[The Marble Hills Cemetery] A Selhaim Celebration To Remember (Closed)

[Gossamer]

ooc: Feel free to join in. This is the one time a year other than big funerals that the military district is open to the public. For more details on the cemetary, see this thread.

TS: 31st of Junctior, Autumn, XIII (pf)

The Marble Hills Cemetery and Crematorium is set on 30 acres near the center of the Military District. It is a monument to all of the men and women who have served Empire in a military capacity. Although most who fall in battle are either burned or buried on the battlefield, many still make their final journey here. The grounds themselves are surrounded by an elaborate, eight foot tall iron fence topped with arcane lights every 15 feet. There is but one way in and one way out through a massive iron gate set in the middle of a sword arch formed by two massive statues in the form of Imperial Knights.

Individual grave markers blanket the landscape and a stone path leads the way into the cemetery which is setup in a grid pattern. The markers however designate the graves of those who fell or passed many eras ago. With little room left for new additions, the main grounds themselves are no longer used for interment; that function now being served by the Crematorium.

Markers for most who are buried are usually little more than simple slabs of stone baring the name, birth and death date, and occasional quotes or religious script significant to the deceased. High ranking officers may receive more elaborate markers which oftentimes take the form of statues of the individual. A few war heroes and high ranking officers even have above ground crypts or mausoleums.

It was one of those unusual occasions that the whole of the military district was open to the public. The reason was simple. Alleria Prime loves her holidays, and the Marble Hills Cemetery and Crematorium was simply the largest place possible to house such a big event. Lights were everywhere, thrust into the ground in the form of ceremonial torches filled with enough oil to last the whole night long. They illuminated the enormous grassy knoll and field at the entrance to the cemetery. There was a dais with a group of gathered musicians for the dancing later tonight. Huge feast tables were set up all along the side of the dais.

Folks streamed in from every direction, bringing food and donations, and even instruments. This wasn't a fancy ceremony, though there would be speeches later if politicians felt like it while the musicians paused. This, for the most part, was a celebration marking the passing of the dead. And as such, those staffing the cemetery dressed up in their best costumes, all wearing stretchy fabrics painted in the likeness of bones. Their faces were also painted. The tradition of the Selhaim Celebration was comprised of elaborate costumes to hide the true identities of the patrons coming to the dance. It was the one time some of the more noble of families, and even some of the imperial officers, could mingle with the crowds in relative obscurity... if their costumes were good enough.

It was often a running joke in Alleria Prime that the biggest number of births happened in Imperos, namely due to this celebration. Wine was free-flowing, as everyone pondered their mortality and the brevity of life in the roughness of the city. But regardless, everyone normally had a great time, crime was relatively unheard of because of all the military men in attendance, and because the security was top notch.

Feel free to come on in, bring a date, do some dancing, do some entertaining, and have a bunch of food, drink, and keep it good clean fun.

[Sycean Nagri]

Having spent nearly half the Summer planning, scheming and whatnot, and the other half engaged in...unique activities, Sycean came to the decision that it was long past time he allowed himself to stretch a bit and enjoy himself in public. Thus when the announcement of the Selhaim Celebration was made, he jumped at the opportunity.

Of course the proper costume would be needed thus he went on a small shopping spree to gather the pieces. Coughing up almost 100 crowns, he bought a loose-fitting white shirt with short sleeves; laced in the front, a pair of to-the-elbow, soft black gloves, white pantaloons and a pair of black boots. Also finding a vendor selling masks especially for the celebration, Sycean picked out a mask that closely resembled a human skull yet black instead of white and that covered most of his head; leaving his lower jaw the only visible flesh which he then painted black to complete the visage.

Satisfied with the costume, he timed it so that he arrived at the celebration only a few candlemarks later. It was still early going at the party when he arrived and there were a large number of people attending. Eying one of the nearby feast tables that bore various bottles filled with all manner of fluids, he casually waded into the crowd and made his way over to delve into one of the many treats. From the table, he scanned the crowd and took in the various costumes that people were wearing; focusing specifically on the shapely curves of those he knew to be female.

