The Mad God's Masque and Bellicose Ball (IC) (M)

[Gareeku]

Taking his drink from the staff member, Gareeku took a sip of his wine, letting the liquid linger in his mouth a little before swallowing...sharp, yet fruity. His preffered choice whenever he drank wine, which in itself was quite rare, so the fact that they managed to get him a wine he preferred did impress him a little.

"Stormclaw..." The wolf muttered thoughtfully upon hearing Rynkura speak of them "...I take it they organised this. Though I have no connection to Stormclaw. A party like this is for the aristocracy, to celebrate their wealth and how wonderful they are. Don't see why someone like me would be invited." Gareeku continued with mild annoyance in his voice, not to be mention plenty of sarcasm.

Watching Rynkura walk off to get food, Gareeku glanced up towards where Cerebus had been before. No doubt he was still up there, just as long as he wasn't making trouble. Glancing back over to the Mistress, he saw that someone was trying to get her attention, dressed in similar sort of robes that Rynkura normally wore, curiously enough. Now standing there on his own, the wolf took another, this time larger, gulp of his wine. This was why he never came to parties like this (not that he was invited very often anywy); after the inital sequence of getting ready and entering the occasion, he soon began to grow bored, having nothing to do, not to mention feeling a stupid.

Out of the corner of his eye, however, the lupine noticed that the various doors that provided entrances to the main ballroom were now closing. Nothing out of the ordinary it seemed, though they were all closing. Every single one of them. His eyes narrowing slightly behind his mask, he slowly looked around the room again. He couldn't explain it, maybe it was just him in his paranoid adventurer mode still, but something didn't seem right.

[Aisha deCabre]

Rynkura found herself yawning for a moment, between sampling the food dishes that were on the table.  The tigress hoped that she hadn't insulted anyone watching; the party was lavish, but just as Gareeku felt, she too found things a little slow going.  She decided to wait it out, anyway; it wasn't the Healer's place to complain.  She thought of bringing something back from the food table for the white wolf as well.  Then, suddenly, she heard a voice call her name.

Pricking her ears up, the angel glanced over to notice someone that she hadn't seen in ages, to her surprise.  Olan was one of the students she had over the years that had excelled in his healing studies, though he had always seemed more interested in other things.  She knew little of his exploits, but enough to know how he'd be invited.

Regardless, she smiled and politely returned the embrace.  "Well now, fancy meeting you here, Olan...I'm surprised you recognized me in the mask.  And I'm happy to see that you still wear our colors," she chuckled and started picking more bits of food from the tables.  "Yes, I made it here just fine, though it is a mystery as to why I've been invited.  I'm usually not one for these events."

She hummed.  "As for the monastery, it is fine.  I have left it in good hands; most of the old teachers you may remember are still there, and my foremost student Aisha is also protecting the place.  More than that, she is my god-daughter; I trust her well.  Anyway, I'm accompanied here by a beloved companion of hers, and thus a friend of mine," she gestured to where Gareeku was standing, before turning back to the white fox.  "And what of you, sir Danya, how are you faring?"

It wasn't long after that question that Rynkura heard something different above the milling and the music.  Glancing around, she noticed the doors around the ballroom--all of them--were closing tight.  Protocol, she guessed, if the last of the guests had arrived and they had no need to keep them open.  But still, concerning the events of the day, the angel couldn't help but feel curious.

[Sunblink]

The man didn't so much as touch her. He just... drew her attention inexorably toward him with his sheer presence. One second there was nothing, and the next he was there, standing over her to her side, his black-eyed stare impossible to ignore. His lacquered mask, long blond hair falling down behind it, was eerily expressionate and somewhat ghastly. Back against the wall, Elizabeth seemed between a rock and a hard place.
   'Care to dance, miss?' the apparition said. 'That way, I can lead you.'
   The room seemed distant and silent for a second. There was something about that last comment...

Ripping a sizable chunk of bread off of one of the dinner rolls, Elizabeth glared around the ballroom, contemptuously observing the festivities. She leaned against a marble pillar and contemplated the few instructions that Eurydice had divulged. Certainly there would be a few clues in what she had told her...

Elizabeth's ears folded back in a gesture of frustration, her composure stony but clearly agitated in some way. Eurydice had mentioned that the precious artifact Jyraneth coveted was in the possession of one of the attendees. Of course, but if only she had provided a description of the aforementioned carrier. She remembered a name, a race... but before she could venture further, one of the guests was standing before her, a hand proffered. He was a pearlescent - nearly cadaverous - white apparition, the identity of his visage concealed by an artful black mask; for a moment, Elizabeth was taken aback by his ghostly appearance. She felt quite literally cornered and bereft of any appropriate remarks, like she had been stripped of her assertive, austere demeanor. Elizabeth felt truly embarrassed by the fact she was intimidated, but she answered automatically, even though she had higher priorities. Some alluring detail about the anonymous figure compelled her to accept his offer.

"Sure," she said numbly.

[techmaster-glitch]

   Karazkt actually shrunk back slightly as the surfacer leaned forward in a menacing way. He couldn't quite figure out what she meant when she talked. He couldn't  tell if it was a challenge or if he had done something wrong, and if he had done something wrong, he didn't have any idea what it was. The idea that it was his "introduction" that was the problem literally did not cross his mind, as he could not concieve the ingrained instinct of that action being anything bad.
   He did, however, understand that he could just "go talk to the Queen", which in itself was very odd to Karazkt, but he went with it. He turned and walked forward towards her, but before he made it, another surfacer passed him by and immediately began talking to her.
   Karazkt didn't know what was going on, but he had to assume that this surfacer must be important to approach the Queen so readily. Karazkt steeped back to wait until this surfacer had finished his business.

(OOC: yeah, that's you, voyager )

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace staggered forward a few paces, taking a moment to regain her balance as her sword sliced the grey creature in half with hardly any resistance she could feel. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the halves of the carcass, and the smeared bloodstains on her sword blade, turn to dust and blow away. There was a little normal blood spattered over her arm, though, and a glance down revealed a few more drops across her shoulder and chest, apparently from the leopard... whose crumpled body seemed to have vanished. For that matter where was she? This dim grey stone tunnel wasn't the better lit corridor she'd been in just a moment before.

She turned quickly, her skirt swirling around her legs, to face the sudden gust of wind and voice from behind her. The fox... she'd seen him just a few minutes ago, leading Ti'Paollo through the hall where she'd set off her botched ambush. Her glowing eyes narrowed; in reply to his demand she angrily snarled a suggestion that had to be anatomically impossible except to a particularly imaginative 'Cubi shapeshifter. The fox's gun worried her: he seemed to know what he was doing with it, unlike many bandits, rogue Creatures and assorted criminals she'd faced down in her career.

The wall.

That voice again. Without moving her eyes, Andrace could just see a glowing "weakness" line off to one side... on the wall? How could she "kill" the tunnel wall? She shifted her weight from paw to paw, leaning quickly from left to right and back, then suddenly she broke the pattern and lunged to the left. Her free hand slipped behind her back, reaching for a row of concealed pockets at the back of her bodice, and pulled out a small leaf-shaped blade, which she threw directly at the fox's head. She crouched, her skirt pooling around her legs, braced one paw against the wall, and leaped across the tunnel at just below waist-height, tail and skirt streaming behind, her sword slashing out ahead of her and following the red line glowing on the opposite wall.

I hope this crazy stunt works, she thought just before her sword carved into the wall, or else this's goin' t' really hurt...

[Azlan]

"Indeed, beings are normally not able to do that... but that's neither here nor there.  I really must apologize, as I wasn't actually looking for you, well not specifically at any rate.  I find it..." 

Kiet's speech trailed off as his large ears swiveled back, catching the sound of a footstep behind him.  At that same moment, in front of Kiet and behind the strange being, a rather twisted lizard scurried along the wall.  It was dressed like a maid, but in its hand it carried a pistol.  The sound corresponded with the thing's movement, confusing Kiet for a moment until he realized his mistake.

"True sight... you know it is moments like this I wonder why I never came up with true scent, true hearing, true taste... ew, no scratch that I know exactly why on that one." 

Quickly drawing the very large handgun he had acquired in town yesterday, he made a move towards the area he had heard the sound coming from.  The lizard snarled wickedly and raised his gun, just as Kiet swung back around and unloaded a shot into the creature.  Its chest cratered as well as the wall behind it, leaving a gory mess streaking downward towards the floor.

