The Masquerade Ball (Open to ALL)

[Roderick]

The woman at the table seemed to become somewhat edgy Roderick sat himself down at the table, no doubt balking over his insolence in regards to joining them without being invited. She raised an eyebrow as the Kelvic strode up onto the table, a look similar to what the Zeltivan was giving it. When the robed man walked by and cast it away to the other side of the room, the two of them seemed to be of a similar mind in feeling a little sorry for the poor thing. Roderick's thoughts soon left the Kelvic and returned to the woman when her eyes connected with the stranger for a moment. After he excused himself, Roderick sat quietly for a moment, then commented on what had just happened. For a while it seemed the woman was deep in thought, mulling something over in her mind viciously. His question of why she and her friend were so calm jarred her from her reverie and returned her to the present. He missed out on the look she delivered to the young girl when he left the table to give his robe away. For a moment the Kelvic looked up at him warily, watching him carefully. Then it seemed she recognized him from earlier and, slipping beneath the offered garment she changed once more, rising to her feet and wrapping the robe about her naked form. Even at her full height the robe dwarfed her, having been made for the tall Zeltivan rather than a small Kelvic. The fabric trailing along the floor as she approached the table Roderick was sitting next to, she fastened the front of the robe and sat down on the last chair available after stuttering out her thanks. "It's no trouble." He told her simply, taking another sip of his wine. Turning her eyes on each person sitting at the table, she seemed to weigh each of them with her eyes, trying to determine if she liked each of them. Finally she laid her gaze upon Roderick, while she expressed her confusion about what had just happened to her. Shrugging he stretched his legs out under the table. "I'm as clueless as you are when it comes to that. Never seen him before in my life. The only way you're going to find out why he did it is by asking him - not something I'd advise." He gave her a small, sympathetic look before setting his face impassive once again; no reason to get himself all worked up over it. "If we're lucky your partner's antics will be over soon, and we can all get back to our aimless small talk." His next question seemed to be received more ably by the woman, who answered it in a manner that hinted at her being some sort of mage, or at the very least a scholar that knew of such things. The revelation that the chaos nearby wasn't all that jarring for the two females there spoke more about them than anything they could have said just then. Making herself comfortable in her chosen seat, Roderick watched as the sorceress returned to her thoughts. When she came to a decision, she fixed them all with a hard look while she removed her mask, revealing a fairly plain face. Her eyes did all the work for her, however, and Roderick felt himself listening to her as she spoke of a Chaon - a follower of Rhysol. Hearing the dark god's name spoken aloud made the Zeltivan's skin crawl at the thought of all that entailed. As soon as she said it he knew that she was a Chaon as well. At first he did not know why, until he noted that in this false reality he bore a mark too, and that he could tell if someone else bore one like his. His mind had remained on the things around him and it was only now, as he checked himself over mentally, that he found himself balking about all the things he supposedly knew. Eyris? I have a mark from Eyris? In life he respected the goddess and paid some reverence to her, but it was nowhere near enough to actually gain a mark from her. Then again nothing in this dream was close to how things were, so he let this glaring detail slip like all the others. While his mind was on such matters, he decided he'd try the mark out. To test it he cleared his mind and held his glass, feeling the impressions of the man that made it flowing into his mind. For the briefest moment he let the images of the glassblowing and other work that had been done to the object wash over him, then closed the onrush and, swallowing down the rest of his drink and setting the glass on the table, he turned his gaze to two women. "I think I'll take my leave now. Come on, let's see if we can't find your dress..." Taking hold of the Kelvic, he began leading her away, gently but firmly, leaving the Chaon and her friend to their discussions. He did not know if she actually bore a mark of Rhysol, but he would rather be overly suspicious than sit there with someone that could lay a curse on him simply by making an off-handed comment in his direction. "Since that woman knows about the Chaon." He decided he wouldn't tell the Kelvic the woman's secret; she'd only panic or, worse, ask him how he knew. "We can assume she's had dealings with him, good or bad. Best keep your distance from her eitherway. Its none of our concern. Now where did you leave your clothes?" No sooner had he said that than he noticed the man that had caused the destruction by interfering with the mirror. This might end badly.

