You are preparing to go pick up the final few items for the journey, when Madame Dalage enters the quarters where you are in the process of speaking to Jenna about your plans for the day.

"Now my dearest Mycroft, I pray there is someone who has come here to see you. Strange man, but he dresses well. Were you expecting anyone?
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Post  TimMarsh Thu Mar 29, 2012 4:30 pm

Mycroft grins devilishly.
"Madame, only hard-working women of a very particular line of work expect unsolicited visits from well-dressed, strange men. Now, unless my dear Jenna has taken up a vocation without my counsel..." He pauses, allowing his daughter to smoulder in her blush. "..the man you describe is a mystery that I wholly intend to reach the bottom of."

He strides curtly past Madame Dalage, who stares blankly, oblivious to subtle joke that has inspired a series of titters from Jenna, who presently fans her face to cool the salacious imagery her father left intruding upon her thoughts. Mycroft listens to the shuffling steps of the curious widow behind him as he weightlessly descends the stairs into the foyé.

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Post  Nephilim Thu Mar 29, 2012 5:02 pm

When you make it down to the bottom of the stairs, you are greeted by Svilenius Rithe. What he is doing here, you have no idea.

"I told you, you'd hear from me again. Firstly, may I say that your house is somewhat exquisite. The drapery does exude a level of wealth that I enjoy in a man" he says as he moves effortlessly to the window and picks up a section of the exotic Medvyedai silk.

"Tell me, I do not mean to intrude when I ask this, however I must inquire. What are your planned activities this afternoon? There has been a slight change of plans with the Eye of the Sword"

DC 18 Sense Motive:
Spoiler:

What do you do Mycroft?
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Post  TimMarsh Fri Mar 30, 2012 11:24 am

DC Sense Motive Roll: 11 + 6 = 17 (failed)

Mycroft masks the surprise on his face, and greets Svilenius amiably.
"My good Mister Rithe, a pleasure as always. Firstly I hope your preference for expensive adornments is not gender-specific, as since the passing of her late, great husband, Madame Dalage is the owner of this home and all of its furnishings."
The squat, but well-bred widow makes a courteous bow behind Mycroft's shoulder.
"But as to your question, my daughter and I were planning to attend a modest soirée at the barrister chambers this evening. While the event is being held to honour the 22nd year of service of a man who's work it would generous to describe as such, it is nonetheless a fine opportunity to get my underweight child within arm's length of boiled cakes and sweetrolls. Am I to take it you are here to offer an alternative?"

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Post  Nephilim Fri Mar 30, 2012 4:16 pm

"I am going to give you an opportunity that even a well reputed man such as yourself would be wise to pay your full attention towards. I have heard word that Lord Varthus will be present at a feast this afternoon at the Svetian estate. Word has it that an ascension may be at hand. If this is the case, it may be worth your while to volunteer as one of the witnesses. Standing alongside Dagonet's eldest and assisting him arise into the realm of nobility could result in a well earned gain in both your reputation and pockets. That is, if that sort of thing motivates you."

As these words spring of his tongue, Svilenius is pacing back and forth, with his hands behind his back.

"Now, I do not mean to put you on the spot, nor do I want to intrude. I will be taking my leave, however I leave this invitation with me. Think it over, Mycroft."

And with this, he goes to leave.
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Post  TimMarsh Fri Mar 30, 2012 7:16 pm

Picking up the well-penned and formally pressed invitation, Mycroft rapidly scans his eyes across the relevant names. The note is indeed from the pen of Dagonet Svet himself, corroborating the most superficial of Rithe's claims, but more pressingly, the invitation is not of general form. It is addressed to Mycroft specifically, a certain sign that Mycroft's anticipated role in this affair has been subject to far deeper premeditation than Rithe's light-handed demeanour would imply.
"There will be no need for further contemplation." Mycroft announces, projecting his voice towards Svilenius's back. "This feast is certain to provide the superior opportunity for fattening up my underweight daughter, my colleagues will simply have to pat each other's backs for one night." With a second's thought, he thinks better than to presume that Svilenius will be present in person at the event in question. There is, after all, every chance that Rithe has negotiated Mycroft's presence at the feast in order to avoid the necessity of attending himself.

