Date: April 18thTime: 9:34 PMLocation: Hotel Emelia Basement     The soft rapping of nails

Date: April 18thTime: 9:34 PMLocation: Hotel Emelia Basement     The soft rapping of nails against the spine of a book. The loud tick of a hand as it made its way around the clock.     A basement is often assumed to be a rather ominous place to recline, people often associating the lower depths with being that much closer to the flames of hell. But not the witches of Verona. They enjoyed their basement, the way that it was adorned with fine art, shelves of books, and fine linens. There were few who knew it existed, even fewer who had heard the rumors about it. The witches’ torture chambers, the witches’ place of poisons. It was supposed to be a cavern of cobwebs and bones – a place where the dead sought to lounge in all their decomposing glory. But in reality, it was plush, a sanctuary of everything fine – an allowance of themselves to live lavishly when it had been denied to them for so long. But their past was not upon any of the three witches’ mind tonight, no. They were focused upon the future and all the carnage that it promised to bring. Once they found the proper way to deliver it, for presentation was, after all, everything.    One look around the gilded room and the marble statues that hung about the corners and entrances like mournful angels was enough for even the simplest of people to know that. But what would have taken a little more forethought, a little more observation, were the tell-tale signs of tension that rippled through the room, starting from one sibling, then affecting the next, and the next. It began with Mallory, their eyes drifting about the room so listlessly – until they would settle upon a fleck of dust, a frayed thread in the rug, their foot tapping erratically as they head turned this way and that. Hea’s fingers would follow, tapping an uneven beat as they stepped around the room like a cat that had just seen a bird in the window, stalking something that they knew they could not reach. Then Cinead would hop from one chair to the other, grabbing a book, only to put it away – not unlike a crow, picking at one trinket, then another.      The clock chimed the half hour, but it was not until four minutes after that the witches saw fit to break the silence that was weighing down upon them all.    Hea cleared their throat, sitting primly upon the arm of the chair that Mallory saw fit to occupy. Their hand gently settled on their siblings, stopping the restless motion of Mallory’s fingers pulling at the hem of their shirt. “I think, my loves,” they hummed, stopping the disquieted twitches of Cinead. “It is time to discuss what we do about this insubordination and disrespect that have been culminating up to this point.” Their fingers raised in the air, ticking off the list of chores that they needed to settle. Chores. There was once a time in their life where they never had to worry about such things at all. Now their chores were things of pillaging and plundering, heads upon pikes and blood painting the floor.     “Yes, yes,” Mallory piped up, their voice high and clear as the crystal flute that held their bubbling champagne. It tended to be many of Verona’s choice of indulgence – so too was it the riches’. As well as the local wine of the finest Italian vineyards. “Culminating like a storm with no quiet, no quiet at all. But all storms have lightning that strikes – and I think it is time we do the same.” To which Hea gave an affirming hum, their eyes watching Cinead’s figure as it drew closer to their siblings. If one were to walk in, they would realize how the witches earned their names, what with the way that they stood close together, murmuring in their little circle, as if they were discussing the ingredients of a poison, of a brew.    But brews were not half as potent as the wrathful witches of Verona.    For, their wrath was one of action, not one meant for subtlety or the potency that comes with time. Cinead stood, with their hands behind their back, as they contemplated the call for action from their siblings. For, it was something that was, more or less, their forte. It was their God-given talent, to exact ruination upon all those who thought that they may ascend the position which they had been blessed with. People were such greedy, fickle creatures and, like the angels of old, retribution was needed.    “I think we have, ironically enough, been gluttons for temperance as of late,” Cinead commented thoughtfully, their shoulders hunched, their brows pinched. The crow of Verona, the crowned of Verona. They had earned their title and earned it well. “We have let them spit upon us, slap our cheek, and piss on our graves.” So to speak, the question of their immortality still had yet to be answered. “At one time in our lives we would have had their heads upon pikes and their funeral services would have been as empty as their lives are now. I think it is necessary for us to demonstrate why we are the overseers of Veronan affairs instead of these Russian foreigners who see fit to take tradition and make a mockery of it.”    Hea’s brows rose at the heat of their sibling’s words, Mallory’s ever-present twitches and tremblings stilled as their eyes dilated, focusing upon Cinead. “What then do you suggest, my love?” Mallory asked, their head canting to the side. “Shall we smite them all, like angels of Death? Fire and brimstone and blood and bones?” How could it be that such ghastly images could drew such a smile from the witch? All questions and no answers, but sometimes that was all one could expect from Mallory Chandra.    