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

[e_voyager]

Madness. The ball had become and excise in madness and the stranger had been the cause of it all. Well if not the cause as that was probably putting the cart before the horse he was at least the catalysis.  Now the best chance he had of find out his family tree was and enraged behemoth. Her granddaughter seemed to be under attack and if he had not been lucky enough to fall off to the side he of the matriarch when she attacked the loon might have been killed. As if he was trying to figure out who was part of the madness that the weird fellow has apparently sung up.  Dodging and running he turning the first item he laid his hands on (some other guest's cane)  into a weapon. Confused and growing more then a little angry Aten tries to stay out of the way of some of the larger guest while trying to get out of this party in one living  piece

[Aisha deCabre]

Flying over the crowd, Rynkura found that she could still barely concentrate.  But for now, the disturbance in her mind was held back due to the intense healing enchantment of the staff in her left hand.  Her right was used to defend herself, attacking the guests at hand with those pointed darts of light...whichever ones decided to turn against her as well.

A few of the other guests who could had also taken to wing...through her glowing eyes she could see the gryphon Tim having the same idea, a safer route through the air.  Things were thrown at them of course, but nothing that couldn't easily be deflected.  She made sure as well to stay out of the way of the giant dragon still keeping ground in a large portion of the ballroom (and speaking of large Creatures, who the heck knew where Rover was...).

But finally, to the old Healer's relief, she heard Gareeku's voice in reply down below, dealing with his own crowd of raving, laughing, bleeding attackers.  A few of them were lying unconscious, and one looked like Cerebus.

"Thank goodness...are you alright?" Rynkura asked the white wolf as her wings carried her to a clear piece of ground around them.  She had to raise her voice over the shouting.  "I don't know what's going on, but it is advised that we get out of here, quickly...something has been trying to control my mind, and I believe that's what's happened to the guests...I wish we had time to save the innocent ones, like my former student."

She was interrupted by another attacker, whose face was instantly met with a bolt of cleansing light.  At least Gareeku would know that the tigress was still herself.  "I can carry us up to the second floor to get a better view, if you think that's best...and is he alright?" she said, referring to the jackal in the warrior's grip.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace was relieved — and more than a little amazed — that she wasn't on fire after the last couple of minutes. Still listening intently, she paused once more, just out of the range where Ti'Paollo would likely be able to see her. She took a deep breath and let it hiss quietly out between clenched fangs. Her ears twisted and turned, and her tail lashed back and forth with her agitation. With a deity involved, even if it was a dead (but still active) one, the whole situation had just become a lot more complicated, and a lot more dangerous. Her instincts screamed at her to charge forward, pounce on the 'Cubi with a gutting kick and an earsplitting roar, and sink her fangs into his throat. Her training urged her to wait, that her prey could kill her in a hundred gruesome ways before she could lay a single claw on him.

I hate havin' t' do this, she thought resignedly, but there's precedent, Irene had t' do th' same a few years back. The lioness took a deep breath, tossed her head to swing her hair back over her shoulders, and strode forward into the lighted part of the hallway, where Ti'Paollo and the possibly not-entirely-alive jackal had to be able to see her. She knew she must look intimidating: the hem of her skirt was soaked with blood, and she might still be leaving a trail of red pawprints if her pads hadn't dried out yet. More blood had splashed up her body when she fell, and it felt as if something wet and squishy had slipped down the front of her dress. She held the Death-sword in front of her body in a guard posture, and she knew that behind the charcoal-black blade, her eyes were glowing with rainbow light.

"I ain't nobody's doggy, followin' their steps," she said with almost audibly forced good humour. "Kiet Ti'Paollo, I presume. I'm Andrace Kithara. An yeah, it's been me after y' f'r th' last little while. I heard what y' perf'rated friend here said, though —" she nodded towards the jackal, "— an' if it really is gods stickin' their oar in, we'll prob'ly need all o' us on th' same side t' get out o' here again. If there is anyone back in th' ballroom in a fit state t' fight. In one piece'd be nice. A truce, 'til then?"

After all, she mused thoughtfully, if the god killed Ti'Paollo, so much the better. If not, there would be plenty time to cut his throat or put one of her sister's special bullets into the back of his head later.

[Lisky]

Baseel watched in horror as many of the guests were butchered while others were reveling in the slaughter.  He threw his shield at the fleshy tide heading his way, then sent his spell into their midst.  The black cloud filled a hefty portion of the ballroom, and effectively blinded those caught in the dark mist.  Baseel himself grabbed the dragoness by the arm and said "stay close, we're getting out of here... now"

[Azlan]

Kiet turned carefully, for assassins should be treated not unlike deadly, wild animals.  Any sign of weakness and it would pounce.  However, she suggested a truce, forced by the extraordinary circumstances of a dead god's throes, making her the worst kind of danger... a caged, deadly, wild animal.

Still, a wise creature had once said, keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.  He nodded giving a curt precise response, "yes."  He would have left it at that, but recognition dawned on him, "you are the one from the knife shop earlier in town and the one following us earlier down here."  He did not notice any scent of Camiole among all that blood, it was recognizably of being originally, not that anything but great volumes of her blood would be detectable among the menagerie of gore.

Even if she did not do it, there is no way I can ignore what I feel... Cam is gone.. He straightened up a bit and turned to continue walking in silence awaiting a reply to his earlier questions from the jackal.  Truce did not mean conversation after all.

[Yugo]

Esme studied the vampire bat with a mixture of concern and worry, attempting to search for some facet of outwardly displayed emotion beneath Elyse's mask but finding none. The ring seemed to be having no real direct impact on her other than bringing forth what was likely a scholarly interest in the curious object, and Esme was mixed in whether she should be relieved or more distressed than she had been before she had passed off the bejeweled symbol. Although her expertise lay in light-focused and defensive magic, she knew from past studies and pursuits that jewelry such as rings, necklaces, and earrings were often enchanted with subtle but nonetheless poweful effects. The ring could be anything from just a decoration to a magical explosive. The timid feline understood they were being rather indiscreet as it was by not dancing while in the center of the ballroom, and she had her doubts about how subtle performing a full-blown magical analysis on the object amid the crushing flock of attendees that surrounded them.

Her thoughts turned to a trail of tatters as Elyse whirled around, an uncharacteristic wave of fear washing over her as the other woman did so. Although she could neither see or hear whatever had threatened the tall bat-woman, her instincts told her she should be afraid, and Esme was more than happy to follow them. Elye's posture and visual fixation on whatever had threatened her so was making icicles form in the pit of her stomach, cold paralyzing worry spreading outward to her chest. The lynx nodded mutely in response when the bat seemed to regain her senses. The long violet cloth of her dress swished over the clicking heels of her shoes as the two women deftly passed through the organized chaos of the ballroom, snatching occasional glances to the side and behind her for whatever had made Elyse so spooked. She was beginning to feel increasingly helpless in the face of her too-easy task.

[Cogidubnus]

 Cerebus kept an uneasy eye on Andrace, using his tongue and what was left of his mouth to suck on his cigar. "Charmed." he said, visibly edging away from the both of them.
Before the lioness had arrived, he'd been smiling darkly at the ringtail. Her presence, however, for whatever reason, seemed to have unnnerved him. He fidgeted for a moment before answering Kiet's questions. "I am undead, yes. I may have lied to you earlier." he shrugged, somewhat nonchalantly. "The dead also are seldom in two places at once, I will say."

A trace of a smile tugged at what was left of his jaw. "Luna is here because her ball is here. As far as I know, she was ignorant of this." he sighed, and let the smoke from his cigar leak out the holes in his throat. "As to my being here, well, I learned of this treasure through my own unique circumstances. I was dead, you see. The dead know very much, but seldom accept coin for their knowledge. I owe certain individuals a great deal for my presence here." he paused, ashing the cigar. "That mirror in large part was to be my payment. My plan, of course, was to steal the power for myself, but..." he grinned at Kiet. "My immediate problem outweighs my eventual one. For example..."
The caverns shook. Cerebus shrugged. "We're in what is, effectively, an entirely separate plane from the rest of reality, controlled by the God of the fellow you just killed. Why we're not dead yet I'm not certain."

* * *

The first thing Basilisk felt was a ball of iron slam into his gut, knocking the wind out of him and putting him back a couple steps, and the next was the arm he was holding twisting his own and dragging him forward at an alarming speed.
"We ain't going fuckin' nowhere." he heard the voice from before say from the darkness. It was a bit...larger-sounding, than before. "You fuckin' keep out of the way before you get stepped on."

