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

[Sunblink]

Elizabeth was so excited - so distracted and unnecessarily intoxicated on the idea of encountering another of her clan, or someone who was familiar with its traditions and customs - that she did not raise her defenses even as she walked into the room. It was a decision she would later come to regret, given her firm, disciplined philosophy and her consistently warlike demeanor. Years of hiding had possibly weathered her reflexes - this was just an excuse, she wanted to dismiss her irresponsibility by disguising it with something rational - so all she could do, when the figure she had presumably cornered spun around and became uncharacteristically hostile, was stare in abject shock. Elizabeth didn't detect any emotions trickling off of that figure, and immediately she realized that something was horribly wrong. In such a melancholy establishment, every being presence had been emitting an indistinguishable cloud of lugubrious sorrow. The place practically stunk of grief to such a degree that she would probably abstain from harvesting such emotions for years to come. So why...?

Elizabeth's neck was immediately ensnared. She moved to resist, but did not counter with enough speed. She had almost instantaneously underestimated her opponent, assuming his or her arm would not be long enough to reach her, in spite of its owner's aggression. How wrong she was. Elizabeth tried to scream; all that emerged from her throat was a violent choking noise as the nerves in her limbs simply deactivated. No longer could she control them. Her vision blotted out in a sudden regurgitation of black.

She must have been on the floor, because when Elizabeth could see again, she was staring at the ceiling. She wasn't sure if she had hit her head, because her thoughts were coming to her in a languid, delirious trickle, and she was reacting with less urgency than what was required. Time and time again her impulses were disappointing her. The visage of that woman entered her sight, suddenly transitioning into that of Tobias's - not Tobias's. Elizabeth's breath hitched at the similarity, the mockingly reminiscent features crowned with leathery wings, and she felt angry, her lips curling and her muzzle wrinkling as she snarled vehemently at her assailant. Any thoughts that passed through her heads at that moment were suddenly rendered impotent as something horrible impacted her head, throwing her into unconsciousness.

---

Elizabeth was fettered to a bed when she awoke. While the restraints seemed excessive, they were, in fact, effective at preventing her from escaping, just now, at least. She wasn't certain if they possessed any magical qualities or enchantments that outright disabled metamorphosis, but at the moment, she simply felt too weary to even think about resisting what bound her. Was she drugged? Her thoughts were so clouded. Elizabeth lolled her head in the direction of her captor, her raspy voice without the venom that she wanted.

"I know you."

[Cogidubnus]

 The succubus took a drag of her cigarette. "Not really." she said lazily, although not unamiably. "I don't really remember knowing you, to be honest. But it was a long time ago." she flicked away a buildup of ash, smiling a bit. "Oh, of course I remember...of you, I suppose, Báthory. The great raider that couldn't help getting a little messy when slaughtering beings. The Báthory that now designs scarves for them." her expression soured, giving the jackal a look about as bitter as the cigarette she was sucking on.

"To be honest, I don't know if I can trust you. You've lived amongst them so long now, I suspect you may have gained...sympathies, for them." she said. She sounded truly troubled. "I've buried their dead for centuries now, listening to them weep over dead flesh. Feeding on their sorrow and despair. Still they make me ill." she took another long drag, and then flicked the stub of a cigarette away while reaching for a box on the windowsill next to her. With the sort of skill one gains from a thousand rote, repetitive actions, she shook a slip white stick out of the top and grabbed it with her teeth, pulling it out, and lighting it with a small blue flame from her thumb. Elizabeth could her the extremity of the stick burn acridly for a moment, and Eurydice's subsequent deep, satisfied breath.
"I suppose that I am a victim of circumstance. Were it up to me, I'd leave you to your party and your playing dress-up." she said, breathing smoke. "But the Lady does have a need of you." she smiled.

"There is something in that Castle that she desires very much..."

* * *

Rynkura and Gar reached the Castle quickly, the drifting snow and wind proving no impediment to their progress. The vista of an endless forest of green and white, and snowcapped mountains on the horizon soothed their eyes as they ascended up the path, reaching the Castle in less than half an hour.

* * *

"Oh, nothing, Herr Doctor." the fox said, checking his pocketwatch and smoothing out a lock of hair that had come free. "What could ever be wrong with me? Things are always splendid. It's all in the mind, you see." he smiled with perhaps too much amusement at the rat. "Things are only as wrong as you let yourself get disturbed about them. But, Herr Doctor, I think you are quite disturbed about something, mm?"

The fox leaned close and grinned, whispering. "Someone else has it now. Apparently you died with it in your possession! Who would have guessed! They actually made it out of the caves." he leaned backwards. "Which means I do hope you'll be staying, Herr Doctor. Tonight promises to be very interesting." he said. His teeth shone.

* * *

The porter took a moment to gather himself, taking a breath and then beginning to push himself up off the ground. He stared at nothing in particular for a second before brushing off his coat, and then looked at the giant Daisy standing in front of him. He glanced at his compatriot, who was still on the ground. A great number of the gathered crowd was in the same state, although surprisingly, shock more than fear seemed to have won out - the crowd remained totally silent.

He checked the invitation. He looked up. He handed the invitation back to Tim.

"Right this way." he said, gesturing to the door. He seemed unperturbed by the fact that Rover was at least half as tall as the Castle was.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Tim, in her butterfly guise, accepted the invitation back again with a polite "Thank-you.", then started following the porter.

Then she glanced past him, at the door he was apparently leading them through. Then back over her shoulder, and up, at Rover, who was looking around curiously at the shocked and stunned bystanders. Then back at the door.

She briefly, and expertly, sized up the differences.

Then she shrugged. "It's your door, I guess. Rover! With me, please."


And then she followed the porter through the door. While very very carefully not looking back to see Rover (whose nose might just about fit through the portal), following her. Tracking him by the footfalls, she walked through the door, and onwards perhaps ten or so paces, then paused, with her eyes shut, for the world to fall in.

And waited.

And waited.

A polite cough from her guide, and a nudge on her shoulder from her charge, suggested that what she was expecting just hadn't happened. She turned, and was treated to the slightly eye-watering image of a thirty foot tall, sixty foot long gryphon stretching its one hundred twenty plus wingspan... in a ten by ten corridor. Without touching either wall. Or the roof.

"Argle."

[Stygian]

For a moment, the rat's features hardened to a brown rock face, and his gaze sharpened to such a point that it seemed the fox's eyes ought to bleed. There was something in that gaze, some despise or evil will so coldly intense that one might have thought no grimace of loathing would be horrible enough, leaving the doctor's mere facial expression behind and looking complacent by comparison.
   'Your insanity, I cannot remove,' the rat hissed slowly, his accent, his very voice altered as if the slightly nasal and unwieldy one before had never been. 'But there are other things that I can,' he continued with malevolence. 'And I don't need you to fear me or feel pain. Continue to test me, and your destruction will be quite enough.' He turned back to watch the party, a frown fixed on his face.
   'You know my intentions,' he said next, after a short wait, once again not looking at the fox in a way that was less ignoring and more denying. 'And if somehow you've forgotten, which I wouldn't put past you, you at least know I'm in no mood to talk. Leave me be.'

[Yugo]

"Absolutely," Esme replied with a light curtsy, attempting to be somewhat more polite than her disrespectful companion. They must have some kind of history together, Esme mused, wondering just what it was that made Elyse hate the little frog so much. Whatever it was, she doubted she would find out by asking. People tended not to like to talk about those kinds of things. She turned back to the white bat, smiling brightly. "Well, I'm afraid I'm not as adept at that kind of magic as you appear to be." The lynx watched Elyse sip at her scarlet beverage curiously, noting the way the liquid flowed across the clear surface of its container and Elyse's lips before drawing her hands behind her back as she realized she was staring, and waited for them to be off.

