Tales of Faerun

[Llhunara]

Llhunarra joined the human with a small giggle of her own, quite enjoying the girls enthusiasm. While she had not intended on ending the conversation so quickly the rogue could not turn down an offer of pleasure, especially since with the festivities starting Sybille would be quite busy with the role she had been assigned.

 

"Pleasure to be had by all, have fun on stage. We shall talk again soon." Llhunarra was easily won over by a friendly personality and a sense of humor. Shalena and Sybille possessed both so despite her initial thoughts she found herself slowly growing attached to several members of the party that had accompanied her to the estate.

 

Raising from her chair the red head gives the maul wielding, soon to be dancer a wave before turning to Doshkin. "I am always up for pleasure, although the term can refer to many different things. What did you have in mind?"

 

"Indeed it can mean many things," Doshkin said with a playful smile, and politely offered his arm for the half-elf to take. "But I was thinking we could perhaps share a bottle of wine and get to know one another better while enjoying the festival. Shall we?"

 

"We shall." With a smile, the elf takes his arm. Such manners were few and far between in this world. Admittedly she had not expected them from him, Doshkin's size having lead her to expect a brute more than anything. Then again it was not always wise to judge a book by its cover.

 

As Llhunarra smiled and took his arm, he walked to a table with a good view of the stage (and an unopened wine bottle), he pulled a seat out for the lady and poured the glasses, waving away a servant that tried to do it for them. "Please, a gentleman does not need help in pouring the fair lady some wine," he stated, before setting a glass in front of the half-elf and taking his seat.

 

"So, I'm curious," he said with a raised eyebrow. "How did a fine woman such as you come to be all the way out here?"

 

Llhunarra took her seat and watched as he poured her glass. A lover of most alcohols no complaint came from her as she lifts the glass for a sip. Sweet and smooth, quite delicious the half elf thought as her eyes shift over to him. "By accident I must admit. Sybille, the woman I was just with, and her many companions found me while I was experiencing some...navigational problems. Allowed to tag along with them for a while we ended up here. Yourself?"

 

“Navigational problems, eh? I think I suffer the same problems as well, heheh!” he said with a chuckle. “Well, I am glad that you had such good fortune to get here. As for myself, well, I came here with my dear twin brother and some other friends. You see, my brother and I have always enjoyed traveling and adventuring, and having heard of a far-off place that had beautiful, eh, sights and held our kind in high regards, we decided to come here.”

 

“Mhmm, that's good wine...” Doshkin mused as he took a sip. “Ahem, where was I? Oh, yes. Well, once arriving here in Mulhorand, we discovered that there was an unfortunate conflict going on with the neighbors, and, wanting to try our fortunes, we hired ourselves out as mercenaries.”

 

“It took some convincing since we both practice the Art, but once I showed my dispelling prowess and my brother his tactical genius, we soon proved to be of great worth. In fact,” he leaned in closely and spoke in a hushed tone, “you could say we were a key factor in some of the skirmishes and battles. I actually saved one or two of the nobles here myself, but I don't to draw any attention to it. They were thankful enough to invite me here to this festival, and I don't want to embarrass them,” he said humbly. “You know how some of us nobles can get when it comes to our pride. Hahah!”

 

Crossing one leg over the other, she listens to his tale. It was far more interesting than hers, but that was how Llhunarra preferred things. If one was the least interesting individual in the room there was often little attention paid to her. Thievery being one of her favorite pat times she preferred to go unnoticed. With another warm sip of wine making its way down her throat she smiles at his laugh.

 

"That is quite a story, it's a wonder you made it here in time for the festival." Greens eyes looked past both of his shoulders before doing a quick scan of the room for any that might be looking their way. As far as she could tell his brother and companions were nowhere in sight.

 

"Travelling with family and friends can make long days on the road pass faster, but at the moment you appear to be alone. It seems your comrades quite easily ditch you when drink and entertainment is to be had." A playful wink accompanying the comment to show she was only jesting. After another sip of her wine, which was quickly disappearing, the red head continues.

 

"I couldn't help but notice you said "us nobles," are you of noble birth?" Curiosity creeping into her tone as she asks the question. The title or status he might hold didn't really matter, what wealth may be tied to them is what interested her. So far he seems quite the gentlemen, but that didn't mean she was a lady.

 

Doshkin kept a smile on his face as he listened, masking his real emotions. Though she was clearly joking, the jab still pricked at his feelings; his brother disappearing and then their companions wanting to go on elsewhere had hurt a lot...

 

“Heheh, well, my friends had other matters to attend,” he joked, hiding the pain. “As for my brother, well, he's off gallivanting gods-know-where. I swear. I really should put a bell around his neck or something!” Damnation, brother, right when you being here would be helpful again! Still smiling, he took another drink and continued.

 

“Am I of noble birth? Why do you ask? You wouldn't happen to be looking for a husband, are you?” he dead-panned, then burst out laughing at her expression. “Haha, I jest, I jest! Though I am single, if you must know. Hah!”

 

Llhunarra's eyes would widen at the mention of a husband, perhaps thinking she had given off the wrong message from the start. The last thing she wanted was a suitor of any kind, no matter how much money they had. Being tied down was not something she desired in the least. Thankfully he burst into laughter soon after, drawing a laugh from her as well. This one was hard to read and for that reason she had no idea her own joke had pained him, that not having been her intention.

 

“Well, I am indeed of noble birth, although it is only a minor title far off in Cormyr.” Doshkin answered casually. “Though you wouldn't think that with the way they treat foreigners here.” All of this was a bold-face lie, of course; he and his brother had forged their title and convinced the nobility here of their heritage. But there's no need to share that little bit, now, is there? “It does have its perks, though. They only stick their noses up moderately for me, plus I don't have to wait as long for a glass of wine, heh.”

“What about you?” Doshkin casually asked, switching the topic to Llhunarra. ”Have any friends or family you like to talk about?”