The next thing he knew, there was a tremendous tug on his arm, and he was being propelled through the air at an alarming speed. He exited the cloud of darkness at a high arc, coming out from above, and noticed that he was on a collision-course for the upper balcony, specifically at the red-eyed player of a rather nice-looking cello. One second later he slammed into it with a sickening crunch of wood and flesh, and found himself tangled in a mess of former instrument and former orchestra player, one impaled on his head and the other's strings tangled in his somewhat fanciful armor.
It didn't stop him from seeing a fully-grown dragon soar out from the depths of the spell of darkness, however - an immense creature, small for a dragon but a behemoth amongst the other denizens of the room, covered in bright scarlines and with jagged teeth and claws, her great wingbeats scattering the dark cloud beneath her. A piece of her spine-fin seemed to be missing as well.

Brunhilda roared.

* * *

The ballroom shook.

The collected power of the dragon queen shattered the red-cloaked man's body, smashing it through wooden paneling and splintering the stone wall behind with ungodly force, the pillars of ethereal blue - a pillar and a thousand strands at once - slamming him into the wall with enough force to crack the ancient castle, a seam running from ceiling to floor. What was left of the body filled the crevice like a cherry ground into soft dirt. Luna roared, again shaking the walls, and temporarily drowning out the din of violence beneath her.

Blood flowed downwards, and then turned dark. It dripped, and ran upwards, and then bloated like a boil upon the stone wall, a cloud of dark purple like the flesh of a plum run through with streaks of cream. Dark laughter emanated from the display of power, the dark slick of presence coalescing back into the form of a red-dressed man with a solid-white, heart shaped mask. His very poise and posture suggested amusement, a difficult feat of expression for a person devoid of feature.
"My love in her attire shows her wit, for it so well becomes her - for every seasons dressings fit, for winter, spring and summer," The Mad God's voice was thick with amusement, posing dramtically in the air. Luna growled, preparing a spell. "No beauty she doth miss, when all her robes are on - But Beauty's very self she is, When all her robes are gone! he snickered, and as Luna was finishing her spell promptly gestured downwards with both hands.
Blue-within-blue power cracked through the ballroom and scythed at the great Dragon, slicing around and through several parts of the wall before arcing at her from both sides. She'd hadn't quite finished her spell, and the magic on her tongue fizzled as both her right and left hands reached out and with a great thunder simply grabbed them both, crystal claws gripping them gingerly - and nearly lost her grip. Her eyes narrowed, and the not-quite-white dragon snarled.
She sucked in air, and breathed. Crystal fire, painfully blue, like the sky reflected in an island lagoon, or ice frozen around a sapphire, sucked the heat from the room like the north wind robbing a blacksmith of his forge. It chilled everything, and cast the room in an eerie, almost saccharine blue.

* * *

Jeremiah felt a tug on his collar, and was soon being dragged by his shirt behind the cat, wincing at the rapid clip that the cat was firing the revolver in his hands.
"Heyo! Boyo, this isn't a great place to stand and chat! Or cower and die." he said, scurrying forward. "Death, destruction, madness, the Grand Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you..." he paused, the end of the revolver barrel shot flame, and a fat beagle in a tuxedo's head exploded. "Every death adds his power, every act of carnal brutality, every inhibition and repressed desire's flourish feeds him, makes him strong..."

They were about in the middle of the room, and the cat dropped him unceremoniously. The room cracked like thunder, and then stilled - and everyone was bathed in a icy-blue light, like looking at the sun from the clearest ocean that ever was.
"But I know...know...know how..." he coughed, spat, and simply dropped the revolver.

He began to gesture violently, first up then down, and then in eldritch and arcane positions, glittering runes taking up the air around him until he was surrounded with them, the sigils glowing gold and red in turn, then turning and illuminating the air as though he was drawing on parchment, graceful lines and twists burning and flashing, and the air around him curdled like the grass on a hot day swam with heat.
A bead of sweat dropped from his nose.

* * *

Tim didn't see Rover anywhere, but she knew he had to be somewhere. Her heart fluttered trying to explain to her superiors how, exactly, she'd lost a giant Gryphon, at a dance, indoors, while he was wearing a giant suit to make him look like a daisy.
But he simply wasn't there. The giant inrush of air as something massive took off, and her subsequent smacking into the body of an enraged ice dragon didn't seem to make his location any clearer either. She felt the air vibrate around her as the dragon roared, and wished absently that her wings would stop being numb so that she might not hit the ground so -very- hard...

It turned out, however, that she broke her fall on the body of a very distressed-looking french poodle, in a gown about two sizes too small for her, with bloodstains turning her fluffy white hair pink. A broach with a long pin in her hand dripped blood.
The neck twisted back, and two red, beady eyes bored into Tim's. She felt the body squirm under her, trying to pin her down and stab with the long, long needle in her hand...

* * *

Rynkura's light, while a potent source of positive energy, seemed to have no effect on the party goers except to heal their wounds and invigorate their steps. It was like trying to fix a broken bone with antiseptic - it was a cure, but not the one called for in this situation. More than a simple application of light would be needed to break these foes of their sudden loss of reason.

Cerebus tried to get Gareeku's hands off him, but he seemed far too week at the moment to do so. There was an odd light in his eyes. "Fine. We need to go. Now, before -"
The air cracked. And then light, painfully blue, bathed them all, chilling all present to the bone. "Before we die from these giant rolling around-"

* * *

Karazkt's burrowing was swift, but very quickly he found that there were holes in the dirt where there shouldn't be. Or, rather, that the holes -moved-. His next claw-ful of dirt broke him into a empty chamber, where before there was simply soft loam, and then without him doing anything else, he found himself straight in the middle of three tense-looking strangers chatting - or formerly chatting, and then looking at him with a mixture of alarm and confusion.
The walls felt sticky and wet, but the earth was disturbing - he could feel a pulse traveling through the rock.

* * *

Cerebus took another drag of his cigar, and narrowed an eye. "Insectis? Probably the most unfortunate insectis on this planet, I think. What luck."
The caverns shook again, and rocks fell from the ceiling - and then all the heat seemed to leave at once, the room going from humid and wet to freezing cold in less than a second.

"I don't think we have a lot of time..." he said, apparently unaffected by the cold. "If you have that mirror, I think now's the time to use it. If some portion of his power is still in there, we might use that to get out of here."

* * *

Esme and Elyse managed to slip out the door to the foyer without being accosted - an incredible feat, surely - and as Esme waited for the vampire bat to figure out their next step, she noticed a black-clad figure sitting on a bench not far from them, sword drawn and glittering in the cold air, the tip resting on the stones.
Yellow eyes in a silver mask stared at them, what was visible of his muzzle beneath the mask grinning and baring fangs.

Elyse saw him far before the more diminutive medic did. To her surprise, she heard a drop of water fall, far louder than any drop she'd ever heard before-
Three silver arc's flashed before her, the wolf's eyes glowing with menace and her ears full of howling laughter - she felt first her arm, then her chest, and finally her neck as he cleft her in four pieces, a blur of silver and black-

He was still sitting there, eyeing them. Elyse felt her arm - still there.
A vision.

The wolf grinned wider.

* * *

The Mad God stood in the dragon's fire unconsumed, but he was silenced as the fire burned and froze simultaneously, eldritch fire that froze the body as well as the soul. But he still yet moved, and his faceless face was smiling.
But he did not see the tomcat below him, wreathed in magic.

[Lisky]

One moment Bas felt like he was being heroic... the next he felt like he was flying.  He looked around.  He WAS flying.  As his senses came back to him, he perceived many strange things.  First was that the ballroom floor had become a total bloodbath, the next was that he was quickly approaching a raised balcony several feet above the ground floor, and there was a cello player who looked rather horrified at the demon heading his way.

As Bas collided with the cello player and the instrument his head felt oddly weighted, and his arms felt something gripping around them.  As he started realizing what was going on, he took the briefest of moments to extend his claws and remove both the musical instrument and musician from his person in the most expedient way possible for the demon.  He leaned back to get rid of the awkward pressure on his neck, resting his horns and the body impaled on them on a chair behind him while he took on, what looked to be a laying down position.

The demon used his razor sharp claws to first cut the wires that wrapped themselves around him.  Once he had full range of motion again, he carefully carved the dead man from horns, using his long, knife-like claws to expand the wounds enough that he could pull the massive protrusions out of the poor musician's corpse.  Once free, Baseel (aka Basilisk) stood up and leaned over the edge of the balcony, watching for the girl he was trying to save.  He saw the Dragon appear from where the short, yet attractive lady had been, and it dawned on him,  That massive beast was the girl who had been flirting with him moments before... and suddenly everything added up... all he could say was a soft, "thank you."