"There's certainly a menagerie of characters here," she said mostly to herself, wondering exactly why she was standing in the middle of a group of well dressed members of the nobility. "But I suppose that's to be expected from an event of this magnitude." It was a ball of course, but Esme had no doubts that it was more of a political summit than it was a celebration. Dragons probably had a great stake in the goings on of the world. "What kind of people are normally invited to this ball, anyways?" The short woman turned and eyed both the frog and bat curiously. "We three don't seem to bethe most likely candidates for an invitation to the Scarlet Masque." There was no seeming or pondering for herself of course. A medical officer had no real clout in the political world. She just tried to save lives.

[Azlan]

"... and he hands me this small stick and says 'it's a Gobi card!'  So I say, 'great, go be what?'  Well, you had to be there."  Chuckled Kiet as he mingled with the various guests, "but really, I have a whole room full of blades, why would I need one made by a swordsmith named Sis-Ko?"

A rather disheveled blue raccoon shook his head and with a barely concealed sigh of frustration attempted a reply, "No, no it's Cis... you know, never mind."  The poor fellow stalked off in search of more wine, he had never met someone so frustrating.

Returning with a pair of wine glasses filled with a fine red, Camiole watched the blue being stalk off, "whats got him all bothered?"

The ringtail shrugged, "he wanted to sell me some servers, but I found it much more entertaining to annoy him.  After all, it's not like I teach the technology classes at the Academy."
 

[Cogidubnus]

 The fox grinned, laughing darkly, and removed his glasses as he pulled away from the rat. "Well then! Cheers, Doctor." he said, rubbing them on the breast of his jacket as he walked away. Heading for Esme, Elyse and their froglike companion.

"Ladies! And...Jeremiah. How delightful to see you... all." he grinned at two of them. "I hope you're not thinking of hiding out on us, we really do have a delightful selection of wines to choose from this afternoon. A room to change in for later is complementary, of course - but we ask that you don't camp out there, as other guests may need to use them as the evening grows, ah, larger." he smiled, all genial fangs. His gaze locked onto Elyse oddly. "If you need to retrieve anything from your room, of course, feel free. Having gotten here last night, I can of course understand you wishing to keep others out, to protect your personal items. If you'd like, one of the...staff can accompany you to lock that particular door." he said, continuing to smile, and offered a short nod at the milky-white bat. He shifted his attention to the more diminutive of the two.

"And, ah! I do remember you, Esme. Do you mind if I call you Ms. Broussard?" he said, grabbing her hand, and kissing it before she could protest. "We've been told to expect you! Would you mind if we could speak in...private?" he said, his eyes gleaming."

* * *

A few hours later, Elizabeth found herself just outside the Castle, her gown carefully tucked away with her, and with only a few hours to the ball to go. Not much time to find what she was looking for then, but...

* * *

Luna Lazuli had arrived.

The worst kept secret in Damaske was, of course, the identify of the founder and benefactor of the Scarlet Masque. No-one could prove anything, of course, but there were only so many people who had the desire, let alone the ability, to create such an event. The fact that it was located in one of the most bitterly cold climes in the world, in the dead of winter, and the fact that the Icewings had attented every ball since it's inception - a nearly unduplicated feat - seemed to point very large fingers in Luna's direction. It seemed to amuse the Dragon Matriarch.

So, when her arrival elicited attention, it was not entirely unexpected.

The staff themselves stopped, as did large numbers of the invited guests, and by itself a path formed through the crowd to the Castle doors. There was no red carpet laid out, but where mundane hands can do nothing, magic can do much. The snow melted in front of the elder dragon's delicately-clad feet - an impressive example of the effects of finely controlled manipulation of ambient heat. A few individuals in the crowd pulled their coats tighter, with shiver and a strange look.

With silence as her fanfare, Luna glided into the Castle doors - followed closely by her Granddaughter and her entourage - and disappeared into the Castle Damaske.

* * *

One by one, the stars winked into existence.

Night came early in the town surrounded by mountains - and as the sun dipped beneath the rocky peaks, the snow began to fall more heavily, and the people, warmly-dressed as they were, began to nip into wintertide liquor to stave off a chill. It was shaping up to be a night that cooled the blood and froze the bones, the sort of night where one didn't dare spit for fear of getting ice on your lips, and where a campfire seemed as laughable as a towel in the ocean. In the courtyard, statues clad in icy armor and frosted mails stood watch over a snow-buried garden - a cold and bitter chill, only broken once by the sound of footsteps springing through the untouched grounds, and then the clatter of boots on a stone wall.

The lights of the town below began to light, even as they dimmed in the heavy snowfall. The Masque - the Scarlet Masque - was about to begin.

[techmaster-glitch]

   Throughout the day, Karazkt had just been in his little cell, listening to the thrum of activity through the stone, since no one had come to get him yet. He went through another rest cycle, and had just come out of it around the time of nightfall. He stirred, and, with nothing better to do, re-immersed himself in the vibrations through the stone of the castle, listening to the general "hive". Something was happening.

[e_voyager]

Aten arrived at the gates . he'd gotten here well enough but but was uneasy now that he was at the gates. He had his invitation on hand , he'd returned the books on the way and even now he as he approach the guards  he wondered if he might be making a big mistake. he had become certain that this ball existed for a long time before his parents birth now. But even so he was unable to find poof one way or another about weather or not they could use this event to draw him in. it was his time at the gate now. point of no return at least as far as his pride and dignity were concerned. he smiled at the guards. "good evening" he said reaching for his invitation.

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel wandered through the art showing slightly behind her grandmother, waiting for her signal that it was time to change for the ball itself.  The elder dragon's reputation acted like a wall, keeping all but the most determined petitioners at a respectful distance, leaving Mel free of people trying to get Icewing information or favors for free. As an added bonus watching her grandmother deal with the few bold petitioners was more interesting than the rather bland art on exhibit. LL was skilled at getting the best of any bargain. The current petitioner was a twitchy looking chameleon wanting to verify a rumor of an ancient treasure cache. Considering LL's opinion of people involved in get-rich-quick schemes this should be short and amusing.

[Cogidubnus]

"A...map. You say."

"Yes'm." the chameleon rasped. "Given by my dying grandfather to me, the last of his kin, found by him in the great war across the ocean. I must know, great lady-" his tone had grown far away, and LL resisted the urge to roll her eyes - "Is there truly...gold, at the end of this path? Does it lead to Samarkand?"
LL regarded him for a moment, looking him up and down.

"No. But-" she said, leaning close and whispering. "I feel pity for you. Not two miles from here, to the east and up the mountainside, there is a cave - Lionel Turk, former owner of the Firebloom Inn, widower and childless, is said to have buried there his life savings, in precious metals. Many people have been there, but - " she leaned closer still, to whisper in his ear. "There is a pool in the rear of the cave. Beneath the water, just beneath the water-soaked earth, the gold is buried."

"Shoo!"