[Wrenmae]

It wasn't hard to pick out the irritable shouting from across the ballroom floor. Pausing, one hand disappeared into his cloak as he turned to confront two of the copies barreling his way. So, they had taken some offense to the thrown kelvic. Of course they had, as if causing a distraction in the fabric of the dream was not enough for them, they had to also be protective fools hellbent on revenge.

A quick scan of the room noted that the bright flash indicative to Kelvic transformation had occurred back where he'd left the other Chaon. It was fairly easy to assume that not only was the girl unharmed, but was also being helped by some of the guests.

This was all a ludicrous illusion anyways, entertainment at its highest form for the wise eyes of distant gods.

So when the two copies approached him, he patiently waited, the hint of a smile on his own lips. There was need of sacrifice here, that much was evident. The whole mockery of the party itself was held on the supposition that everyone would behave. But where erratic minds were concerned, this could never be anything more than a parlor trick.

He brushed a few brown locks back from his head with his free hand, twisting the roiling cloak around himself.

"Gentlemen," he remarked to them quietly, "Good evening and welcome to the Masquerade. I see you've made yourselves quite the nuisance already...but if you insist on pulling me into your childish war of selves, I'll do you all a favor and shorten the numbers out."

Every word curled a smile on his lips, calmly, expressively. He didn't need to reach out and twist their minds, nor did he want to. There was a freedom pulsing in his heart, a simmering annoyance that had already been awakened when he'd been brought here. If he had to tear out the heart of these non-beings to be rid of their introspective dramatics, then the world...and more so the dream, would be the better for it.

"Should I apologize for hurling your...pet?" he coolly baited, "Evidently you're not aware of the proper Masquerade decorum."

He grinned.

"Animals stay on the floor, where they belong."

[M'Wanii]

M’wanii was on her way to a party. Inside her couch the world sped past, busy with the night. Her face and body had lost their scars from the Djed storm, seeming now oh so long ago and a weightless feeling of being under the water kept her limbs light and easy to move. She was defiantly on land though. The Charoda’s skin wasn’t damp but this for once didn’t bother her, breathing easily and comfortable, the carriage came to the end of its journey. Exiting the carriage a footman helped her down, thanking him she took in her surroundings. A mansion, it was large and busy with life. Lifting her skirt, she climbed the steps towards the music and light. It seemed as though only when she realised she needed to lift her skirts, did she have skirts at all. Her ball gown of a dress was made from light sparkling cream fabric and embroidered with a mosaic of gold, glass and white pearls. The skirt was floor length and wide but was as light as air on her form and didn’t obstruct her movement. Long thin silted sleeves rolled down her arms leaving her shoulders bare and shining new ribbon danced over her corset bodice. Many carefully cut gems hung off her spiking ears from a delicate web of gold chain hooking up to a golden mask edged in cream pearls and snow flake like lace. The entire outfit seemed unreal. Entering the hall, a servant took a fur-lined silver embroidered cloak from her which may or may not have existed previously. Standing there unsure of what to do, only then did her mind catch up to the oddness of the situation. Out the corner of her eye she spotted a familiar-looking figure. Unable to remember where she knew him from, she moved toward the man. A few of the dancers seemed to stop as she passed them, staring at her. Guessing not everything had changed and that her appearance still disgusted people, M’wanii’s pace quickened. A hand suddenly moved and grabbed her wrist. Spinning around the face the newcomer she could tell he wasn’t going to harm her. Tall and handsome, dressed in silver, he placed a kiss upon her hand which painted her skin pink under the mask. Masked himself he asked in a smooth unaccented common, “Lady, May I know a beauty such as yours name?” “M’wanii” came her reply in equally smooth unaccented common. “M’wanii, May I have this dance?” The familiar stranger was pushed from her mind as she agreed to join in the dance. Her mind paid no attention to the faceless strangers she danced with. A sparkling masked beauty gliding from partner to partner, in the room of people. Spinning the world became a bright mess of colour before she slowed down now with a new hand holding her own. Happy and calm the strangers she met viewed her not as a freak but as an exotic maiden, pleasant and charming. Music twirled her round faster and faster, dancing as she never had done before. As time flew by the amphibian began to become more and more lost in the dream, too glad to dance with the blurs of people inviting her in, that she failed to notice the commotion happening at the other end of the room.