 

"I am as far from noble as one can get." That meant to encompass her birth and morals. "I do have family though, well did. All have moved on besides my father, gods know where he is." The elf offering a shrug as she takes another sip. Her family was not her subject of choice, but she didn't show it. They had been a big part of her life in the past, not now, so why dwell on it.

 

"He is a sailor by profession or pirate depending on his company. A fun life no doubt, but one I am not fond of. I have no sea legs when I am sober and can't hold down any liquor with the sea tossing beneath me. I prefer the land as any sensible person does. Mind pouring me a refill?" Her near empty glass stretching out towards him as her lips curled back into a small smile.

 

“I've never been too fond of sea travel myself, either. It seems like something always goes wrong when I've been on those over-sized coffins they call ships.” Doshkin laughed once more. “But,” he continued, taking her shrug as something inconsequential, “your father does sound like an interesting man. Reminds me of my brother, anyway.”

 

He smiled warmly in response to the half-elf's smile as she offered her glass. “Why, certainly, Llhunarra.” As he took the glass and began filling it, a man began speaking over the bustling crowd. When the curtain rose, his jaw nearly dropped as he saw Llhunarra's two companions from earlier on the stage, standing next to two other women, one of them a drow of all things.

 

“Are all four of them friends of yours?” the aasimar spoke, slow in handing back the wine glass. Realizing this (and his gaping mouth), he handed the wine to his new friend and topped off his own glass. “Ahem, having foreigners do the ceremonial dancing for their gods is rather unusual, but, I think it adds a nice exotic touch. Let's wish them good luck, yes?”

 

"You might say that." The half elf leaving it at that for now. With her glass refilled she nods her agreement. "Oh they will need it, half of them were forced into it, but let's see how they will do." Smiling still she casually sips at her wine as the show begins. Although no comment was made she had not missed his open mouth at the sight of the four women. A quick glance around the room revealed a similar look on many other males, even a few females and it was no wondering considering how the quartet was dressed.

 

Looking to the stage she was already amused by the costumes. To see the women, even the one she hadn't really talked to step out in such outfits had its own entertainment value. Compared to how they normally dressed, hell how most women normally dressed, the costumes were beyond extravagant. Not to mention a bit revealing in some areas. Thank goodness she had committed to guard duty herself, a task that had consisted of sharing a glass of wine so far. With the dance beginning and all eyes on the four on stage Llhunarra was again reminded of just how much she enjoyed being average. It was almost never worth it to stick out, look where it had gotten these four.

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen was about to say something about Aodh but then much to her surprise, Amendale's owl flew over to her carrying a spell as well as a message. She thanked the bird and ask to bring thanks to Amendale as well. "Much needed help," she said to Conall, "this will help nicely."

 

When Conall walked over to distract the traders, she shot a quick glance at the stage, before putting the invisibility spell to use. She approached one of the cages and began working on the lock. Luckily for her, Conall's distraction, and if the crowd's reaction was anything to go by, her friends on the stage kept everyone's attention away from the animals.

 

As the drow unlocked one cage, she left it closed before moving on to another cage, setting them free one by one could make unlocking other cages more difficult should the traders decide to guard the locked cages instead of chasing after the animals. While unlikely, she didn't wish to take any risks and settled for unlocking them first.

 

Nawen worked swiftly, and while she was far from a good lockpicker, determination to free the animals helped, and she unlocked the last cage just as the musicians on the stage started playing. The drow shot a quick glance at Conall, thankfully, still invisible, before opening the cages and letting the animals free.

[AurianaValoria1]

Conall was surprised how little time it took Nawen to free all of the caged beasts. He had barely started the conversation in earnest when the animals came charging out of their holding area and into the wilds faster than the handlers could react. They pushed past him, starting to chase them, but realized it was futile - they had scattered to the four winds and were not coming back. Once they realized this, they turned on the paladin, "You! You did something!" They shouted angrily in an odd mixture of Common and Mulhorandi, no doubt cursing him in both languages.

 

He merely smiled and shrugged, "In that, you are mistaken. I did nothing."

 

With that, he turned and slowly began walking away, headed for the performance. He chuckled lightly to himself, as his words were nothing but true.

 

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Completely oblivious to Nawen's release of the animals, the crowd around the stage eagerly anticipated their show. After the dancers' graceful bow to the audience members, the drummer struck up a catchy rhythm, to which the women shimmied first to the left, and then to the right, clapping together to the beat. The crowd was swiftly caught up in the infectious music and began clapping along with them, some of the more drunken folk whistling loudly and whooping excitedly. The man with the lute-like instrument then joined the drummer, and the dancers launched into their prepared routine. They stayed together for a few minutes, side by side, spinning this way and that with their skirts and veils and sashes swirling around them like diaphanous clouds. With unearthly smoothness, they swayed to and fro, swinging their hips from left to right, their arms and hands moving like charmed serpents around their bodies.

 

And then, abruptly, three of them retreated into the shadows of the stage and vanished, leaving Shalena alone on the stage as Bast, goddess of cats and sensual pleasures. To the sounds of more whistles and hoots of delight as the audience realized whom she was portraying, the piratess immediately fell into her routine without interruption, the drummer picking up the pace and the other instrumentalist letting his strings fall silent. She twisted and spun to the beat, her feet nimble and beating the floor with the rhythm, the bells around her hips tinkling lightly as she moved. A wide grin was plastered to her face as those in the front row seemed to lean towards her, and she laughed aloud at the groans as she moved farther away from them. Her dance was fiery and exotic, athletic and beautiful, and when it suddenly stopped with her balanced on one foot, the other lifted beside her leg and her arms raised high above her head, the audience roared again with applause, some of the members throwing brightly-colored flowers and even coins upon the stage. Much to her chagrin, however, she did not have time to pick them up, as it was Sybille's turn to dance.