The chameleon started, giving LL a wide-eyed look, and nodded quickly. He shuffled backwards for a moment, as though he was simply trying to rejoin the crowd and the party, but it didn't take him very long at all to make for the door. A few others followed him.
Walter coughed. "Ah, I don't suspect there really is anything there, madam, hmm?" Luna simply smiled, a hint of fangs. "Of course not. But, he really seemed like he wanted to go snipe hunting, so-"

"Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Heads swivled at the yellow-waistcoated fox standing on one of the tables. The fox bowed at the attention.
"It is my, and the staff of the Castle Damaske's pleasure to announce the Scarlet Masque is about to begin!" he bowed, although his quick speaking cut off any applause. "At this time, we would request that our guests and patrons change into the required dress code before entering the ballroom. Rooms to change will be provided for everyone. If you are already changed, we also ask that you wait just a few moments while we finish a few last minute things." he smiled, and in the ensuing din of conversation gestured to the attendants on either side of the room, standing next to a stairwell, and ready to guide the guests to an appropriate room to change.

*  *   *

Aten was addmitted a few moments after handing over his invitation - just in time, it appeared to go change and get ready for the ball.

[Aisha deCabre]

The time seemed to rush past, despite the anticipation of waiting for a party to begin.  The ride up to the castle was indeed spectacular, Rynkura thought, from the snow-covered hills to the resilient evergreen trees out of either side of the windows as the light of day waned.

And the castle itself wasn't far too gone from that description.  It stood imposing yet welcoming, ancient yet grand.  The tigress had heard stories, but just looking at it piqued some definite curiosities about the time to come.  She could already see a bunch of people entering, showing their invitations to the guards.  As she and Gareeku checked to make sure they haven't forgotten their own, their sensitive ears could pick up snatches of small activity, and more so from the inside as the cart stopped and their passage was paid for.

With a show of invitations to the guards at the door, the adventurer Gareeku Manoko and the healer Rynkura Msh'taan had officially joined the festivities.

"This place is quite larger than I had expected..." the tigress could be heard murmuring as they took their time winding through the halls to the main ballroom, her voice mingling in the echoes made from others ahead.  Secretly, she hadn't remembered just how large the palace her family once lived in as a child, but she was certain the castle was bigger than that.  "I have an urge to explore about the rooms just to see what kinds of secrets it holds."

The flurry of activity and the rumors of what dignitaries were there surely didn't leave their ears as they mingled, either.  There was talk of an ice dragon queen of many thousands of years having arrived before nightfall, and she could see many kinds of creatures than just her angelic self, wings and all.  But instead of asking, Rynkura had thought to play things by ear.  Looking around, at least the talk of a dragon or two wasn't exaggerated.  She thought suddenly of hers and Aisha's friend Icharus Stormclaw, who'd feel right at home at something like this.

As soon as it was time, the crowd's attention was caught by the vulpine at the balcony, listening intently to his announcement that the ball had begun and the request that everyone get dressed if they still had to.

The white tiger chuckled, leaning against a portion of furniture and adjusting the dark black and emerald mask over the bridge of her nose and regarding the wolf in his outfit.  "No need for us to worry about that."

So thus it was time to wait with the crowd, while also peering around at who showed up.

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace sat for a moment to rest in the small room she'd been given to change into her dress for the Masque, which was just about to start. After arriving at Castle Damaske late in the morning, she'd spent most of the afternoon mingling with the flow of chattering guests. She'd also surreptitiously explored the public parts of the Castle — and a few of the not so public parts — whenever she could slip away unnoticed. Despite her size, the lioness could move very quietly indeed when she needed to: her bare paws made almost no noise on the stone, tiled and carpeted floors.

There was something very odd about this place. Her sense of direction was normally very good, and the main hallways in the central castle building were laid out simply, in a huge square. And yet... at one point, in the back corridor at the far end of the Castle, where the windows gave a dramatic view of the nearby mountains, she'd had a strong feeling of being lost. A couple of times she'd seen that monstrous Gryphon a short distance ahead, walking along a cross-corridor in cheerful defiance of the fact that not even the biggest hall she'd seen so far had enough room for it to fit.

And there was one room... Andrace suppressed a shiver that raised her hackles from the back of her neck to her tail root. Upstairs she'd discovered hallways full of mostly locked doors, apparently private rooms and suites. From behind one of those locked doors, her sensitive nose had scented something faint but unmistakeable wafting through the keyhole. The room was full of dead people. Not Undead, she knew what they smelled like, these were as dead as the badger in the knife shop. Some of them for a very long time. She'd had a moment of morbid fascination to open the door and investigate, but there were a few people walking about, and she'd probably attract attention crouching by the door fiddling with the lockpicking kit she had hidden in her purse.

Her muzzle quirked in a smile as she recalled seeing that fluff-brained ringtail at one point, with his spotted feline attendant. He'd been bending the ear of an unfortunate soul who looked almost ready to gnaw his leg off to escape. A less amusing encounter had been the Dragon matriarch with her granddaughter in tow, inspecting a display of paintings. The lioness had ducked back into a shadowy corridor beside a famous (and rather risqué) old portrait by Van Klomp, and hoped she hadn't been noticed. The ancient Dragon gave her a very uneasy feeling. Not as if she were about to attack, far from it, but Andrace couldn't rid herself of a feeling she was being inspected from the inside out.

The lioness sighed as she folded up her jacket and skirt, tucked them into her backpack, and began to get ready for the Masque. Her dress was laid out to air, and all its little hidden secrets were ready: none of them seemed to have been disturbed while she'd been exploring. She wished, though, the oh-so-powerful matriarch of the Icewing Clan, traders in valuable information second to none, had seen fit to give her a little bit more information about her target. After the bloody mess in the knife shop, any plans she'd had to wait and ask a few questions back at the hotel had gone right out the window. But maybe there was someone here she could lean on a little bit. She didn't remember hearing Kiet TiPaollo's appearance announced at any of the minor events held during the afternoon: she still didn't even know what he looked like (assuming the 'Cubi wasn't shapechanged into someone else) — she could easily walk right past him in one of the hallways and not know it...

[Azlan]

A simple face in the crowd, that is what Kiet was as the magnificent, ancient ice dragon made her entrance.  Dragons and cubi had not been on good terms for the past few thousand years.  Dragons claim it was cubi that started it and cubi claim it was the dragons that started it.  Kiet smiled inwardly, he knew the truth.

As she drifted by, he was reminded quite strikingly how appearance was so very deceiving.  Elegant, charming, friendly, and even kind is how she appeared, but the truth was as frigid as the element her species embodied.

The ringtail's rather prominent ears perked up as the fox announced the imminent start of the Scarlet Masque.  He was about to emit some very unflattering, high pitched happy noise, but was stopped by a tugging at his sleeve.

Camiole gestured with her head away and behind the throng of attendees.  Kiet followed and both were met by an attendant.  The graying rat's mouth turned up in an oily smile, "this way to the changing rooms."

Within moments they were whisked away to an area where they could make preparations to acquiesce to the appropriate dress code.

Kiet had decided on the striking black, red, and gold of his most militant and infamous appointment.  The crisp lines of the uniform of a battle mage, the epaulettes and insignia of a general from a time long past, and a coat of arms of the Armies of the Unified Clans and Creatures.  

"You know there are very few here that will even recognize half of what you are wearing, and even then only if they were studious in their ancient history."  Remarked Camiole.

Admiring himself in the mirror, Kiet shrugged, "racial memory should still elicit fear among the beings, but I can't pass up a chance to wear a shiny uniform again!"

"how can something be shiny when it is soaked in so much blood..." the leopard mumbled.

Kiet raised a ear as he strained to discern her mumbling, "hmmm?"

"nothing... what I meant to say was... how the hell did we end up in the same dressing room???!!!" Ranted Camiole.