Ascending the staircase and returning to their rooms, Mycroft raises his eyebrows in mock resignation as he addresses his daughter.
"Jenna, my Princess, my love, my reason for drawing breath... What would you say if I told you that you need to wear a formal dress this evening?" His tone is aloof and academic, as if his question was truly something to be debated by philosophers. Jenna's eyes narrow, the common analogue of a frown on her generally inexpressive face.
"I'd say... That you assured me that the other barristers will expect nothing more than the tunic I wear on court-days..."
"And indeed, the barristers will not. No. It seems that this evening we shall be changing our plans from partaking festivities in my venue of business, to undertaking some business in the venue of a feast. An invitation was just delivered from the desk of Lord Svet, and as if that weren't enough, our friend Svilenius Rithe saw fit to play messenger..."

Mycroft locks eyes insistently with his daughter, green staring into green, as if he needed to look through the windows of her eyes to see the thoughts turning over in her head.
"Oh..." The realisation forces Jenna to look away for a moment, but her gaze returns immediately to comfortable allure of her handsome father's eyes. She asks the next question in this logical sequence, knowing already the character of the answer he will give. "..So they both need you to do something?" Mycroft smiles.
"I have been asked to attend the initial feast of an Ascension of Valour, that of Lord Svet's squire, most likely to play the part of a 'respected and active member of the community' to participate in the proceedings. So yes, we're presented with two possibilities: Either my role in this will simultaneously serve Rithe and Svet's individual interests, thus facilitating their obvious collaboration; or, more likely, Rithe has manoeuvre'd his influence to ensure that his overall interests have become Svet's interests." Jenna presses her hands together in her lap, mentally tracking the implications of Mycroft's words.
"More likely the latter... Because of the timing?" She feels the slight giddy rush as he smiles at her in confirmation.
"Precisely. Svilenius has no motivation to try and cultivate my general social connections in Restov, much less the day before I am set to leave Restov for some time, on a task of his design no-less..." Mycroft raises his hand in a yielding gesture, impelling Jenna to finish his thought along the lines he established.
"He thinks that you helping with the Ascension will get Lord Svet to help with our charter?" Her uncertainty has grown.
"Perhaps, or perhaps I am expected to work my particular brand of influence, in order to steer the Ascension of Valour itself in our favour. You see, in order to prove their worth, both in terms of prowess and willingness of character, in the eyes of their countrymen and fellow nobility, a squire is generally tasked with some form of dangerous mission that would benefit the community. If my suspicions are correct, our dear Svilenius has already laid the groundwork for us to recruit the young squire as some form of bodyguard, to aid in our risky excursion into the greenbelt. Thus, two birds..." Mycroft leaves the idiom hanging.
"-with one stone." Jenna concludes.

She finds her thoughts rapidly swirling with disappointment and self-conscious anticipation. Over the past two days she had substantially warmed to the prospect of weeks out and alone with her father, away from his social duties and judgemental standards of the people of Restov. Now she feared the ruination of the intimate climate by the constant presence of some mouth-breathing aristocrat's son. She straightens her posture slightly.
"And I am to pay for this 'bodyguard' with an entire evening of people looking at me in a dress? The price is a little steep for my liking..." She averts her gaze, unable to conceal her discomfort at the prospect of wearing effeminate, eye-catching clothes in a crowded feast setting. Particularly one consisting almost entirely of strangers. Mycroft smiles his mischievous grin.
"Now please, Princess, think of this from a father's perspective. If all is as we suspect, and tonight we shall dine in honour of a young man who is to be our travelling companion, I would insist that his first exposure to you be in a civilised, feminine context. After all, if he were to meet you first in your trail-clothes, an inattentive man may come to believe you be a lithe boy, rather than a lovely, blossoming young woman. Then imagine the repercussions! He would likely take to fully disrobing and bathing before your eyes without giving it a second thought! And I, to run protective interference whilst not arousing suspicion, would have little choice but to disrobe myself and join him!" The imagery appears to have the predictable effect on Jenna, whose thoughts slowly submerge in a rising tide of volatile hormones. "And suffice to say, no reputable young lady would ever subject herself to such an ordeal when it could be so easily avoided through something far less demanding."