[Eyvind Redbeard]

It was Eyvind's first holiday in Alleria Prime, and it was the Selhaim, the celebration of those who died carrying on their duty as Legionnaires. Eyvind remembered a similar holiday in his village, although it was nothing compared to this one. He was used to some bonfires and ale, here in Alleria Prime there were almost rivers of drinks, some he didn't know the name of. Eyvind's costum was simple, a large purple cloak that could cover his entire body and that came down to his feet and a mask with a long and pointy nose. When looking at him only his smile could be seen for he was anxious. He had invited someone to join him there, he hoped she would show up. Kella was probably the greatest mystery Eyvind had found up to now. He had invited her there to know her better and to understand her problems, he was eager to help her in whatever way he could.

Walking on the green grass Eyvind stoped in front of a marble grave stone.

"Killed while fighting bravely to carry out his duty." Eyvind read out loud.Moving to the next gave stone he read "Sacrificed himself so many could live." the third and last grave stone he read was perhaps the simplest in the whole graveyard, with no ornaments, just a simple polished stone with a sentence. "Fought and died for what he believed to be right." Kneeling and placing a hand on the gravestone Eyvind continued. "Father...how could you?..." A tear shown up from under his mask.

[Cyrus Marius]

Cyrus smirked to himself as he walked towards the front entrance of the Marble Hills cemetary, recalling what a companion of his youth had once said of the Selhaim festival. "Day of the dead, and night of the bed," or something along those lines.

His costume was fairly plain, consisting of a large, slightly faded black monk's robe, and a simple gold-colored mask he had found in one of the few bins set aside for those without costumes or without coin to purchase them. The mask was a representation of the warrior-god Aslan, a face that was both lion and human though it favored the former, and it covered Cyrus' countence entirely. His plain, nondiscript dagger was hidden within his robe, but he was otherwise unarmed.

The young soldier stopped at one of the impressively stocked beverage tables and selected a thin, elegant looking glass filled with a dark red wine. Taking a small sip, he turned and examined the other citizens attending the party, his sapphire eye roaming from person to person. He glanced at the musicians preparing upon their dais, and with one last small smirk, he made his way towards the dancing grounds.

[Gossamer]

ooc: Please post a number between one and 10 in a similar ooc statement at the top of your next posting.

The celebration was just getting underway when everyone started arriving. The servants hired for the affair were oddly enough cethars sprinting happily through the crowd, passing out free-flowing wine and small traditional bowls of candied corns which were nothing more than spun sugar designed to get the children wired up as quickly as possible. Among the servers too, a large silver platter filled with either white or dark yellow cake were passed. The cakes themselves were small, nothing more than a bite or two, but they served a very important duty. Each Selhaim in Alleria Prime, a King and Queen of Selhaim was crowned. And of course, these monarchs got to sit at the high tables, commandeer any dance partners they want, make any silly proclamations they choose too... and they had to give a speech honoring the dead. The monarchs were determined by whomever found small silver almonds in their cakes. One was hidden among the women's cakes... those of palest white. And one was hidden among the yellow cakes, those reserved for the men. Even the children got to sample a cake and try their luck.

"A cake for you, Mister?" The men were asked, as a Cether passed. He allowed the men their choice of which cakes, and then moved on. The crowd ebbed and flowed, until the Selhaim Marshal climbed up onto the small musicians dais and made a few announcements.

"First off, Merry Selhaim everyone. We gather here to celebrate Life and to Honor the dead. Selhaim has many a tradition... many a tradition. Tonight, we sing, we dance, we feast in memory of our loved ones pasted. If we are lucky, they will join us for it." He laughed, though legends say in times passed, the dead did rise to dance and drink with the living on this night.

"I want to make you aware of a few events this evening. First off we have several competitions. We are looking for the oldest grave in the Cemetery tonight.... we know where it is... but whomever finds it first can claim a prize at the prize booth." He stated, chuckling. This competition was a new one, and one the director of the Marble Hills Cemetery was enormously proud of.