Kiet waved his hand nonchalantly, "meh, I was there when you were born and chased you through the halls as you dashed about naked vainly trying to avoid 'bath time'."

Camiole blushed and quickly slipped on her fancy royal attire, semi-medieval in appearance and quite sword and sorcery fantasy.  Her costume was cleverly disguised light armor and very flexible, while retaining strength.

The ringtail wondered about the curious little mirror he had concealed in his extradimensional space, but shook it off for now, there would be time enough for that later.  He was fairly certain this ball would be rather revealing.

Both exited the dressing area to join those waiting, Kiet gleeful and Camiole ever on edge.  As he walked down the hall, Kiet brushed past a familiar looking lioness, but he could not remember where he had seen her before.  He payed little mind as he reached the waiting area.          

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

Floating about in a corner of the room, trailing after the giant daffodil, Tim was still somewhat bemused at the way the scenery twisted itself around them. On the one hand, the roof was no higher than 12 or 14 feet, here in the atrium. And the chandeliers hung down to about ten feet off the floor.  Yet Rover, who towered over all the other guests, yet didn't reach anywhere near the ceiling he should be batting his head against, had made several heroic attempts to leap up and grab one, without any success so far.

With any luck, she thought, the attempt would keep him occupied for the next few hours.

Barely had that crossed her mind, glancing shiftily from side to side and moving quickly to avoid being run over, but the situation changed, once more. With a cry of "Shiny Lollipop!", Rover made a prodigious leap halfway across the room. In yet another eye-gouging image, he sailed over the heads of the guests, and under the chandeliers, fifteen odd tons and sixty feet of length barely brushing past with a tiny amount of wind, and landed neatly - and much lighter than Tim expected - with a light whump, his paws neatly on either side of the resplendent red, black and gold vision that was striding down the hall. Before either of them could react, the giant daisy towering over him, and yet no taller than he was, extended a humongous tongue, and plastered him from toe to forehead in a tremendous, wet, slobbery lick.

Immediately followed by "Bleaurgh!", the daisy settling back on it's haunches and pawing frantically at the tongue, attempting to wipe off the taste.

On the heels of that, Tim managed to pry herself out of the crowd, glancing up at Rover before turning to survey the now somewhat damper, and slightly less dashing outfit on the ringtail. "I do apologise, sir." She winced. "I've been trying to explain the concept of 'appropriate behaviour' to him, but it's an uphill struggle. Is there anything I can do to help?" she looked attentively at him, whilst trying to keep her other eye on her charge, in case he came up with any other hair-brained ideas.

[Yugo]

A fireplace at the far end of the room crackled and spat behind its plated grating, occasionally shooting glowing embers onto the cold stone floor as some pocket of moisture in the wood that burned exploded. A light red carpet clad the rest of the room's floor, giving the fireplace itself a wide berth as it wrapped itself around each corner to keep bare feet warm and comfortable. The fire cast wicked dancing shadows throughout its entirety, mimicking its own flames flickering and jumping behind the grate. With this light, Esme was doing her best to put in her golden earrings in front of a tall gilded mirror. She sat on the large, but not unreasonably so, bed that was granted to her as part of the room's furnishings. A long purple velvet dress flowed across her body to touch the carpeted floor, with flouncy sleeves lined with black lace. Attached to it was a black bodice of the same material; decorative black lacing pulled it tightly against her up the front to a square neckline, topped off with a simple black choker. Finished with the earrings, she put her glasses on and placed her hands in her lap, frowning slightly. Pretty, but I feel so pretentious. She closed her eyes, and unbidden, the memory of her encounter with the strange and courteous fox returned to her.

She had expressed an awkward smirk at his mannerisms, and still wondered just why everybody seemed to treat their froggy companion as some kind of anathema. Esme had been quite surprised when the fox readily kissed her hand, something she was wholly unused to. "No, I don't mind at all," she smiled with a light blush behind her fur, trying to hide her embarassment badly. "I'm afraid I don't remenber you, however," Esme replied, raising a single eyebrow above the rim of her small square glasses. "I'm not sure I can speak personally with a person who hasn't even told me their own name." She giggled softly, perhaps trying too hard to be sociable.

[Azlan]

Camiole tensed as the huge daffodil gryphon leaped at Kiet.  Her hand slipped into the extradimensional weapons space in which she kept her deadly polearm.  The leopardess had only fought two huge gryphons in her life.  The first time she was young, the creature managed to escape and only the timely intervention of a healer prevented her from bleeding out.  The second time was later in her life, and she had effortlessly severed its head from its body and gouged out its eyes.  She had then hurled the body part into the center of the Great Chambers of the Gryphon Aerie, sparking a war that cost the feathered avians dearly.  Most of the dumb, huge gryphons know better then to attack a creature vastly more powerful then it.

Moments before the slurp, Kiet had waved her off before she drew her deadly ace.  She cringed as it landed, but her jaw dropped as it licked him.  A small giggle escaped her as she fought hard to control her urge to guffaw uproariously.  

The shadow that the ringtail cast, elongated and stretched out, joining Tim's.  A black ichor boiled out from around her feet swirling up her body's curves, crawling over her feathers, and snaking across her shoulders.  The ichor slowly coalesced into a vague furre shape, resolving back wings, head wings, a huge fluffy tail and other body parts.  Kiet, untouched by slobber, moved his muzzle close to the right sound channel of the smaller Gryphon.  He was careful to show the nice sharp teeth contained within as he spoke, but he maintained a nonthreatening vibe.

"Ms..."  the thought was easy to pick up as he asked the simple question, "...Tim, do not worry, I have had far worse things happen to me in my time, luckily I keep a handy puppet of substitution for just such a case." Carefully he gestured to the now wet, but rather remarkable wooded puppet standing in his place.  For all intensive purposes it was perfect, save the pivot joints where limbs should bend.  A very elaborate kabuki theater doll made life size.  The thing bowed and burst into a flurry of speed, dashing to the right and instantly fading from view.  

"Believe me young lady, I have taught a class or two hundred in the art of surprise.  A few of us feed off of it, but after teaching it, eventually you become quite immune to the effects."  Brushing himself off, Kiet moved away from Tim, and waited to gain entrance.

[Mel Dragonkitty]

Mel contemplated her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her gown absently as she made her final decisions about her attire. At least no one was trying to rush them out of the room since her grandmother had put out the fire in the fireplace and lowered the temperature to something more tolerable.  The gown, a sheath of midnight blue velvet looked fine, although she shortened the train so it just brushed the ground enough to let the silver lace of it's lining rustle as she moved. Considering the circumstances of the evening she had piled on her custom jewelry to a point short of overdone. She glanced over at her grandmother's preparations and decided that she was quite safe from overdoing it. But the older, larger, and more powerful matriarch could carry off a more glittering ensemble without looking like a display case.

One more glance at herself and Mel remembered what she had wanted to add. A quick spell and her plain white wings carried a design. Not quite a tattoo but almost appearing as a glow from inside. The symbols appeared just decorative if looked at straight on but if looked at out of the corner of the eye they seemed to become more meaningful. Flaring her wings to check the entire pattern Mel caught a faint glare from her grandmother at a nearly tipped over perfume bottle. The room provided wasn't quite big enough for such an exercise. Neatly furling the offending appendages Mel checked them from the side view. Even folded enough of the effect showed to satisfy her that she didn't need to redo the spell. In it's own way the effect was a more ostentatious display than the jewelry.

Her own preparations done Mel settled in to wait for both her grandmother to finish getting ready herself and for her last minute instructions.