The demon turned around and began looking over the balcony he occupied. While his senses were being focused, he summoned his shield.  The massive metal and wood disk appeared on his arm in a position ready for combat.  The demon then began charging one of his bolt spells.  His hand gave off a black smoke with a reddish tinge.  Made of pure dark energy, the bolt would explode violently on contact with a hard surface, furthermore, it would travel at a speed similar to that of a crossbow's arrow.  After years of practice, the demon was quite a good shot with the spell.

[Stygian]

The bat staggered back, clutching at her arm but not taking her eyes off the wolf. The utter uncertainty she felt, the inexplicability and sheer insanity of the situation, made her hesitate. The imagery had been fiercely strong; even with her considerable skill and protection, it had still breached right through her protection and reflexive blocking and manifested itself clearly. Yet she could not feel any particular potential or power from the wolf in front of them. Not of that kind, at least. Oh, there was definite power there, and the threat of swift death, but in terms of minds...
   Again, Elyse flinched. There was something there too. She hadn't directly sensed it, but she had the inkling of it. Something primal, angry and immensely strong with stubborn single-mindedness, ready to snap back at the slightest approach, just under the surface. Like a monster behind a door ready to jump out should she try and open it. Immediately, she dropped the notion of 'understanding' the man's thoughts, and instead she focused her mind into pure unbending and forceful will. There was just a hint of a ripple through the air, and her eyes narrowed, glaring and deadening the sounds from behind them out in her mind. There seemed to be something like a heat haze just around her head.
   'Alright,' she said. 'Slow moves. Stay right where you are, or I'll break every bone in your body.' The tone of her voice, tightly controlled, suggested that there was no way that this was not how events would result. 'We're just going to walk out of here.'

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel found movement around the balcony a bit slow, but hesitated to fly and make herself a more visible target. She reconfigured her shielding so it was shaped more like a plow and began pushing the crowds aside. A few of the more maddened didn't take the hint to move aside, nor the hint that someone crackling with magic was probably a poor choice to attack and had to be given a taste of her tornado disks. Not that losing limbs seemed to faze the most crazed. But it was important to Mel to join up with her grandmother and if people didn't take a hint to the arm a hint to the neck was more explicit.

She could hear Brun winging her way to Grandmother's side and although she couldn't spot them Mel was sure Walter and Horatio were doing the same. Since the matriarch seemed to have her claws full for once it was a good idea to get all the clan members together for backup.  Surely five adult dragons were an unassailable force. As Mel moved closer she began to gather up the shards of power scattered around by the battle, hoarding it to save her own energy. The spells decorating her wings began to glow with an almost painfully bright light as they overcharged. The youngest dragon was determined not to be the weakest link for once.

[SpottedKitty]

It took every scrap of willpower Andrace had not to sigh audibly and roll her eyes at Ti'Paollo's comment. It had taken the ringtailed fluffhead this long to recognise her? Ah well, at least the 'Cubi hadn't torn her into quivering shreds of fur and flesh at first sight: hardly the beginning of a beautiful friendship, but it would do for the moment. She didn't even hold a grudge against him — not a big one, anyway — for almost frying her to a crisp. When the time was right to blow Ti'Paollo's brains out or chop his head off (anything less might not kill him quickly enough for her safety), she'd do it calmly and in a businesslike manner, as she'd been trained to do.

The Undead jackal with the shot-off muzzle was a different matter. Andrace laid her ears back and glanced suspiciously at him. He seemed to know an awful lot about what was going on. And she appeared to make him uneasy... or was it her Death-sword? That fox who'd shot at her not long ago had said something about it belonging to his master, which made an unnerving amount of sense put together with the little she'd learned from the badger in the knife shop. Experimentally, the lioness turned her glowing-eyed gaze on the jackal and drew her lips back in just enough of a snarl to bare one fang.

The sudden appearance of the Insectis took her completely by surprise. She turned quickly to face it, hoping her glowing eyes and sword held at the ready would be enough to discourage an attack. "Who are y'?" she growled, then looked up at the hole in the roof. "An' how did y' get down here — if this place is "down" from anywhere?" She didn't know much about Insectis, there was barely a mention of them in the Kithara archives beyond the little that was generally known by most Beings. She didn't even know if it could understand her.

Before there was time for a reply, the cavern rumbled and shook again, and the whole area became freezing cold, as if it had been hit by an Ice Blast spell. Andrace couldn't stifle a gasp as her next breath abruptly sucked the heat from her lungs and numbed her muzzle. A glance down at her arms and chest showed a dusting of frost spreading over her fur, and the splashes of blood were already stiff and frozen. Her whiskers drooped with the weight of tiny icicles condensed from her breath. The lioness didn't mind normal cold: snuggling with Horatio on the way into town yesterday through a snowstorm had been bracing and enjoyable. This was even worse than a training exercise she remembered. A teenaged Andrace had been tossed into a magically frozen labyrinth (with booby-traps, of course), and told her target for retrieval... and her clothes... were in the middle.

She was so cold, she almost missed hearing what the jackal said. The bullet graze across her bare back felt as if someone had stabbed her in the shoulderblade with an icicle. She was beginning to lose feeling in several parts of her anatomy: her normal adventuring outfit gave better protection from the elements than this dress, and it covered a lot more. She forced herself to shiver until her fur was fluffed up enough to give a little extra insulation, both above her bodice, and below her skirt. "What's this 'bout a mirror?" she said to Ti'Paollo and the jackal, forcing the words out between chattering fangs and trying not to put one of them through her numb tongue. She hoped her hands weren't beginning to stick to the hilt of her sword. "If y' got a way out o' here, do it b'fore we freeze our tails off!"

[Azlan]

Kiet mused to himself.  In the entirety of the world, there was nary a soul that was so well trained that one's subconscious cues could be entirely suppressed.  Kiet loved subconscious cues.  This Andrace was by far nearly the farthest from that ideal deadpan assassin, in reality she seemed extremely emotional.  He could feel a bit of fear, anxiety, veiled contempt, lust for some distant partner, and the overconfidence of youth.  He observed her facial expressions, hand movements, tail positions, whisker twitches, etc.  It would take time, but he had a feeling they would have a lot of that on hand.

With a wave of a gloved hand, Kiet opened it to reveal two objects.  A very small ball of flame and a plain white wafer, "miss, your dress will just not do if we must be trudging around and battling the fanatics that plague us... and your chattering teeth are quite annoying.  You'll bite your tongue at this rate.  Take these, eat the flame and crush the wafer.  The flame will warm you and the wafer will restructure your attire into something more appropriate."

Holding his hand out, offering his little trinkets the ringtail waited patiently, "by the way, what would possess you to need to kill me?  I've never heard of Kithara, so I doubt I've done anything to anger one in such a way to warrant assassination."  Pausing, his large fluffy tail twitching rhythmically, the cubi did not seem to acknowledge the preternatural chill nor the appearance of an Insectis.

"Oh the mirror... yes..."  

Reaching into his military dress coat, his hand slipped to the pocket dimensional space that held many of his most useful items.  He withdrew a small package wrapped safely in the purest of white silk.

"You mean this little thing?"  Taunted Kiet as he waved the sealed object in front of the Jackal's shattered muzzle," he smiled conspiratorially, "I can use it, I feel power in it, but I'm not sure this will help the way you think it will."

Or perhaps exactly the way he wants it to.

With a grin, he unwrapped it, "here goes eh?"

Summoning power within him, he sought egress and gazed within the small object, anxious to see what will happen and bereft of fear towards this Mad God.

[techmaster-glitch]

   Karazkt (somehow) found himself from running through the castle to digging through dirt. And what strange dirt it was. It seemed to shift around him, and was much too soft; he found it too easy to burrow through, considering he wasn't a bred burrower. Eventually, he broke into a small underground chamber. There were three "surfacers" in it, and the dirt around him definitelly was wrong, it was slick and seemd to have an odd, rythmic thump to it... Something downright unnatural was going on, and Karazkt did not want to hang around to find out what it was. Not to mention that he wasn't where he was supposed to be. How did he even get down here, anyway?
   Ignoring the surfacers, Karazkt lifted himself straight up to the earthen ceiling, and began digging upward. Get to the surface, get to the diggermech... Once he was back in his mech, he could figure out to proceed with all these unusually-behaving surfacers around.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

One moment she was circling above the fray, looking desperately around for the big twit, the next, she'd collided with the ice dragon that'd leapt from nowhere. And, to make matters worse, there was that blast of icy cold that numbed her to the bone, while she tumbled helplessly to the ballroom floor. The old saw about "raining gryphons and wings" passed through her mind, as the dragon roared and she twisted.