"Secondly, we've hidden numerous complete skeletons in silver, gold, bronze, copper, and nickel all over the cemetery... in plain sight. The clinch is, they are all in pieces. If you can find enough pieces to make a whole skeleton, you get 100 points. If you can get enough pieces to make a whole skeleton of the same material, you get a 1000 points. Otherwise, each skeletal part has a point labeled on it. The winner is whomever gets the highest points. We will be taking the top three. The prizes are a first pick off the prize table from the front of the festival. Each business in Alleria Prime has donated something.. so pick wisely." He grinned, gesturing for everyone to stay put when the festival goers would have moved to run off and start their searching. "And of course, there will be a bardic... best ghost story, best dance of the dead, and best song. All get picks off the table." He smiled.

"But regardless, we are all winners here. The food is amazing, the bards we have lined up are incredible, and everyone should have a fun time. Keep the violence to a minimum, drink up all the city's wine, and everyone enjoy!" He proclaimed, stepping down from the dais. Bards immediately picked up instruments and started playing. Some folks headed off looking for the tombstone, others went in search of the infamous skeletal body parts. All and all everyone laughed and skattered.

[Veleraen]

OOC: 3

IC:

Parties and festivals with large gatherings of people weren't exactly the Knight's forte. Veleraen wasn't one for crowds, however the Giant had taken the time to come out to celebrate and honour the memory and the service of the people who had fought and died for the Empire; something he was hoping would happen one brightening in the future. It had been a dream to be apart of something greater than himself, to die for one's causes and beliefs and hopefully the Knight would have that chance before old age took him.

The Knight of the Order of the Black Rose wasn't exactly creative with costumes and masks and ended up just wearing his formal dress uniform to the celebration instead. The black and red uniform was accompanied by a golden sash and a dagger at his hip. He had considered bringing his halberd but then thought better of it, as such a weapon was not meant for such festivities. He had also left his bond mate, Hakan, at the Imperial Citadel, as a giant sized golden falcon wasn't exactly the best company at such a large gathering.

Making his way through the throngs of people, Veleraen avoided stepping on anyone, clearly out of place for such an event as there was likely to be no other giants attending such a festival. In any case, the Knight had stepped off to the side and had gotten a frothy beverage from one of the tables and stood by and listened to the Marshall give his speech. As contests and prizes, Veleraen chuckled, as such things weren't very important to him, nor were a lot of 'fun things'. He was primarily here to visit a few gravestones and perhaps say a prayer or two and then would be off.

As the Marshall finished up, the Giant strode off into the somewhat eerie graveyard, making sure not to step on any tombstones. After getting some distance from the party, the Giant picked a random gravestone and brushed off the dirt and leaves that had collected upon it, his eyes searching as to what warrior's resting place he had uncovered.

[Kella Greeran]

OOC: Nifty! 5 :jester:

IC:

Kella's attitude towards celebrations was a strange mix of hope and dread. In her past, a celebration meant more money and hence food and maybe some pretty new things. People welcomed performers and coins slipped more loosely from their hands when drink was ample and a spirit of giddy merriment blew about, so a festival was her family's cash cow. But she had also seen her fair share of foul ones where riots loomed and thieves roamed. What soured parties the most was the fact that she was working at them. Even on her birthdays she'd put on a little show for the guests.

Come to think of it, Kella had never been to a party this size before and not worked. It was a dizzying freedom. She got to enjoy this party. It was a realization too grand to be understood fully at the moment, so it just left her a happy light headed feeling. Well, the half glass of Elven wine had made a contribution to her happier state too.

Her costume was just another sort of uniform, she was a little lacking in funds to piddle them on silks and velvets.
Kella's jester's motley was covered in a filigree like pattern of scarlet over a purple background. Her sleeves were short and bell shaped, so her tattooed arms were visible, but she insisted on having gloves.
Strangest of all, she wore makeup. Clean skin with a sweet red mouth and long lashes. At the corner of her eyes were little swirling patterns in purple that matched the design on her garb.