His second shot was much easier than his first try, the ringtail grinned as he admired the weapon, "makes me kind of wish I had the Jackal too... now that that is handled.  I must remark that you are amazingly calm about all this violence and insanity... and illusions, bloody bastards and their illusions.  I've seen you upstairs, but as you are now down here, there are very few things you could be and one of those is the person responsible for this all... so please, enlighten me with what you know."

Kiet shot a quick glance around, "... as we move, come on this way, I need to find Cam."  Kiet dragged the newcomer along with him, careful to be wary of him and keeping him in front.

[Boog]

"I was doing pretty good until the girl wanted to stab me. Why did that happe- YOUR castle?" Jeremiah looked the man up and down incredulously, then groaned and knuckled his brow. "Dammit, what's going on here?"
Lookin' like the bat was right.
I reserve the right to pretend she wasn't until I feel better.
Fair enough.
What does this man want?
We don't know, Cab.
I don't recall asking you in particular. The frog cut off his voices with a sigh. "Alright, lets start from the basics. Apparantly I'm stupid. Why am I stupid?"

[Cogidubnus]

 "They say the eyes are the gluttons of the senses...." the well-dressed being said, unclasping his ears after the ungodly loud retort of the small cannon in Kiet's hand. He looked to the left and right for a moment. "They demand the most and tell us the least. But at least they can be closed. True smell could get onerous. As to my sanity..." he grinned. "Let's not be hasty. I currently suspect I'm in two places at once. How many people have you heard say that?"

He didn't particularly like the way Kiet was keeping him in front - especially with that large a gun in his hand - but he complied without complaint, sticking his hands in his pockets. He seemed to be fishing for something. "Anyway. You're in the antechamber to the shrine of the Lord of Knowledge. You know what this place is, right?" he said, fishing out a brown, thin cigar. He stopped a turned to the Cubi. "Erm, do you have a light...?"

* * *

The two leaf-blades whistled through the air, even as the sharp retort of the gun blasted through the small hallway. Andrace felt the bullet whistle past her, even as she sunk the blade into the cavern wall.
The fox screamed while two body-widths of wall crumbled to ash, letting her move through it before the fox could recover his aim. Her eyes flickered to him as she dove through.

It seemed she might not have needed to do that anyway. One ear was lying bloody on the floor, his right arm tucked underneath his left. Something silvery glittered on the floor. He was screaming.
She doubted, however, that he was the reason the walls were now shaking.

The hole opened into a parallel hall. It was dark - but she could see two figured very distantly down the way, standing still, or at least as still as the shaking would allow them to. Even as she crouched to avoid detection, she felt something warm on her leg.
She was standing in a puddle of blood. A quick check confirmed that it was indeed the wall that was bleeding.

* * *

Cerebus pushed aside an elderly-looking dalmatian ignoring the sudden spilling of wine into a crowd of patrons as he moved to the stairs. He saw Gareeku staring into space at something over there on the first floor, people moving around him as he stood still. The boy was thick, but the nature of his affliction might prove useful soon...the doors were closing.
"Fuck."

He drew several stares, but he trotted down the marble stairscase and began to make his way towards the white wolf, coattails flying behind him.
His kept an eye on the man in red's descent. It appeared it was that time already.

* * *

"...and so you see, madam, if we know who is buying up this currency, we might be able to exert...ah, pressure on...her, him, it, whatever, but as it stands Acadian Silver Kings are going rise in value dramatically, making Acadian exports to Redania..."
Luna rolled her eyes, and nodded at Walter, who approached dutifully. "It will take a great deal of silver for that answer, Braun."

The neat-looking ferret tilted his head just slightly, but Luna continued. "Talk to Walter. He knows me in this." she said, and turned neatly, cutting off further conversation. She nearly bumped into Atem.
"Quiet, aren't you..." she said, sipping on her wine.

In truth, she was the one buying up Silver Kings. Having enough of a country's currency to influence it's economics was a good way to exert pressure on otherwise stubborn kingdoms, and it made for a good hobby. If only she didn't have to change the stamp on all that silver and gold every hundred years or so...

"And what would you like to talk about, sir?" she said.

 * * *

The man in red hissed suddenly, and grabbed his cheek. Blood seeped from between gloved fingers. The eyes on the mask narrowed.

 * * *

"After so many years, Mistress, I would be at fault if I could not recognize you in another skin." Olan said, smiling. "But I am doing well. There's arisen a bit of conflict with someone manipulating Acadian currency that has quite a few people abuzz, but no one is quite sure whose responsible. A very private individual, or more probably a country posing as such. It gives people like my quite a job to do. Seeing the world is a noble goal, and I hope you can forgive me for choosing a different path than walking it." he said, obviously joking. He gave her a small bow of respect anyway.
"You do yourself a disservice as well, Mistress. The monastery is more widely respected than you might suspect. Not to belittle it, of course, but it possesses little that any nation desires, and neither does it threaten anyone. This alone brings forth good will." He said, gesturing to the room. "Or if not good will, at least indifference, which has its own advantages."

* * *

The cat snorted, holding back a laugh, and then gave in and simply leaned against the wall, grabbing the revolver from out of his shirt again. He patted Jeremiah on the shoulder.
"You, I like you. Sensibly insane." he leaned forward, whispering in his ear. "When I become god, I shall refrain from killing you." he put his hands on his knees and stood, still grinning at the frog. "You shall be my high priest. They will sacrifice virgins to you."

He paused, and something glinted in his eye, like looking into infinity. "The spirits white as lightening would on my travels guide me, the stars would shake and the moon would quake, whenever they espied me. And then that I'll be murdering, the Man in the Moon to the powder. His staff I'll break, his dog I'll shake, and there'll howl no demon louder."

He grinned wider at Jeremiah. "I am the dead god of knowledge." he said, barely keeping himself from laughing. "He has the power, but I got the spark." he laughed to himself like there was nothing funnier, and practically jumped, shaking Jeremiah's shouders. "I got the spark!" He said, and pulled Jeremiah's shoulder by the coat. "But I need first to kill myself. You're going to help."

[Lisky]

Baseel tried his best to hide his late entrance nonchalantly, it wasn't that he'd intended to be late, it's just that the molten silver had taken far longer than he'd expected to cool and harden.  As such he was late for the ball.  Sliding through the crowds, he made no attempt to hide his race, and in fact flaunted it.  Silver patterns glistened off his wings which we're partially folded, though fanned slightly over his head.  He engaged in the usual bits of chitchat with those near the door while trying to make his way towards the middle of the massive room.

Instead of his usual dreadlocks, Bas's hair was combed straight, and placed into long cables, held together with silver rings.   He quickly donned a blue mask, with silver around the eyes and rim, a small golden inscription could be seen under the left eye.  As he walked into the ball under mask, he went to go mingle with the crowd.

The demon moved into the main ballroom with what seemed unnatural grace, he seemed to glide across the floor rather than walk.  He noticed that his appearance wasn't nearly as exotic as he'd expected, but he was still exposing his family's affluence rather blatantly.  He took a little while to observe the crowd, his pose spoke of confidence while looking for familiar faces, or perhaps a girl he found attractive.  

[Aisha deCabre]

Gareeku continued to take gulps of his wine, simply trying to relax in the atmosphere of the party despite past events.  He kept looking around at the closing doors, which had still put the warrior on alert, curious as to what was happening.  Interestingly enough, a few new people had gotten in before they did, such as what looked like one very recognizable demon.  The wolf narrowed his eyes.  So long as he wasn't causing trouble, after all...and fortunately Mistress Rynkura was still nearby at the food bar, speaking to the white fox whose robes were akin to the ones she used to wear.  If anything were to happen, they were in easy earshot of each other.

And Cerebus...

He glanced up to the second floor, where he was standing.  Or at least...should have been standing.  Nearly as quick as an eyeblink, the wolf noticed him going down the stairs...and coming straight towards him with what seemed like a rather urgent walking speed.

Gareeku put on a snarl and faced him, standing stoic, but ready if necessary.  "And what the hell do you want?" he growled at the part-demon.

*     *     *

Meanwhile, the white tigress chuckled after listening to her former student's words.  Indeed, he seemed to be doing quite well for himself, and she was always interested in what everyone she knew through life had been up to.

Rynkura took another sip of her red wine and smiled.  "I certainly do not mind.  After all, the monastery has put out more than just healers, including a few adventurers.  I am at least glad to hear that you're working for something worthy, though I wish you luck in solving this endeavor."