[llearch n'n'daCorna]

The consternation on Tim's face at having the stranger appear from her own shadow, and address her by name, was nothing to the surprise apparent in Rover's reaction to his "shiny lollipop" apparently vanishing into thin air.

He blinked, turning his head from side to side to gaze at the spot where the kabuki doll had been, then, crouching down, he sniffed carefully at where it had vanished. Then, very carefully, he reached out one giant paw, and tentatively poked at the floor, rapidly drawing his paw back, as if scorched. His head reared back, and tilted to one side, quizzically. Then he tilted it the other way, and brought one paw down on the spot, hammering down with a massive boom that shook the room, rattling the windows, and leaving an impressive paw-shaped dent in the stone floor, cracks radiating from it. He then peered into the dent, patently looking for his missing playmate - perhaps hiding under a flagstone - before raising his head and gazing around. As he did so, however, he caught site of Kiet sauntering away. He looked after the pair of Cubi, then back at the dent in the floor, confusion as to how that had been done evident on his face. And then he turned to Tim, plaintively.

Tim hadn't moved, still shocked. He leaned down - or possibly up, given the weird space distortion - and nudged her gently on the shoulder with his beak. Tim blinked, shook herself, and glanced at her charge. "I told you to be careful, didn't I? No playing with strangers, right? And what happens? Tsk, tsk, tsk." She shook her head at him. He assumed his usual hangdog position. She looked fondly at him. "Look, I know there's lots of shiny stuff here. Just be careful, ok? Ask first, ok?" He nodded, his shamefaced look somewhat obscured by the mask. She patted him gently on the beak. "Good boy. We wait here for a bit, ok?" Another nod. "And no playing with strangers! Particularly ones that don't want to play." An emphatic nod.

Tim relaxed. "Good boy."

[Stygian]

Elyse wasn't about to make any comments about types of magic or aptitude; in her case, humility and a religious despise for self-centered behavior had been mixed with a sort of shameful and grudging acceptance of the need for discretion over the years. With practiced conversational deftness, she downplayed herself.
   'It's probably not a matter of skill, since I cheated,' she said in a very frank tone of voice, dismissing the lynx's modesty in an instant. Anything she might have said after though, never was. Esme's second question hit spot on a sensitive point that sent shudders of unpleasant reminder through the bat's thoughts. She ran a number of ideas through her head, not least of which was the ever-persistent question as to why she herself were there and the many assorted and varyingly horrible speculations attached to it. A little anxiously, she twirled her fingers in the cloth of her dress. It would be so nice to sit down and relax and think about things. The trouble was that she didn't seem to get the opportunity.
   Elyse was just about to say something, when she was interrupted on the spot, by a fox as smooth as an oil slick. And, to her at least, about as pleasant as one as well. There was something... glazed about his smile. Something that disconnected it completely from the expression of his eyes, as though his face were merely a mask, fit absolutely seamlessly over his bones but not attached to his eyes either by musculature or by any common sense of purpose. Yes, a mask. How appropriate for the occasion. But that wasn't the bad part of it though. If only it had extended to his expression, she might have been able to chalk it up to the sort of common, calculating evil that you saw in any sociopath demon. But not only could she not feel a speck of emotion or consciousness from him, or any twinges of magic, but she got the overall impression that he wasn't even there at all. That who she was seeing simply wasn't there. Or that he was, but that he was merely a puppet, or an image of... something else. The thought disturbed her in extremis, and would have made her shiver as he nodded at her, were she not already steeling her nerves from before.
   Then the mask - the man, she reminded herself - asked if he could speak to Esme in private, and Elyse's face froze. Her mouth opened and closed, forming a great 'no!', and she tried giving a few stiff signs, as discretely as she could, to warn the lynx off. It was too late though, as they had already turned and walked off.
   'Shit!' she hissed, just under her breath. The tendons in her hands tightened with frustration, and a a few glasses on a tray a couple of steps away from her quivered. She looked at Jeremiah, now with even more intensely smouldering irritation. She looked as if she were contemplating slapping him. Then, just when your average person would probably have turned away or covered their face, she turned on a dime and positively stalked across the floor toward one of the attendants to be directed to a room.

- -

Face locked in still, bitter contemplativeness, the rat watched the exchange with a clear sense of distaste. The Lynx was of no real interest to him. The frog... was a moment of unpredictability, nothing more. Detrimental if one wanted to formulate a truly solid plan, but easily dealt with. The bat, however...
   Slowly, the rat drummed his fingers against the book in his hand. It was the strangest feeling, but there it was. Not exactly distracting him from his planning - he was far too good at multitasking for that - but at least impeding it a little. Curiosity willed him to explore it, but he restrained himself with the iron-hard determination he had come to develop over the years. One did not live as he had without that sort of thing. Priorities were key, when you had no way of knowing how to proceed.
   The rat sighed. A pity, he thought. It wasn't that he was disinterested. He certainly would have liked to explore the idea. At least, as far as a certain point. But for now, he'd just change masks...
   The Doctor turned on the spot, light colored a slight sheen of bloody red glinting off his glasses, and was gone. It was a trick that might remind many of certain movies, or magician's shows, where something passes in front of someone apparently standing quite far from any sort of hiding place for just a brief moment, and they vanish. The sort of thing to which the trick usually tends to be fairly simple once one gets the hang of it, and which depends on perspective or some momentary sensory trick. Yet somehow, the rat had managed to disappear between the narrow obscuring figures of people, without any blinding flash or blur of movement, just casually walking... out of view from every direction.

[Gareeku]

As Rynkura and Gareeku gradually made their way to the castle inside the carriage, the white wolf's eyes stayed transfixed on the scene outside that passed them by as they travelled. It was beautiful, to say the least. The lupine warrior did not often take the time to take in the scenery on his travels, but looking at the scenery outside of the carriage reassured him that he should take the time to appreciate such beauty.

After finally arriving at the castle, Gareeku looked up at the castle in front of him. It was grand, to say the least, suitably matching the grandeur of the surrounding scenery. Lowering his head to look ahead at the castle door, the wolf took the tigress' hand once more, before walking into the building having shown their invitations to the guards. They had arrived.

As they made their way inside, Gareeku could not help but notice the array of creatures present. There was certainly a wide variety, and the wolf had not failed to notice the huge gryphon present. It was quite hard not to after all, considering the size of the thing. Hoping that whoever the gryphon's company was keeping a very close eye on him, the white lupine continued onwards.

Having paid attention to the speech that the vulpine made who was stood atop the table, Gareeku smirked somewhat at Rynkura's comment, waiting for the other guests to arrive and to see what events would unfold.

[Sunblink]

I was weak, Elizabeth privately lamented.

In spite of the melancholy implications of that statement, Elizabeth did not seem depressed in the slightest. No, she was utterly infuriated - the gliding motions to her otherwise elegant gait was replaced with sharp, perfunctory turns and jerks, a furious, smoldering glare furrowed her brow and made her eyes blaze, and anyone who crossed her path in the slightest was rewarded with a punishing glower that thoroughly illustrated her ire. Elizabeth had plenty of reasons to be upset, having been deceived, manipulated, and defeated in one day. How the mighty had fallen! Elizabeth had let her guard down, something she never would have allowed in the past. She shouldn't have been so careless at the funeral home, she shouldn't have allowed Tobias's similarity to her late husband affect her rationality, and she shouldn't have agreed to the impossible demands of the one who was responsible for all of those indiscretions.

