30 minutes until midnight
Wolfgang clapped his hands together in excitement, this was going to be a very exciting night. He eyed the winners as the fourth one was guided towards them, they weren't exactly something to look at, but Wolfgang hadn't expected any otherwise. He cast a side-ward glance at the first one, oat number thirty-seven, given her clothes, Wolfgang deduced that she was a woman, but it was hard to tell because of her androgynous build and the hood concealing her face. He noted the fresh pink of a scar on her face, but he stopped himself from studying her too intently, there would be time for that later. However, he couldn't stop himself from wondering about the origin of such a wound.
His eyes flicked over to the next subject of his attention, oat number eighty-two, a Varsonian, obviously. His clothes were nothing but a dead giveaway, Wolfgang wasn't typically a fan of Varsonians, they were too full of themselves for his tastes. But if anything, they were redeemed by their easy going lifestyle and party-loving attitudes. Wolfgang had only given a small acknowledgement to the man's greeting, it was far too loud in the main hall to make anything out anyway. His eyes caught with the rapier hanging of the man's belt, Wolfgang had considered barring weapons from the event, but ultimately decided that armed participants might spice up the festivities a little. He would have to ask the man about the sword, Wolfgang was a fan of weapons of all kinds although he could care little about using them.
He examined the next winner, his inspections becoming less and less discrete. Oat number seventeen, given her gait and her stance she was most likely from one of the northern states. He couldn't but grin when he saw that she was already sufficiently inebriated, it was a sign that the celebration was going well. It was always entertaining to see old northern birds come out of their typical grim and serious demeanor and let loose a little. Wolfgang was hoping for that tonight.
As the fourth winner approached (oat number twelve, he thought, Wolfgang had been too focused on the others to hear) Wolfgang couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. This man was obviously a gladiator and had no place among the party-goers. As the man offered greetings, Wolfgang began to reconsider, his appearance showed that he had been hard at work, and that was nothing but something to reward. Besides, he thought, there was nothing wrong with some young rough-and-tumble to make the night more interesting. He gave a slight nod in return to the man before turning to address the whole group.
"Friends! Rejoice! You have just obtained a once in a lifetime opportunity and I fully intend to make this a night to remember, so smile a little" He announced in a booming voice, letting a wry grin to grow across his face. He spun around to face the crowd, throwing his hands into the air. "As for you all, I'm sorry that not all of you won, but do not despair, there is still plenty of food, drink, and women to go around!"
There were few raucous cries from the crowd and a fight broke out somewhere, Wolfgang ignored them and turned back to the winners, giving them a sly wink before gesturing for them to follow him. He lead the group behind the curtains of the stage where servants were running to and fro with massive containers of alcohol and platters of food, Wolfgang weaved his way through the clatter, making quick strides. He began to skip a little as they approached their destination, the private section of the tent. Very few of the elite knew about it and even less were permitted entry. This was a place for the elite to indulge in risque parlor games and careless hookups, and many of the elite party-goers supported this by wearing costumes to conceal their identities. As Wolfgang lead the others into the dimly-lit private section, they were greeted by a ragtag group of costumed participants that would've normally caused any person to shout in alarm. The rest of the room were either engaged in oddly erotic parlor games or in the bountiful food and drink that was flowing generously. Wolfgang gestured to a servant to bring his own mask, a gilded version of his own face with jewels and feathers adorning. He slipped it on and motioned excitedly at the room as the other patrons curiously approached the group.
"Well, what do you think so far?"