The angel let her wings stretch a little before placing them around her shoulders again like a feathered cape.  No student of hers usually knew her Creature heritage, not unless they had proven themselves trustworthy.  More than likely, Olan still was.  "And as for the monastery...I believe that means that I've been doing my job well."  She grinned.  "It is still a place of neutrality.  A sanctuary, where anyone at all shall receive help if they need it.  I seek no enemies and allies are carefully chosen.  I shall have to tell you about how I've gained aid from the Mraisae 'Cubi clan," she laughed.

With a hum, the tigress then turned her head to glance back toward Gareeku.  "Anyway, perhaps you would like to meet my young warrior friend..."

Her words trailed off, suddenly noticing that the wolf was about to have Cerebus run into him again.

"...Perhaps later," she finished with a slight grimace, keeping her ears there, if not her eyes...just in case.  After all, she promised to be of help.  "I'm afraid I wasn't entirely truthful...our coming here actually was littered with a few very minor conflicts."

[SpottedKitty]

Committed to her leap across the tunnel, Andrace flinched, twitching from snout to tail-tip when the fox shot at her. She felt a sting across her left shoulderblade, and heard the bullet ricochet away along the tunnel. She heard the fox scream, though: a quick glance at him was all she had time for before she lunged through the disintegrating hole in the wall. She'd certainly hit him with at least one knife, but it wasn't clear whether he just hadn't dropped dead yet, or was still capable of staggering after her, and maybe shooting her a bit more accurately the next time.

On the other side of the hole, the lioness found herself in a hallway, even darker than the tunnel she'd just left. She managed to keep her feet under her, just barely — the floor felt wet and slippery to her paw-pads, and the shaking walls didn't help, but she stopped before she flattened her snout against the far wall. She crouched back to one side of the hole when she spotted the two people some distance away along the hall. Her right ear flicked back, listening out for any sign of the injured fox following her through the hole. Then the smell hit her nose. Not just a scent, this was an overwhelming stink of blood. She glanced down. The floor was wet, all right, the wall was bleeding where she'd sliced it open. The hem of her skirt, her paws, and what felt like her feet up to the hocks, were soaked and splattered with gore.

Andrace swore under her breath. She'd be leaving a trail a blind and noseless cripple could follow, but she had to move away from that hole. Besides, one of the two people off in the distance looked familar... was it Kiet? She padded along the hallway, her eyes faintly glowing in rainbow colours, holding the Death-sword in front of her. A trail of bloody pawprints led away from the hole in the wall. Just to top off her problems, she felt something warm and damp running down her back: was she bleeding back there, where the fox's bullet had grazed her?

[Boog]

Jeremiah's mind erupted in a cacophony of thoughts, for once a majority of which being his own. The first thought was how incredibly flattered he was; nobody made him offers like this and, even if the man was quite plainly utterly starkers, it was nice of him. Another was the basic thought common to all men that, even if responsibility sucked, authority would be a nice thing to have. However, at the end of the day, he frequently found little use for virgins sacrificed or otherwise ("So, how does this work?" yeah, no), no matter how much poetry the man could recite.
The title the man called himself did strike Jeremiah, though. 'The Dead God of Knowledge.' Dead gods were a scary thought, in that people feared holy wrath to begin with and couldn't see a deity's mood improving by its death. And knowledge... The frog looked the man before him up and down. He most certainly didn't seem stupid, and the way he laughed... It was the way a man laughed at an in joke. When you know something the other person doesn't. Jeremiah ultimately decided he feared this man, even apart from the obvious, honest insanity that seemed to permeate the man's words and attitudes.
But while the cat was holding the firearm he most certainly wasn't going to tell him that. Jeremiah thought fast...
"I am? Er, I am!" The frog tried to seem as enamored of this plan as the other man was, at least until he could get away and tell someone equipped to handle these things about the maniac with the gun who'd saved him. "How and why am I going to do that?"
Folks, lemme tell ya 'bout this cat, that I once met....
Smooooth talker with an export cig-a-rette...

[Azlan]

Kiet shrugged at the question about being in two places at once, "the headmistress of the academy I teach at has been known to be in a very many places at one time and I myself have placed some measures of my consciousness in certain warmachines we fielded in the past.  However, you are quite right, I have never met a being who could claim that credit."

The ringtail flicked his thumb and index fingers together quite like the fluffy-tailed fellow was striking a match.  Not surprisingly, a flame appeared on his thumb and he used it to light the stranger's cigar, "you know, those things will kill you."  He smiled wryly as his eyes scanned the surroundings.

"As the current entity holding that appointment is female, I assume you mean the old, reputedly dead god of Knowledge.  The one whom Shinda supposedly tricked to gain her power.  The cosmologies change, mutate and become misinterpreted over time, so even living as long as I have been graciously allowed to does not grant me a clearer picture on the ancient past, so that bit of lore may be false."  Kiet pursed his brow as he considered a slightly unsettling theory, "now if I have to guess, gods do not cease being very easily.  So if the old knowledge god is dead, then it is possible that aspects of a supplanted god can leak out of its 'shell' and manifest in some form or fashion.  Being 'killed' and existing as 'dead' tend to make creatures like gods very angry and the experience can drive one insane I imagine.  However, true gods cannot be slain as we know it, so it is likely this is a false god.  This shrine likely contains, or contained what remains of the creature... perhaps my mirror has something to, eh never mind.    Does this god have a name by any chance?  Heck, lad, do you have a name?"

Among the gloomy shadows ahead, Kiet thought he saw movement.  His nose picked up the unmistakable tang of blood, but trusting all but his True sight was a risky proposition.  Still he remained wary, though his speech did not change, his ears laid flat back and his tail twitched spasmodically.  

[Cogidubnus]

 "Cerebus." the man said, leaning over Kiet's thumb and puffing. The end of the cigar lit, the little ember smoking softly in the dim. "Not what mom had in mind, but it's what they call me." he exhaled a cloud of smoke and tapped the end of the tight-rolled cigar, dropping ash on the floor. He leaned back against the wall. "As far as the mythology, I'm a little fuzzy on the details myself. But he is the former god, yes. And believe me, gods can die." the end of the cigar flared, and for a moment, cast the strangers face in red. His jaw shifted.
"I'm sorry, did you say mirror?" he rolled the cigar between his fingers, looking at Kiet carefully.

Before the incubus could respond, however, fully half of the stranger's face exploded, and the ringtail felt his eardrums nearly burst with the unexpected explosion of noise. Cerebus fell over, the cigar falling from the intact side of his face. Blood smeared on the wall as he fell backwards.

It was that fox from before, and it wasn't that fox from before. The skin had peeled from his face, leaving only bare muscle and bone, and instead of eyes there were simply holes filled with a lurid yellow glow. One ear was missing, and one hand too, tucked underneath the armpit of the arm that was currently aiming a revolver at him, the barrel still smoking. Blood trailed down his side, the missing ear and hand hemorrhaging. He hissed at the incubus - it wasn't clear if the fox's flayed face could form words, or if his elocution was simply out of anger.

* * *

The first thing that struck Andrace as odd was the change that had come over her surroundings. Now that she had some time to catch her breath, the fading in-and-out of lines of death wherever she was currently focusing became more obvious. It appeared the sword could differentiate enough to not overwhelm her senses with targets, but it was equally clear that no matter where she looked here, it was something that she could 'kill'. She could feel the black steel - if it was steel - practically vibrate in her hand.
She felt thirsty, and she didn't feel thirsty. It was odd.

A few moments passed, and the stones around her again changed. They moved, like some sort of viscous liquid, but soon that changed too, and the movement solidified, like jelly, then like flesh. The walls, the ceiling, the floor, all took on the shape and texture of a writhing mound of muscle and sinew, blood and viscrea mixed in like the base of some foul stew. Faces bubbled to the surface, silent and screaming, and some of them were aware. They stared at Andrace, eyes a mixture of hate and envy.
She heard the gunshot, of course, and looked up to see one of the figures ahead fall over dead. The other turned to look at someone in the adjoining hallway.

* * *

"That's a good question. I haven't entirely figured that out yet. But he can't kill me, oh no, oh no. Or maybe he can. I'm not too sure about this deity thing. At least..." he paused, and the cat's grin faded. "I've got the spark. I know who I should be. But that's not really how I feel. I know more than Apollo, for..." the cat made a face of irrational rage and bit his tongue, the pain making him scream in his throat. Blood dribbled between his lips.
"Ah...ah dew know more thhan Apollo." he said, pausing to suck on his tongue. His lips smacked, and he breathed heavily a moment. "But...I think ah dew understand." he grinned at Jeremiah with pink teeth. "I know what a glass of water feels like when it's drunk. I know that hats can be bats can be cats can be rats can be hats can be gnats can be thats can be thises, and boars can be snores can be boards can be spores can be yours can be mine.