Jenna merely nods slowly, her eyes turned down from Mycroft's face, hazy with distraction and embarrassment. Mycroft smiles to himself, reflecting upon how easy it has become to steer any necessary compliance from his daughter by merely nudging and prodding at her deeply felt, and deeply misplaced, affections. With her mind in its present state, he readies himself for what he knows will come next.
"Well, I suppose I'd better change then..." Jenna announces, face still down-turned, as she begins to rapidly pull loose the front of her tunic. Before he could even come close to accidentally spying the bare skin of her chest, Mycroft has spun on his heel and begun his casual walk out through the door.
"Of course! Call for my help if you need help with your laces, but I imagine you've had ample practice with the blue-and-black dress by now." His broad shoulders disappear around the corner of the open door before she can think of any words to compel him to stay. Jenna again feels the familiar awkwardness and shame creep over her as her thoughts once again find their grounding. Perhaps another traveller joining their expedition is for the best... For safety, of course...

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Post  Nephilim Sat Mar 31, 2012 4:43 pm

Fantastic. So Jenna and Mycroft get ready, and head off to the estate of Sir Dagonet Svet. Tim, if you would like to give brief descriptions of what Jenna and Mycroft wear, then we can conclude your origin story, and pick it up in the next thread. Smile
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Post  TimMarsh Sat Mar 31, 2012 5:48 pm

Excellent.

Mycroft's dress-code only has two settings: Finery and nudity. The evening's festivities call for the former, so Mycroft will be wearing an example of his standard work and social attire. This consists of:
- A tight, thin-clothed fine-buttoned white shirt, with padded/folded sleeves that terminate just below the elbow, and a neck which extends just high enough so as to just be visible above a scarf or high collar. There is an angular-cut to the shoulders, and the buttons themselves are white and unobtrusive.
- A closely-fit, narrow vest/waistcoat, with a low-height upright collar and a row of buttons offset to the left, cut to a length intended to protrude from below a thick belt or cummerbund. This evening's vest is of a deep emerald colour with a dark trim, with the plunge of the collar low enough to feature Mycroft's barrister-crest pin prominently in the centre of his upper chest.
- His fine black-leather belt, double-wrapped into a cross-fit, tied tight just above his uncommonly narrow hips, adorned with his secured coinpurse on the right side, and the ornate sheath for his rapier on the left. The belt buckle is small and semi-rectangular, but made of a bright polished silver.
- His standard, thin-material, black leather gloves, with the long, patterned wrists that cover the forearm.
- His standard, pointed-toe black leather boots, tight on the ankle but open on the shin, with silver buckles on the outer edges.
- Very dark grey (effectively charcoal), silk-cloth trousers, cut to flare out at and below the knee, tucked in a loose puff into the boots, and with the shirt tucked in at the waist, beneath the vest at the belt-line. A visible hemline trim runs the length of the legs, finished in a dark green.
- His dark, tan-coloured evening coat, with long open sleeves and a sharp, belt-less waist taper intended to recede and hook behind items worn on the hip. Its trim, breast-folds and adorning diamond-point flaps are a patterned, forest green, sporting only a single breast pocket, mid-rib on the right side.

As for Jenna, her attire is an unwelcome departure from her concealing cloak, tunics, and full-limb coverings. Instead, she is wearing a standard, flowing silk gown, tightened under the arms with laces, with a rope-taper just below the bust (or mid-rib, as may be a better descriptor in Jenna's case). The shoulders puff out roundly, beneath which the long sleeves are tied off in segments that make the arms of portlier girls look like hanging cured meats, but suit Jenna's bony arms well. The dress extends all the way to the toe, with the outermost layers draped as an unbroken royal blue, with the front and inner clothes a deep black, broken up by a dark blue stitched vine-pattern. For added modesty, a black shawl with lighter blue pattern highlights is draped over the right shoulder, to either hang straight down or be wrapped around in the cold. As her unseen shoes, she chose her new dark leather trail boots, which needed further breaking in before their journey. All of this was furnished with a blue-gem necklace (intended to be worn tight, but somewhat loose on Jenna's thin neck), and one other small feature... The omnipresent black-cloth headband that Jenna wears, with its characteristic polished silver guard-plate, is replaced with a dark blue headband. Whilst still a curious fashion-choice, this headband ties back into her black hair, as if a necessary part of a ribbon, and is more likely to lead a suspicious eye to think the young girl was hiding a pimple or boil on her forehead, as opposed to something... Somewhat harder to explain...

TimMarsh

Posts : 57
Join date : 2012-03-25

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