Description of the Bar/lounge:Nestled between an upscale merchant's office and an embassy was the renowned vampire lounge, The Arms of the Crescent Moon. That merchant, Tyrannus Markand, was a very well-to-do purveyor of magical artifacts, with many connections in Adeluna and Wyllmochvar. It was the latter of these connections that would prove to be more profitable when he decided to turn the empty lot next to his office into a place for fellow vampires to spend time. No expense had been spared. Tyrannus was not a modest man, and fame was a clear goal in the creation of this haven within a haven for vampires.
The luxurious building is a circular building on a square plot of land. The corners are filled with illustrious gardens of sweet smelling Night Phlox and other nocturnal plants. The front door is flanked by twin pillars of marble veined in silver and red jasper, capped with the pale light from fae-fires above them. If one managed to pass the 'smile test' and prove that were either vampires or didn't mind mingling with them, then they'd pass through the ebony door, intricately inlaid with silver. Depicted thereon were images of vampires - heroic, intimidating, and statuesque.
The building has three rooms, separated by a hallway that led from the front door, to the left and right. The hallway itself had sofas lining the walls, where vampire couples of various compositions were likely engaged in just as varying acts of passion. To the left was a coat room. Fancy for such a place, but overall uninteresting. To the right lay the bar and the lounge itself, which occupied the bulk of the floorspace in the building.
Ahead of the Lounge's dance floor was a space where Tryannus' mage friends had enchanted instruments to play undulating, sensual music for the patrons to dance to without the need for musicians. Occasionally, brave bards from all across the realm would journey here to perform in tandem with the instruments. The dancefloor itself was made from glass, tempered to an unnatural hardness and thickness. Magic had clearly been involved in it's creation, and below the floor lay multicolored faerie fires, swirling with the music.
The bar served what could be expected at a place that served vampires. The staff will claim it was all obtained consensually. The bartenders, of course, will mix it with just about any other liquid one could imagine upon request.
Female vampires are allowed a significant discount off of the entrance fee, or are allowed to obtain a membership token at a reduced price.
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Nephalos' POV:It was good to return after traveling so many miles to Wyllmochvar and back. The City of Magic had a very real appeal; a sense of discovery and new horizons practically sparked from the pavement there. But the City of (nearly) Perpetual Night was my home, and it was the Arms that caressed the back of my thoughts when I returned, always wishing me to come back.
The night was a dark symphony of tranquil breezes and the scent of the Night Phlox. In this part of Kurayo, there weren't many random screams or drunken werewolf brawls. Here, the sound of the streets was pleasant chatter amongst well-to-do Drow and vampires, or the lilting melodies from the lounge itself. The sight of the flanking columns brought a smile to my face.
"Nephalos. It's good to see you again," came the familiar sound of the doorman's voice. I greeted him with a short half-bow and flashed my token. It was hardly necessary since he knew me, but I enjoyed the feeling of the engraved silver coin between my fingers.
"And you as well," I responded as I walked through the door, draping my cape over my arm. A Drow woman was entangled with a vampire woman on one of the couches, blood dripping from their lips and spattering on the luscious curves of their breasts. It stained their skin, but their clothing was spared - because it was stacked in a haphazard pile on the arm of the couch. I passed them with a friendly nod and passed without waiting for a response; I was skeptical that I had much of their attention anyway.
"Have you seen anyone who might catch my eye?" I asked the coatroom worker as I passed him my cape. He mulled over the advice as he placed it in a cubbyhole along the back wall. Always a man of few words, he gave me a partial shrug. He rarely had another response, but I asked to be polite.
It felt good to open the door to the lounge's central hall and let the drums and other instruments wash over my senses. A dance was certainly in order for the near future, but as for now I'd patronize the bar. I took a seat and ordered a drink.
