undergrounds | Night Tournament Opening Ceremony

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Night Tournament Opening Ceremony

Every four years the Night Tournament is held in London as a celebration of the physical, mental and magical prowess of its supernatural inhabitants. Over three weeks the chosen competitors will take on various challenges in an effort to be crowned Champions of their species. Tonight, the grand opening ceremony is taking place at the Redbright Institute, where guests can expect a spectacle of magical wonders and of course the parade of this year's competitors.

The ceremony takes place from 8pm-11pm Sunday 6th August. It is being hosted by the school's Chancellor, Sylvia Redbright, accompanied by event organisers Alexandrie Belrose, the Dean, and Yasmine Merad. Guests must have purchased a ticket in order to attend the event, unless of course you are one of the competitors or someone involved in organising the tournament.

Rules of entry
• No weapons. Any weapons or objects that could be used as weapons will be confiscated.
• No drugs or alcohol except that provided at the event. Don't try to sneak any in.
• No violence.

There is security present on the grounds during the event. The school itself is shut. (In fact, if your character is a member of the Redbright Institute, you could have them acting as security if you want.) They will respond to and put a stop to any trouble.

Order of events
The entirety of tonight's ceremony takes place outside in the grounds, namely the football field. There are stands around the field where the audience can watch the show. A number of stewards (student volunteers) will check tickets and direct guests over to the right place. They are also selling a variety of drinks and snacks to cater for all supernatural tastes. Vampires without daylight jewellery are directed through to the "shade zone": a section of the stand which is completely shielded from the sun.

8pm-8.30pm: Redbright Choir
Led by the Head of Music Ms Sandra Ng, the Redbright Choir is comprised of a variety of students representing all supernatural beings coming together to sing in harmony. They are accompanied by a live band.

8.30-9.30pm: Welcome to the Night (nb. sunset is at 8.45pm)
Settle in for one hell of a show. The hour's entertainment, proudly organised and performed by students at the Redbright Institute, features a showpiece from every supernatural type, from witches performing a spectacular light show of magic, meta humans showing off their powers, to werewolves and shapeshifters dancing in fur costumes. The theme again is harmony: the show ends with all performers joining hands in a giant circle on the pitch before performing their final dance.

9.30-9.45pm: Sylvia's Welcome Speech
As the host and sponsor of the Night Tournament, Sylvia will then step up to a podium to say a few words. She talks about (you guessed it) peace and harmony and coming together to celebrate supernatural diversity. She speaks proudly of the Redbright Institute's record of welcoming and teaching any supernatural student, no matter their background. The one thing that does get all the journalists scribbling furiously, however, is a brief mention of the Night Council's new President. Though she doesn't mention him by name, she does say that she welcomes the President's stance on promoting peace and unity.

9.45-10.15pm: The Parade
At last the 16 competitors are introduced one by one. Dressed in spectacular costumes, each competitor gets their own float which makes one round of the field before they all meet in the centre of the pitch. The parade is accompanied by inspiring music and showers of glitter (or is it pixie dust?). Smile and wave, everyone. Smile and wave.

10.15-11pm: General Mingling
Finally, the audience are allowed to invade the pitch where they can mingle with the competitors as they please. Stewards walk around serving more drinks, and there is a live band playing until the end of the event. Stick around to catch some gossip, place a bet on your preferred competitor, or offer support to your favourites.

[OOC: Please see the information post for more details on this event and to ask any questions!]

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She may no longer run the Night Council, but Sylvia Redbright still carries the same air of authority she always has. It's an odd thing, being in the spotlight again. Like putting on an old coat and remembering how well it fits. Of course everyone expected Sylvia to be making this speech as President. The tournament is her brainchild, organised largely by a committee at the school, so she's seeing it through but she won't be the one who hands out the prizes at the closing ceremony.

Despite the strangeness of the occasion, she is pleased to witness all they've achieved. Her students have done her proud. And the batch of competitors this year are... interesting.

After the parade, she mingles with the crowd. Some might expect her to be downtrodden or putting on a brave face. Certainly there are a couple of hacks in the press who would like to paint her that way. But there's a certain calmness that comes after the storm, not just before it. She has her school. And maybe right now that's all she needs.