 

The Grey sister swept out of the shadows as Shalena disappeared into them, moving with a sure and captivating grace. Her hardened muscles attracted the attention of many, as they found such strength in a woman strangely alluring. The drummer slowed his beat to a syncopated rhythm, the other musician joining in to play a traditional Mulhorandi song fitting for Hathor, goddess of family and folk music. The warrioress swayed her hips from side to side and moved her hands like wings, then bent from the waist to rotate her torso around in a circle, the muscles of her abdomen working visibly as she did so. Her dance was powerful and impressive...a vision of sheer control and physical might that was punctuated by a surprising finesse. And the audience could not get enough of it. They pounded their drinks upon their seats in acclamation even as she melted back into the darkness behind her...

 

...and was replaced by Zorica, who took to the stage in a whirlwind of white as Isis, goddess of life and magic. This time, the drummer's beats took a back seat to the deft notes of the other musician, the lute-like instrument playing a sophisticated - and even enchanting - melody to which the half-drow found herself almost moving automatically. She swirled gracefully with her white linen wings, bending and swaying to the time of the music like a reed blowing in the wind. The white dress floated about her with the slightest movement, creating a wondrous vision of delicate fabric at once flying from her form and then rushing to cling to it once more. Her natural agility allowed her to lean and balance herself in extreme positions, until she truly looked as if she could take to the air like a bird at any moment. The lightness of the wings caused them to hover with a slight delay after every move, and they made beautiful and enthralling patterns as they seemed to take a life of their own. Before she knew it, her part of the dance was over, and the audience whistled and hollered their approval as she folded her arms and wings about her like a white cocoon. She did not even notice her trembling hands until she had rejoined the others backstage...

 

At last, Rhaine emerged, representing Nephthys, protector of children and the dead and goddess of material wealth. There were murmurs of wonder as the audience was able to get a better look at her feathered wings, half of the whispering viewers wondering if the ebon limbs were real or fake. The question was answered for them as her wings arced over her head without the aid of her arms, which she held out, elbows slightly bent, as she slowly dipped down to the right and then to the left, her hips propelling her movement. She closed her eyes, preferring not to see the spectators as she let her body repeat the routine it had practiced seemingly countless times in the past ten days. As the steady, powerfully thrumming music that accompanied her part filled her head, reducing the size of her world, her apprehension gave way to nervous excitement, and energizing adrenaline began coursing through her veins, almost burning as it went. Her limbs seemed to move of their own accord, her pulse pounding to the beat of the drum…

 

…and slowly, steadily, with every passing breath, her soul felt as if it were coming alive…awakening from deep within her. Her movements became more and more fluid, limbs relaxed as she let her spirit guide her. She let the energy she felt take hold of her, and as the music began to build, her dancing grew increasingly animated. An arresting smile pulled at her lips as she twisted with the litheness of a cat, reaching and pulling at the air as if it were a solid thing that she was bending to her will…

 

…and then the music exploded in a violent crescendo, and she answered this eruption of sound with raw magic. It was unleashed from her very core and manifested as arcs of green flame that she molded and shaped with her hands as she danced, playing with the harmless fire that was part of herself with a grin of unbridled delight on her face. She was not even aware of those watching her…

 

Finally, the music began to slow, and so did she, her fire vanishing as her racing pulse began to calm itself. Her finishing pose, with her arms and wings outstretched as if she were embracing the heavens, let the adrenaline seep from her limbs, and the sound of the rest of the world came rushing back to her ears in the form of thunderous applause and cheers. The grin she wore would not leave her countenance, even as her comrades rejoined her on the stage. They finished the performance with the same routine they had executed at the outset, and when they at last stood still, the positive response from the spectators was deafening.

 

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Imhiros, who had watched the spectacle as he sat next to Amendale, turned his head to the side and smiled wryly at the elf, “So…how do you think they did?”

 

Conall, who had managed to get a seat nearby and had caught the last two dances from Zorica and Rhaine, whistled loudly, “Well that was something.”

 

From behind them both, Argyros agreed, his voice barely audible over the roaring of the crowd and demands for an encore, “Indeed…most impressive.”

[Flipout6]

Sybille was incredibly excited for the dancing to start all throughout the festival, and went as far as helping her costume designers with her uniform in her eagerness to get going. She quite enjoyed the overall look of her costume and how it felt as light and nonrestrictive as air. She tried to encourage Rhaine and Zorica (mostly Zorica) with her bubbly attitude and off-the-wall jokes and comments, but it seemed that they were having none of it.

 

Of course, her favourite part of the night besides the dancing itself was when they left the dressing room and she caught her lovably awkward big brother and the quiet girl that was always glued to his hip....well, this time she was glued to his lips.

 

"'Atta boy, Weyland! Don't forget a bit of tongue!" She cheered. Weyland laughed even as his face felt like it had been lit on fire and simply grinned at his sister.

 

"Oh gods, all four of them saw." He whispered. "....Not that I care." Then he brought his lips to Dri's again before they went to watch the dancing. She didn't say anything coherent and simply sent him her flustered excitement to him telepathically.

 

Later, after the dancing began, Sybille began to feel light and progressively more carefree, until she was so into the dance, into the complex subtleties and graceful rigors of her dance that she barely remembered that she had to exit the stage at all, and did so with great regret. Before she did so, however, she glanced the Ordain sisters in the crowd. Marie had managed to drag her sister away from her alchemy set to come watch and she was beaming at Sybille, grinning from ear to ear. Sybille shot the two of them a dazzling smile before she made a graceful exit just in time for Zorica to make a spectacularly rhythmic entrance.

 

Amendale, of course, enjoyed Zorica's dance greatly, more so than the others. He sat there and smirked through most of it, watching with unbroken interest as she absolutely nailed every liquid movement, every flowing step and twist. It was almost as if it were a magical illusion....

 

"That was something, alright. Something spectacular." Amendale commented, once it was all over.

 

"It sure was!" He heard Weyland comment. He was just behind them, with an arm slipped around Dri's waist. Amendale shot him a knowing grin.

