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The Chivay Imperial Ball!

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A flyer posted around the Imperial District reads:
 
Citizens and Friends of the Chivays!
 
As the trees shake off their winter coats and new, green life begins to emerge, now is the time to celebrate the rebirth of the Oren Empire. A gathering to encourage new growth is at hand. 
 
You are cordially invited to an Imperial Ball celebrating our beloved Crown Prince and Princess and their recently-expanded family. The festivities will take place in the newly constructed ballroom and courtyard. Formal attire is required. Guests of all ages are admitted. We ask you to come and enjoy the dining, drinking, dancing, and other merriment together in our new home. 
 
The ball will take place in four Elven days. Bring a copy of this flyer to the door for admittance. 
 
Gifts are welcomed but not required.
 
((OOC Info:
Imperial Ball on Saturday, May 3rd at
 
Screw it, I'm just putting EST.
7-9 EST
 
MissPessimist asked me to make this post, so credit for the time/date/idea goes to her.))
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*on saturday morning he wakes up at 11, noticing that he has a ball to go to on a lotc medieval fantasy rp server, goes into the show quickly scrubbing his body, getting dressed oh my it's 11:25, he hurries down the stairs, pants down to his ankles, he waddles fast, although no, he trips and falls down the stairs dieing*

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((You guys just punched the ESTers in the face with the time.))

 

Roland Nicator nods at the notice, getting ready to move his hips.

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Ilaustius Horen glares at the poster, pondering for a good long while before coming to the conclusion that one must have a date to attend and shrugs, deciding not to go

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((Hold on a second, peeps. Timezones are messed up. MissPess and I are trying to work out times that would work for both her in GMT and those of us in America.))

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Arnorian Elendil furrows his brow.

 

"What if you don't own any formal clothing because you've been beggard by the Country?"

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"And who are you, the proud lord said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
In a coat of gold or a coat of red,
a lion still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
 
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that Lord of the Fringe,
But now the Chivays weep o'er his hall,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the Chivays weep o'er his hall,
and not a soul to hear."
 
-Says random Snelf consipicary theorist.
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Cendrus finds himself a moth-eaten suit. He takes a second to ponder what he will be doing at an imperial ball, but he lets that thought pass.

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"And who are you, the proud lord said,

that I must bow so low?

Only a rose of a different coat

that's all the truth I know.

In a coat of white or a coat of red,

a rose still has thorns,

and mine are long and sharp, my lord,

as long and sharp as yours.

And so he spoke, and so he spoke

that lord of House Chivay,

But now the rains weep o'er his hall,

with no one there to hear.

Yes now the rains weep o'er his hall,

and not a soul to hear."

 

Sings a random peasant, before he goes tumbling down a set of stone steps.

It seems he was not the brightest. 

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The peasant crawls back up the stairs, cheering as he reaches the top.

 

"Long live the Emperor!"

 

Surely the peasant must attend now, despite the crazy timing.

 

 

((Super sick, original and never been done before Rains of Castamere  posts!!))

((IK Rit3?!))

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