Kella spotted Eyvind, his size and stance gave him away.

"Captain Alleria!" She didn't pause before adamantly stating, "I'm here, but like I said before. I'm not your date."

At that moment, Kella became cognizant of their location: a graveside, and Eyvind looked a little sad about his visible mouth. While she meant her declaration of freedom, she felt a twinge of guilt for being too blunt. The man was grieving, for crying out loud.

By Diana, he better appreciate how much this was going to pain her ego and body.

With a gentle swing of her arms and legs, Kella stood on her palms and walked a step or two away. The soft sound of bells accompanied her movement. She called back at Eyvind.

"C'mon, don't be such a moper. I hear there's cake to eat and money to be found."

It had been a while, she could feel her muscles protest as she fell back on her feet.

"So let's join the unwashed masses."

[Eyvind Redbeard]

OOC: 7

IC:
That voice. He recognized it. It was Kella's voice. Turning his head Eyvind saw Kella, he also heard her bells. Well, he wouldn't be completely alone this night after all. Taking his hand from the grave stone and with a small whisper "I will return here one day father." Eyvind stood and faced the woman.

"Cake you say? And money? Let's go find both!"

His sadness had to be gone or he wouldn't be able to continue with his life. "Enjoy the moment" someone had said to him in the past, he would do so. With an smile Eyvind nodded to Kella.

"Lead the way!"

[Cyrus Marius]

ooc: 8

Upon reaching the area surrounding the small dais, Cyrus disengaged himself from the throng of people and instead hovered around the crowd's perimeter. He made casual small talk with some of the party goers near at hand, but for the most part, he sipped his wine and waited patiently for the festivities to begin. As the Marshall gave and concluded his speech, Cyrus watched the crowd fan out in a hundred directions as people ran around seeking some form of game or prize.

The soldier watched as a giant, a true giant, dressed in the livery of the Order of the Black Rose, made his way towards the graveyard area. It piqued his interest, for the Order was one that Cyrus had been raised to revere as the pinnacle of chivalric knighthood. Finishing his glass of wine, Cyrus rose and slid through the shifting mass of people, his black robes whipping slightly as he cut through the crowd.

As he came upon the area that contained the grave markers, Cyrus whistled under his breath at the number of them that the cemetary contained. A part of his mind reminded him that the cemetary had become a crematorium, for there were too many fallen heros and too little room for them all in one cemetary. He could see the impressive looking giant respectfully picking his way through the markers, stooping low to get a better look at the grave he had found, and Cyrus decided not to disturb him now. Perhaps there would be a chance to converse with him at some later point in the evening.

Cyrus turned his lone sapphire eye in another direction, and saw what appeared to be an elegantly dressed jester, walking backwards on her hands. He blinked twice, thinking perhaps that he would stay away from the elven wine from now on, but upon closer inspection it proved to be Kella performing some impressive acrobatics as she accompanied Eyvind through another section of the graveyard. He smiled despite himself, but turned in his own direction, away from others, and began to walk toward some of the few standing monuments and mausoleums that marked the highest officials buried in the cemetary. It seemed as good a place as any to perhaps find some of those bones the Marshall mentioned, or to find a particularly old resting place for the fallen.

[Sycean Nagri]

ooc: 6

Sycean took every opportunity to sample the various treats that were handed out as he milled around the crowd. He also made every effort to capture a feel of female flesh as he brushed passed the partygoers. Having become more and more adept at such a thing in his lifetime, he targeted only those whom had obviously had a few to drink already and thus were open to such a thing. Listening to the announcements of the various games and contests, he decided that he wasn't really in the mood to put much effort into finding the oldest gravesite in the cemetery so instead he went on a hunt for the skeleton parts.

As he made his trek into the rest of the cemetery, he realized he had heard the phrase, "...in plain sight" a few times before and found that hardly ever were those things all that easy to find. Regardless, he made it a point to look up in the scattered trees and at the base of gravemarkers. Any bushes he stumbled upon too he looked in.

