SIDE SAGA OPEN Midas Touch

[Nemopedia]

—First Course —

Sherzade Bayezid's body had barely any chance to cool off when Alleadin Pasha, a vizier in Bayezid's court drew up from his half-lounging state, quitting the maids that fed him the fat grapes prepared for the feast, if they hadn't already fainted at the horrid side of Bayezid's fat corpse, foam still fresh around his lips for the poison that had gone down his throat and tried to climb back up too late.

"Esteemed guest," Alleadin started, his cup extended towards the rest of the table in confidence, "worry not for the sherzade has not been murdered."

The reassurance sent uncertain glances down the table as Bayezid's main wife, the esteemed Helga, managed to get up, her hand on her swelling belly as her maid supported her. "What is the meaning of this? "My husband lies lifeless after a cup of wine, do you mean to claim he killed himself?" the woman exclaimed, a sharp gasp drawn from her as her full weight pushed onto the slight maid heavily, more gasps following as red started to soak into the fine silks that covered the lady, first from between her legs and then pooling from her lips.

"Premeditated, yes," Alleadin responded when Helga had drawn her last breath as well, taking that within her as well as the maid supporting her ladyship started to weep. "The rest should be safe, however," the vizier spoke, turning towards the guest as he drank deeply from his glass, turning the golden cup upside down to show that he had drank all the wine and survived.

"Bayezid has chosen all present as heir of his wealth and his house and his remaining wives," Alleadin Pasha announced to all, even looking at the maids and the servants that were busying themselves with the food, some already deftly running off with the flasks of wine from which Bayezid had drank for the demonstration of the vizier was no true reassurance. Nor were Alleadin Pasha's words until he stepped onto the long banquet table, walking the long path to the head where the corpses lay and pulled out a sealed letter from between the folds of the clothes and the rolls of Bayezid's fat. The red and gold of its seal on the characteristic parchment paper and the sigil of Bayezid himself announced to those in the know of the etiquette that this was indeed the will of the man whose soul had fled the table.

"Read for yourself if you do not believe! It is true!" Alleadin Pasha said, throwing the scroll still sealed onto the table for any to take and read, uncertain glances exchanging with one another as the table waited for the boldest to step forward.

———— GM NOTES ————

@rissa @Kuno @Takumi @Lyrikai @stellar since you all expressed an interest in this jump-in roleplay either in the initial announcement or in the Interest Check, here it is! This round is mostly meant to introduce yourself as a character (who are they, how did they end up at the banquet, and how are they reacting to this sudden twist in the party?) and for the whoever is so bold to unseal the will left behind (as written below!) Next GM post to come when the will is unsealed and the characters have had the chance to discuss its meaning and maybe digest the possible poison consumed.

Content of the Will

I Sheerzade Bayezid ibn Malik, father of none, lord of the court of Dulkadir declare that with my death at my last banquet my wealth, my lands and my wives all go to my last guest.

 

[rissa]

— The Forgotten Maid, Arete —​

---

Arete stared in shock, eyes unmoving, unblinking— affixed to the puce face of Sehzade Bayezid. Bile and foam and spittle drizzled across the Prince's fat jowls, soaked his fine embroidered silks and ruined them. A fortune, wasted on him, twice over. Arete blinked in shock, a ball of guilt forming in the bottom of her belly. When the Esteemed Helga slumped to the floor with a thud, Arete finally looked away from the Prince's dead body. She wished she hadn't. The blood, oh the blood. Arete gasped, clutching her chest as she realized what the blood pooling between Helga's thighs meant. It was only then that she realized that woman was dead as well, blood still dribbling down her throat. Helga was cradled by her maid, pitiful and heartwrenching sobs echoing across the dining hall. Arete willed herself to move, to console the woman paralyzed by the macabre, but she couldn't. She couldn't seem to find the will to move.

She glanced down, to the half-eaten plate in front of her. To the glass of half-empty wine. Her hands shook as she reached for the glass.

Arete gulped, despite knowing she'd already drank a glass and a half and there was no sign of poison. She took a sip and then another. Arete didn't stop until it was empty. When it was, she raised her hand timidly, eyes darting back and forth between the will and vizier Alleadin Pasha, unsure of her place in this new world without Sehzade Bayezid, her Prince of Plenty, her Pleonektein Prince.

Her voice was tender from unuse, but still Arete spoke. "Wh-what happens now?"

 

[Nemopedia]

The guests had frozen, too afraid to eat or drink until one of the sherzade's pretty playthings gulped down her glass, proving to all that what Alleadin had said to be true. Then one of the bolder men dared to reach for the will dropped by the vizier, eyes furrowing and then scowling, before throwing the will unscrolled back onto the table, as if spitting out its contents.

"Father of none?" The man breezed who many knew to be Ali ibn Bayezid, though malicious rumours circulated that he wasn't from Bayezid's seed and the will only confirmed it. Humiliated the man, more like a boy, but for his very presence at the table already an adult for the sake of the legacy left behind by Bayezid, bristled, chest heaving and emotions spurring before he reaches for his cup, gulping its content down deeply, nearly choking himself before throwing the gold down with a heave, showing all that he had survived Bayezid's wine as well.