The whump as her almost uncontrolled flight reached an abrupt halt was only slightly muted by the poodle, which she'd hit dead on, driving the breath from both of their bodies with a whoosh. She struggled to her feet, trying not to stand on the poor half-crushed canine, her muscles stiff and numb in the biting cold, only for the bloody-eyed beast to turn on her.

As the long needle flashed out, her hand shot out to grab the incoming wrist. She struggled with the rabid beast for a few moments, then slashed at the arm with her wing, hammering it viciously. As she drew back, her other wing slammed forward, battering the poodle's head and neck. With any luck, that would knock the bitch cold.



Overhead, the shadows shifted. The blast of cold hardly bothered the big feathered behemoth; after all, he was outside in all weathers, this was just more cold than usual. But when Brun shot out of the dark cloud, the eyes in the dark flashed. Another playmate! He hadn't seen her before, but perhaps later... And then he saw the flutter of very familiar feathers under the big white mass. He shot upright, there in the shadows. When she hit the dog on the ground, the shadows parted, inexorably, and the huge daisy leapt from the balcony, descending like unto the wrath of the gods, and planted itself on all sides around the smaller gryphon. The massive shock of his landing knocked everyone from their feet for yards in all directions, and left four, equidistant, concave red smears in the floor; the subsequent sweep of his wings cleared the area like a giant's broom.

The deep, grumbling, and above all, heavily threatening growl was more felt than heard.

[Boog]

Hide your face so the world will never find you.
This was insane. And not the presumably fun kind of insane that used car salesmen use to describe their prices. This was just a room full of people that wanted to kill, fuck, eat, or combine the options into new and interesting verbs to apply to EVERYTHING around them.
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
The look on the beagle's face. He's laughing, but he's being FORCED to laugh. Sweat beading on his brow. He had to laugh, had to had to had to. And as his face flew apart his eyes were both briefly locked on Jeremiah's...
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
There was another dragon, covered in scars. Looked like she'd been through a fight with a jet turbine, and the turbine lost...
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
Some of them look so happy to be doing this. Like this was all they ever wanted. Like playing an instrument, or putting down something heavy, or running up the down escalator. Just doing all the things they WANT to but aren't ALLOWED to. Like it's all just the best idea they've ever had...
Hide your face so the world will never find you.
A laugh escaped Jeremiah's lips. The world turned blue. The cat was saying... words. They meant something. Jeremiah laughed again. "Ha. Ha."
Deep in the frog's mind, something in a mask laughed and roiled like a storm cloud.
Hide your face.
Smoke began to trickle from the frog's mouth, his ears, his eyes. He felt his bones reshape as Lunacy did his work...

[e_voyager]

Aten had had a few breaths to calm down. he was still too close to the dragon matriarch for comfort but he reason that that was par of the reason that he wasn't dead yet. net to her he was a less visible target.  the magic that she was throwing out has his fur standing on end. and the shiver in his spine told him it was going to get worse. the griffin girl. she saw her narrowly avoid becoming a smear on the ground. his own thoughts were cut short by a attacking Ram whom was frothing at the mouth and seemed intent on feasting on him. "Why this why now" Aten asked as he danced nimbly to the side at the last second and brought the cane down on the back of the ram's neck. why didn't i bring my weapons with me to this place he wondered again as the ram got back up and charged him again

[Cogidubnus]

Kiet looked at the mirror, not quite sure what to expect.

The frame was silver that had been etched and whorled until it resembled the foam that billowed in from the ocean. At the top, there was an exposed candle, one of Shinda's symbols. A the bottom, there was a mask without eyes. Scratches and tool marks covered the symbol, as though it had been carved from the already formed metal. The glass was pristine, as smooth as an undisturbed lake reflecting the sun.
It was suddenly bright. Or, at least, his face in the mirror was. Brighter than his surroundings. Which was impossible - but this was a magic mirror, as Kiet knew. What was more surprising was what was happening to his reflection.

He felt nothing emanate from the mirror, but all the same his own eye pulled him in, until he was falling in their depths, the blackness consuming him entirely. He wasn't holding the mirror anymore - he wasn't sure if he was standing anymore, except for some firmness in the inky black - and then, suddenly, there was again light.

It was Xe'Pheron. Home. But it wasn't home. Instead of the sky, he saw in the distance mountains, hills, forests - this was Xe'Pheron of long, long ago. Before...
He saw himself, dead, bleeding. His saw...cataclysmic spells in the sky, a thunderstorm of deific rage raining down fire and thunder, the screams of a thousand thousand creatures torn asunder. He saw his mother, weeping.
He saw his grandfather, golden in the sun, three-winged. Like a god.

  Time seemed to pause. His mother stood still. Lightning forked in the sky and did not move. Fire burned, but did not waver. His Grandfather turned to look at him, and smiled. He approached him, his bare feet silent on the stones of his home.
"Tu fui, ego eris, Kiet'Jaer." Kiet said, and his own smile was terrible.

Xe'Pheron faded, everything faded, but a mirror that was impossibly large, as far as he could see above and below, a sheet of glass that went on for a thousand miles. He saw his reflection. It was his grandfather - no, it was himself. With three wings.

Kiet knew. He remembered. Everything.

* * *

Cerebus said nothing, smoking silently while Kiet stared into the mirror. Nothing seemed to be happening. Strange expressions flickered across his face, but nothing to indicate the transfer of divine power was occuring.
A pale blue outline, like someone had put indigo in the air, or was smoking some strange tobacco, fell around the incubus. Cerebus ashed his cigar. Kiet giggled, then laughed, bearings fangs. His eyes were glassy. Cerebus blanched.
"I don't think that bodes well for us..." he turned and looked at Andrace with the ruined half of his face. It was impossible to tell his impression from the mangled peices of meat that were once a jaw and cheek. "Let's see if we can't bring him 'round, shall we? That abomination, however you got it, might come in handy. Be a doll and destroy that mirror. Avoid cutting him."

As he said that, however, Kiet put the mirror down. The blueish tinge around him intensified - the walls frosted over near him. Cerebus took a step back.
"Now, please. Now! NOW!"

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace narrowed her eyes and laid her ears back as the Insectis scurried back up the wall and dug another hole through the roof. She didn't interefere or try to stop it: it had seemed confused and disoriented, hardly surprising if the Undead jackal was right about where they were. Still shivering a little, she turned and looked at the tiny fireball and white wafer in Ti'Paollo's hand. "Th-th-thanks, b-b-ut n-n-o th-thanks," she growled with a wry and exceptionally toothy smile. "We g-g-got a t-truce, b-but I don't t-t-trust y' that much y-yet." Her teeth were still chattering from the cold, and she wasn't sure if she could still feel her paws or tail. The lioness ignored the 'Cubi's other question, except to make her smile a little toothier. Did he really expect her to give away the name of her employer? The Icewing matriarch might not have brought up that part of the Kithara premium-price extended contact, but Andrace felt herself bound by it anyway, out of habit and professional pride. Not to mention self-preservation.

When Ti'Paollo raised the mirror and looked into it, at first she wasn't any more anxious that she already was. Fluffbrain or not, the 'Cubi had a reputation as an experienced, dangerous and powerful mage, surely he knew what he was doing investigating that thing. The blue glow and lunatic giggling made her reconsider. The last time she'd seen a rictus grin like that on someone's muzzle, two seconds later she'd filleted the insane mage with her longsword — her normal sword — while her older sister Irene had put a crossbow bolt through her heart. The grin had remained, though, even after her baby sister Eugenia had swung her battleaxe at the obviously dying vixen's neck and lopped her head off.

Andrace's eyes flicked towards the jackal for a moment when he spoke up, then back to the insanely laughing 'Cubi. "I d-d-d-don't like th' look o' th-this either," she said. She took a step forward, shifting her frozen fingers' grip on the sword hilt, just as Ti'Paollo put the mirror down. The jackal's sudden terrified urgency jolted her into action. The lioness took three more quick steps, sucked in a lungful of icy air that chilled her whole chest, and forced herself to ignore the sudden increase in the blue glow and the bitter cold. She swung the sword back, over her head, then lunged and struck with a deafening, screaming roar, bringing the point of the Death-sword down with all her strength, aimed right at the mirror. She barely avoided snipping a few whiskers from Ti'Paollo's muzzle.