 

"That was amazing!" She echoed to nobody in particular, the closest she could get to shouting.

 

"Hells, I've never seen anyone move like that." Arland commented, standing beside Marie. He'd been one of the noisier members of the crowd, whistling and cheering his (surprisingly not intoxicated) encouragement to the dancing women on the stage. Sybille hadn't seen him, but he didn't care.

 

"I didn't know Sybille could dance like that!" Annette exclaimed. If Marie didn't know better, she'd say her sister was enjoying herself despite the crowd. Marie herself didn't say anything; everyone else had covered it for her.

 

After they took their bow out and left the stage to head to the changing room, Sybille couldn't help but excitedly babble on about how she couldn't remember the last time she'd had that much fun, especially doing anything like dancing, or how it was incredibly satisfying once she started really getting into the dancing. When she left, she found Amendale leaning on the wall opposite, at an angle where he couldn't quite manage a peek into the room. No doubt he did that on purpose. He raised an eyebrow at her, congratulated on her performance, and waited for Zorica as Sybille went to seek out the Ordain sisters.

 

Amendale still had a cheeky smirk on his face when Zorica eventually left the dressing room. She smiled a little smile when she saw him, and his grin widened.

 

"Bet you're wondering what was in the vial?" He asked. She looked at him curiously and nodded a little. "Peach juice. There was nothing special about it, and I didn't whisper a single word of magic tonight....but there certainly was something special about your performance. As if you weren't already special enough." His grin widened from a cheeky, impish curl of the lips to a genuine, kind smile as he spoke, and he looked meaningfully at her. "That was all you, Zorica. Nothing but your own skill and your own courage. There's more to you than you think." He'd been dying to reveal that information all night.

[Deleted6317247User]

Once the animals were free, Nawen quickly retreated into the shadows before the invisibility spell could wear off. While she was glad that none of the guests, as stuck-up as some of them were, didn't get hurt when the animals ran away she was somewhat upset that it didn't interrupt the dancing so that Rhaine and Zorica wouldn't have to dance as they were clearly not as excited as Shalena and Sybille were.

 

Since one part of her plan failed, she figured she could at least stay and watch the dancing. As she stepped to the back of the crowd she bumped into someone. "Sorry!" She exclaimed as she stepped to the side a little and looked at the person she bumped into. It was a tall man, clearly not local as his skin was pale white and from the ever reappearing frost on the glass he held in his hand the drow assumed it wasn't solely because he wished a cold drink.

 

"Is this some bizarre custom to bump into-" he spoke but then stopped as he looked at her. Nawen wore her cloak, as she always did, but because of the heat she had to give up on the idea of wearing clothing that covered every inch of her skin. The pale man said something more but she didn't listen to it as she couldn't help but look back at him, even if his gaze made her uncomfortable. Thankfully for her, he seemed to have realized that and turned his attention to the stage instead.

 

"It's impressive how the host managed to pick just the right women to dance," he said, "the drooling drunks in the crowd are far too focused on staring at the exotic flesh paraded in front of their noses than notice these women aren't real dancers." He scoffed and the frost on his glass grew thicker.

 

"How did you know?" She asked.

 

"Besides the fact that one of them in particular looks uncomfortable to be on the stage?" He chuckled. "I may have overheard some servants talking about a group of adventurers that are staying in this very same estate, and that some were asked to dance for this festival." He looked back at Nawen. "I take it you're one of them."

 

"Eavesdropped that too?" Nawen asked.

 

"You're a Drow, and not welcome here," he stated plainly, "so unless you're spying for your kin dwelling underground, you must be one of the adventurers."

 

"I'm not spying," Nawen said with the light frown on her face, "and why are you so curious?" She asked suspiciously. "Want to join us?"

 

"I haven't decided yet," he said, "though I am not without skills that could prove useful if you are real adventurers." He said with a slight smile as a glass in his hand turned into ice. "My name is, Orion, by the way." He said as the ice in his hand shattered and he simply walked away.

 

Nawen watched him as he disappeared in the crowd before turning her attention back to the stage just in time to catch Rhaine dancing as the Doomguide molded the flames in her hands as she danced. When the dancing was over and the crowd cheered, Nawen was among them.

[AurianaValoria1]

Zorica was flabbergasted. She had been sure...but he had told her...

 

She felt like slapping Amendale. She had trusted him to help her when she needed it, and all he had done was used that trust to combat her nervousness; she had honestly believed he would use a potion to rid her of her anxiety, and so she had thought that was exactly what he had given her. However, it was the fact that she believed him so strongly that had squelched her fear, not what was in the vial...

 

"You..." she started, her voice shaking, "I thought that...that you..."

 

Her hands were trembling again as she mentally repeated what he had told her. A whirlwind of emotions assaulted her thoughts and tore her to pieces inside. On the one hand, his deception angered her. On the other hand...

 

...on the other hand, he had shown her her own self in a new light.

 

"You...rogue," she hissed, her fingers smacking him in the mouth before she pounced, grabbing him by the shoulders and kissing him fiercely, leaving white makeup all over his face, as she had not had time to wash it all off, yet.

 

Rhaine emerged from the changing room in her nightdress just in time to witness this spectacle, and she grinned again but said nothing, instead quickly brushing past the pair and heading back towards her quarters in order to wind down a bit before bed. She asked a servant to get a wash basin ready for her chambers along the way, so that she could cleanse her face of the thick colors that had been painted around her eyes and on her lips.

 

Back on the grounds, the crowds began to disperse again, everyone to their own interests. Many drunkards were already passed out in the cool nighttime dirt. Others stuffed their faces with food until they vomited and then continued eating as if nothing had ever happened. Argyros, who watched the fools from afar, grew increasingly disgusted with their indulgence and began to question his own weakness for humanoid food and drink, wondering what the difference was between him and them...

