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Vignettes from Kingborough
Topic Started: May 14 2013, 07:54 PM (85 Views)
Kingborough
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The Monarchist
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A vignette is a "A brief evocative description, account, or episode", a definition I try to capture here by illustrating Kingboroughian society in little glimpses using flowing language that gives you a real feel of the atmosphere of the place. Enjoy.



The Banquet

The decadent food lay spread out across the length of the hundred foot tables that filled the grand hall of Everberg Manor, a veritable fortune - and not a small one - in delicacies, exotic deserts, the finest vintages of wine and whiskey acquired from across the globe covering its polished surface, all piled high on silver and gold platters or held in crystal jugs of the finest make.

It was a feast befitting the power of the oligarchs, the true rulers of society, and and soon enough they would arrive, the parties guests gliding into the hall, the ladies with costumes bejewelled with gems worth more than the home of a commoner and the men adorned in tuxedos of gaudy fabrics, true masterpieces created by the tailors of Alo Court.

As they greeted one and other, they gossiped and chatted on the business of the day, the latest social news spreading fast - the newest scandalous mistress of Baron Heffburn ("Why I heard she was a Nekki!"), the upcoming marriage of Lord Pelburg and Lady Niah (predicted to be the marriage of the year, until the next family threw even more money at their own wedding), the pending divorce of Lord Abel from the Viscountess Julia and many an other affair of the greatest importance to the men and women who fed upon rumour like vampires upon blood.

Truly it was just like any other Sunday, as the who's who of society attended one of the many grand weekly banquets and parties held.
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Kingborough
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The Monarchist
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The Bunker

It was invisible to the human eye - buried beneath the gently rolling hill country of I'Sal island. It was invisible to the digital world - its costs secreted from numbered accounts in shady banks under guises such as the purchase of expensive sports cars and antiques that never existed and it was lost to human memory - its architects, builders and construction workers 'vanished' as their need to complete the project came to an end, many an immigrant worker from a poor nation having been employed with the dream of promised big bonuses only to find their brakes failing them on wet night or a convenient bus veering just as they crossed a road.

It had cost them hundreds of millions, and would cost them many more before its completion, but no expense could be spared when the lives of the men and women who ruled the nation could one day rely on this constructions integrity.

When completed the bunker would have anything a homo sapiens could wish for; malls, cinemas, and parks for entertainment, hydroponics to provide food, hospitals for the ill, even mansions for the elite and their accompanying apartments for the dregs who would work under them, all secreted beneath many a layer of concrete reinforced with steel and titanium and an entire island to defend against the end of the world.

It was a veritable ark; frozen DNA and live harems of the ideal specimens of Kingboroughian blood, both male and female, would be stored here; Masterpieces of art, literature and music would be catalogued and archived alongside the history of the world and the total sum of Kingboroughian scientific knowledge.

Paranoia? Maybe. But that was the way of the Great Houses, it was how they had survived to this day and it was how they would survive to another day.

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