[Azlan]

Before the mirror incident, Kiet smirked at the barbarian's attempt to be standoffish, but the effort fell flat as her literal embodiment of the state elicited nothing but comedy.  "As you wish, lady of the chattering fangs, I shant waste perfectly good effort on those that refuse common decency.  It is pitiable that you should think that I would try anything beyond offering what little aid I can.  You truly have no idea whom you have been given as a mark.  Failure one, no information, no research..."  Kiet sighs, "when did they drop the 'professional' from Professional Killer?"

He shrugged as the wafer and flame disappeared, "that little stunt lost you any aid from this point forward, rent-a-killer."

Amateur, no respect for your quarry... no professional courtesy... assassination is an art.  There are rules, expectations, concessions, and courtesies.  Though I never expected her to reveal her master, I already know who it is.  It is not hard to guess once you review the evidence, but no time for that now...


Kiet's eyes wandered deeply into the silvery sea of the mirror.  He could never in a thousand lifetimes prepared himself for the truths this accursed piece of metal revealed.

At once he knew it all.  He betrayed and slew his clan, seized tri-wing status far earlier than any should, he sought the potential from Paollo, and he was repentant.

"weakness..." he chortled as the black irony of it all dyed his thoughts a shadowy ebony.  He could not help but laugh out loud at the thoughts that spun around in his head.

In the eternity between seconds, in a fugue state, Kiet stood upon the destroyed field of his homeland, one of times long past.  The happenings around him faded to gray as a familiar purple and black vulpine approached, his raccoon striped tail twitching about in anticipation of this meeting.

Kiet's eyes flashed as he grinned with full fangs showing, "ego sum,  sic ego mos fio."

The ringtail reached out, blood red energy crackling over his hands as he made a vicious tearing gesture.  The whole of everything within him exploded in blood red energy.

Paollo did not stand idly by as his 'spark' was torn from him.  The ancient cubi split it, the only thing he could do.  The act caused a tremendous upheaval in the dreamscape, as Paollo's essence was expunged from Kiet's soul and cast out on its own once again.  The potential he sought was half realized, but with all the safeguards within him broken and over eight thousand years of gathering, it was all that was needed to fill the damaged spot in his soul and grant him what he needed to be complete... slightly less divine than he wanted, but he could fix that soon.

Just after putting down the mirror, a rainbow explosion of color erupted from the fluffy tailed incubus.  However, amidst this torrent of power, he managed to pause.  In this brief pause, he produced a tube of some type of candy and tossed one into the gaping, roaring maw of the barbarian lioness.  The name on the tube flashed and the whole thing was bathed in white light, "Zen-tos, spiritual freshness."  He continued his shedding of rainbow light and boisterous laughter.

When his light died down, something was definitely different.

[Cogidubnus]

 The great gout of crystal fire intensified, the blue deepening to black like the depths of an ocean, or the bottom of some sunlit, clear lagoon. The flame died out a minute later, and the red clothed man was surprisingly still there. His arms were crossed, as though he'd tried to defend himself somehow. The flesh from his forearms was half-gone, stark white bone visible in a semicircle of eaten flesh.

The thing's mask was incandescent. With rage, fear - the emotion was uncertain. But it glowed like ivory underneath a spotlight, a vaguely amber, antique glow like dust catching over a polished desk. The pale glow settled over its body a moment later. He made a gesture, as though gripping something with both hands.

LL's eyes widened, and the eldritch blades she held in her hands shifted, digging into her flesh. There was a grinding sound, like metal rubbing against bone. There was a brief look of panic in her eyes.
Mel felt power rush out of her, the lines on her wings dimming and the breath leaving her like she'd fallen on her back. Similar things happened to the rest of the Icewings in attendance.

A clan link amongst dragons, among any inherently magical species, was more involved than simply swearing an oath or having the right parents. The deeper mysteries were just as much a part of being a clan as sharing money or sharing political influence. Sometimes a more immediate threat required the borrowing of power.
Generally you borrowed it from LL. This was unusual, to say the least.

LL's wrists twisted. The blades, swirls of blue outlines giving just the impression of a solid presence, shattered in her hands. Technically speaking, impossible. The Mad God clenched his fist and raised it overhead, a similar presence manifesting in the air above the party, like a giant nail composed of stardust. Luna sucked in a breath, as if to again blast him with eldritch fire that froze and burned the soul.
And then turned around, and in a single, sinuous motion slammed him with her tail. A dragon's tail can generally break castles. Bodies are lucky not to simply fall apart.

The edge in the sky faded. The man in red's arm was upraised to block it - he hadn't moved, but it seemed whatever he was doing was disrupted. His arm shook, his body leaned into the tail. Then it wrapped around him. LL slammed him into the ground, once, twice, three times, breaking the marble floor. Then she turned, and the crowd parted for them rather quickly.
She pounced on him. Her fangs, long as spears and crystal clear, were inches from his body. She sucked in a breath of air, about to again breathe that crystal fire.

Tom, somehow, was right there. In his hand was a sphere of the most perfect nothingness - the area around his hand not black, not white, but simply blank with nothing. He grinned madly, and his eyes were infinite.
"This Light will burn away, all the false attachments from me - the truth I'll find, the light will shine, of the power stored within me."

LL recoiled. With both hands, with as much force as he could muster, he threw it into the mad god's mask.

 * * *

With both hands, he threw it into the mad god's mask.

Normally, a divine artifact cannot be destroyed, even when it is destroyed. Death only affects those things which have an end. Gods are infinite, and if they have a true death, it cannot be perceived in such ways. It will simply restore itself, a day or a century later, somewhere else, or in the exact same place.

Something was interfering, though. So, when Andrace - when the Sword forged in the blood of a dead and maddened god cut the mirror, it destroyed it completely, down to the weave that tied it to reality, down to its very bones.

* * *

It would be incorrect to say there was a flash of white. A flash is but for a moment, and the sudden whitewashing of reality was not a momentary thing. Despite the lack of air, or space, or time, there was a sound too - a whine, like the ringing that follows an immense explosion of sound, so quiet as to be deafening. It was everywhere and it was everything, until bit by bit, it faded into something else. It did not, alas, last long enough for usherettes to pass out the ice cream. But the ice cream in between dimensions lacks flavor, or substance, or even the concept of dairy or cold. It is cheap, however, which is all the more unfortunate for everyone, who missed it.

* * *

Tim's efforts to get the poodle off proved quite effective. Intimidating she may have been, but apparently with a glass jaw. It was bent in a rather excruciating shape, of course, which may have had something to do with the canine's sudden attempts to crawl away, but she wasn't bothering her anymore, so...

The gryphon was about to try and get her bearings when the world exploded.

* * *

Kiet awoke in tall grass.

The wind was blowing, and the air was chill with the feel of fall. The grass, green and pale with the onset of the colder weather, danced in front of his vision and obscured the sky above him, crystal-blue and dotted with white clouds. It was a perfect fall day, the sort that only gets written about, but so very rarely happens.
There were no trees above him. He sat up.

Grass, as far as the eye could see. Endless, pale green and waving. The wind was blowing hard - he could feel it pressing against his head. He noticed Cerebus sitting on a log - again, strangely whole. He waved.
"You're awake!" he said, short hair rippling in the wind. It was somewhat difficult to hear him. "I think we might be a bit lost. Er. The girl from before is here too. Not sure what happened. I guess we got out though."

Kiet saw Andrace, quite whole, sitting in the grass. She was quite awake, however, and she still had her sword, resting on her shoulder, wearing full adventurer kit, and with a very large gun strapped to her hip. She looked wild, and not as cold as she had before.

The wind blew, carrying the smells of cold mud, grass, and woodsmoke.

* * *

Jeremiah awoke in a trash bin.

Oh, it wasn't the first time this had happened. There was that one time in Tarreer, and the other time when he'd drank so much that even Bal couldn't talk anymore. The graffiti on the inside of the bin was new, though. The lid above his head was closed, but someone had spraypainted "Have a nice day!" in glow-in-the-dark, along with a tiny smiley face. The world did care.

The lid slammed open. Jeremiah managed not to jump.
It was that fucking cat. "I think we're not in Belgae anymore, Mr. Frog." he said, pulling him bodily from the dumpster. His backside felt wet.

