Catherine observed as her few housekeeping slaves finished cleaning the main ballroom. They seemed a bit ragged, as if the grey-furred cat with the brown eyes had been pushing them harder than they'd normally move. “Good. Now get the cooking utensils moved out here.” she spoke, in a flat, authoritative tone, checking their work with a careful, observant eye. Obedient, as always, the slaves moved on to the next task. The emerald green dress hung expertly tailored around her petite frame. She had the looks of a noblewoman and the demeanor to match it. Her family had clawed there way up (sometimes literally) from the slums to her position as the magistrate of a strong textile business. She sold mostly high end fabrics, such as silk, and commandeered dyes from exotic locales. One of the privileges of her position, however, was to entertain. And how she enjoyed hosting her dinner parties. Hell, she simply enjoyed cooking. Food brought out the best in people, and especially good food combinations. There were three fire pits, with ample room for whatever cooking method her guests chose. It would be left entirely up to them, and she felt confident she could handle whatever was thrown her way. Most preferred roasting, especially with live meals, as it allowed the best interactions with the meal. Her clients were fairly sadistic, and this was fine, as she enjoyed having her way with lesser creatures. Those who refused to pay debts, or simply had said the wrong thing. Always best to avoid challenging the powers that be. Most learned that under the fangs and claws of someone else, she'd found.<br/><br/>Her closest guard had returned, several slaves in tow. She hadn't been able to get a good look at them due to the echoing crash as one of her slaves dropped a load of wood for one of the fire pits. She snarled, fangs glinting in the warm light of the day as it streamed through the wide windows. The room was exquisitely decorated with great care. Large, intricately woven rugs to warm the floor, which gave wide berth to the fire pits, to avoid both stains and the danger of fire. Candelabras dotted the room, sticking to the edges, used for light once the day had burned itself out. Her whip crashed along the back of a human slave, with scraggly black hair. Blood oozed from the wound as Catherine approached, smelling that wonderful scent of copper in the air as he scurried to pick up the dropped fuel, muttering whispered words of apology and that he would serve his mistress with all of his being. She smiled for a moment, knowing that was far more true than he could ever know.<br/>“Don't dare to be so foolish again, or you'll see your end tonight.” she warned, eyes glaring at him with a predatory fire that didn't normally see the outside world. Tonight, however, the outside was coming in, in the form of her meals for the evening as the guards approached.<br/><br/>“Mistress, we have the meals for tonight's gala.” the young,  short silver haired elf spoke, standing at attention, mostly born of habit from military service, but one that Catherine preferred. His look spoke of his military background, but he seemed quiet and well mannered, far from what one would expect from a long-time soldier in these days.<br/><br/>“Well met, Martiel. What have we here? We'll need to get preparations started soon, show me the meat you've acquired, please.” she said, speaking with the air of a diplomat towards Martiel, but her tone nothing but business-like towards the creatures in bonds behind him as he stepped aside, pulling the first captive forward for inspection.<br/><br/>(I realize that I only pulled one character forward, but feel free to reply with all the characters who are playing as you guys respond, and I'll just respond to all of them in my next post. This should get us rolling though.)