 

After the performance, Conall slipped away to seek out his room, already tired of the constant noise and excitement. All the while, he mulled over Nawen's act and his own involvement, and he smiled to himself. Nawen was determined, indeed, especially when it came to the protection of creatures who could not help themselves....

 

Heidi, who had screamed herself hoarse all day, was sleeping in the middle of the commons, draped over her cart, a bag of gold dangling from one hand and her mechanical dragonfly buzzing around her. It seemed she had done well for herself after all.

 

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Ravenna's Castle

 

Quarylene had grown increasingly paranoid. Ever since hearing that faint and tantalizing voice, she had searched the fortress all over for the source and could not find it. She had practically torn the stones out of her chamber's walls, seeking a way for someone to watch her or speak to her without her knowing.

 

Nothing.

 

This day, there was no furniture inside the room but her coffin. No mirrors, no tapestries, no wardrobes...nothing to hide anyone or any device. She had locked her chamber doors and was certain to check and double check the coffin itself for anything out of place. Before she could climb inside, however, a sharp coldness struck her in the back of the head, and all went black.

[Flipout6]

For Arland, the dancing ended on a high note, but that high note was quickly soured once the Mulhorandi upper-class began to stuff and otherwise spoil themselves to the point of outright and blatant embarrassment. Arland was fine with people drinking until they passed out on their faces; people did that everywhere. But even years ago when he was running around on a killing spree and butchering the more corrupt and oppressive nobility (and other criminals) he'd never seen something this.... this....appallingly excessive. He'd never seen someone eat an entire feast on their own, throw it up, and then keep eating. There were people here eating more food in one sitting than many peasant families could hope to afford in a week and then puking it up just so they could have more, which to him was a good as throwing it off the table and trampling it into the dirt.

 

"Stlarn. You seeing this.....I don't know what the word for this is." Arland seethed, gesturing out to them.

 

Marie curled her lip in disgust. "How.....gluttonous."

 

"Whatever that word was, yeah." He shook his head. "Barbarians don't do this. Poor people don't do this. Tluining rats don't do this. They might as well just feed the food to the dogs, at least they'd actually eat it!" He snarled. "I can't watch this rot. I'm going inside."

 

"I think I'll go too." Annette added. Naturally, that meant Marie was going inside too.

 

"I might as well sleep. No bar for me with them. I'm not sharing a bar table with them. That'd be reducing myself. You two do your thing." He stormed off.

 

Further down the hallway, Sybille came out of the dressing room right behind Rhaine, clad once again in a simple white shirt and leather pants.

 

"Man, that was fun!" She exclaimed to the Doomguide as she exited. "You looked great out there!" Of course, then she spotted the spectacle that was Amendale and Zorica, and she grinned even wider, since that was apparently within the realm of physical possibility. "First my brother and Dri, now you two? Lots of snogging going on tonight!" She laughed, and then whispered to Amendale, "Don't forget about the tongue!" She laughed again and walked off.

 

Arland stopped Rhaine in her tracks for a moment when he ran into her, holding his arm out to stop her. "I wouldn't head outside if I were you, Wings. Savage enough to piss ME off. People throwing their food up just to eat more. Stay away from the crowds, just trust me." And then he veered sideways and shoved the door to his room open so hard it hit the wall, and then slammed it shut behind him.

 

Amendale grinned as he saw Zorica's reaction to the news. Honestly, Zorica being Zorica, he wasn't even surprised when she turned around and whapped him on the mouth. He was surprised when she leaped on him like Ser Meowsalot might a mouse and slammed her lips into his. Rough, perhaps it was; but it was also intoxicating. Her anger made the kiss feel like it was on fire. Amendale's heart went a little haywire in the face of such electric energy. It got to the point where he had to stop himself from getting dizzy....though he was still coherent enough to give Sybille a thumbs-up when she went by. She guffawed and went along her way.

 

When they finally separated long enough to breathe, Amendale grinned like a fool at Zorica. "I knew you'd both love and hate me for that little stunt." He rested his forehead against hers. "I could have used magic to give you a helping hand whenever I liked if you'd turned out to be half as bad as you feared you would be. I was there the whole time making sure you got through it okay. I didn't need to do a thing. You were never in any danger of failing." He smiled at her kindly, looking her right in those lovely amber eyes of hers. "...But you stunned and riveted completely of your own ability. There was nothing but you up on that stage....and damn if you didn't look absolutely beautiful doing it." Then he chuckled huskily. "Ah, looks like my inner romantic is coming out. Not that I mind." His expression suddenly shifted. "That reminds me..."

 

Through some magic or another, a bouquet of yellow and purple flowers appeared in his hand. In reality, he'd simply turned them invisible and held on to them in his hand, keeping them from getting crumpled or damaged. "Weyland and I were on the same thought track with flowers today, but....here. Purple's your favourite colour...and the yellow ones are the closest I could find to the colour of your eyes." He grinned and his face flushed red. "I know, that's corny, even by my standards. But if you like them, that's all that matters."

Edited January 9, 2015 by Flipout6

[Deleted6317247User]

Nawen wandered around the fair for a bit until she stumbled upon Shalena. The piratess had changed into her casual attire, her dark red hair tied to her usual side braid and the elaborate makeup was all but gone. The half-elf had a bottle of wine in her hand and felt right at home in the chaos surrounding them.

 

"I didn't know you danced so well," Nawen said as she approached the piratess.

 

Shalena grinned as she joined Nawen for her walk out of the fair. "Why, thank you, I didn't know I could dance that well as well," she said, "I knew how to dance of course, but it's nothing compared to our performance today." She added but then noticed that the drow was looking around as if searching for someone, "if you're looking for our friends, I don't know where they went, perhaps still busy with all that affection and kissing, but knowing our group and their fairytale romances I didn't stick around when more interesting things are happening here."

 

Nawen raised an eyebrow, "what are you on about?"

 

The piratess chuckled. "For a scout you're not very observant," she said, "or your friends' happiness makes you sad and jealous that yours didn't turn out like you hoped so you chose to ignore theirs?"