"I am lord of Dulkadir!" he had exclaimed, but even if that were to be true his fate as lord was cut short. Ali's attempt at a dramatic exit from the dining room was met with an arrow boring through his heart, a sharp gasp all that he could respond with before falling, ending his story.

"Father of none, he is," Alleadin Pasha announced gravely, as if he had known this was to happen, inciting a rage within Salima, the concubine from which Ali had been born, her roar and pain for the loss of her only born loud in the room while she brandished the golden knives Bayezid had provided all of his guests to cut their meat.

Dark veiled hair under rich purple Salima had always been proud of bearing the Sherzade his son, but now with her wrist caught in the hand of Alleadin, the knife hanging limply between them there was only a humiliated one left as nicely painted nails clawed at the vizier, whose face was stark and proud in the face of violence.

"Sherzade Bayezid said that the last of his guests will inherit it all, last," he hissed, turning the knife in Salima's hand, guiding the blade into her own chest, puncturing her heart like her son's had been.

The tension in the room rose at the first murder committed as vizier Alleadin pushed the concubine off the table with only minor scratches to tell the tale. Shoulders squared, the vizier breathed through his nose, a manic look in his eyes, a desperation to both live and gain all the wealth left behind.

"I intend to be last," he announced, confident, before wobbling and falling to his knees, the poison within Salima's pretty polish finally taking its effect on the vizier who had until then believed himself to be the winner of the last banquet.

 

[Lyrikai]

Of course this banquet couldn't have just been a nice and pleasant meal at the conclusion of a long and arduous day. That would have been far too much to ask. He could have stayed home if this was how the day was going to go. The son of a merchant, albeit a rather fair off one, it was truly an honor for Azel to be here. Blessed by this opportunity, this once in a lifetime chance to dine in the most absolute of luxuries that he doubted he could ever quite reach on his own. It didn't matter how well off his family was in their affairs and how many customers and clients they had, even someone so grand as this.

Well. It had been an honor. Keyword: Had.

Truly, it all happened so fast. He had been there, just happy to be included, keen on feasting until his stomach was about to burst and drinking wine until nothing short of a nightmare occurred.

Death. There was so much death.

What happened? What caused this? Were they... all in danger or had this been some kind of targeted assassination? Staring down at his plate, he practically tore himself away from it in fear, worry over poison that might possibly be running its course through his own body now as well.

No. That couldn't have been. He had indulged... hadn't he? And he was fine... wasn't he? In this room filled with death, terror, anger... anguish... he had a mind to want to turn and run away before someone tried to add him to the pile.

The last of the guests. Only the last. Now just what did that mean? "This is sick.." he mumbled aloud. Wretched even! Did he intend for them all to play this game? Fight to the death with one another until the strongest was left to inherit this fortune? "Wh-Wait now..." he tried to say, to make some sense of this, to try and wrap his head around it all. Was it really... truly... happening? "We can... talk about this... right?" Like a coward, almost immediately, his hands went up. He didn't come here to kill nor be killed. Okay, so it was hard to deny that inheriting Bayezid's wealth sounded too good to pass up... but is this what it turned people into?

 

[Nemopedia]

From Ali's body someone produced a knife, ornate and sharp, with in its heft a vial of poison. From Salima's hand they knew there was poison as well, the discoloured flesh on the now dead Alleadin proving so much, the will of the prince rolling down the table once more.

It was clear more had prepared for death. Some drawing weapon, others throwing wines in the hope of finding poison. None remained calm.

"Father of none, but brother of mine!" one of Bayezid's brothers had announced, promptly challenged by the head of the guards. Even the crippled sage had risen to his feet, the fear of death moving his limbs.

Those that tried to escape were struck by the traps set. Those that fought found another knife in their back from those believed to be a friend or an ally. Those that hid found worse.

A gong sounded, taking the attention of all, when a hidden door opened and another line of servants entered carrying plates of food and fresh baked breads amongst new musicians and dancers and magicians. The second course had started, entering new players that had yet to hear about the wicked game they played.

OOC: For all those that need some inspiration to enter?

 

[rissa]

— The Forgotten Maid, Arete —​

---

Sanguine lips and sanguine stars pooled in front of Arete's vision. Blood and wine and spittle and tarnished finery blurred together in an intricate pattern. Half unrecognizable behind her eyes that desperately wished to unsee the past half hour of carnage. There'd be much to clean at the end of the night. Much to remember and much to forget. Arete, whose hands trembled with fear, continued to feast. She didn't know what else to do. Daggers and bread knives continued to flash— stab stab stab — and she cut another delicate slice of veal. The meat was tender and flavorful, melting atop her tongue not unlike the wounds across Alleadin's cheek.

Stab. Stab. Stab.

There were screams. Grunts. Cries of pain and mercy. Arete took another bite of food, chewing with an automaton's rhythm and efficiency. She did not wish to think. To hear or see. Death, however, had taken residence within the feasting hall, urging life to come to an end. She did not wish to see anymore pain— anymore suffering — but the gilded walls reflected all.

A soft, hesitant voice sounded somewhere to her left and perhaps the familiarity— the wish for peace — caused the ceasefire of her meditative motions.

"What is there to speak about?" Arete voiced even softer, perhaps lost in the din of new music and the arrival of the second course.

Only greed speaks now.

@Lyrikai @Nemopedia