She shouldn't have agreed to them, but she did. She did because what that accursed bitch had said intrigued her. Jyraneth had abandoned all of her followers, to the point she would not seek retribution for their insubordination, for straying away from her edicts and teachings. That was what Elizabeth had convinced herself during her solitude, but the fact there was a possibility Jyraneth was still orchestrating life from the sidelines had shaken her to the core. Elizabeth did not consider Eurydice trustworthy, but as long as that possibility existed, Elizabeth would do what she wanted. The lasting indignity was agonizing.

Elizabeth was finally at the Castle gates. She briefly assessed the edifice, feeling the activity within its stone walls, and sighed. A few hours. Wonderful. Now where was she going to begin her search?

[SpottedKitty]

Andrace checked herself one last time in the little changing room's full length mirror. She ran a brush roughly over her wild mop of hair, then used a small fine-toothed comb to give the fur on her face, shoulders, arms and chest a quick grooming. She wore a strapless floor-length dress, creamy white satin and lace with glittering gold and pearl trim, that left her muscular arms and shoulders exposed. A white drawstring purse decorated in a floral motif dangled from her hand by gold-thread strings, and a pale lavender mask perched on her broad muzzle.

She took a firm grip of the neckline of her dress and gave it a couple of wiggles and a bounce to make sure everything was settled comfortably. Then she brushed at several very precise points on the dress; at each one, a claw or even a whole fingertip slipped into a tiny pocket cleverly hidden by a decorative frill, or a fold of material. She nodded in satisfaction, then explored two larger openings in the sides of the skirt, held closed by quick-release fastenings. Under the skirt, she had a long knife strapped to each thigh, almost long enough to count as a sword for a smaller Being like a mouse or ferret.

The lioness looked at her bare arms and sighed. "I love this dress," she muttered quietly, "but it ain't got sleeves t' hide stuff under. Ah well, there's ways round that..." She picked up her purse, loosened the drawstrings and put her hand into it. A lot further in than she should have been able to, in fact. Her arm was elbow-deep in the ten-inch-long purse when she started to rummage around inside it. She pulled her arm out with a whispered hiss of steel against leather, and suddenly she was holding a huge sword with a long thin blade. She nodded to herself and put the sword away again, although the actual process of getting the foot-wide crossguards in through the hand-wide neck of the purse wasn't very clear. She paused, and her arm moved a little more. Andrace laid her ears back and hissed in agitation as her vision twisted for a moment into stark greys, and she knew her eyes were now faintly glowing with light like a curdled rainbow. A shiver ran down her spine as she let go of the hidden Death-sword, and her eyes returned to normal. She hated to take it with her like this, but she was afraid to leave it behind.

The next thing she fished out was a large pistol, made of a metal that might have been brass or bronze. It would have been almost a small cannon in anyone else's hand, but it fit easily and lightly in Andrace's grip. She worked the action, pulled out the magazine, and checked the top bullet. A red ring was painted around the tip, and a tiny feline skull and crossed bones. Definitely one of her sister Despina's special creations, although the magazine wasn't full any more, and her spares only had ordinary bullets. She put the gun away, grinned toothily at her reflection in the mirror, hooked the purse strap over her arm and left the room, locking the door carefully behind her.

The lioness strode back towards the hall to make her grand entrance, the hem of her dress swishing around her paws, just in time to encounter the ringtail again. He wore what looked like a very old-fashioned uniform, in a style she didn't recognise, although she had a feeling she might have seen a drawing of something similar in an old book. Well, it wasn't important, maybe she'd remember later. She looked around the growing crowd in the hall; there were a lot of Creatures here, the Dragons of course, and she could see several Angels, a handful of Demons, and... oh, joy. The monster Gryphon was here. Andrace tried to hide behind a tall, broad-shouldered Mythos (even bigger than her), but she could still clearly see when the Gryphon turned its head and leaped across the hall with a delighted squeal...

She blinked. Many of the things she'd guessed about the ringtail and his attendant seemed to be wrong. The leopard was certainly a bodyguard, Andrace had seen her twitch in an aborted grab for a weapon she couldn't see. The ringtail himself, though... all right, so he was a 'Cubi. An old one, powerful, and a mage. She'd faced very old Creatures before: for some of them, the bumbling appearance was only a mask, and sometimes their full age and power would show through. Could it be? No, that fluff-brained nincompoop was not the ancient and horribly dangerous General TiPaollo. No way, he couldn't be.

... Was he?

[Cogidubnus]

 The fox had smiled at Esme, golden eyes sparkling in a way that Esme hadn't seen before. He somehow seemed all dash and debonair, the epitome of the polite, competent gentlemen. He indicated the room he wanted them to speak in - first door on the right hall - and took her arm, giving her another genial smile.
His turned his head over his shoulder and hers, looking at Eylse and smiling with a grin that was anything but genial. His eyes, too, were knowing, as though he'd seen inside her head and was amused by what he'd seen.

The door was large, wooden, and painted red, and there was a small sign hanging by it with an anchor superimposed over the head of a horse. Inside, it was dim, but not dark - and it appeared to be a full service bar. A long, richly stained and highly polished wooden counter extended down one side, ending just before a green painted door that was now shut. The bar itself could hold almost twelve people by itself, and then there were many tables scattered about the area, as well as booths lining the other walls. At the moment, it seemed to be almost entirely empty, except for for the bartender absently cleaning glasses and lining the shelves with liquors. The fox motioned to an empty booth, holding Esme's hand until she was seated first, and then himself sitting politely across from her.

"It is truly a pleasure to see you in person, Ms. Broussard. My benefactor is most pleased you were able to make it here today." the fox smiled, taking off his glasses and polishing them on his equally-lemon colored cravat. "You see, he is a man of practicality and business, and he is a man seldom moved to charity. He is quite the stoic. But the troubles of the war-torn in eastern Belgae have reached his ears, and it's been the efforts of your group in particular that he's been most interested in." the fox smiled at Esme. "You specifically have reached his ears. One of the number you've healed was his son." the fox continued, and pushed his fingers together, setting them on the table.

"My master is eternally grateful for this, and would like to help you in any way that he can. But...he also asks, while your here, if you could do him an additional....ah. I shall not lie. He requires a real service of you in exchange for these funds, despite his gratitude for your salvation of his son." the fox seemed a bit hesitant while he spoke, while managing to convey a degree of empathy. His eyes had met with Esme's, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. "In exchange for this, he is willing to let you name your price. Whatever you need to keep operating. To fund you completely, Ms. Broussard."

He tiled his head just slightly, peering over his glasses. "Can we count on you?"

* * *

"I see you've met General Ti'Pallo".

The voice came from behind Andrace, although she recognized it immediately. Horatio adjusted his tie as he stared at the imprint the creature had left in the flagstones.
He was dressed in what appeared to be the standard issue tuxedo of secret agents and security guards everywhere - white shirt, black jacket, black bow tie, cufflinks and shiny shoes - the only variation being the mask on his face. It was made of some silvery metal, etched with gold designs and patterns, especially around the eyes. He smiled at the lioness.
"And the gryphon's emmissary. It's an interesting place here, isn't it? No matter how big you are, you fit in the rooms." he grinned.

"Might I say, you look...nice." he said with typical understatement, turning from the footprint in the floor to her.

* * *

Elizabeth's options at this point seemed limited. She didn't know anyone at the party, and the one person she did know had turned out to be something else entirely. Walking in cold on a mission like this seemed foolhardy at the very best. She didn't even know what her target looked like.
But the Dark Lady had called upon her. That feeling of doing the bidding of Jyraneth at least appealed to the old pride she felt as a former Raider of Harla'Keth. She'd faced down worse than this before.