He seemed hesitant to bite his tongue a second time. He looked at Jeremiah helplessly. "I'm not sure, but I think I might be crazy. Which is why I need someone...like you. he giggled - madly, and then promptly seemed to get sad all at once. "I'm easily distracted, I think. And crazy. But I'm not crazy about this!"
He cocked the revolver, pulled the kitchen door open and promptly shot the badger behind it, the top of the former butler's head spattering onto the stairs, and partly onto the tomcat's face. He blew the smoke off the barrel dramatically.
"You keep such odd company! Hurry, or we'll miss the Grand Masque and Bellicose Ball!" he said, hopping onto the rather dead badger's stomach before hopping the rest of the way up the stairs, leaving a trail of spattered brains and gore.

* * *

Cerebus practically skipped across the floor, catching his balance right as he came up to Gareeku. "Take off that mask." he said, almost tripping on his feet. "Now, before it's too late!" his hands reached for the canine's mask, attempting to simply rip it off by force. "Take it of-"
Like a puppet with it's strings cut, Cerebus fell over, hitting the floor violently. The mask on his face split, and blood leaked out from the white plaster. Someone screamed, and the crowd around the white wolf and the mobster parted.

* * *

Luna's attention was diverted from the smallish person in front of her towards the sudden disturbance in the crowd. The ancient dragon frowned. "It looks like the canapes were a little off. This is why I don't eat out." she fanned herself, and craned her neck. It appeared that some black-suited fellow had fallen on his face. From the crowd's reaction, it must have been pretty hard.

"Luna Lazuli."

Luna turned. A man in red stood to the side of the group, his face covered entirely by a flat, sheild-like and entirely blank, white mask. Even with this, the overwhelming feeling of mirth that poured off him, a sheer smugness in his demeanor, was offputting even without a face to attach the emotions to.
Luna was still, and folded her fan quietly. The man took another step down the stairs, pulling a red handkerchief from his pocket. "How fares your oldest, Luna? Still dead?"

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace paused for a moment when she got close enough to the two distant figures to make her a bit more sure the fluffy-tailed one was Kiet Ti'Paollo. He might or might not know by now that she was here: this part of the hall was so dark he probably couldn't see her yet, or know just who she was. And even if he couldn't pick up her scent, he might at least detect the stink of the blood she'd been wading in. She certainly couldn't smell anything else right now. She wriggled her free hand up her back, probing cautiously at the stinging line across her shoulder blade. Yep, definitely bleeding, although thankfully not very much.

She was about to walk on when she realised just how many "strike here to kill" lines she could see, glowing wherever her eyes pointed in an otherwise empty and featureless hallway. It would be hard to believe, except for the way she'd escaped from the tunnel: the walls here could be stabbed and killed. At that thought, a thrill of excitement ran down her body. Her ears and whiskers perked up, her tail lashing from side to side. She drew in a slow, deep breath, letting the smell of blood filter into her nose. Yes, kill... she needed to find something to... No! It's not me thinkin' that, it's... She glared at the sword in her hand. The eagerness to kill, covering herself in blood, drinking it to ease her sudden thirst... she wasn't the one building up into a berserker fury, it was the sword.

Her hackles rose all the way from the back of her skull down to the base of her tail a moment later, when she saw the walls, floor and ceiling change into an intertwining mass of bloody flesh, coiling and squirming and bubbling like some horrible stewpot just beginning to boil. It reminded her of a training session that had given her nightmares when she was much younger. Great-great-aunt Kalliroe had been the Pride's mage over sixty years ago, but her skill at illusions hadn't faded any. Neither had her skill at making a not-quite-teenage lioness toss her cookies. The faces in the wall came close to doing it again, and she concentrated on keeping firm control of her stomach.

Andrace strode forward again slowly towards Ti'Paollo, holding the Death-sword ready to strike or parry. After all, the last time she'd seen the ancient 'Cubi, he'd set his attack cat on her: and if he didn't know that the leopard was dead, she certainly wasn't about to tell him. Yet. He might be upset with her, even if she hadn't been the one to kill his bodyguard. At any rate, with that fox back in the tunnel — unless she'd killed him — ready to put a bullet through her lungs, her best chance was to advance.

The explosion of the gunshot made Andrace wince and flick her ears back. Was someone trying to kill Ti'Paollo before she could? She bared her fangs in a voiceless snarl — Icewing had given her this job, no-one was about to take it from her! She wondered when she'd come close enough for Ti'Paollo to see the rainbow colours of her glowing eyes. She padded forward slowly and steadily, at a pace that could easily shift into a trot, a run, or a full-speed charge...

[Azlan]

Kiet flattened his ears against his head to try and lessen the deafening, echoing roar of the revolver in the hallway.

He regarded what was left of the fox from earlier incredulously, "really?!  I mean really?!  I was talking to that fellow... you know A, B conversation... C your way out?"  The ringtail gestured with his one hand holding the sword to the left the other that held the cannon to the left and then a simple gesture with the thumb pointing the way the creature had come.

Kiet could smell the ichor from earlier, a slight tang different then the fresh sanguine humors of the late Cerebus and though his ears still rang a bit, he caught the brief rush of what seemed to be damp cloth.  Stealing a quick glance he saw but a darker being-ish shape approaching.   

He brought his hand back in a circular gesture, "you know, you are such a horrible guide... you're fired."  He feinted a slight rush towards the fox's right, but spun back to the left and struck the ground with his Tekka.  An explosion of fire engulfed Kiet and rushed to fill the entire hallway ahead and behind him.  This fire spell, known by some to be named Jörmungandr's Rage (odd as the Midgard Serpent does not breath fire), was hot enough to melt mithril if such existed.  The fire buffeted and blasted the walls of the passage and filled into the spaces at each end of the hallway from which it issued forth.

[e_voyager]

i could have sworn i wrote a reply to this topic last week.

Aten had just fully phrased his question when the lady Icewing was interrupted with an visit of and old acquaintance. he inwardly groaned but listened in eve though he knew it was bad manners. Push to shove he need and opening to make his request. when he heard the visitor's remake about dead offspring he shivered. he know this acquaintance was no friend of her's eve some stepping between to old adversaries was more likely to get ones head separated form ones shoulders then stepping between two old friends meeting.  he stared at the approaching figures almost angry at the interruption. even as he stared at the faceless mask he know he was far out of his league. this person wound not notice him if he was stepping on his dead body and would probably careless about that then if his handkerchief got musked or somehow soiled.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace's ears perked forward as she paced slowly but steadily towards the 'Cubi. Was he speaking to whoever had shot his companion? She couldn't quite hear...

Suddenly everything went horribly wrong. Ti'Paollo made a few gestures, and the hallway ahead was abruptly filled with roaring flames — flames that came barrelling towards her with the speed of a Dragon's attack. Her eyes bulged with horror, darting from side to side looking for a way to escape. Nothing, just blank wall, and she'd never be able to run fast enough to reach the hole now far behind her... wait... she could make her own escape route! Andrace raised her sword and lashed out at the nearest wall with a scream that was equal parts fury, dread, and I'm-not-getting-paid-enough-for-this-dammit.

The panicked lioness threw herself towards the wall even before she knew if her sword had cut it open like the last time. She screwed her eyes tightly shut as the flames came close enough to curl her whiskers and dazzle her sight. There was a flash of almost unbearable heat on all her exposed fur, just for a moment, then she slammed into the floor — or a floor, somewhere — rolled over sideways several times, and sprawled there with all the wind knocked out of her lungs. Surprisingly, she still held her sword. Even more surprisingly, she hadn't carved herself up with it as she tumbled. There was a sharp stinging sensation on the last inch or so of her tail. Was her tail-tuft on fire? She wasn't sure, and right at that moment, she didn't care. She was alive. Probably. For the next few seconds, anyway.