During the search he took a few moments to examine a few of the markers a bit closer. Those that he saw marked the graves of men, or at least he assumed as much. The races of those buried were not given and some of the dates of death were quite old. The cemetery had been and still was used almost exclusively by the military and such the graves were all of soldiers killed in battle or who died after having served in one of the Imperial branches. As he wandered, he pondered how many parts of the skeletons were actually hidden about the grounds.

[Aragos]

OOC: 9

IC:

Aragos wandered through the cemetery with a glass of wine in his right hand. He marked the graves of all of his ancestors, going back centuries upon centuries. His family had served Alleria in a military fashion since the time when it had first established itself on the continent, taking control of the city-state of Hriemalis. Before that time they had served in the military forces of Hriemalis. For as long as their family had existed, they had been soldiers. It was a long and proud tradition, one that every Oedipus male was blessed to uphold. His father had been, and his father before him, and both of them now were buried here.

In front of him was his fathers grave, "Good to meet you again old man, you did this house proud," he saluted the tombstone and quoted an old family saying, "real men die in battle." He smiled, his father had died a good death, fighting the forces of Julos in the grand climactic battle that decided it all not so many eras ago. The family had rejoiced when they heard the news, death in battle for a male of their family was the goal of all.

"A cake? Yes, I suppose I can take a cake, thank-you." He didn't often eat sweets, in fact, when he very rarely did he couldn't have much. His body was so unaccustomed to such delacasies that he would become violently ill upon their mass consumption. A single cake he was even wary of, not because it would make him sick but simply because treats were bad for the body, it was how men became fat and useless on the battlefield. He took slow, small bites of it, intermingled with sips of wine. He did love his wine. It was the only alcohol that he would drink.

The soldier listened to the short speech given, it seemed a hunt was in order, although he wasn't sure he was entirely interested in it. He was something of a serious man, if he could even be called that at only eighteen. However, he supposed that it was the order of the darkening, he still felt uneasy about such tomfoolery though.

Finishing off his wine in one swift gulp he was off, searching not for the bones, although he certainly would be pleased to find them if he could, but rather for the oldest grave, looking at the death dates and comparing them to his knowledge of the beginning of the city. He hoped that he would never be buried here when he died, but rather buried on the lands upon which he died, or at least be burnt and have his ashes spread across them.

[Gossamer]

The party was just getting started it seemed. As Veleraen made his way among the graves, a young woman offered him a platter of the infamous Selhaim rolls. He held onto it until he found his grave and read what was carved upon it. The birthdate and death were concurrent with Queen Alyssa Chrysinaria's reign of peace. Interesting.

Sir Langston D'Caster, Order of the Black Rose
"Loyal Companion and Protector of Queen & Country"
"Essentric, Pigheaded, & Oppionated, Gave his life in Service."

There was a carving on the stone of the man's face. His angular features could never be considered handsome, even without the hawkish nose.

As he contemplated Sir Langston D'Caster's grave, he took a bite of the delicious roll, (Selhaim protocol required it of the OBR Knight..) and find his pearly teeth biting into the tiny morsel and finding himself biting into a rather hard object. Oddly enough, his roll contained the almond that marked him as King of Selhaim.
The King of Selhaim had interesting duties. He reigned over the festival at the high table, well-able to declare festival rules (last year's king declared everyone walking by his table did their best impersonation of a chicken in both walk and speech and danced with his very homely daughter... she had the time of her life). Though festival kings in the past had done other less silly things, impacting the whole mood of the festival. His duties and choices would be interesting indeed.

********************************

As Eyvind contemplated the grave, he perhaps forgot that Selhaim was very special. It was perhaps the only time of year, for reasons unknown perhaps but to the most skilled mages in very specific and illegal spheres... that the dead could visit the living, even if there was no actual contact. And so it was that his son's voice awakened something, calling past the boundaries with the heartfelt passion of a son's love, and spiked an interest.