Meanwhile, Samantha Okeke wears a smile that is perhaps a little more strained. She's learned some hard lessons in her first few months as Mother of Witches, and she's having to be more patient than her natural inclination. But she's out tonight looking fun and fresh, and on the search for some friendly company. If she's going to get what she wants, she needs to start making allies again, that much is clear.

Also at the ceremony are Katherine Moore, the werewolf alpha who looks like she doesn't want to be here but she's going to have a drink anyway, Yasmine Merad and Alexandrie Belrose of the Redbright Institute who have helped to organise this event and are looking pretty pleased with themselves, and Peter Vrinak of the Night Council who looks generally suspicious of everything going on. Rumour is that he's been suffering some illness as of late, but outwardly he appears to be fine.

[ooc: Say which NPC you'd like to talk to if you tag! If you want to know more about any of these characters, they're all on the Elites list.]

1: the choir
He's supposed to be back by the floats. But there's music and he wants to hear more of the music, so eventually he makes his way closer to the choir. He's sitting on a patch of grass near the entrance to the bleachers, listening. Sometimes he manifests himself, otherwise it's a bit harder to see him. As such, some of the less observant members of the supernatural...just straight up walk through him a few times. It doesn't bother Cole. In fact, his attention remains firmly on the choir--until someone approaches him.

"I like this," he quietly says, as if just realizing that he likes something for the first time. "More events should have music."

2: general mingling
It's a bit odd that a ghost would be competing. Ghosts were loners, ghosts stayed by themselves, why would one want to compete in the Night Tournament? There's no sign that Cole recognizes how odd this is, however, because he's just sitting on his float (which is inevitably the saddest float of the lot because how do you decorate for a ghost?) and idly talking to whoever approaches.

"I don't really have a strategy," he admits to one woman. "I think it's a good staring. Talk to him," he mutters to a were. "You should bet on Desmond," he tells one of the witches. "I like him." He has about a fifteen minute conversation with a vampire who just wants someone to talk to, you know, it's hard when you've suddenly got to reschedule your entire life and you can't see some of your friends anymore, they don't tell you these things when you get turned, and so on and so forth.

All of his conversation is equal parts Cole answering questions about the Night Tournament despite the fact that he has zero clue what the Night Tournament entails and Cole just giving advice to whoever listens.

She made the speech. So that means she's in charge? Cole doesn't really know who's in charge of these things, but Sylvia seems like a solid choice. Sylvia can probably sense him coming because witch powers and all that. But Cole just doesn't realize that he should do something like 'introduce himself' or 'not creep up on people.' Instead, he straight up creeps behind Sylvia, manifesting himself right out of nowhere.

"I'm sorry I couldn't wear the costume," he apologizes, in a quiet voice. Surprising no one, it's a bit futile to try and put a fun spangly costume on someone who's intangible 90% of the time and is currently having a bit of trouble trying to hold onto tangibility for the other 10%.

( parade/mingling - a )
The pack has played hell at getting Ghoul to cooperate with the idea of costumes and floats. There were a couple of minor bite injuries at some point during the negotiation process, but Joseph Leake, bless his weird taxidermy-loving heart, had really settled Ghoul down with his vision. His float ends up being something he actually likes; it's a rolling piece of macabre art, decorated with skeletal animals in various dancing poses and a few ghoulish-looking patchwork creatures. It's a hell of an opportunity for Joseph to showcase his work, and Ghoul doesn't mind a damn bit because he gets to ride around on a float covered in dead shit.

The costume is also... acceptable. Ghoul is practically buried under layers of inky black furs and bleach-white bones, with the only pop of color on his person being the jagged bars of red paint that start around his eyes and taper down his face and neck. The whole get-up is, apparently, some kind of representation of a mythical death-wolf with a tongue-twisting name. Everything looks a little spooky, and is supposed to provoke a sense of dread and doom in the other competitors- or some shit like that. The other werewolves know more about it than he does, so he simply directs any questions about the artistic choices to the nearest pack member.

There's no one to save him from his latest guest, though. It's a child, evidently unaffected by all the creepy things and asking Ghoul about the pitch-black sclera contacts he's got in. "No, you can't touch my fucking eye," is what starts a chain of soft-pitched why?s and so?s. After a few rounds of Quality answers such as because it's attached to my face and your hands are dirty, he eventually gives up and flags down the closest adult. "Can you take this somewhere?" He means the kid, obviously.