[Tinnok]

"Wolf or Sssnake?" The voice slid into her head like a long forgotten whisper, and Tinnok found herself drawn out into a consciousness within her unconsciousness.

"Milady?"

"Hrm?"

"I simply wished to know if you'd prefer to go as snake or wolf to this eve's Masquerade, you are going to be late."

"A witch is not late, she merely arrives when she means to. Do I really need a mask?"

"It is a masquerade."

"Snake then."

"But you always pick wolf, ma'am."

"Just give me the petching mask, is that...are the guests turning to statues down there?"

"I believe so ma'am."

"Perhaps I might avoid wearing jewelry to tempt the thieves then, aye?" It was around this time Tinnok realized her entire conversation had been uttering out of her mouth in common, a language she had always struggled with in the past. But she had spent enough time thinking and not quite enough time drinking, if she really had any thoughts on the matter, and when you knew not a soul at such a grand party, that was one's best option.

Striding out toward a railing looking down over the party, Yellow eyes, filled with black slits observed a strange array of individuals. She had heard of some of these creatures only in tales, especially the hulking blue men, and a myriad of once living statues made a strange spiraling pattern as the men in grey wreaked havoc throughout the party. Her attention was drawn to the center floor by shouting and a cat transforming into a lady before being escorted by a dapper looking gentlemen in graceful armor.

How oddly wonderful.

The mixed blood was dressed quite simply, though it was still quite a bit of clothing compared to her normal garb in the humidity of the jungle wilds. Her dark curls were braided in traditional Myrian fashion and coiled like serpents at the back of her neck. A floor length evening gown hung off of one shoulder, one arm covered like the rest of her body with plain, yet flowing black cloth, but her left arm was bare, showing off her Phylonura mark, a creeping strangler fig crawling up her shoulder and down her forearm. She wore no jewelry save for two glinting topazes hanging off each ear that served to accentuate golden eyes framed in a simple black mask with green scaling around the edges as she assessed the room in a calculating fashion.

Snatching a tall glass of ruby colored beverage, the abomination took a slow sip of her drink, curious to see how the proceedings unfold and nearly choking on her drink as she noticed a Charoda dancing in the middle of the room.

[Roderick]