They were in an alleyway. Gray, sooty bricks, dirty pavement, trash...a big city, then. The cat danced forward, stepping on his tip-toes and running out of the alley. "Something is...right about this place. But wrong. Come look.
He did. He stepped into street and instantly got a headache.

Skyscrapers that started normally grew progressively more twisted as they rose, turning into spires of black iron and glass that looked more like teeth than towers. Subway tracks ran and made ninety degree turns, sometimes straight up. Streets ran straight, but the lines drawn into them were a kaleidoscope of patterns and impossible things, lanes that ran in every tightening circles, lanes that were really just large circuits around a street, lanes that ran into sidewalks and buildings. There were no cars, however. Lights burned, but there wasn't a soul to cast a shadow on a windowpane, not one person beneath a streetlamp. Deserted.

Far in the distance, there was a tornado standing still. The wind wasn't blowing, but there was still the eerie green of very bad weather in the sky. But no rain, no thunder. Just, as though from a great, great distance, music.
Despite all this, something else was bothering him. Like something was missing.

* * *

Baseel awoke in a building.

Completely bombed out and gutted, exposed to the elements and to a gray, leaden sky. Black clouds floated, and he felt something hit his face - but it wasn't wet. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and it came away black. Ashes.
The sun was white and distant, difficult to look at. But everything he could see, as far as he could see, was gray, hills, trees, strange insect-looking hunks of metal dotting every street, all some variation of gray - a sickly yellow, a washed-out brown...
Except for the red glow. He couldn't see it now - the one intact wall of the building was blocking it, but he could see the shadow cast by it.

And, to his left, a very pale looking bat giving him a measuring look, that he'd somehow missed before. Her eyes were cold, and somehow reminded him of his current environment.

* * *

Melodie awoke in the sky.

Clouds rushing past in a blur, with the ground who-knows how far below. And, to her right, a giant gryphon. And a smaller gryphon on top, screaming. She looked a bit agitated. The larger gryphon looked euphoric.

She caught a glimpse beneath her - nothing but the ocean. But oddly enough, something to the side caught her eye. A ship in the clouds, a massive dirigible as least as big as a tanker ship, if not larger. You could have fit a dozen giant dragons in it and have had room to spare.

* * *

Elizabeth awoke in darkness.

Her eyes adjusted quickly, darksight taking over where normal vision would have seen nothing. A cave. Somewhere underground, deep underground. Black and white outlines of rock revealed that it was a rather large cavern, and a tunnel that continued on for quite some distance to the side.
And another person. A bat, it looked like, standing straight and fiddling with a cigarette. He seemed much more at ease than he had any right to. It took her a moment to realize that the cigarette was lit - a moment with normal sight let her see his face. Pale white, with pitch black eyes.

* * *

Karazkt awoke, very wet.

He wasn't sure what happened. One moment he was digging, and the next...a white light. Noise. The impression of ice cream. And then here, in the surf.
It was raining. He didn't like getting wet, but occasionally this happened underground. Aquifers weren't always conveniently out of the way. Sometimes you had to let the water out to make a tunnel. Sometimes you could use the space the water had already dug for things. Insectis could get wet. But they didn't like it.

And to his infinite surprise, his Mek was standing right next to him, feet sunk a little bit into the sand. And two others - a white-robed being, and a white wolf, were standing out of the way and looking at him quite intently.

He took stock of his surroundings. It appeared that he was either on an Island, or a very narrow piece of coast - a black, dangerous looking sea, rain, and then after the beach ended a tropical-looking jungle. A wooden house and a dock weren't too far down the beach. The broken, derelict ship next to it didn't look promising as far as rescue went, though.

[Lisky]

Baseel awoke, and found himself unharmed after the awkward sensation of almost nothingness.  With a through check of his body, he found that, not only was he completely in one piece, but seemed to be completely unscathed, not a scratch on him.  Easing to his feet, the large demon worked his wings slowly as he noted the silver patterns still covered them.

He suddenly noticed something quite strange.  Instead of wearing his ballroom attire, he wore his favorite green and black robe, along with the matching pants.  He moved much more freely as he enjoyed the much less constraining, almost airy feel of the soft cloth.  As he had been picking himself up, something had completely slipped his mind until that moment, his shield was still on his arm.  He examined it, noted it still being in perfect condition, exactly the same way it'd been since his father had presented it to him so many centuries ago... As he inspected the rim, something caught his eye, a reflection out of the far edge.  He looked over to see a female, some type of bat, staring at him.

She was tall... and although appeared to be a being, she stood with a confidence that was very creature like... 'perhaps a noble then. The demon thought to himself.  He looked around, and when he spotted no one else, he approached the bat in a non-threatening way.  As he approaced, he sized up the girl, as she appeared to be his only companion in this strange place.  Decently tall, in good shape, and seemingly quite athletic, Bas let out a faint smile.  

He let the shield drop from his arm and it clattered harmlessly on the shattered stone.  He was mildly cautious, but given she wasn't acting like those at the ball, he wasn't too worried that she'd openly attack him.  As he got closer, he unfolded his wing, a bit and let his arms loosely hang at his side, he looked the girl in the eye and said, "i'm not really sure where we are... did you teleport me to safety or something... eh... Miss?"

He gave an awkward pause, which ended abruptly as he gave the bat a toothy grin and said, "Baseel, Wolkshammer, 3rd son of duke Leofric."

[Aisha deCabre]

Rynkura had been disturbed when her magic wasn't having any effect on the possessed around them.  An angel approaching a century old, her great powers were nothing but pinpricks.  Just what kind of monster are we dealing with?  The tigress wondered with frustration.  One thing was for sure, very little made her mad.  And she was getting mad.

But first things first...she had to get Gareeku out of there.  And Cerebus had to come along too, if he knew anything.  Rynkura only regretted that she could no longer find her former student to save him, as well.

Her powerful wings were ready to help lift them all out of there if necessary.  But it was hard to tell what was going on anymore...everything was in chaos.  A massive dragon flew overhead, and the place had started freezing over.  Even a tiger and a wolf, both kinds that were at least a little used to cold climates, felt the absolutely painful sting of the cold.

"We shall worry about everything later..." Rynkura insisted, grabbing hold of them both.  "Come, we must..."

Her sentence was never finished.  With a blinding flash and a dizzying feeling, the room vanished into nothing.  And the tigress was scared to believe that she was staring death right in the face.

...It would take her only moments to realize that wasn't the case, though it seemed like hours.  It was no longer cold, but rain was coming down in cascades.  And the angel was quite surprised to find that she could no longer see her wings.  The enchanted jeweled sleeves were replaced on her arms to hide them, and she was back in her own primarily-blue-and-white robes.  The staff she always carried was there too, just next to her.

It was a beach, bathed in darkness and seemingly in the midst of a storm.  Rynkura felt disoriented as she pushed herself up from the sand, sitting there and looking around.  What had happened?  Where was the Ball and everything in it?

...And where the hell were they?

At least she could see with great relief that Gareeku was there and alive.  Cerebus though, she had no idea if he was still around, for he couldn't be seen.

And nearby was an Insectis...a strange sight, but she did remember that there was one at the Ball as well.

Yet, there seemed to be no others around...just them.  It was all too much to take in.  The tigress wondered if she even had the state of mind left to get everyone moving to find shelter...she simply sat with the wolf, watching and listening.  Wondering where everyone else had gone...and most of all, wondering how to get out.

"...Sir Manoko, are you hurt?" she inquired with a glance at the wolf, hoping he was awake.  And then she turned her eyes toward the Insectis, wondering if he--she, it?-- needed any healing.

[Stygian]

The bat cut that grin and last statement off with a decisive, harsh expression that could have made almost anyone feel as though they were shrinking in their clothes, and a hard-edged reply which snapped out immediately. She looked oddly crisp and sharp against the grimy, dilapidated background, the soot and dirt apparently somehow having avoided her, as her dress was an immaculate white in spite of the filth pervading the air.
   'Yes, you are. And no, I am not responsible for our current situation. You're as lost as me, I can tell,' she said, folding her arms under her breasts and making an irritated little sound between her teeth. She looked around, then back at him, and frowned, apparently at how he stretched his wings.
   'I don't know where we are. I intend to find out, but this does not look like any place I know of. And how we got here is beyond me.' She craned her neck just a hair at him. 'You can call me Ivory. And if you're thinking of having a go at me, don't. Wouldn't do you any good even if you're an old demon,' she said, putting a finality and decisiveness into the words that could have knocked a man on his back.