[Stygian]

It was amazing just how expressionate a lacquer mask could be. The man cocked his head slightly to the side as he took in Elizabeth's reaction, almost hesitating for a moment at her fairly transparent display of reluctance. He had expected more of a modicum of self-control, or at least some tendency toward self-reassuring pretense, from a Cubi. Then again, she might very well have noticed something by now, so perhaps expecting a facade at this point was too much. He took her hand smoothly, and guided her out onto the gleaming marble floor. For a moment, Elizabeth surmised a shifting in the man's attention; the blank expression of his mask was turned to the door leading back down to the entry hall, and he almost stopped still for a moment. Then she found herself before the gaze of that mask once more as he, with a movement the grace and subtlety of which belied the steady strength behind it, spun her around and seized her other hand, leading her into the first movements.
  The music had altered to a slightly slower, more mazurka-like melody, the waltzing and bounding, almost mocking tones intensifying as they floated across the room. There seemed to be something about the melody that inspired a sense of absurdity, a feeling as though one's whole body were the mask rather than the face piece of the kind all the guests present were wearing. As though one were taking in the world through a warm haze even more dim and filtered than the alcohol and the variety of more than curious hors d'ouvres could account for, and the only thing real were the music. Yet somehow as she found her steps Elizabeth felt as though even that were fading into the background, the lights of the hall dimming and the figure in front of her growing... more solid, somehow. And darker. It was so minute a change that it was hard to tell, but at the same time it was the subtlety of the thing, the way the light seemed to curve like a halo around the darkness of the man's expressive mask, that made it so unnerving.
  'It's already begun, you know,' the man said, his smoothly accented voice peculiarly carrying even through the noise and music despite his hushed speech, and somehow hinting at a smile behind that mask with its tone. For an instant, she could have believed that it was just the festivities he was referring to. But then actual sense cut in, and dreadful realization ruined any chances of blessed and harmless ignorance.
  'Yes, the mirror,' he said suddenly, never taking his eyes off the jackal before him. He led her through the dance with unflustered, calm expertise, steadily aiming toward one side of the hall, carouseling them past the mingling crowd at the edge of the floor now. They swept so close to some of the bystanders that Elizabeth was afraid she might collide with someone as they spun, but despite the fact that the crowd was so close the stranger's solid grip seemed not the least unsure. 'And you should forget about it. Don't reflect on it, if you will allow me that petty pun. The more reflections, the more time and complexities, all of which detract from the whole of the image. And if it shatters...'
  Something brushed against the swirling edge of her dress, and for a moment Elizabeth saw a tall, white figure and a shorter, more apparently flustered figure close together looking up in a moment of confused apprehension, before the crowd and the dancers closed in around them once more. When her gaze, against her better judgment, returned to the dark figure before her, she couldn't help but feel, even more unnervingly than before, that his mask was sneering at her somehow. Even more so than it just had.
  'You know, you do so remind me, Elizabeth,' he said, looking down at her. Gently, they halted right at the edge of the dance floor, before some stairs and a thinning in the crowd. Those black eyes drew her in. And then, the man straightened, as though some recollection had just struck him. 'Oh, it is already too late,' he said, a hint of venom at his words.
  A sudden, iron grip landed on Elizabeth's shoulder. He spun her around, and then, completely disregardful of personal space and decorum, the lacquer-masked man leaned down over her shoulder. Somehow, she felt as though her ear was going to be singed off when he whispered to her, his voice roughening with the closeness and the strain of whispering clearly, syllables fizzing and crackling in her ear. His other hand, just as steady, held her left arm.
  'Listen,' he said, his tone not leaving room for the possibility that she wouldn't. 'You cannot get the mirror for yourself. But you can help others who wish to. And if you do, you'll be helping yourself get out of here alive. Until things settle, stay focused and remember your family values. Meanwhile, I will do what I can to try and keep this endeavour from... falling flat.'
  Right before the jackal, not twenty feet away, Cerebus toppled to the floor. In her momentary surprise, Elizabeth didn't even notice the man behind her disappear back into the crowd.

- -

Bottled up fear and tension was forming a knot in Elyse's stomach, deeply hidden from her outward expression but no less palpable to herself for that. Oh yes, she was going to have a serious migraine after this. Light glinted off the ring as she palmed it and drew back momentarily, turning her head down to move the eye holes of her mask to allow her to study the little object closer. She wasn't sure whether if she could feel magic emanating from the thing, but there was a distinct aura to the little metal circle, the sort of 'personality' that an object closely known and considered important by someone tended to emanate. But that was more of an impression than actual magic, she corrected herself. Elyse knew that rings were a favorite kind of object to enchant; indeed, she was wearing two lightly magically imbued ones of her own right then. But while picking apart and researching what sort of magic objects like that were imparted with was not exactly something she could do in the middle of a dancing floor. She traced a finger delicately around the smooth surface of it. Perhaps it was just a tracing device? Finding someone in a throng like this wouldn't be easy, even if it were a closed environment.
  Something brushed against and caught the edge of Elyse's dress for a moment, and she blinked, turning around fast in a burst of fear that she hadn't quite admitted to feeling. For a moment, she caught sight of a pair of eyes behind a pallid mask marked with profound black, sweeping patterns, marked with apprehension and fear. Then they were gone.
  The crowd and milling dancers sealed the gap there had been immediately, but Elyse kept staring for several seconds. There had been something about those eyes. For a moment there, she had almost felt as though the background noise of thoughts in the room had gone still, or had at least been sordined. But she had seen some panic in those eyes, some knowledge of danger, and it had scared her stiff.
  'I think...' she began slowly, turning back toward Esme with a look that conveyed alarm and comprehension, but hopefully not too much fear. Admitting fear to oneself was only sensible, mostly, but when it came to others it was sometimes best, for their sake, to seem a bit more confident than you actually were. 'I think it would be a good idea to go elsewhere then, so I can have a proper look at it.' She narrowed her eyes. 'It might be a good idea to go elsewhere in general. Let's see if we can't find some other doors...'
  Heels clacking, Elyse cast just one more gaze over her shoulder, as she set off across the floor, moving as smoothly as she could through the crowd without losing Esme.

[Gareeku]

"What the hell do you mean take it off?" Gareeku snapped as the jackal approached. It was clear that something was clearly worrying Cerebus, and even though the white wolf was annoyed and angry that the jackal insisted on bothering him, he was also curious as to what had got Cerebus so flustered.

However, it was then that the jackal suddenly fell straight to the floor in a heap, blood seeping from the fresh crack on Cerebus' mask as his body lay motionless on the group.
What the hell?! Gareeku thought in shock, standing still for a fraction of a second as he looked at Cerebus. It was only the scream from one of the other guests nearby who had seen the jackal fall that snapped the white wolf back.

Removing his mask and placing it on the floor, Gareeku knelt down and turned Cerebus onto his back, removing the jackal's mask to check if he was even alive considering the blood seeping through his mask. Noticing out of the corner of his eye that the surrounding guests had distanced themselves somewhat from the two of them, the wolf looked back at Cerebus once the mask had been removed.

[Boog]

Jeremiah very much wanted to scream.
It wasn't that the man was crazy. It wasn't the brief glimpse of his tongue dripping blood from self-inflicted wounds, trailing down his jaw and making a line of fur on his chin look wet and heavy like wet velvet. It wasn't his litany of rhyming nonsense that made just enough sense, at the time, to him. It wasn't him blasting the badger from before away, strings of wet viscrea hanging away like the trailing gunk of caviar. It was some combination thereof, and the fact that he knew he was going to follow this man.
"I'm not sure, but I think I might be crazy."
It is not fair, that a man with a gun should look that helpless. Should look that easy to identify with. Should give Jeremiah that same look that the frog had at points given a litany of confused and scared and worried friends who found him wandering streets at night in a sleepwalkers daze or trying to break into old factories or caught him screaming at the top of his lungs at someone in his own skull...
Jeremiah stepped around the corpse of the badger, carefully, staggering and planting his heel at the edge of something pink with the consistency of a live lobster cracked open. He briefly studied the remains of the face, committing it to memory for a later drawing...
Y'know I've never seen him without a cocktail in his hands...
And you know he sings a song for the big bad voodoo maaaaan!
Bal laughed madly, letting his joy in all the things in the world going as he pleased rattle around the brain he was trapped in, dancing from neuron to neuron.

[Cogidubnus]

 The fox - if that's what he was any longer - cried out, attempting to jump back into the stone walls before the consuming flames could reach him. A shot rang out -  Kiet felt it whistle past, but to no effect, the lead richocheting harmlessly behind him. Writhing yellow-in-yellow flames splashed onto the fox, dousing flesh and clothing alike in vermilion fire. Though fire is known for it's hunger, this fire seemed ravenous, eating through the fox's clothing and even the walls in mere moments. The fox screamed - an unholy sound, the sound of the most intense and horrible pain, the kind of sound that scratched at the primitive instincts at the back of the mind and caused one to recoil. He rolled on the ground for several moments, and then lay still.