Slowly, Hea pressed their lips together, a smile growing upon their face like a dahlia in full bloom. They pulled their phone from their pocket, a soft hum of consideration the only sound in the air for a couple of moments – as well as the sound of their fingernails tapping away at the phone screen.    “Hea, dear?” Cinead queried after a couple minutes, their foot tapping against the floor impatiently. “Care to fill Mallory and I in?” The only answer Hea deigned to give was a raised finger – bidding them to wait, then wait a bit more. Mallory’s eyes flew from one place to the other as they waited, their fingers dancing upon this surface and that. After a couple more minutes, they placed their phone upon the table; the words lighting up the screen. A slow smile graced Cinead’s lips, Mallory’s own grin quickly following.   “I believe,” Hea began, “that thus far, our near acquaintances have been deprived of their warm welcome. Do they not deserve to see the wonderful fares that we have to offer? But, being guests, they must be afforded the best views, of course. Lofty places, suited to their lofty dreams.”    They continued, “The Spades are Icarus – and we are the sun. We are meant to bid them to fly ever-higher, only to burn their dreams away.”   “So considerate, Hea, always so considerate.” Mallory crooned, their crooked fingers folded, as if in prayer. “It has been so long since we have brought them out, favorite and cherished decorations of mine. I am sure that the Capulets and Montagues will be more than happy to accommodate our guests and show them the seating arrangements we have in mind. I know Cinead already has the arrangements set out – as well as the wares that they’d want to look over.”    Cinead gave a rare grin, a single nod offered to confirm their sibling’s assumption. “Of course, Mallory. Of course. I am sure our new American associates would be more than happy to procure the finest ware to impress our guests.” They raised their glass, downing it in a single gulp as their siblings mirrored their actions. “What shall I ask them for, then? Artillery? Fine art? Poisons? Bodies to do our bidding? They offer so much and we have indulged in them so little. It would undoubtedly buoy our relationship with them, as well as create invaluable talk about our…abilities to procure certain products.” And with that, the date was set, the plan was in motion, and a grand reckoning was on its way.     They were sitting around a table by the warehouse, placing bets as a new player took her seat, the light from her cigarette brighter than her hopes of leaving the table with cash in her pocket. Brighter than that still was the light from her phone as it vibrated the table, rattling the poker chips as it did. She glanced at the screen of her phone once, somewhat – a scowl on her face as she did, because breaking her concentration at a vital time like this. But her partner next to her had found his eyes drawn to the light and, more importantly, to the name. He blinked once, then twice. He shook her arm, to which she grunted noncommittally at, roughly brushing him off. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the phone and shoved it in her face.    “Merda,” he hissed. “Look, look for fuck’s sake. It’s from Them.”     Cards stopped shuffling, cigarettes dropped from lips, and even the birds of the night quieted at the sound.    The woman opened the text, lips pressing together as she read through the message. When she finished, she set it down, hands clasping together as she pressed her lips to her knuckles thoughtfully. Slowly, she stood up from the table, everyone holding their breath in anticipation for what she would say next. Montagues were rarely quiet – their rowdiness being their trademark – so, this silence was a mark of their respect as well as their excitement. When she finally opened her lips, there was a sharp intake of breath. Be silent, for the trumpet of the gods was finding its tune.    A smile is on her face, one as wicked as the words that were about to spill from her lips.    “We are going to kidnap the Spades.”OVERVIEW: Here is the breakdown of who is kidnapping who. To every SPADE there are two to three Montagues or Capulets or Neutrals who are planning to capture them. They are required to work together at the request of the WITCHES. BRIELLEDelilah VogelNikolai BorisovALVACastora Aguilar Ramona AguilarRegina DalyLILLIANAlexander RallisPriam TaravellaCyrus SloaneCALINAOdessa VernonTiberius CapuletLucrecia FalcoFARONRoman MontagueVivianne SloaneValentina GalloGRACECatherine Daly Pavel Lam Hector SawirisORIONBellamy Santo DomingoJuliana CapuletYou are required to have these interactions completed by the IN GAME DATE of APRIL 28TH and the REAL-TIME DATE of JULY 15TH. Players may plot with one another as to how the kidnappings will happen. But at the end of each kidnapping the SPADE will be blindfolded and taken to the Hotel Emelia. Please tag the event interactions as event:reckoning and feel free to talk about the other players as to what their plans on. Feel free to get as creative as you want. Kidnap a Spade in their bed or in broad daylight. VeronIans are so used to gunfire and bullets happening at all times of day, that kidnappings will likely come as no surprise.  -- source link

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