- -

The flare of the cigarette bloomed up for a moment, reflected in those pitch surfaces, as the bat took a long, long drag on his smoke. The light of the flame that illuminated his lean face lingered in those dark spheres, and the air was filled with the wafting smell of tobacco and ash. His gaze was trained down the length of the tunnel.
   'You're awake. Excellent,' he said, matter-of-factly, licking a lengthy fang. 'I was not worried, of course. But I've never been much comfortable with long waits.' He turned toward her, and she was treated to another view of his features as the end of the cigarette flared again. The burning light seemed to stay too long within his eyes, even after he finished his pull.
   'I think we're deep in it, so to speak. Part of it, at least,' he said, and she had the image of him rubbing his temple with the fingers holding his smoke. It was hard for her to view, if she didn't piece her darksight and what little she could see in the very faint light from the end of his cigarette together. Somehow, to her other senses he was... indistinct. Not blurry or fuzzy, but hard to get a fix on. If she tried to picture him with her darksight alone he seemed to flicker or fade, or to suddenly be several feet to the side of where he really was. Occasionally, it was as if he weren't there at all.

[Lisky]

Bas cocked an eyebrow at the bat's apparent hostility.  Completely unfazed, he kept up his slow, steady, gate.  His toothy grin had been turned into a scowl for all of 3 seconds as Ivory went queen bitch on the demon.  Given the way she seemed to pick up on his thoughts, perhaps she was psychic, or a cubi.  Either way, he got close, and began circling her slowly, not in a truly predatory way, as that wasn't his goal, but he was paying close attention to her, and her movements.

The toothy grin was back as he slowly circled in, in a collapsing spiral.  "Since we're not openly trying to slaughter eachother right now, you're not one of those things from the ball... Perhaps an alliance would be in order... would working together be agreeable for you?  At the very least, protect and watch over each other while trying to unravel this mystery with which we've been thrown into?"  The demon cocked his head slightly while stroking his right hand under his chin in a thoughtful, almost playful manner.

He observed her movements closely, trying to gauge what she was thinking.  He was ignoring her face for now, as her generally cold nature unnerved him a bit.  He was sure she was the dominant personality between the two of them, something he understood, yet, didn't want to accept... yet...

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace opened her eyes, which came as a surprise to her, and saw sky. A grey sky, with a wind blowing and low fast-moving clouds, but it was much better than the ice-encrusted cavern roof she'd been expecting. The last thing she remembered was bringing her Death-sword down with all her strength, with all her weight behind the swing, past that insanely cackling ringtail's head (after all, she'd promised not to try to kill him... yet) and smashing the mirror at his feet. Ti'Paollo had tossed something into her open mouth before she could duck. She'd just had time to taste an indescribable flavour on her tongue, and feel her body relaxing, and worry about poison. Then —

The world went white. She didn't hear the mirror shatter, she didn't feel herself finish the lunge, tumble, and roll to her feet. There was just a sensation of... the absence of something cool, tasty and familiar in her mouth. She'd blinked at the absurdity, and suddenly she was here. Wherever "here" was. At least it wasn't cold enough to turn her into a furry ice cube: it felt like a normal mild bracing chill, the sort of day she enjoyed for long distance runs and outdoor exercise.

The lioness sat up abruptly. There was something in her hand: the Death-sword. Little wonder the sky was grey. She was sitting in a sea of long grey grass, and there was a strong wind blowing. She looked down, and saw she wasn't wearing her ball dress. Now she wore her more usual adventuring gear — in fact, these seemed to be the clothes she'd worn on the train journey to Damaske. They'd been washed in the Firebloom Inn's laundry and put into her backpack, and her backpack had been in a locked room in the castle. She couldn't see the backpack anywhere, but... she put her free hand over her shoulder.

There were two sheaths strapped across her back. One held her own familiar longsword, the other felt like the ornate confection that went with her pretty but hideously dangerous new weapon. Her gun was holstered at her side, and all her spare magazines were clipped around her belt. Someone didn't want her unarmed, then. Wait... she patted herself all over with her free hand, in apparently random places. All of her little surprises had been transferred from her dress to the hidden pockets on her shirt, jerkin and trousers. A glance up her right sleeve proved she still wore the enchanted bracelet Icewing's granddaughter had given her. She had to assume it was still working.

Andrace turned at a noise behind her, barely audible above the screaming wind. She wasn't alone on this seemingly endless grassy plain. The Undead jackal, who wasn't missing half of his muzzle and throat any more, gave her a dubious look, then turned back to Ti'Paollo, who was just sitting up. She watched the 'Cubi intently, her sword leaning against her shoulder with a nonchalance she certainly didn't feel where that many-times-cursed weapon was concerned, her hair fluttering in the wind briefly obscuring her face from his view now and then. "So, Ti'Paollo," she said at last, "Are y' done lettin' everyone in earshot know y' got th' power? I dunno where we are, either — we were in th' middle o' winter, but this... looks an' smells more like late autumn. We must be a long way from Belgae. Someone not too far upwind, though, I smell wood smoke. I'm goin' t' invest'gate, 'less either o' y' got a better idea."

Andrace rose to her feet, reaching back to slip the sword into its sheath. She stifled a sigh of relief as she let go the hilt and colour swirled back into her vision; the green grass and blue sky. She wanted to see clearly for this, and she didn't want to meet potential friends or allies with her eyes glowing, and having intimate knowledge, even beyond her training, of exactly how to kill them instantly. It had been unsettling enough to see the kill-lines swirl and flicker around Ti'Paollo's body after he'd looked into the mirror. The lioness scuffed her paws on the ground, getting a feel for the grass under her bare pads, then she paused and wriggled her rump for a moment. Whoever — or whatever — had supplied their fresh clothes had been in a bit of a hurry, or perhaps wasn't quite clear on the concept. It felt as if she was wearing her underwear back to front.

[Azlan]

Kiet smirked at the feline's comment and sprang to his feet.  He wore a big grin and turned to no one in particular to issue a peace sign, or victory for some, and a wink, "oh yeah I got the power!"  The gesture would have been perfect if a camera had been present or this was some dōjinshi manga.

The ringtail felt a bit of fatigue in his form and stretched long and wide.  From his arms, ears, legs and wings.  All six of them.

"Erm, wait, six?"  Kiet said to no one in particular.

Yes six you twit, now no more of that.  Kiet examined the third set of wings curiously, long enough for the flood of memories to return.  The interdimensional ice cream almost washed those memories away, and Kiet mulled over his thoughts as he licked a white within white sphere atop a tasty sugar cone.  A great many thoughts

Absentmindedly he waved at the lioness as she headed off, using the voice of Vixana he sniped a waggish response, "k, Andrace dear, be back before dark and don't beat up the neighbor's boys."

Something did not feel right, but perhaps it was the ice cream.  Bringing both hands together and grasping them, leaving the index fingers pointing upward, he brought all thoughts to a single point.  With that point he expanded it to be Xe'Pherion and attempted to move himself to that point.  Strangely nothing happened.

"Xi!"  Kiet called.

The black beastie appeared, wonder in his huge red eyes as he partakes in a large bowl of the ice cream between dimensions, "oh boss, you're back to normal."

"yes, yes.  Now, take me out of here.  Let the murderous, hypocrite of a senile old drake sleep in the bed she made.  The mad god is a fitting punishment for her."

The little critter shook his head, "no can do, I can't slip between spaces here."

Kiet grumbled, but he half expected this.  The incubus cast his long gaze at the undead jackal with a stare so intense the grass between them parted and lay flat almost as if they were prostrating themselves before him, "Cerebus, what is going on here?"

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Tim screamed her rage, and spun to catch the poodle before she could attack with that long pin again.

And fell from the sky that had suddenly appeared, empty, around her. Before she could spread her wings and catch herself, though, she landed with a thump on Rover's back. Good enough. She shook herself to her feet, and looked around.


Rover, for his part, was ecstatic. Not only had he been able to leap to help Tim, she'd finally gotten clear of that bitch; he raised one paw, and brought it slamming enthusiastically down on the desperately crawling canine.

And spun in the air from the force of the uncontested blow, flaring his wings to catch himself, and then getting hit in the small of the back by his partner. Not only had his target gone, so had all the others! His ecstatic expression morphed, surprisingly quickly, through confused, perturbed, petulant, and finally settled on annoyed. Very, very annoyed. Not only had he been forced to wait for a decent party, but to add insult to injury, once it got started, he'd been given the bum's rush. This was totally, utterly unfair. Someone would pay.