While he was leading his latest acquaintance to where she'd left her dress, Roderick kept a watchful eye on the gentleman approaching them, working to determine whether or not he was a threat to them. It seemed he was one of the more level-headed versions of the man that had split himself into pieces. What had been his name again? He'd introduced himself earlier that evening, but the Zeltivan had only heard it in passing. After a few tics of deep thought he recalled the image of a man in firey clothing introducing himself as 'Brandon of the Black Wings'. From what he'd gathered so far this fellow was also a Kelvic - at least, that was what one assumed. If he wasn't then he had some odd ideas on what good food was. The observer continued to linger nearby, watching without acting as before. His previous decision to break up the fight between the various doubles had been met with a great deal of surprise; apparently he never did anything other than watch. From one side of the room came the furious shouting of two of Brandon's copies as they accosted the Peacock. A swift glance around the room showed that most people had, surprisingly, managed to calm themselves, though they were quite clearly disturbed by everything; almost everyone had withdrawn from the the place that two of the clones had moved to, the places where they now gathered being filled with muttered complaints. There was a certain man there that decided angry whispers to those nearby wasn't good enough, though and he marched over to Roderick, an imperialistic, authoritative air clinging to him like perfume. "I think what has just happened here is quite atrocious. We were all promised a night of good fun - instead a group of madmen have been allowed to run amok unchecked. Why aren't your people doing anything? You are the head of security here, are you not?" For a moment Roderick had absolutely no idea what the man was getting at. It was only when he revealed his belief that the Zeltivan was in charge of security for the Masquerade that it clicked and, having previously observed him with a blank look, Roderick inclined his head with false respect. "Terribly sorry, my lord. My cousin put some fool of a man in charge of things here - I'll see to this myself." The words placated the nobleman, who gave a tight, angry nod and stalked away to complain to his companions. "If anyone asks about that, you heard nothing." Roderick told the girl. "I am Roderick. I don't think I heard your name earlier." He looked around while he waited for her answer, seeing that much of the party had already gone back to the way it had been before. Now there was a face he recognized - something he couldn't forget. A Charoda spun and danced elegantly with various different men, falling into an almost dream-like state as she twirled about. The jewels and gown she wore were a far cry from the damp rags he'd found her in when they'd first met. The fact she was having no trouble breathing the air around her was interesting; despite her exertions and the relative humidity of the room, her skin wasn't drying out. While he was moving his eyes back to his present company he set his gaze on a woman that was standing high up on a balcony opposite him; for a few tics their eyes met and they both regarded one another with cool gazes. Nodding to her Roderick turned his attention back to the two Kelvics "It's been nice meeting you both. Stay out of trouble." With a nod to both of them he turned about and left, slipping away behind a nearby pillar as he took shelter within a darker region of the room so he might think. His lie had been a decision made in the heat of the moment, the idea being to dismiss the man without causing any problems. Sadly it now meant that he would have to deal with the chaos that had been caused by the clones. A nobleman with a nice blue cloak was hanging around back here with a wine bottle in either hand; he alternated between sipping from each vessel, all the while looking around and commenting to himself on how pretty the decor was. Approaching quietly, Roderick nodded in greeting and the man, in his late fifties or sixties, turned around and beamed at him in a way only a drunkard could. Wrapping his arms around him he started chattering nonsensically about whatever tripe he had on his mind at that moment. Nodding along and accepting one of the wine bottles, the Zeltivan took a swig from it and agreed with the man as he went on about the quality of the vintage. When the old fellow had finally paused to take a breath Roderick asked if he might borrow the man's cloak for a little while; being drunk as a fish helped convince him of the necessity of lending it. A little while later the younger man was walking back out into the main room, the cloak clasped to his breastplate and hanging from his shoulders. Having a cape served to make one look official, and Roderick used that to his advantage now, catching the attention of a servant. "Have some people come out here and clear away this mess. Hide the statues somewhere and get rid of any dirt and grit that might be lying around." When the boy expressed confusion over who exactly he was the Zeltivan reacted with annoyance, seizing his arm in a fierce grip. "I am Quint Caravel's cousin, boy, and he has personally asked me to make certain things are cleaned up. Who are you to stop me from carrying out his wishes?" The act seemed to win the boy over and he nodded his head and apologized profusely; he fell for it so easily it was almost funny. "Just get moving, will you? The guests are beginning to complain about what is happening. There are guards nearby, yes? The servant nodded, cringing "Good. Have a few of them deal with the two men over there immediately." He let go of the servant's arm, watching as he rushed away quickly, disappearing into one of the room's alcoves. I can't believe that worked.

[Engghaen]

W... Wait. She didn't know where her clothes were yet. And she needed to get Brandon into one part again and she... Where did he go now? What was he doing? I want to have fun on a party and this is just stressing! I dance with the guy I love, then apparently he changes into a triplet, then I get thrown away like I'm trash, then there's someone to help me and now...? The girl almost started crying with all of this. Tears blinked in the corners of her eyes. Still wearing his robe, she looked around. Don't cry. Don't cry. It's just a stupid dream, you have nothing to lose, this is not the real Brandon... Not knowing where she had to be, who to talk to and what to do, she sat down in one of the nearest corners. It's not funny anymore! I don't want to be on this stupid party, because all that happens is that people kick me aside and leave me! Then the tears started flowing. The girl didn't realise she was wetting Roderick's cloak, but she didn't care.

[Roderick]