The ringtail felt something grab his ankle. He looked down - Cerebus, sans a bit of his jaw. He seemed to be on fire too, although if that was bothering him, he was being far less vocal about it than the now-smouldering fox.
"You know." he said - which should have been impossible, considering he now lacked the basic apparatus for forming words. "That was a bit much just to light a cigar. I think it's gone now. Not familiar with the concept of overkill much?" he smiled, very disconcertingly." It's going to be a lot hard...oh, shit." he felt his jaw. Kiet saw a faint glow coming from somewhere in the back of the jackal's throat. "How am I supposed conceal this? I...ah. Dammit."

He stood up. Portions of his shins were sticking through, where the flames seemed to be licking the most. He casually brushed a bit of charred suit from his shoulder. "No sah, ain't now way to kill a dead man. So, now you know." he reached inside his tattered jacket for another cigar. He took off one of his shoes, and lit his cigar on the flaming toe, throwing the shoe into the darkness afterwards. He took a puff.
"I think you said you had a mirror, earlier?" he gave Kiet a sideways look. Either he thought the ringtail used to dealing with strange situations - the dead returning to life, seemingly - or he just didn't care. "I think that explains Mr. Triggerhappy's interest in you. That's a very powerful artifact you've got." he took a deep breath of the cigar, letting the smoke leak out his nose. "Yea, for when Ia, God of Knowledge and Light, was presented with it by Shinda, Goddess of Secrets, it revealed to him, himself, in his entirety, even the portions of his mind he knew well enough to lock away. Knowing everything, absolutely everything, all at once, apparently isn't very pleasant. The universe is a depressing place, and it drove him quite mad."

"Anyhow." he ashed on the floor, the cigar remains mixing imperceptibly with the ashes of the stones. "He didn't last long after that. The other gods banded together, and tore him in half - his...'divine spark', if you will, going into that mirror there. Gods are still notoriously hard to kill, and that wasn't the end of him, although it was just a matter of time by then. Shinda was appointed his successor. Supposedly she took his divine essence back and became the current God of Knowledge and Hidden Wisdom."
Cerebus smiled eeriely. "Of course, there are those who say that the God himself locked his essence in the mirror and hid it away, when he knew that the other gods were coming to end him - and that Shinda's greatest secret is that she doesn't have the spark yet. Hidden away in her own artifact, deep in some temple of the former God of Knowledge. So the denizens of hell say."
His face glowed red in the cigar's light. "You didn't look in it, did you?" he watched Kiet carefully, smiling to himself. "I suspect you did not, otherwise you would be quite mad by now."

* * *

Andrace was alive. Her tail mercifully unlit, she found herself in yet another dark corridor, the pathways in the distance hidden in shadow, visible to her only through the strange sight granted by the sword in her hands.

She heard screams coming from the other hall, the sort that made your ears fold back and your gut flip, but none of the yellow flame appeared to have touched her.
The walls, however, screamed silently, faces and bodies and arms writhing madly as they were burned 'alive', so to speak. Another thing that twisted the stomach. She stepped back through the hall, her feet silent.
"...God of Knowledge and Light..."

Her eyebrows raised. It appeared that strange jackal that had been with Kiet before was still alive. Odd for someone missing a large portion of the lower half of their face. She could still see lines of death on him, but not as many, as though he was mostly, nearly entirely, already dead...
The lioness's sharp ears managed to catch their conversation. It appeared she was in it much deeper than she thought.

* * *

"'Oy, you."

Baseel heard someone call his name. He turned. A sqattish dragon in battle regalia - much too pretty for actual use, and impractical - but she certainly seemed to fit the part, in more ways than one. Baseel met her eyes, after the first few tries.
"Couldn't help but notice ya spreading your wings like a deranged canary a secont'ago. Y'cloud put someone's eye out like that, you know." she grinned, and punched him. It seemed friendly, although the air rushing from his lungs seemed to disagree. Dispite their height difference - she barely came up to his chest - she managed to impose over the demon and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Where d'ya hail from, boy? Y'remind me of another boy I once knew, before he joined the war with Scotia. Ended up with his guts in a campfire, he did."

* * *

LL's fan snapped shut. Her eyes went cold.

"You are-"

"LADIES!" the man suddenly said, leaping onto the balcony railing. With perfect balance no less, both arms raised high into the air. "AND, GENTLEMEN! I - BID - YOU  - WELCOME!" he screamed, abhorrently loud, the ballroom ringing with the sound. Both hands snapped fingers, the the air outside split with thunder - the formerly calm, if cloudy sky, now very, very dark. Lightning crackled, and despite the former snow, rain began to patter against the panes of glass. The clouds took on a green tinge.

"Let's let the Masque really begin, shall we?" he giggled. "I hope you liked your refreshment."
He gestured with his other hand. The room flashed pure white. The windowpanes exploded. All at once, everyone fell. Every third or fourth person, however, started to smile beneath their mask, and the room suddenly filled with the sound of laughter. Manic, lungsplitting - and from their eyes, hidden behind gauze, plaster, or silver, bright red blood ran. Laughter, consuming, overpowering laughter drowned out everything - a strange, terrifying mass cry of madness, a sound that drowned out the rain and thunder and falling glass. It grew louder, and louder, until one could hardly even hear it anymore - just some animal cry that split the ear and soul. Those who did not weep blood simply wept, or hid beneath their own arms.

 "Bloody gods are coming back..." the man said, his own laughter joining theirs. He heard a roar from behind him, one of depthless rage. Mouthless, he grinned. He felt her tail slam into his back, and he sailed across the room to bury himself in the wall opposite.

Luna's mask of fire was gone, and in it's place her face seemed to have frosted over. She hissed, her eyes like frozen orbs as she watched the red man sail across the room. She at once began transforming, the diminutive matriarch growing to her full size, a dragon larger than the balcony she stood on - but because of the castle's special properties, she stood on it with room for the other denizens to spare. Lightning crackled from crystal teeth, and power sparked from her hide. Magical force - invisible, but certainly not intangible, moved to crush the small man across the room into paste.

Below them, however, the doors had slammed open, and people - if they could be called that, clothed in rage, missing arms and legs and armed with pitchforks, butcher knives, and sometimes their own body parts, began attacking the guests - those who did not join them in slaughtering their companions, and reveling in the bloodshed.

* * *

"You're not sqeamish are you?" the tomcat asked him as they climbed the stairs. "That would be very bad. Very, very bad. Lots of blood in our future, sir, lots and lots and lots and lots..." he cocked the gun, and with the most delicate caution put his ear up to the door at the top of the stairs. He paused, as though listening for something.
And, after his attempt at stealth, slammed the door open. A servant turned his head and hissed, before his brain exploded like a melon. The man flipped open the chamber of the revolver, and started loading bullets.
"Hmmm, ah..." he stepped into the hall. Two guards at the doorway turned to stare, and another two shots rang out. He grinned.

"You know, I thought my aim would deteriorate, what with the whole insane thing." he grinned at Jeremiah. "Turns out guns and crazy mix really well! Mind the blood spatter, wouldn't do to get messy. Very formal ball, you see." he kicked a bit of brain - gray blue, the consistency of a light marshmallow - off his shoe, and continued to the door, tracking blood the whole way. "Oh let's all go the lobby..." he snickered.
And a moment later they were both knocked off their feet, the entire castle shaking - and the sound. The sound!

"Oh dear! The Masque has begun!" the cat said, springing to his feet. "We're late!" he grabbed Jeremiah by his shirt collar, and with his other hand the door handle. He swung it open with a flourish, and managed to hit some fleeing noble square in the face.
He said nothing more, although the expression on his face was worrisome. Almost automatically, the revolver began aiming at faces in the crowd - some nobles, some not, some of strange, dessicated looking folks - and working through them, one by one...
"Tho demons will assail me, They'll try on my path enslave me. But the truth fulfilled, The battle drilled, Are destroyed and they'll no more be..."


* * *

"I...dammit!" Gar couldn't feel a pulse, but Cerebus pushed his hands away for some reason, and reached for the white wolf's face. "Take the damn thing of-"
 Gar heard no more, except for the blinding light - he heard the windowpanes break in the midst of some great explosion, and a sound like rushing air...

And woke up to some tart in a dress far too revealing attempting to hit him with a drink tray.

 ** *

Rynkura, suddenly, found herself in a different place entirely.

Her blood boiled in her veins, and her mind felt like ice. Something was choking her throat - couldn't breathe...