He swung his head from side to side, looking around. On his back, in perfect time, and entirely unrehearsed, Tim did precisely the same. Where on Furrae were they? And where had everyone else gone? The only things they could see were what appeared to be one of the Icewing clan off the port side, and, further over, a large ship floating through the clouds. Rover glanced back up at Tim, who was glancing down into the nearest giant lens. She indicated the nearby dragon, with a shrug, and a vague gesture to imply that, well, they were here, and there wasn't anyone else around, so they might as well stay together, even if it wasn't one of the bodyguards.

Rover shrugged back, suggesting something about how at least it was someone of a decent size to play with, and curled his wings, easing over to hang in perfect formation with Mel. After all, just because the rest of the world had gone missing didn't mean he take pride in how well he flew...

[Boog]

The frog could feel himself fading. Was he a frog? Shuffleshuffleshuffle, Lunacy rooting through his head...
There was a flash and a whine, and a brief illusionary millisecond of horrifying cold. Someone in the back of Jeremiah's head, someone said "Urk-!"

Jeremiah awoke in a trash bin. He stared at the graffiti above him, struggling to understand its meaning in his daze. The smiley face, he knew, meant good things. The rest were... Words. He was not in a state where he was kindly disposed toward words. Usually he loved them, but he was tired and dazed and words were quite simply not his friends. Then again, as he thought more, the more he desired to understand the words. With what few would be willing to acknowledge as a herculian effort of mental strength he roused himself to something more approaching consciousness.
"Have a nice day."
Oh. How nice of someone. Jeremiah smiled sleepily. Maybe things would be alright. Then the lid opened.
It is worth noticing that are few things with so sobering an effect as being hoisted out of a dumpster. The body moves faster than intended, giving a splendidly awakening head rush. The adrenaline causes one to automatically attempt to assess their surroundings, not only letting you know where you are but augmenting the previous surge of distressed energy with the horrified realization of where you'd spent the night, leading immediately to wondering what on earth led you up to that point. If you're lucky, you don't remember.
Jeremiah grumbled, brushing something damp and mercifully unspecified off of the seat of his pants. "Honestly, I'm starting to think you're just messing with me. I swear to god, if this is some candid camera show I'm going to sue you so ba-
He stepped into street and instantly got a headache.
It was an M.C. Escher painting. That was the only way to describe it. Whoever had built this place had told physics and rationality to go screw themselves, then proceeded to have a threesome with physics and rationalities mothers. He looked up at the nearest building, briefly wondered at what point the twisting of it started, quickly triangulated said point by estimating the length of the shadow based on the size of the paving slabs it covered and multiplying it by what was probably the cosine of the line from the end of the shadow to that point on the building...
Jeremiah blinked. Wait, what? He shook his head. That was different. He was an artist, he knew which side of the brain his neurons were buttered on. Beside the point though. The man considered his surroundings, considering what would be the best possible method of discovering where he was...
He turned back to the cat with a perfectly calm and reasonable smile.
"What," Jeremiah said cheerfully, "The hell?"

[Mel Dragonkitty]

The sudden loss of power drove Mel to her knees, weak as a baby. Her shielding flickered but with a bit of a panic she managed to salvage it. She took a deep breath and forced herself back to her feet as she didn't want to look like a nice vulnerable target in this place.  But before she could regain her footing there was a great flash and the footing appeared to leave her.

When the flash died away the young dragon found herself back in her native form and air rushing past her. A quick adjustment of her wings turned the fall into a graceful gliding spiral, allowing her to check out the scenery. She found both the gryphon pair from the party and a large airship. Hoping that the great gryphon would hold to the truce of the ball she turned towards the airship and felt the air disturbance of him moving in the same direction.

[Sunblink]

Elizabeth immediately regretted her decision the moment the anonymous, masked man accepted her gingerly-proffered hand. What was wrong with her? This was reckless behavior unbecoming of a warrior. For a moment, she believed she had failed at something – like she answered a challenge and was unceremoniously defeated. She was ensorcelled by mellifluous charm, an overwhelmingly embarrassing moment even in its brevity, and she felt weaker as a person for it. However, even when she derided and chastised herself for her malleability, she did not attempt to break the connection between herself and this stranger. She attempted to assert some form of dominance over the dance, but her struggles were swept away as they glided across the dance room floor. Elizabeth, much to her humiliation, was forced to rely on this man's commanding presence in order to keep herself from making a scene on the dance floor.

She was so preoccupied with making sure that she didn't stumble over her own feet (she was ill-equipped for ballroom dancing) that she almost missed what the stranger murmured to her. Just when it occurred to her, Elizabeth glanced up at the stranger, her eyes wide, scrambling over his features, frantically trying to penetrate the lacquer of his mask. She felt like her stomach had been turned to stone; it was just a heavy, useless weight resting at the bottom of her body. The mirror, she realized with numb comprehension, he knew about the mirror. Was she not the only one looking for it? Would she be forced to compete with someone for the possession of that artifact? For some reason, she could not believe that this man was anything but an antagonist to her, perhaps because of her lingering resentment.

Elizabeth continued the dance for formality's sake, her eyes still fixated on the eyeholes of the man's mask as he continued his speech. In spite of her increasing apprehension and her swelling feeling of dread, she could not simply break away and lash out at him – she was compelled to listen to every last word of his warning. Maybe he was not an adversary after all; maybe he was an ally dispatched by Eurydice. She had never informed Elizabeth of any escorts in advance...

No, this person was acting independently.  Elizabeth was convinced of this. And he was giving her advice. She didn't trust him, but did she have any other alternatives? If the situation was as dire as he described, she had no choice but to rely on his guidance. Two apparitional figures flickered at the edge of her vision, but in a matter of moments they were gone, disappearing behind the swishing and twisting bodies of the dancers in all their carefree frivolity. Before she could bring herself to investigate further, the man drew her attention back to him with the force of his iron grip. Elizabeth felt her heartbeat accelerate, the palpitations overwhelming the lilting sound of the music thrumming in the background. Her slender fingers curled around the man's larger, longer digits, reciprocating the intensity of his squeeze with equal, deceptive strength. She just barely kept herself from deliberately applying enough force to cause pain (or at the very least discomfort) – as he continued, the oily sensation of dread slithering in her stomach quickly ignited, blistering and burning. Elizabeth had enough of just being a spectator to this man's ambiguous intentions. She wanted answers and she wanted them right now; she was tired of being a pawn.

"Wait just a minute! Who the hell are you? How do you know about the m-" Elizabeth started, but as soon as her lips closed around the first syllable, she saw something – someone – fall to the ground. The plume of red blooming from Cerebus's forehead was what caught her attention – mesmerized and captivated with confusion all at once, she did not realize the man had vanished until she realized her shoulder had been relinquished.

She could not wait for the resulting pandemonium. She had to leave. Gathering fistfuls of her iridescent dress in her hands, Elizabeth moved to push her way out of the group of people, intent on escaping what would undoubtedly become the heart of this chaos. Locating the mirror was only secondary in her thoughts, for once. She was so delirious, struggling to register what had just happened and how the languid celebration of the ball had deteriorated into a nightmare, that she couldn't focus on her objective or anything else.

Somehow, all her thoughts tumbled on top of each other and rattled until they were all just incomprehensible noise; her vision swelled and went utterly black like an eclipse had seized the room. The last thing Elizabeth remembered was someone - a woman - shrieking, and then she sunk into darkness.

---

When Elizabeth woke up, she felt as though it was no different from being unconscious. She still couldn't see anything, and she briefly contemplated just falling asleep again just to end the utter monotony of blindness. However, the sound of a match striking a rough surface and the subsequent spray of flame reconfigured her senses; shortly after registering the spark and the light surrounding that tiny fire, the darkness seemed to clear. Jagged, monochrome outlines surrounding rocks and craggy peaks indicated that she was currently imprisoned in a cavern, or some sort of underground channel. Magnificent - she attributed her abrupt transportation to the presence of this stranger, casually perched on a throne of stone. Rancid smoke flourished around the glowing tip of the bat's cigarette, wavering in the shadows.

Elizabeth sunk her teeth into her lower lip, concentrating all her ire into a furious glare. She immediately blamed this individual for her current predicament. She blamed him for all sorts of things that didn't make the slightest bit of sense, but she was so frustrated and so dizzy that she couldn't think rationally. At the very least, she found his mannerisms fairly familiar - was he the one she danced with in the ballroom?

"What did you DO?" was the first thing Elizabeth spat as she crawled onto her knees, rising into a more assertive stance with some effort. "Where am I? You're responsible for this, aren't you?"