When he'd finished his talk with the servant he quickly moved on, hoping to avoid being noticed by anyone; if they found out that he had been taking liberties with his position there might be more trouble coming his way soon enough. Watching other people coming and going, clearing away the various petrified guests, waited there for a while - a little too long, it seemed, as he noticed the servant from before pointing him out to a trio of men in armour. As they began making their way towards him Roderick began backing away, slowly vanishing into the darkness of the nearest alcove. When he was inside he looked around briefly, unclasping his borrowed cloak and tossing it over a nearby chair, along with his scarf, he snatched up a steak knife and stood in a dark corner of the room. The men entered and began looking for him, swords drawn. Stepping forward quickly he grabbed hold of the nearest guard and tugged him backwards into the shadows, wrapping his arms around his neck and throttling him. The other two noticed rather quickly and, clobbering his hostage over the head repeatedly, he ducked away in time to avoid being split open by a vicious sword strike. Somewhere nearby some musicians had taken up their instruments and started playing, hiding the sounds of combat. Standing up straight he narrowly avoided being killed again and leaped forwards with a jab, hitting the man in the face and tugging his weapon away. A brief wrestling match ensued, before Roderick kneed his opponent in the ground and hammered the pommel of his sword against his forehead. Stepping away from him with the weapon in hand the Zeltivan faced off against the last of them, who was regarding him cautiously now. "Mind telling me what I've done?" Roderick asked. "You are not Quint's nephew. I've met him and he looks nothing like you." "I'm his other cousin." That stopped him in his tracks. For a moment he seemed to consider it as the truth, but then he had to ask, "Uncle Sebastien or Aunt Katherine?" Now it was Roderick's turn to stop; thinking for a moment he answered, "Uncle Sebastien." A smile formed on the guard's face, "He doesn't have an uncle Sebastien." "Well petch me..." Leaping forwards the man slashed out, his blade being met by Roderick's. Twisting the hilt the other man's sword went sliding down the length of steel, catching at crossguard. Kicking out viciously at his knees the guard collapsed briefly, making another attempt at slashing his opponent open, sword cleaving a wide arc which only just missed the Zeltivan as he backed away. Stepping forwards he rapidly punched his foeman straight in the face, knocking him on his back and sending his blade sliding away to the side. Throwing his sword away and seizing a steak knife from a nearby table, Roderick sat on the man's chest and held the tip to his neck. "Who else knows about this? You better tell me true because if you lie to me I'll gut you like a fish." Staring along the length of the knife the man went pale. "Myself, the two men beside me, and the servant that told us about you. Caravel has aunts and uncles and cousins - there might have been a Sebastien, but I never met him." Digging the tip of his stand in weapon deeper into the soft flesh of his throat, Roderick pressed the man. "What's your name?" He demanded "Markus." Shifting his grip slightly on the knife, the Zeltivan nodded down at his captive, "Well, Markus, I'm simply acting in the best interests of this party's host. I actually have no idea why - I couldn't care less about the people here. But I'd rather spend my night relaxing, rather than worrying about some idiots running around turning people to stone - especially if they are going to pull that on me. The other man might have nodded, if he hadn't been in danger of sticking a sharp piece of metal through his neck. Instead he simply said, "I'll tell no one - and I'll keep the servant's mouth shut. Just get leave me to my duties." Sighing, Roderick shook his head, "No. You're going to stay in here and have a little nap with these two. I'll be doing the work tonight. Have a good rest." And before he changed his mind about it Roderick brought his fist back and smashed it into the guardsman's face, knocking him out cold. Wincing slightly at the pain that traveled up his arm, Roderick undid the man's belt and stood up with it in hand, setting it down on a nearby table, along with the captain's sword. They were both wearing similar outfits - the trousers, gloves and boots were basically identical, while the rest differed enough to be noticeable. Unfastening the buckles and straps that held his armour in place Roderick stripped it away and repeated the process for the captain, pulling his equipment on as swiftly as he could. Wriggling his way into the man's armour, he fastened the breastplate to his chest and fiddled his way through the rest of the gear; spaulders, vambrace, gauntlets and all the rest - a set of half-plate. The only thing that was missing was a helmet, sadly. He noticed this as he fastened the captain's cloak to his armour after tying the sword belt around his waist. Repeating a few sentences to himself he worked to mimic the man's voice, proving to be rather good at it. Not perfect, but it'll do. Normally in morphing one studied a person intensely before they made any attempts at copying their face, but in this case Roderick felt such a thing was rather impractical. Shifting the captain's head from side to side he adjusted his features accordingly, checking himself out in a reflective tray he claimed from nearby. When he was confident that he'd gotten as close as he could to perfection, he checked that the guards were out cold and then hid them away in the darkest corner of the room, stashing his things in another safe place. Stepping out of the alcove he looked around and saw that no one was looking his way. Making his way out into the main ballroom several servants nodded in greeting to him and he returned the gesture confidently. All the while he searched for the servant that had caused him all this trouble. The Kelvic from earlier was crying quietly to herself, but he couldn't do anything for her right now - she'd met Roderick, not Markus. When he finally laid eyes on the servant he approached and pulled him away to one side. "The man you pointed out to us was drunk, you fool!" He told him crossly, "You need to calm yourself - these people enjoy playing such tricks on us. He was right though - we need to clean things - men are to clear the statues away - and have someone see to those two buffoons." Gesturing towards the two Brandons, Roderick left the servant to carry the orders - hopefully without sending anyone his way. Glancing about quickly to see if anyone was looking Roderick was about to make his way back to the alcove by a scenic route, slipping between the various crowding people until he finally escaped them and vanished into the alcove. He was in the middle of moving to undo his purloined breastplate when he decided he could find some more use from this new body of his. Collecting the old man's cloak Roderick made his way back out into the ballroom, heading straight towards where the old man had been before; hopefully he hadn't moved. For some reason no one bothered to take notice of him, so that he avoided coming to anyone's attention; given it was all a dream he didn't doubt he could stand in front of them and, if he willed it enough, avoid notice completely. Making his way back in the rough direction he remembered the old man had been, he ducked under the overhanging curtains and searched around for him. The old fellow had drunk a little too much and had fallen asleep on a large red couch. Taking the cloak from his shoulders Roderick draped it over the stranger's sleeping form and then quietly excused himself from the room. Back out in the main hall he looked around the place, a few chimes having elapsed since he'd left Engghaen. On the other side of the room he could see that the man in the peacock mask was still dealing with the two Brandons, though he couldn't see the exact specifics that were occurring; they were partially obscured by a pillar and a number of curtains that hung down to the floor.