( mingling - b )
A good competitor would probably stay close to their float and chat with folks. Drum up interest in themselves, convince people to bet on them, so on and so forth.

Ghoul isn't a good anything, so after shedding off a few pieces of his costume he slips away from his float, leaving the spectators and the rest of his pack with a mound of fur and bones and no Ghoul.

He keeps the fuzzy vest, though, and happily pulls the hood over his head as he makes his way around the pitch, checking out the different floats between making incredible offers to random strangers- like, "I'll let you pet my fur if you gimme your drink."

Or he can be found standing in place long enough to scrape glitter-dust off himself and smear it on to the nearest unsuspecting body. He could be anywhere, really, but no matter where he ends up, he's probably doing something dumb.

Cole's float is... something. Ghoul's not sure what it's supposed to be, actually, but he does know that it's a lot calmer over here. It'll be a good place to take a break.

Ghoul climbs on to Cole's float, lying stretched out on his belly behind some sort of large, half-assed decoration. It's the best hiding spot he's found so far. Cole is such a generous host... even though he has no say in the matter, since Ghoul has already barged in and made himself at home. The details don't matter that much, do they?

"I like your float. Wanna trade? Let's trade."

When Evie signed up for this, she hadn't thought anything about the float or the costume. It was all a little Hungry Games to her, truth be told, and it really didn't help that the costume they'd come up with was a gladiator. Evie found it appropriate, her float a chariot. Keeping with her preferences, however, her whole costume was in shades of black and a dark gold.

Honestly, despite being strapped into a bit of a corset and wearing a skirt that really wasn't even a skirt so much as leather straps and a pair of booty shorts, she couldn't help but think she looked good.

After the ceremony, Dame Evie Frye as she'd allowed them to introduce her as, can be found mingling with her new-found fans, and enjoying a drink. She's happy to be competing, though she can't help but wonder if all her training made it cheating.

Oh well.

Laura's here, of course. She wants to show her support for Redbright, both the Institute and the woman herself. Besides, she knew a few people that were entering the tournament, and she wanted to be here to support them.

After the ceremony, she's happy to mingle amongst the crowd, congratulating the competitors. The competition, she's put together, seems to be quite tough. Hopefully the winner will be from the Pack.

And that's a bias she can admit to.

"Ghoul! You look-" Laura pauses as she spots him, making a show of looking him up and down. "- well! that glitter is going to be covering the Den for the next six months, at least, isn't it?"

Glitter was every teacher's worst nightmare. Stickers, meanwhile, were their best friend. Everyone loved stickers. It was a known fact.

"I hate it." Well, that response sure was automatic, but who can blame him? Glitter is worse than sand, and everyone knows how annoying sand is. And it will, indeed, linger in the den for the rest of forever.

He tries in vain to shake some of it off his hands, and although he can't see himself, he'd be pleased to know that his outfit makes his scowl look a little demonic. "I look like a sparkly sideshow. If I'd known this was gonna be a Miss America pageant I woulda told all of you to go fuck yourselves a lot sooner."

The decorations are exceedingly half assed. It was going to be this beautiful sliver sort of aesthetic but then people realized wait a minute, ghosts can't wear clothes, so everything was hastily redesigned to fit Cole's khakis.

As Ghoul stretches out behind the decoration, Cole can't help but look over a bit confused. Okay? This is what they were doing now? He doesn't mind company (he really likes company, as a matter of fact) but normally you have a bit more warning before something like this happens.

"Which one's yours?"

Ghoul bends an arm before resting his head on top of it, using his free hand to point in the direction of his own float. "The one with the dead stuff. You can hang out on it if you want, 'cause I'm gonna borrow this one for a minute."

He doesn't seem to realize it could be seen as rude, herding the dead guy on to the Dead Stuff float. The connection hasn't even crossed his mind, honestly, because all he wants to do is hunker down behind this fucking silvery-brown-cloud??? and take a power nap. Even though he's pretty sure he's not supposed to shut his eyes with freaky contact lenses in... Ugh. Ugh.