She realized it was laughter. The leader of the monastery felt some presence in her, and when the powerful angel turned her attention inwards, she could see it. To say it was an attempt at mind control would be to say that tornadoes make for windy weather. It was unbelievably strong, the sort of stuff accomplishable only by advanced, complicated ritual or truly ancient power.
Her training as a monk gave her a resilience to this sort of mental domination. However, many of the people around her did not have such an advantage. Even Olan, her student, was grinning strangely, and reached for the ornamental dagger at his belt...

[Lisky]

As the Dragon lady gave him a seemingly friendly punched, a barely audible whoop of air left poor Baseel's lungs, he recovered his poise as he sucked a breath of air back in and hardened his skin slightly, not nearly what he was capable of, but enough that it would give a little resistance if his new 'companion', if that was the proper word for it he mused, would try it again.

He eased back into his stance, displaying confidence that bordered on, but didn't quite cross into arrogance.  He gave the Dragon a formal bow and replied "Baseel Wolkshammer, hailing from the Wolkshammer Dukedom, on the eastern coast."  He flashed a friendly smile, and altered his pose, although only subtlety changing anything about him, the fractions of an inch drop in both wings and shoulders gave the demon a much more friendly presence.  Continuing with the small talk as she wrapped an arm around his waist, "I'm sorry about the little display... I don't know if you've ever tried dealing with molten silver, but for me, it leaves the wings rather stiff until it hardens properly and i just needed to work out a few kinks."

The demon's focus was on the girl rather than the other guests, for he hadn't noticed the sudden appearance of the little man until he shouted his welcome.  As the man finished his speech things truly went to hell, or at least the second closest thing Baseel had ever experienced to it.  

He reacted almost entirely on instinct, breaking away from the dragon girl and casting 3 spells in a little over a second.  The first adjusted the properties of the silver on his wings, allowing them to flex as if the silver weren't there, the second banished his coat and shirt back to his parent's castle, and the third summoned his great shield, which appeared on the demon's left arm, already attached and combat ready.  Furthermore, the now shirtless canine hardened his skin to the best protection he could provide as he began preparing for the onrush of madness.  He stood posed, appearing as something akin to a viking god as he waited for the fleshy tide.  His right hand hung loosely at his side, claws extended and giving off a black, sinister mist.  Anyone who could recognize magic would know that he had some type of dark type spell ready.  

(OOC not know to the players, unless they are exceptionally skilled at reading spells, He's going to cast a Shroud of Darkness spell, creating the visual effects of an exceeding thick and choking smoke, limiting visibility to almost nothing to all except the caster, though besides visibility getting destroyed, the spell has no other side effects.)

[Aisha deCabre]

Rynkura had felt it in her blood that something terrible was going to happen.  Even in the midst of what seemed to be a calm aristocratic affair, she knew it somehow...and after the doors had shut them in like prisoners in a death camp, it all went horribly wrong.

The tigress had turned before her student could say anything more, in surprise at hearing a scream and having something fall to the ground.  The crowd parted around Gareeku and Cerebus, the latter of whom was still yelling to the white wolf about removing his mask, and had his own split in half...his face bleeding profusely.

"Pardon me if you will, Olan," The tigress said in haste as she started toward the wolf and his enemy, slipping her own mask off in the process.  The Healer had taken an oath to tend to any wounded, no matter their origins, and this wasn't any kind of exception...she also had to see if the wolf had hurt himself too.  But Rynkura couldn't shake the feeling of suspicion...and when a strange man had leaped to the balcony, his voice ringing out to get the attention of everyone in the ballroom, her eyes narrowed.  Hadn't they already been welcomed...?

Then, it all went to hell.

Windows shattered, the room flashing white...people in the room suddenly going insane and brandishing weapons...a dragon growing to an immense size...

Rynkura felt sick...mentally, physically, spiritually...when she overcame her confusion to notice what went on.  And even then she found herself fighting something on the inside.  Her mind...something was attempting to poison her mind!  And the others as well, more than likely.

Concentrate, Rynkura Msh'taan, concentrate... the disciplined angel berated herself.  If she got out of this, and got Gareeku out of it more importantly while at it, then someone was going to be a lot to answer for.  One thing at a time.

But after the blinding flash, and the other forces having blown even the tigress off her feet...she found herself surrounded.  Looking around, struggling still with her inner strength to fight off what was trying to take her mind, she saw to her horror that even one of her own faithful students had fallen to it.  Her keen ears caught his unholy laughter...her eyes seeing the shimmer of the dagger he was wielding...

...Which was suddenly knocked out of his hand by a flying bolt of white magic, courtesy of the angel's quick mark.  Her emerald eyes were glowing, her form shrouded in holy light, and her bold striped wings spread to their full length.

"Olan, really..." Rynkura chuckled, her voice reverberating slightly...speaking as much to whatever took his mind as to the fox himself.  "You think that you can easily take out your superior?"

A snap of her fingers, and the bracelet around her arm once again disgorged the staff that--somewhere in his mind he remembered--she always kept on hand.

"I'm sorry..." she admonished silently, before unleashing a lance of lightning towards him...not enough to kill, but certainly enough to stun.  Whether it hit or not, still struggling against being taken herself, Rynkura spread her wings and leaped above the heads of the crowd, flapping her wings to try and get some altitude...perhaps to get to the second floor so that she could look down on the crowd.  The heavy smell of blood wafted through the air, and the Healer's heart was torn.  So many people...all of this needless carnage...

All for what?  WHAT?!

"Sir Manoko!" her voice rang out, trying to reach the wolf's ears, wherever he was.  She had to find him first.  Then deal with the situation at hand, if not find more allies who were fighting it.  "Gareeku!  Where are you?"

Meanwhile, wherever anyone was trying to get to her, the tigress always tried to meet them with an attack of her own.  Darts of light enchantment with the power to weaken, if not purge, curses...though this curse was indeed strong, and she wasn't concentrating well enough to give her powers their full capabilities.

But had to work a little...for she too was strong...

[Boog]

Jeremiah winced with each gunshot, grimacing at the man's comments on his aim. He didn't like guns. They were loud and scary and hurt people and he'd never seen anyone get smarter the more they used them. Jeremiah licked his lips nervously, tasted some salty spattered bit of gore from one of the guards and gagged. And then the castle shook, with a horrifying noise.
Take a ballroom dancing song. A waltz, most likely. Play it slowly and haltingly, like the musician keeps forgetting where it was. Through in the sounds of a slaughterhouse, not the animal screams as they're ushered to the killing floor but the uncomfortable bleating as they're kept in a cage beforehand, the red smell of meat all around them telling them how very screwed they are. Throw in a child's voice every so often for good measure. And laughing. Nervous laughter, like the kind that follows a joke where someone says "now I'm not racist, but-!" Before it. All of that being fed through a tuning fork.
The sound was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike that. The frog's teeth ground and his eyes shut and the tendons of his neck stood out like ropes as he tried to keep the sound out. It didn't hurt. It was too dreadful to hurt. It was horrible.
Bal, dancing around nervous signals like a thousand snowflakes.
Nex, retreating further and further down into the mind like a diving submarine, seeking refuge amongst the deepest crevices of the ocean floor.
Plic, grabbing what she can in the panic...
Jeremiah was jerked from this by a hand at his collar. The cat. The cat knew what was happening. Stay with him, the cat will make it all okay. The cat the cat the cat...
This impression was lost as soon as the man opened fire on the havoc in the ballroom. The cat is fucked in the head! This is a bad bad plan! Oh god, this is a bad bad plan!
The artist was horrified. People were turning on one another with glee, the highest nobility mingling with what looked to be the very lowest of lepers in an orgy of violence. Above the room, a figure barely recognizeable as the regal-looking dragoness from before screamed her rage across the ballroom, reduced to a predatory beast. It was a complete sampling of society, all of it trying to eat each other.
Jeremiah broke away from the cat's grip and staggered back, trying to back through the way he'd come, nearly sobbing in fear and grief. All that horror, all that wastefulness, a disgusting and carnal satire of every attempt at diplomacy in HISTORY...
And him without his sketchbook!

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel's wandering and chatting to various acquaintances had taken her halfway around the balcony from the spot where her grandmother was holding court. Even from that distance she could tell by her grandmother's posture that someone had made her very very angry. Before Mel could decide what to do the red clad bedlamite released some sort of spell and everything went wrong. The horrid barrage of sounds momentarily drove Mel to her knees, her hands over her ears, but her grandmother's roar brought her back upright. Her brain paused for a moment at the sight of Luna Lazuli Icewing in an out-of-control rage. Her grandmother was famous for her strong self-control, Mel had never seen the woman who raised her like this. It was the bloody chaos of party-goers attacking each other that got her mind racing again. She could feel the magic designs on her wings pulsing and glowing as various protective runes wound amidst the designs alerted her to and defended her from various spells cast nearby.