The doors of the Castle were open, and it wasn't likely she'd find the person she was looking for out here.

* * *

The room Elyse was directed too was the very same one she'd had earlier. The attendant left the door open. A sign, perhaps?

Her things were still in the room, and the barred windows that stared out onto the window-lit town below the castle was the same. Snow swirled outside. A storm, it appeared.
She sensed, more than anything else, Jeremiah standing in the doorway.

* * *

"Konbanwa." Cogidubnus said.

Kiet and Camisole turned their heads. A silver haired wolf made a short bow.

   He spoke from behind a heavy black mask. It appeared to be made from some polished wood or metal. His attire, different from most in attendance, was an immaculate outfit of the far east, in solid black. His feet were bare, but for two sandals, and a pleated skirt and sash were worn over two shirts folded right side over left. Silver vines snaked here and there over it, joining occasionally with symbolically placed circles containing a crescent moon - one on each wrist, and one on the breast. Kiet would know that there would be one more on the back. Silver lines were etched into the black mask as well, elaborate and curved.

"Enjoying yourself, General?" he tilted his head somewhat, yellow eyes better able to peer out from the mask.

* * *

The doctor disappeared, and nobody noticed.

The Castle itself stood stoic in the snow, shadows deepening as the clouds gathered over the very stars and moon, dumping snow onto the already icy landscape. In the corners, and in the high places where eyes had trouble seeing, the shadows were deepest, silent, and at the heights, the wind was cold as death. A ray of moonlight pierced through the clouds for just a moment, illumining a spot in the darkness. Blood seeped through a crack in the stones, where time and weather had worn away the mortar.

The cloud shifted, and there was darkness once more.

* * *

"Ah, he's a big bastard, huh?" Tim felt someone jab her on the shoulder. A stoutish dragon - she could tell by the wings and tail, but otherwise had to go by her gut - was staring quite impressed at Rover. "Innit a bit...strange, though, to send something as big as him to a dancing party?" she turned to the smaller gryphon, with a somewhat confused expression on her face. Or what could be seen of it, behind the mask and the cigar.

[SpottedKitty]

In the growing crowd of guests, Andrace's ears and nose gave her just enough warning of someone coming up behind her that the voice didn't come as a surprise. Besides, it was a very welcome scent and voice. She turned to face the tuxedoed and masked fox with a radiant smile. "Good t' see y' again, H'ratio," she said, "looks like y' boss didn't tear too big a strip off y' pelt... not where it shows, anyway."

The lioness waved her tail, keeping it low to the ground to avoid notice, towards the pair of 'Cubi. "So that really is General Ti'Paollo?" she asked. "I've seen him a few times durin' th' afternoon. Wasn't sure it was really him, though," she lied glibly. "I mean, I know 'Cubi can be a bit flighty, but he's really overdoin' it. An' if that's th' official rep'sentative o' th' Gryphons, things are goin' t' be even more int'restin' t'night."

Andrace's smile widened at the compliment, and her ears and whiskers perked up. "An' y' look pretty smart y'self. Y' like th' dress, H'ratio? It's m' fav'rite — I don't often get th' chance t' dress up fancy, an' when I do, I pull out all th' stops!" She performed a graceful pirouette on one paw, her tail and the hem of her skirt flaring out a little, and bounced to a halt as her spin brought her round to face the white-furred fox again. It seemed entirely by chance that she could now also keep the two 'Cubi in the corner of her eye without turning her head. The only fly in the ointment was that irritating twinge across her shoulders where the badger had thrown her into the wall. Fortunately her fur hid the massive bruises she could feel running down her back.

Now that she'd finally identified her target, Andrace intended to keep him in sight, and watch for any weakness or odd behaviour (well, odder) she might be able to take advantage of when she began planning her actual attack. His attendant — or more likely she was a bodyguard — might be a complication, though. She didn't want to kill the leopard as well, it wasn't necessary, but she knew sometimes it became virtually unavoidable. Her eyes narrowed very slightly, and the tip of her tail began an almost unnoticed bouncing twitch from side to side. Andrace Kithara was hunting.

[Yugo]

Esme found herself slightly unsettled by the...perfect way that the fox stared at her; it was all politeness and upper class aristocracy. It was too nice. She felt herself pulled into the directed room, her previous thoughts of wonder and awe replaced by a different kind of curiousity. What did this man want, and what did he have to offer? How did he know her name?  All of this she would find out soon enough, she supposed, letting her companion lead her genially by her hand, gathering in the scenery. A conservatively lit bar surrounded her, probably meant to be used as a lounging area during the ball, but evidently it would do well enough for their private meeting while empty. She slipped into the proffered seat, adjusting her coat so that it draped gently off of the edge, leaving room to sit. A passive glance crossed between Esme and the bartender before she returned her attention to the fox, who was still all glib gentlemanly talk and mannerisms. Probably trying to butter me up for whatever he's looking to sell me.

Benefactor, hmm? Esme's mood suddenly brightened. I didn't even have to look for them myself! She had to stifle a sound of glee. Honestly, she had never really expected anybody to be that charitable. The aforementioned benefactor's indifference, however, turned her right back where she started. My efforts have gained his attention? "Well, I was only doing my job, but I-" I saved his son? Esme rubbed her face with one hand, closing her eyes. All of her patiences had eventually blurred together into a single screaming face. They were always screaming. Truthfully, she could barely remember any of those turbulet times; fatigue and sorrow eventually made everything simple reflex. Her hand slipped limply to her leg. "A-a-all our expenses? But the cost would be astronomical? Feeding, clothing, and providing medical care to thousands of refugees would be..." She raised one eyebrow. "This must be an incredibly valuable favor to ask of me if that is the payment." Suspicion ran readily down her face.

[Stygian]

Elyse would have closed the door, were she not afraid that it might not open if she did. Or even worse, open into somewhere else entirely. Something was out to get her, and all these signs and indications, along with Esme's distraction just worsened the matter by showing that it wasn't exclusively interested in messing with her alone. She had to do something. But what?
   The bat pretended to survey her luggage for a moment, wondering whether if she should take something more than usual with her. Changing into something new wasn't going to be too hard for her; being a Cubi meant that you could focus on packing more interesting things than clothes. And of course she didn't have to show a slip of actual skin during the process. Still, she picked up her suitcase and retreated into the bathroom. It wasn't just that it felt indecent to change in plain sight of anyone who might walk by, but she wanted her own privacy to prepare as well.
   The smooth metal locks of the suitcase snapped open even before she touched them, barely a second after she set it down on the floor, as she turned in the right combinations with her mind alone. They were suicide-locks, plainly mechanical in their mechanism with only a simple but very persistent spell on their components that would turn any shapeshifted appendage solid as stone inside of them, and wired to a liquid explosive, which also connected to the case itself. The only way to open the case would be by force, or interfering with the safety mechanism in any other way than through the locks, which would trigger it to self-destruct together with all its contents. It was the standard sort of safety mechanism that a lot of bounty hunters and couriers depended on. Uncomplicated but as close to magic-proof one could get without having to rely on more finicky and expensive magic.
   Not that she had brought anything that needed such safeguarding. There were things that could get around such simple tricks as well, so she had only taken what she usually did. Various items neatly stacked and strapped down inside the suitcase, ranging from books and sketch paper to curious little metal pendants, small magically sealed lacquered boxes and vials of differing colors, branded with scribbled little paper strips. And, attached to the top, a slender, exquisitely functionalistically designed curved knife with a serrated back, long as her forearm, perfectly golden. Its laquer sheath was attached right beneath it. She unstrapped them both, slid the blade into its cover, and pressed it to the small of her back. It sank in completely as she shapeshifted. Next, she quickly pried out a few vials and metallic cylinders, which she slipped into a strap around her thigh. Then she stood.
   The next transition wasn't as smooth, quick or thorough as it might have been. Her magic might have been sub-par from a few points of view, considering her age, but while circumstances had kept Elyse away from practicing much magic, she had possessed ample time and an abundance of mental focus to keep her racial abilities top-notch. It was just that she was a little on edge. Still, the smooth, side-slitted white silk dress with golden embroidery she wore when she stepped out into the corridor once again and the matching arm-length gloves, all decorated with a few golden chains and the odd red star or red sub-layer hinting at the edges, was good enough to rival the best seamstress or jeweler's work. Her mask was an icon of beauty, a face of gold and porcelain white, crested by a seven-spiked halo, smiling gently. For some reason though, she had added a pair of cut lines along the undersides of the eyes and down the cheeks, colored crimson red. She wasn't sure why. It was just that it had seemed too plain without them.
   The bat barely waited for the attendant to offer to escort her back, before she fell into a smooth but quick glide. She had to get hold of that lynx again...