Ghoul lingers in front of Evie's float, looking it over (and maybe her costume a little bit too- but mostly the float, really, honestly), his head tilted beneath his fluffy hood. Eventually, he comments, "Y'know, I wasn't alive at the time so I'm not an expert or nothin', but I don't think that's how that armor's supposed to work."

That sure is a lot of uncovered arm. And leg. And... everything? How very impractical for battle.

Eames didn't volunteer for this, and as such he's not really happy to be here. But he has to admit, he can't find a fault with the float they've put together. It's kinda ostentatious, but what isn't when it comes to fae?

A throne of woven branches and sunset-coloured leaves sits atop the back of what looks like it could've once been a dragon, eyes closed in repose or death under a blanket of fallen leaves with chrysanthemum blooms at its claws. Tiny lights of various colours dance around it, and on the throne Eames sits in burgundy and gold finery, aristocratic in a 19th century flair. (The fae wanted something a little older, but Eames refused to do breeches.) Where other participants wave to the crowds, Eames is deeply uninterested, chin resting in his hand as he leans on the arm of his seat in an open display of boredom. At his feet sits his beloved rottweiler, coat shiny and tail thumping in excitement as he watches the crowds and the dancing sprites.

It also leaves a fun trail of leaves and petals as it moves, Eames' own personal touch just to be that little bit more annoying. Somebody's going to have to clean that up later.

"Oh come on," she chides, "It's not that bad- I think you look something like a rock-star, now that it's just the vest and makeup." She gives him a smile that could almost be considering flirtatious.

"You know we picked you for a reason, right?"

1) The parade

Oh, the indignity of it all. He's being made to ride on a tasteless float that some witch put together: it's all white and silver, a winter-themed design with a covering of fake powdery snow and fake trees with naked branches tangling together. Somewhere in the middle of that is a throne made out of the tangled branches on which Mogget is perched. His costume, such as it is, consists of a crown made out of twigs and silver-painted leaves, and a silvery cape that covers his back. He hates it. He hates everything. Why is he being made to do this?

The floats meet in the centre of the pitch and Mogget casts a jaundiced eye at another competitor nearby.

"Tell me you didn't volunteer for this."

2) Mingling

He manages to get rid of the crown at least, but the cape is firmly tied around his neck and Samantha has forbidden him from taking any form other than cat tonight. She also told him to be nice, whatever that means.

At some point during the evening he can be found with Samantha herself, perched on her shoulder while she shows him off to her witch friends.

Later he escapes and slinks off into a corner trying to avoid everyone but then a nearby steward offers sushi to the waiting guests and his ears prick. Surely as a competitor he deserves special treatment. Perhaps one of these guests can be persuaded to give up their food. He winds around the legs of the nearest likely candidate. Maybe he'll attract their attention. Maybe he'll trip them up. Either could work.

It's a good thing that Sylvia is a witch and therefore more sensitive than most to ghostly activity. She feels a prickling at the back of her neck as Cole approaches, but even so she still flinches when he appears out of nowhere.

"Oh!" A hand flies up to her chest. She steadies herself, taking a moment to stare at the... boy... ghost. He's competing in the tournament. Sylvia isn't sure why but she never is when it comes to ghosts. Sometimes they just feel better for being included. "Not at all," she says. "I understand. Are you looking forward to the tournament?"

It's her reassuring voice, the one she uses on the recently deceased. Surprising how often she has to use it.

Fine, Laura, play unfair and butter him up, why don't you.

She does have a point, though. It is a bitchin' vest, and he feels like he pulls it off pretty well. Ghoul indulges in a bit of a preen even though his tone is still a little sour. "Yeah, you guys picked me 'cause you think you're funny." He frowns. "Or you thought I'd look the best in makeup, which I'm gonna be real upset about if so."

Parade

There weren't many ways to glam up 'rat shifter' to be something you'd want on a float like this. It had, however, been managed. Someone had, apparently, decided that the best way to make a rat theme look cool was to go for a distinctly Nutcracker-esque approach, with Roddy dressed as the Rat King, complete with mask. He also had a grey and white double breasted doublet, slim fitting black slacks, and tight, darker grey boots that went almost to his knees. And, of course, no rat costume was complete without the tail, which this outfit most definitely had, with special care and attention given to the little hairs sticking out of it and the scaling that gave rat tails their unique texture.