Mel's first action was to pull up a heavy shield, pushing those near her a double arms length away. Her second was to arm herself with disks of air. A tornado compressed to the width of a thread it was like throwing invisible saw blades. Armed and armored she started towards her grandmother's side. This was more difficult that it sounded. Those who were not actively attacking her were trying to flee the area containing a large and almost infinitely powerful enraged dragon.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Tim turned from the window, her reverie broken by the incredibly loud shout of welcome. Tearing her eyes from the view, she glanced up at crimson-clad man on the balcony railing. "...Refreshment? Did I miss it already?" she thought, to herself.

And then, around her, the manic laughter started. She could see blood, dripping from the eye sockets of some of the guests. And then it hit her - where the heck had Rover gone to? She'd had her eye on him not a moment ago...

... or was it longer? How long had she been looking out at that gorgeous view?

She could barely hear the doors slam back, over the wailing of the crowd. Surely there was no way she could see over them - not like this. Since she couldn't see the big gryphon anywhere -  all she could see were crowds of weeping people - there was only one solution. She swept wide her wings, clearing her immediate area (bowling several guests over), and took to her wings.

Once off the ground, she spun on a wing tip, dodging around the man who'd been thrown across the ballroom like a rag doll, not to mention the magical fields following him like the avenging forces of the heavens; speaking of which, she swooped well clear of the white angel, who was rising, and blazing, like the evening star, firing white sparks out in all directions like a catherine wheel. From up here, she could see the fighting that had broken out, and the broken bodies that were either lying, sprawled in heaps, or, worse, fighting with the guests.

She swooped around the many balconies, but there was still no sign of the big doofus. Where had he gone?



In the shadows, two huge eyes glittered. That annoying toy - and the fun winged wolf who followed him around - had vanished, but the party he'd been promised looked like it was about to start...

[techmaster-glitch]

   As Karazkt was wating his turn to speak with the Queen of the hive, he antennae began picking up some strange disturbances. He kneeled down again, placing his antennae on the ground for better reception. There were surfacers approaching, many of them, and fast. Though, there was something...off, about their vibrations and the way they moved that set them apart from the surfacers in the cavernous structure.
  Then something very strange happened. A single surfacer spoke to the entire congregation, and then set off a sequence of event that completely confounded the poor Insectis. many of the surfacers in the room collapsed, emitting a horrible, enveloping sound that threatened to crush Karazkt. He vaguely noticed his objective, the Queen, transform and throw offensive magic. In and of itself, this was incredibly confusing. But then, something he perceived clearly was the mass of surfacers he detected burst into the room, and began...
  Everything that Karazkt was in his mind was telling him that the event he was witnessing was absolutely impossible. Inter-hive wars were fought between Insectis, yes, it made them strong, forced them to adapt and evolve. But it was carried out in certain ways, according to Insectis biology, abilities, and social structure. In this case, because Insectis could detect anything moving and in contact the ground, they were always aware of any invading force. It couldn't be possible, but...the surfacers seemed unaware that the crudely attacking surfacers had been approaching. This was so far out of Karazkt's paradigm, that the Insectis language didn't even have a representation for the circumstances of this "battle".
  Karazkt could only conclude that this was planned, had been allowed to happen. In short, something normal for surfacers.
  However, Karazkt would not, could not, have any part of it. This was not his Hive. And he still had a mission to complete.
  Quickly assessing the situation and the environment (with his antennae senses), he sprung into action. Preparing his inborn earth magic, he moved his postion slightly, and opened a hole in the stones right at his feet. He dropped down to a corridor under the ballroom, and immediately began making his way to the nearest wall bordering the outside, an internal "map" of the area generated by his senses guiding him. He had to get back to his diggermech.

[Gareeku]

Putting two fingers to the jackal's neck, Gareeku was shocked to find no pulse. Cerebus was dead...but how? One moment he had been striding briskly towards him, very much alive, and the next...his lifeless body had collapsed to the floor...

It was then, however, that a voice could be heard shouting very loudly over from the balconies. Looking up, Gareeku saw that a red-dressed figure was stood upon the balcony railings, his balance perfect, screaming a welcome to the guests. Immediately the wolf's eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed. He didn't like this strange being at all. As the stranger screamed out with his arms spread wide, Gareeku's blood suddenly ran cold. Something bad was about to happen. Something very, very bad...

"I...dammit!"

Whirling his head back round to look back at the jackal, the wolf's eye widened as Cerebus suddenly sprang to life, pushing his hands away and starting to reach for his face, ordering Gareeku to take his mask off.
"What the-! Listen you idiot!" The wolf snapped, still shocked that Cerebus was in fact alive, or seemed to be at least. "I've already taken my mask off! What the hell is goin-"

Then, it happened.

The blinding white light filled the room, causing Gareeku to shield his eyes from the brightness. The thunderous smashing of the windowpanes could be heard, the force knocking the wolf, along with everyone else, to the floor. Landing on his back, Gareeku could not see anything apart from a white screen obscuring his vision. However, hearing was a different story. Slowly the laughter began...chilling, disturbing insane laughter that steadily crescendoed into feral-like screaming, hurting the ears as it reverberated around the room. And all along the laughter from that man could be heard...he was responsible for this, it seemed.

The worst was yet to come, Gareeku would soon find as the white screen faded to reveal his normal vision. Everywhere around him many of the guests were howling with that disturbing screaming laughter, but what was most disturbing was that many of them were crying tears of crimson blood behind their masks, flowing down their faces as they began to rise from their feet.

Suddenly further chaos erupted. A crowd of what could only be described as rag-wearing twisted monsters, some even missing limbs, hell bent on death and descruction burst into the room, brandished weapons such as pitchforks and knives and even their own limbs, immediately setting on many of the guests. Those guests who had been laughing that horrible insane laughter joined in, picking up anything they could get their hands on and attacking the others. Gareeku looked on in horror at what could only be described as some sort of twisted nightmare, or even hell itself...that insane laughter ringing in his ears...pools of blood splattered on the floor...the screams of the dying...

...the scantly-clad tart lunging at him with a drinks tray...

Gareeku had only barely managed to duck out of the way of the crazed woman's attack, having been able to feel the edge of the drinks tray skim over the top of his head. Immediately whirling round, the wolf then grabbed his assailant by the shoulder with one hand, spun her back to face him, and then drove his soul energy-enveloped fist into her face, knocking the woman out cold as she fell to the floor.

Now that that problem had been taken care of, Gareeku thoughts then immediately turned to Rynkura. Was she alright? And where the hell was that strange figure dressed in red? The wolf looking around while trying to stay clear of any crazed attackers, not failing to notice the large and very pissed off dragon making herself present. Looking at where the dragon was, the lupine warrior found the stranger to buried in the wall, the dragon obviously having something to do with that.

Then he heard her from above. Looking up, Gareeku found the mistress to be flying overhead, calling his name as she scanned the chaos below.
"Rynkura!" The wolf bellowed, taking care of another crazed attacker after calling back. "Down here!"

Looking round, Gareeku then spotted Cerebus. He seemed to be ok, but at that moment, the lupine wasn't concerned about.
"Right..." the wolf growled menacingly, grabbing the jackal firmly by the shoulders when it was relatively safe to do so. The adventurer had the feeling that his old foe knew what was going on. "If we get out of this, we're going to have a little chat."

Gareeku wanted answers, and by hell he was going to make sure he got them.

[Azlan]

Kiet cringed slightly as the fox's screams assailed his ears.  The intensity of the emotion enriched him, adding a bit of euphoria to his current consciousness, but the primal intensity of the horrific pain was something even an old campaigner was unsettled by.

The ringtail almost dropped a literal bomb right between the eyes of the jackal who should be dead, "you really should not do things like that if you wish to remain reasonably intact.  The dead can't heal naturally, that's assuming undead is what you are.  Somehow I feel it is more complicated than that."

Retrieving his Tekka from the ground in front of him, Kiet chortled, his eyes sparkling, "oh I am mad alright, but not insane.  Angry, yep... off rockers, nope.  So, all this talk of gods is grand, but what specifically does this have to do with me... Luna... the Ball, or you for that matter Mr. Cerebus?"

Or whatever that thing is that is lurking about near, it does not approach and declare itself, but it has not attacked either.

"Oh and while you are at it, what dogs our steps?  And more importantly, what shall we do now?"  Kiet inquired as he absentmindedly moved forward, continuing in direction they were originally headed.