 

Nawen stopped walking and turned to face the piratess. The sudden stop surprised tipsy Shalena quite a bit. "I'm not jealous," she almost hissed, "I am very happy for all of them, I didn't notice it because I'm not spying on my friends," she paused for a moment and sighed realizing her words sounded harsher than she intended, "today was a very long day. See you tomorrow." With that said she headed towards the estate, while the piratess went back to the fair grounds. And after a few drinks, was dancing again, this time less gracefully and on the table with a few other women.

 

Orion stood in the shadows, though his white hair and bright attire did little to help him hide, even if hiding wasn't what he tried to do. After talking with a few servants he found out which people were the adventurers staying in Menarses's estate, and he spent the rest of the day watching all of them. They seemed like a remarkable and colorful group, somewhat similar albeit smaller group than the one he used to travel with, should he be accepted into their group then spending weeks in this dreadful land wouldn't be for nothing.

Edited January 9, 2015 by Guest

[AurianaValoria1]

Amendale's sudden presentation of the flowers certainly surprised Zorica, as her mouth dropped open in shock. She gingerly took them and marveled at their beauty - the rich hues of the violet ones and the glowing orange and yellow tones of the amber ones. A lavender blush rose in her silvery cheeks, and she brought them to her face to try to hide it. The pungent scent of the flowers was intoxicating, and she inhaled deeply. Then, careful to hold them away from her body so as not to crush them, she brought her other hand to Amendale's face and gently brushed his cheek and jaw with her fingers.

 

"I love them," she whispered, leaning in to kiss him again, this time much more sweetly.

 

When she finally pulled away, she chuckled lightly and wiped a bit of the white makeup off of the tip of his nose with her thumb, "Oops."

 

Zorica then turned and began to move away, "That reminds me...I need a bath. Time to get all of this powder and paint off. It's starting to itch like mad." She grinned, "And thank you for these," she smelled the flowers again, "I'll have to talk to Nawen about keeping them healthy for as long as I can. Surely she knows something I can do." With that, she strode down the hallway, her step light and cheerful, but before rounding the corner, she turned back around and blew him a kiss, "Goodnight, my sweet elf."

 

===========================================

 

Rhaine found herself still jittery with excitement, even after the show had been over for hours. The Doomguide wandered aimlessly about the moonlit courtyard of Menarses’s estate, admiring the exotic flowers and fruit trees. She had waited for most of the guests in the immediate vicinity to retreat to their chambers, in order to avoid the awful spectacle that had disgusted Arland so. The heavy scent of perfume lingered about her shoulders, mingling with the spicy scents of the orchids and lilies and causing her nose to tickle. She did not mind it, however; she was still very much in performance mode, an unbroken half-smile plastered to her face, and she found herself humming a few bars of the music that repeated itself in her head as clearly as if a company of players were performing beside her.

 

On a whim, she spun and gracefully dipped again as if she were on stage once more, twirling around to the time of a distant drum that could be heard far past Menarses’s walls as celebrants still drank and danced. Lost in her own world, she let herself give in to impulse; a kind of happiness flooded her being, and it was one that she had not felt in a very, very long time. It was as if, while the Mulhorandi were celebrating their victories, she was celebrating her very existence, embracing everything about it and everything that came with it – joy, sadness, all of it – with a kind of sweet relish.

 

Her soul felt refreshed with the experience she had been privileged to be a part of that day. She had been brave enough to put her energy and poise on symbolic display to the audience, and with the courage to face public scrutiny came a delicious reward. The spectators’ response invigorated her with a new sense of self-confidence in a way that nothing else had before…in a way that she never knew that she somehow needed.

 

A gentle draft of a breeze ruffled the skirt of her nightdress and brushed her hair from her shoulders, and the long tendrils of scarlet were pushed away from her face as she danced. Her eyes closed with delight as she felt the wind kiss her face, though the coolness of it brought gooseflesh to her arms. Her movements slowed to a soft sway, and she inhaled deeply of the fresh and exotic-smelling air. Even as the thought seemed laughable to consider, she felt as if she had been reborn, in a way, and was taking her first breath of a new life.

 

Then, something soft suddenly brushed her leg, and she at first thought that Anhsu or Nesati had decided to join her; she expected to open her eyes to see an ebon-black tail or a pair of glowing cat-eyes slinking off into the darkness. Instead, she was greeted by the fluttering tattered hem of a forest-green cloak. Her head jerked upward as she stifled a yelp of surprise, her momentary panic immediately assuaged by the sight of the moonlit silver mask gazing down on her.

 

Her hand flew to her chest, and she bowed her head as she let out a shaky sigh of relief, “Oh, my lord. You…startled me.”

 

He inclined his head slowly, “My apologies for breaking you out of your…reverie. Yet, I felt you might wish to speak with me. Without interruption, this time.”

 

She paused a moment to think about his reply, a bit surprised by his intuition, and then gave him a sheepish grin, “Ah yes, I…suppose so. This feeling is…exhilarating. It is…this is what you meant, is it not? To enjoy moments such as this…I feel…” she trailed, unable to express her emotion in words, as there was no term in her vocabulary to describe the intensity of the sensation that throbbed in her veins. The best that she could come up with was…alive.

 

He nodded, “I understand, Rhaine. You did well this day, and I am certain that Nephthys is pleased with your work.”

 

She grinned widely, a heat rising in her cheeks, and then she remembered that she still wore her elaborate makeup. She touched a finger to her lips, and when it came away tinted with gold, she brushed her hands together to get it off.

 

“A bit too garish for my taste,” she remarked with a light laugh, “Though the others seemed to like it.”

 

“Just another mask to wear for a time,” was his simple response, but the wisdom of it made her pause again.

 

Then, a sound from the upper balcony caused her to glance upward, most likely one or more of Menarses's drunken guests stumbling back to his or her rooms. Before she could voice the question that immediately formed in her mind, however, he provided the answer: “They cannot see us or hear us. There is no chance of disturbance.”