The Nutcracker theme spread out into the float itself, which was decorated with figures of rats devouring nutcracker dolls that looked suspiciously like they had been gnawed on a bit by real rats.

Roddy, of course, wasn't quite sure how to deal with all the glitter and pageantry of the parade. On one hand, he wanted to seem reasonably enthused to be here. On the other hand, he didn't want to mislead people into actually thinking he believed he was going to win. And so he settled for something in between, smiling and waving for the crowds, but not bothering to hide the fact that it was a small, slightly nervous smile.

Mingling

Roddy was a person who had the unfortunate habit of frequently making questionable life choices. Entering the tournament would seem to be one of those things, since Roddy was not the type of person people thought of when they considered people who would be considered a 'combatant'. And they'd be reasonable in not thinking that. He'd been figuring that even if he loses horribly in round one, he'd be great at the cunning portion of the competition, and that maybe the difference between the two would balance things out. And, there was the off chance that he'd actually do well enough to win prize money, and since Roddy was perpetually broke...well...

As he listened to the performers, however, he began to question his life choices. Maybe, just maybe, he should have tried to find out if there was any chance of him getting a slot to perform in one of these acts instead of actually competing. Well, it was too late for that now. For now he'd just enjoy the celebration, the drinks, and try to gauge the competition.

Yeah, Cole's staying put where he is. In fact, he's adjusting his posture slightly so that he's still sitting on the float but also looking at Ghoul--though he does peer over at the float in question as if to make sure of the one he's seeing. Yep, that sure is a float covered in dead things.

"Why would they put dead things on your float? You're not dead." It's an honest question because really, so much of Ghoul's float is downright confusing to poor Cole.

"I think so," Cole simply responds, entirely oblivious that Sylvia's using her 'talking to dead people' voice. After all, he's never met any other ghosts, he's no idea how most people deal with this.

"It's big and bright and people will see me. I'm looking forward to that."

"'Cause I like dead things." Because of course he does. He'd better, anyway, or else he'd have some real problems with all of the dark-themed tattoos he's got all over himself. "And it goes with my costume. I'm like a wolf version of the grim reaper." It only makes sense for a harbinger of death to have a corpse posse, geez.

"What, uh... What were you supposed to be?"

Arm. Leg. Ass. It's a bit ridiculous, considering they've only got her in bracers and the leather straps holding the bodice of her outfit up. At least her calves are covered by her over-the-knee gladiator sandals. Still, it's oddly revealing, all things considered.

"Good thing this is all just ceremonial then, eh?" She asks, taking the thickest of her braids and throwing it over her shoulder.

Y'know, she's gonna do just that.

The tip of her nose crinkles a little as she laughs. "Maybe it's both- but I like to think I'm particularly funny, so..." She lets her words trail off.

"Really, I think you'll do wonderfully in the competition."

At some point in the night, Ghoul decides he's going to be friends with the dog. Even if it is on Eames' float.

He has enough self-respect to wait until Eames looks distracted, then he sneakily squeezes up against the side of the float. From there it's a matter of reaching out and patting the area in front of himself while quietly clicking his tongue at the dog, attempting to lure it over.

parade/mingling
Desmond's essentially participating in this whole thing at all because of peer pressure, and also because the one of the coven witches really has her eye on upgrading the coven facilities. Unfortunately, that also means they're in charge of his costume and the float, and given the tight budget they're on, it's essentially what they could pull together with magic on short notice. Once they found out he used to be a bartender, the unanimous decision was made to style his float after Dionysus.

This mostly means that the float is covered in ivy, vines trailing off the side, with plenty of grapes to boot. The main feature of the float, though, is Desmond sitting on an overturned wooden tub, with a fake leopard skin with the 'paws' tied around his neck and waist. Besides that, he's wearing the ancient Greek equivalent of a speedo, a wreath of vines around his head, a whole lot of gold body glitter, and an awkward smile. At least he can take comfort in knowing he's reasonably fit and in shape, and that nobody's likely to recognize him.

After the parade, Desmond can mostly be found sitting on the edge of his float, idly twirling the giant fennel stalk he was holding like a scepter earlier, answering questions from guests but also looking like he'd like to be anywhere, anywhere but here. This was probably why his coven left him shoeless.

Edited 2017-08-09 04:26 (UTC)

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Night Tournament Opening Ceremony

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