[Brandon Blackwing]

The gentleman was a little bit lost. He’d been pointed to the general direction he could find Engghaen in, but he hadn’t even caught a glimpse of her. He kept going, ploughing through the crowd, looking for a white cat. Then, he saw a bright flash coming from his left side. A kelvic shifting? It could be Enggy. He headed that way. He was getting a bit annoyed with the masses present at the party. With every step he took, an apology coming from his mouth followed, apologizing for bumping into that particular person. Then, he saw her. Her thin frame wrapped in a large cloak. A rather tall man accompanied her. Upon noticing the bat, the man studied him for a brief moment. Not quite knowing what to do, the bat stopped and stared at the duo while they walked on. He sighed. After them. Picking up his pace, he squeezed himself through the masses, keeping his eyes fixed on the head of the tall man. When he finally reached the pair, the man was talking with a nobleman, who seemed a bit angry about the split-up versions of the original Brandon creating chaos. That was indeed a problem that had to be solved. Still standing a few meters distanced from the pair, he watched as the nobleman took off. The large man turned around, facing him and Enggy, who was standing in front of him. He introduced himself as Roderick. The bat slowly came closer, but before he’d even been able to take three steps, Roderick nodded to the both of them and left. Brandon pulled up an eyebrow. He didn’t have to leave as soon as he arrived. Engghaen cried. It appeared she hadn’t noticed him yet. Silently, he came standing next to her and put a hand on her small shoulder, comforting her. In his other hand he was holding her clothes. “I thought you’d like to have your dress back.” he said. The two Brandons spotted him soon enough. The man with the peacock mask was waiting for them. The thief scowled slightly. “Tsk, it seems we’ve already lost the element of surprise.” The other one beamed him a wide grin. “You didn’t believe he hadn’t noticed us already, did you? And I don’t mind. Unlike you, I’m not a sneaky bastard attacking people from behind. That’s just no fun. No fun means no challenge, and no challenge, no fun.” “Maybe for you, but I just want to beat the crap out of this guy and leave. No challenge needed, no fun either.” They had reached the place where the peacock was waiting for them. “Gentlemen,”he greeted them. A smug smile on his face. “Good evening and welcome to the Masquerade. I see you've made yourselves quite the nuisance already...but if you insist on pulling me into your childish war of selves, I'll do you all a favor and shorten the numbers out.” Needless to say the smirk and the calmly spoken words annoyed the hell out of the reflections. The thief’s brow became an angry frown, his lips partially parted, exposing his teeth. An obvious threat. The gleeful one almost mimicked the peacock’s expression. Except that he was wearing his trademark wide grin. He was enjoying this already. To him, mocking opponents was part of the game, of the fight. “War? Hahaha! No no, sir, it is my pleasure bringing to your attention that you are mistaken. We are in no way at war with ourselves. We merely had a clash, but most of the time we get along well.” The thief nodded in agreement. The reckless one continued “So, you see, we are not trying to eliminate each other, on the contrary, we are an alliance of selves.” His grin was now as wide as it could possibly get. There was no way he’d lose in a joust of words. Or that was he believed. His confidence and calm demeanor were swept away by the man’s next words. Pet? Masquerade decorum? Animals on the floor? Rage started burning in his dark orbs. He didn’t disagree that Enggy was an animal, since she was, but she wasn’t a pet. If this guy thought of Kelvics as pets, then he’d feel the fury of this one. “That has taken it too far! Kelvics are not pets! Let’s see if you will keep up your mockery when you’re bleeding on the floor, beaten to a pulp by a pet! “he grunted. He emitted a series of high pitched sounds, bat speech. It was directed for the thief. “You go for his legs, I’ll take his upper half.” The thief nodded in response and opened his mouth to add a quick word of advice in the common language. He was a bit concerned about his companion. “Let anger provide you the strength for your blows, but don’t let it control you. Calm and collected, remember?” The answer was a growl. They charged simultaneously. The reckless one, the right one of the two, aimed a uppercut to the man’s stomach, while the thief, on the left, performed a low spinning sweep kick, aimed for the man’s legs. Now what will you do? Which one will you choose?