And so it was with slow methodical sluggish effort, a form pulled itself from the neither of its dreaming and rejoined the world it was at rest from. It stood alone, admiring its living progeny. Pride filled it, and it leaned causally against its own tombstone in a familiar posture. Yes, it took a moment to congratulate itself on its ability to make fine young warriors, and it stood, unseen admiring its son's ability to befriend others as the young tumbler captured his interests and lured him away. The spirit followed. Intrigued. It'd been a while since Bjorn "RedBeard" Avornmagor had been awake.

********************************

As for Kella, her abrupt handstand and walk had caused her to see something from her vantage that she'd missed being upright. Torchlight on steel. If she chose to investigate, she'd have to dart between to rather ornate headstones to see a perfectly laid out rib-cage of steel on top of the sarcophagus there. It was palm-sized and surprisingly detailed. And of course, it piped the side of her that loved to be just a little greedy. It was lonely in her palm, all by itself. It screamed to be reunited with others... completed. Her artistic side absolutely demanded it.

********************************

Cyrus Marius wandered deeper into the cemetery. He was a sharp minded man, and lately he'd cause to be even sharper. He realized, soon enough that the closer in he got, the older the graves were. They seemed to spiral inward, past the inner sanctum where ashes were stored, heading one and all to a small rise in the center of the cemetery, where, it looked likely some of the oldest graves were. Though, in truth, there was no guarantee that the proposed 'oldest' was in fact upon the rise. As he walked, he passed something odd. A headstone was carved with a violin, nestled down in a gorgeous bed of carved roses.. If he peered closer, he'd see the name on the grave was "Sirus Dirkmire" and beneath the dates, and rank of a common Legionnaire were the worlds "Warrior musician, and he who filled our long lonely campaign nights with the most heartwrenchingly beautiful music. You are well and truly missed. May you play the violin in the heavens, forever." And upon the grave, a golden skull gleamed. Tiny, palm-sized.

********************************

Sycean managed to capture himself a couple of escorts as he walked through the festival. They were young, drunk, and best friends with each other. Basically, they were out to see who could capture the best looking guy at the festival, and simultaneously decided he was it. So, with a lady bearing beverages on either side, he set off on a search for skeleton parts.. which were aplenty. He found a bronze rib cage immediately, and his first lovely escort, Diania Kasta, offered to carry it for him... in her ample cleveage. That set off another round of scrambling as her friend Tinasa Zarim wanted a similar treasure. Soon enough, with six eyes searching, the trio had two two rib cages, one silver one bronze, and a left leg of copper. There was some squabble about the leg, but Sycean released it to Diania, tucking it into another space on her person, enjoying the game enormously.

********************************

The cake Aragos nibbled contained nothing, but was indeed a delicious flavorful treat to go with his wine. He was passed up by several festival volunteers, one a young doe-eyed chestnut haired elven woman asked him if hed like to sign up for the bardic... "Can you tell a ghost story, sing, or play an instrument?" She asked, her beautiful hazel eyes seeking to add him to the growing list of competitors. After he answered, she'd smile and say... "Save me a dance for later!" And dart off into the crowd, after more potential competitors.

Once he'd extracted himself from the crowd, he found himself wading among the graves. It was much as others had found.. the graves getting older as they spiraled inward. As he wandered further in, he found a left arm all in copper, and eventually ran into an iron skull. Both were palm sized, and laying in plain sight upon the gravestones.

[Cyrus Marius]

It was the violin that caught his eye as he walked by, almost obscured by a nearby tomb of some long dead officer. Cyrus stopped in his tracks and looked at the headstone for a moment, it's craftsmanship and detail exquisite even from this distance, and his curiosity demanded that he take a closer inspection.

As he neared the marker, he could begin to make out the engravings upon the face of the ornate headstone. He read the name aloud, and smirked to himself.

"Sirus," he repeated softly, "like me."

He then read the inscription beneath the soldier's modest rank, and the words spoke of a warrior poet who so inspired his brethren with the beauty of his music that they made this monument to their fallen friend. Cyrus ran his fingers gently across the wo