 

She sighed again with relief and inclined her head to him, “Thank you, my lord. Though I appreciated Arland’s concern for me last time, I do not desire to involve him in our discussions again.”

 

Only silence followed as he quietly stepped from his position near the shadowed portico to the central fountain of the courtyard. He advanced with the smoothness of a phantom and a measured strength that emanated from his dignified bearing. How he seemed at home in the exotic and nearly celestial splendor of their environment, as he had in her chamber days ago. The robes and cloak rippled like water with his movement, contrasted by the warm and alluring russet of his tunic, which she recognized as velvet – or something just as luxurious.

 

Then, he halted in his stride with a statuesque stillness in a moment she wished she could capture forever – the way he had half turned towards her, one hand resting on the polished marble of the fountain, he could have easily been mistaken for a magnificent figure carved from stone, that had been displayed there as an emperor’s monument. Had she been paying attention, she would have noticed that her mouth was falling open in awestruck wonder. She would also have seen his gloved fingers flick briefly towards the trickling water of the fountain, where the streams of glittering liquid were immobilized mid-air, their cycle completely halted in time.

 

At last, his voice interrupted the mesmerizing quiet of the night, and she released the breath she had unwittingly held as he spoke.

 

“You cannot seize moments that please you and hold them for eternity, like this,” he murmured, almost inaudibly, as if he were contemplating what he was saying as he was saying it, “And thus you must rely on memory alone to duplicate those times that give you the most fulfillment.”

 

A shiver wracked her spine as she thought he had actually sensed precisely what she had been thinking, and her cheeks grew even hotter with embarrassment. She hoped he was merely referring to the thrilling experience she had undergone that the day, but she could not help but think the comment was directed at other things as well…

 

Shaking her head vigorously, she tried to shrug off the abrupt wave of self-consciousness that had washed over her. She had to fight the temptation to criticize herself into sorrow as she had those many nights previous, and she swallowed hard as she forced herself to relax. She then gave him a wry smile and replied, “I understand, my lord. I pray that my memory will be long. There are many moments that I wish to hold in my heart for as long as my mind will allow.”

 

“Indeed,” he answered quietly, almost absentmindedly, as he ran a gloved finger along an arc of frozen water, seemingly caught in the world of an artist; he plucked a droplet and rolled it with his finger and thumb into a glassy bead that sparkled like a diamond in the moonlight. The bead then floated midair when he removed his hand from beneath it, and it stayed suspended there for several breaths, during which Rhaine found herself once again completely enthralled by his actions.

 

She watched, entranced, as the bead began to grow, morphing rapidly into a larger shape with increasing definition as each second passed. The shape shimmered like mercury as it rippled with life, and it slowly coalesced into something that resembled a…

 

…mask?

 

Curiosity piqued, Rhaine cocked her head at the thing he was fashioning and she peered at it inquisitively, watching with rapt attention as all the details began to fall together. It was a stunning sight to behold; the scintillating mask left nothing but the eyes, mouth, and chin of the wearer visible. Though she could not see the particulars of it from where she stood, it was obvious even from this distance that it was elaborate in its decoration.

 

And then he motioned for her to approach.

 

Her heart jumped to her throat as she realized what he was doing, and the gesture very nearly moved her to tears. She dared not reach for it, however - not until he gave her his permission...

 

“This is now yours,” he finally spoke, “Wear it well, and use it to remember those moments which make you who you are. This mask shall commemorate it all, and thus it shall be the representation of yourself.”

 

Rhaine carefully lifted her hands and took the cool metal mask into them, astonished at the startling reality of it, for it had been a mere water droplet moments before. As she marveled at it, open-mouthed once again, he added, “Look closely.”

 

As she squinted at the motifs on the mask, she gasped aloud. Though individually symbolic, together they told a story. Along the nose was a flaming sword, the cross guard and hilt of it positioned on the forehead, the blade pointed down, and the flames licking the cheeks of the mask – it could be none other than Touch of Death; the resemblance was uncanny. From behind the sword was a pair of scales of justice, the plates of which hung below each eye opening. Around each plate was twined a vine of roses that spilled over the edges and fell towards the chin. Surrounding these larger symbols, all along the temples and cheeks of the mask, were smaller, astonishingly intricate scenes of warriors fighting towering nightwalkers, an angelic figure defending a city, a singular soul falling into a pit of flames and devilish imps, a dracolich roaring amidst a torrent of magic…

 

…and a dancer resembling Nephthys, twirling before a rapt audience.

 

These scenes were almost impossible to pick out at first glance, requiring intense study to discover what exactly they were showing – but upon close examination, they were remarkably clear, at least to her.

 

Almost without thinking, she clutched the newly created treasure to her chest with one hand and placed her other on his own breast, staring with intensity up at the stoic face that looked down upon her. The robes were velvety beneath her fingers, tantalizingly sensational, and she felt as if the world would drop away as something between their minds abruptly collided…

 

…a breath of awareness touched her consciousness, so faint it was almost imperceptible, but it was as if, in that moment, there was a sudden understanding between them.

 

With another wry smile, she lifted the mask and briefly glanced at it, wondering how it would stay on with no strap, before holding it up to her face anyway. It glimmered for a moment, feeling like the liquid from which it had been made as it molded itself to the shape of her countenance…and when she let go, there it remained.

 

Her smile widened, her palm still resting upon the front of his robes as her eyes glittered mischievously, “I suppose this makes us two of a kind, yes?” A voice in the back of her mind was yelling at her to take her hand away immediately, but another shouted equally as loud that they had danced together in Arabel…surely this was no different?