[Azlan]

Kiet returned the bow, "Hmmm, for all the decoration and metal on this that I wear, I could be mistaken for the conductor of a marching band.  However, you must be a student of history to recognize these insignia for what they once meant.  A student of the history of war." 

Kiet tapped the right side of his mask, a fine black metal with an etched, gold lined and wired patch around the right eye opening.  The left there was painted a symbol to many would appear as a stylized musical note in red-gold.  A disproportionate figure eight with the lower circle transversed down the center by a line that curls to the right like a tail.

"technically the rank would be High General, but it is mere semantics and really means little these days.  I find your attire to be quite nice, simple and yet elaborate and fine in detail.  A very elegant far eastern design, do you practice of the arts of the east?"  The ringtail stroked his chin, thinking back to the previous day, "I would say my time has been rather interesting to this point, and I imagine it will only become more so.  Possibly even dangerous... eh Camiole?"

Kiet lightly elbowed the leopardess who was trying to adjust her venetian mask.  Fine silver edged the mask and rose to points at the back, elegant jade green scroll work wrapped around the eyes except at the bridge of the nose where the polished ivory white lacquer made an abrupt break between the green.

"I would not joke about such things sir."  Her thoughts were split between the conversation and communicating mentally with the others.  Jayce... Simon, are you two at point Bravo yet?  I need the golem in the air, on standby... just in case."

Roger Cam, we are on station awaiting orders.  Two unobtrusive night owls lingered on the castle grounds, Big G is in the pipe, five by five.       

[Gareeku]

"Make sure everything is prepared for when I return. I would rather the business not suffer as a result of this. No. Thank you. I expect everything to be in order when I get back. I will contact you when it is time for me to leave. Goodbye..."

With a press of a button, the call ended. Putting the phone to one side, the jackal looked up and out of the window to his right, watching the scenery pass him by as the carraige he was in made its way towards the castle. The coldness in the air was biting, but this did not seem to bother the black-furred canine as he picked up the white masque as well as the invitation from the seat beside him.

Leaning back in his seat somewhat, he smiled to himself. Occasions such as these were most enjoyable, and considering the prestigue of the ball that he was making his way to. He was used to attending balls and gatherings for the more affluent citizens of furrae, be they being or creature, but had never had the pleasure of attending the Scarlet Masque. To have been invited to one of the most, if not the most, prestigious ball known to Furrae, is an honour he was most satisfied with.

One thing that did surprise him was the fact that the Scarlet Masque was still being held even after the blood-soaked revolution that had occured only months prior. Putting this thought to one side for the time being, he opened the door to the side of him as the carriage stopped, stepping out into the cold night air.

"I will let you know when I wish to leave." The jackal said to the driver of the carraige, adjusting the tie around his neck somewhat. The attire the stranger was dressed in was a suit made of the finest fabrics, sporting a black pair of trousers, shoes, and a white shirt, with a red waistcoat and tie under the suit jacket, the tails of which blew softly in the slight breeze that lasted for only a moment. "I trust that, when the time comes, I will not be kept waiting."

"Yes sir." Came the only reply from the brown-furred otter who drove the carraige, before leaving his boss to it.

With a slight smile, the jackal slipped his masque down over his face and made his way inside the castle. As he did so, he handed the attendant his invitation. Looking down, the attendant noticed that it had been made out to a certain Cerebus Morax.

As Cerebus entered the room where most if not all of the other guests were located, the fox had stood on the table ahead and begun his welcome.
And here I am without a dance partner... thought to himself as he listened to the vulpine. It was then that, after the fox had finished, Cerebus noticed a familiar figure among the guests.

Well now...isn't this just an interesting turn of events... the jackal thought to himself with a dark smile on his face. He wouldn't have expected someone like Gareeku, the one he once tried to kill and use as an experiment subject, to be present at an occasion such as this, but it mattered not. The night had only just begun, and already things were looking more interesting than Cerebus had initially thought.

"Good evening, Mr Manoko. A pleasant surprise to see you indeed..."

Hearing this voice just over his shoulder made Gareeku's blood run cold. Eyes widened, he recognised that voice instantly; a voice that belonged to someone who should be dead.

"...You...you're alive..." the wolf stammered quietly, continuing to look staight ahead so as not to attract attention. "You should be-"

"-Dead? Why yes, that did seem the case didn't it. After all that was quite the nasty cave-in, don't you think...?" Cerebus replied back with a quiet chuckle. "I suppose my stubborness is too much for it's own good sometimes. And I see you are present with someone else, as well. A pleasure to meet you, m'lady."

"I swear Cerebus...if you cause any trouble tonight..." Gareeku threatened with a low growl. "I'll make sure you don't come back."

"Oh please, Mr. Manoko. Tonight is not a night for violence as you seem so prone to carry out." the jackal scoffed. "I am here because I was invited, much like you I can only imagine. Anyway, I must be off now, I am keen to take a look around. Have a pleasant evening, Mr. Manoko."

And with that, Cerebus left Gareeku and Rynkura, the wolf looking somewhat over his shoulder at the jackal's back as Cerebus walked away. "I certainly didn't expect to see him again...damn it..."

[Aisha deCabre]

Rynkura, while waiting for the party to begin and watching the guests walking around, couldn't help but keep her eyes upon the various works of art surrounding herself and Gareeku in the gallery.   It had started looking to be a peaceful, cultured start to the event.  Perhaps something interesting was bound to happen...

Not the moment that she'd thought so, did her ear swivel to catch the sound of someone's voice addressing Gareeku.  Casually she glanced back, though fully aware of the wolf's demeanor in the presence of the jackal.

Rynkura simply nodded her head upon being greeted, and observed the banter between Gareeku and this Cerebus without much more to say.  She did however become concerned, for she knew that kind of reaction all too well...having seen it much from Aisha concerning any demon.

Once he left, the tigress hummed.  "Well, he seems rather full of himself," she murmured, before glancing back to the white wolf.  She observed that he was seething with more than a little anger, cursing under his breath.  In a sort of motherly gesture, she laid her hand on Gareeku's shoulder.  "My young friend, would it be too much for me to ask who that man is, to put you on edge so?"