[Roderick]

With nothing left to do but investigate the multiple Brandons that were running rampant in the mansion, Roderick set of towards the two that were going after the Peacock. Crossing the room, which was becoming steadily clogged by the number of guests that had begun clustering together as they returned to their dancing and talking, he scanned the area for any sign of the two people he was looking for. He combed through the mass of people, dismissing the Akalaks, Isur, Jamoura, Inarta and Drykas that were laid out before him. Strange people with multiple arms and dark-haired men and women with black eyes occasionally caught his eye, but for some time he found it impossible to get a proper look at what was happening - his gaze was obscured for some time, with only the occasional glimpse of a punch or kick to let him know that a fight had broken out. I'll get there eventually.

[Engghaen]

Engghaen shook her head and brushed his hand off her shoulder. Then she whispered: "Dont fight about me, please... I... Its's okay. I'm just a stupid pet. I belong on the floor. But... Thanks for the dress. I don't want anyone to fight by my cause." Engghaen grabbed her dress and walked away to a dark corner. Here she took the robe off and put her dress on. Where was Roderick? She had his robe... The girl walked towards- No, that wasn't him. She sighed and put it down over the chair he had been sitting on beforehand. He would find it, she thought. Then she stood there, helpless. She was about the cry again, when people bumped up at her. "Sorry excuse me.." they all said. Sigh. This was all very annoying. She didn't want to see the Brandon's fighting, neither she knew where Roderick was, or where she could be, and she didn't feel like dancing and... I want to wake up. Wake up, wake up, you stupid cat! She didn't. She felt helpless midst all of these people having fun, and dancing. Then she saw someone else. "Eyze!" she cried out. It was only once before she had seen him in a dream. It was more of a nightmare. He was wearing beautiful clothes. Stumbling, she got towards him. "Hello Engghaen..." he said. "It's been a while since I've seen you, no?" His eyes sparkled with joy she had not seen before. "Y... Yes.. I'm sorry, I mean, I had hoped... I.." He placed his hand on her hips. "Eyze, no... How dearly I want to be with your and... I've found another." His attitude changed. "You have..? I feel so happy for you..." She shook her head. "You don't feel happy. You're jealous. You're jealous of what I've denied you but given to another. My love." He nodded slowly. "It was fun being together with you, but... I had an accident. I'm gone..." Wait... What? Her eyes went big and she grabbed him tightly. "No! You can't be gone!" He put his head on her shoulder and murmled softly: "It's okay. You're going to be fine. I wanted to tell you... " Engghaen started crying. "No, NO!" He patted her head. "Shhh... Now have fun here. Okay?" She nodded softly. "O... Okay..." And then... He was gone. A small flash and she was cuddling the air. A tear appeared on her cheek. "Goodbye..."