 

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the water in the fountain was still frozen - a small time-stopped bubble surrounded them - and thus she understood that this moment which she shared with him was only witnessed by her. She felt closer to him now than she had ever before, even in her dreams, and she realized that the sense of understanding between them was an intimacy of spirit unlike anything she had yet experienced. Just as her soul replenished itself in his presence, so did it also feel completely and utterly at home…

 

...but when he offered no answer, her smile turned into one of sweet sadness as she let her hand slide a little down the folds of the smooth green fabric, tracing the delicate embroidery, “No…of course not. You are much more than that. I just wish I could be to you what you are to me…”

 

His hand moved swiftly to catch her by the wrist, halting her fingers’ progress in a firm, yet not ungentle grip, “You are more than you think you are, Rhaine…but knowing you as I do, not even my words can convince you of that.”

 

The truth of his statement stung, and she could only cast her eyes downward in response. He still held her hand tight, however, and it was the hand that bore his ring. She glanced back up at it, curiosity in her gaze. She flexed the finger that the gold band encircled and smiled slightly, “You have yet to say anything about this after all these years.”

 

“Should I?”

 

Her smile faded again, and her reply came out haltingly, “Well…I simply thought…it is a bit curious how…”

 

“It is yours. There is nothing more to say on the matter. I know that which you would like to say, and my response is thus: if it gives you comfort, that is all that is important about it.”

 

There was another brush of something across her mind – a whisper of thought – and she fought to catch it, but it slipped from her grasp. It pulled away faster than she could react, and she was left slightly alarmed. Once again, that closeness seemed to draw her consciousness to him in a profound way that frightened her as much as it piqued her curiosity.

 

“You…” she murmured quietly, her eyes narrowing as she tried to make sense of these feelings, “know me well, my lord. Deeper, perhaps, than I would like to admit to myself. It is odd, sensing that your sentiments are…already known.”

 

“Do comrades-in-arms, after years of journeying together, not know each other in such a manner?” he asked.

 

“You have a point, my lord,” Rhaine replied, “Though I do not know you as you know me, now do I?”

 

“I should hope not,” his answer was tinted with dry wit, “You would do great harm to yourself trying.”

 

She grinned, “I would not dream of attempting to invade your privacy, so.”

 

“That is good,” he at last let go of her wrist, “And as it should be.”

 

Rhaine felt a slight gulf of emptiness spread between them as she stepped away and nodded, bowing to him again, “Of course, my lord.” But despite this sensation, it was still as if something invisible held them together, and she savored this feeling of an unbreakable bond, “I suppose I shall have to settle for letting you fill in my thoughts for me, yes?”

 

“How many are so privileged?” he remarked, and she could detect the sarcasm in his tone.

 

“Well,” she placed her hands on her hips, “I shall say that you are most welcome to invade my thoughts anytime you so desire, my lordship.”

 

“And I shall thank you for the unnecessary invitation.”

 

She laughed aloud, his bantering with her having brought her a strange feeling of good cheer. He was certainly sharp, and his natural position as her patron gave him an edge against her every point. Her thoughts were interrupted, however, when she noticed that the flow of the fountain had returned to normal, and the sounds of the night roared back into her ears. She knew he was close to departing, and her emotional zenith was brought down again with the coldness of reality.

 

Please, don’t leave me…

 

The thought sprang almost unbidden to her mind.

 

As his form faded suddenly from view in a cloud of fine silvery mist, his voice echoed plainly in her ears.

 

“Do I ever?”

 

His response flooded her with appreciative warmth, as she knew the answer. She fell back against a column and closed her eyes, letting the breeze and the sounds of the desert soothe her.

 

To find him when she needed him, all she had to do was look inside.

 

===========================================

 

The following morning, Rhaine packed all of her belongings - as well as her new mask - into her pack, armed and armored herself, and then shouldered her bag as she made her way out of her room and into the guest quarter's commons. She was a bit surprised to see Conall, Argyros, Heidi, Imhiros, Menarses, and another man waiting on her. The stranger was garbed in long white robes, simple gold vambraces on his wrists. He was deeply tanned, like the others of this country, his head shaved, and blue circles painted upon his forehead to indicate his status as a priest. The man appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties, judging from the wrinkles that had begun to form around his nose and eyes. Imhiros stepped forward to introduce him upon seeing Rhaine approach, and he gestured to the stranger as he inclined his head to her.

 

"My lady, this is High Priest Sirensis, servant of Osiris, who has agreed to meet with-" Imhiros began, but Sirensis waved him away. The priest smiled slightly and spoke, his own voice harsh and grating on the ears, "I greet you, Chosen of a foreign god. I have seen that you have an uncanny appreciation for cultures outside your own, with your willingness to dance in the name of goodly deities who are not familiar to you. That is surprising, and interesting, indeed."

 

Menarses gave Rhaine a pointed look with a raised eyebrow, and a realization dawned within her...

 

...their involvement in the dance had been much, much more than just as replacements for sudden unfortunate retirees...

Edited January 9, 2015 by AurianaValoria1

[Deleted6317247User]

After departing the fair grounds, Nawen went to check on the animals and only then she went back to the estate. While sleeping in a large, comfortable bed felt great she couldn't help but look forward for leaving this place, and it wasn't only because the increased number of guests made her uncomfortable.

 

Just like she said to Shalena, the day seemed to have been long indeed, and thus the drow fell asleep quickly.

 

Shalena spent most of the evening, and some hours of the night celebrating. Eventually she found her way back to the room, with a bottle in hand and pockets full of trinkets she stole from the drooling drunks who were far too enraptured by her presence to notice their pockets getting emptier whenever she was nearby.

==============================

Nawen woke up shortly after dawn and immediately started packing her things. She spent some time in her room before heading to the commons only to see that some of her friends had gathered there already. She greeted everyone before watching the man dressed in priestly garbs. Shalena entered the room minutes after her. Both of them heard the priest addressing Rhaine and after the priest was done talking, the piratess felt the need to say something.

 

"While some of us enjoyed being paraded about on a stage yesterday," she spoke, "was there any reason why you couldn't speak to us, or just our dear Doomguide, before the festival?"