The Masquerade Ball (Open to ALL)

[Wrenmae]

In the many battles he'd been subjected to since washing up on Sylira's shores, Wren had come to understand that there was a certain balance to all things. In the matter of two opponents, the best method of combat would be to attack from two sides, providing the greatest amount of distraction for the opponent. But both of the reflections attacked him from the front, no doubt a reflection of a mind already decided.

One began sinking as the other pulled back. Mid-blow and low blow, understandable given their approach. If he tried to block one, he'd get hit with the other. Of course, given that both of them had chosen to attack from the front, it was the effort of leaping backward, landing in a flurry of cloak and color.

The one on the ground would take some time to stand, and they had indeed levied the first blow. From here on out, it was simply Wren's prerogative to defend himself. After all, who would miss the reflections? Distractions in the overwhelming scope of the dream, the thief turning those to stone would be missed least of all.

A sense of calm controlled his hand, drawing the dagger from his cloak and casually throwing it into the reckless one's throat. The blade spun through the air, easily tracking the distance between them. With his superior mastery of the dagger, there would be little opportunity to avoid the blow. He was confident, measured, a killer honed by torture.

His eyes fell to the thief, already rising off the floor.

"And now I have no weapon," He said, holding both hands out, "But if you insist on continuing, I have no qualms eliminating you as well." He considered the situation, tapping a finger to his chin, "Perhaps you were safer in the mirror? Maybe...we can end this pointless bravado and you can focus...very hard...on whether your life is worth a second bout."

Crouching, Wren flexed his fingers, claws twisting from his fingernails and glittering in the arching lamplight that filled the room.

"I know enough about other selves as it is," he said calmly, "The more of you I cut down, the more thankful you'll all eventually be."

But he did not strike another blow, nor wade into the last one.

"Of course, this is a celebration. I think one death is more than enough, don't you?"

[Engghaen]

Engghaen turned back to where she had been before, slowly muttering in herself. Where was Brandon? Still sad, she sighed. This was a disaster. There were still three Brandons and-... Wait. Where were his copies? Digging in her memory, -it seemed almost ages back- she remembered them fighting about the fact that Kevlics were or not pets. And about her. At least, what that man had done to her. The Brandons didn't think that was acceptable. Sure, she didn't either. But the girl didn't want a fight. They didn't listen. Of course then didn't. They were Brandon's copies. He would never let anyone do that. Even if he would be much stronger and better in fighting.

This was a party! She muttered. You shouldn't fight on one! Even if you like fighting or you're just angry too quickly. The girl realised she was still staring in the middle of the crowd and she walked to one of the corners of the place. At least it was dark here. She pushed her body against the wall. What's that? She moved her feet and apparently she had been standing on someone's face. Leaning down, she looked who it was. Not recognisable for her, so not important enough. To make sure no one would suspect her of doing anything, she walked away in another direction.

Who's that? He looks like... Wait. Not able to recall the face she had been standing on properly, she shrugged and walked on. There the Brandons were. She shook her head. The same man was throwing with his dagger at one of the Brandons. Though it was a copy, her mouth fell open. Who had done that? The same guy as..? He was crazy! And she had warned them already... But it stays Brandon. He is the perfect example of someone who is absolutely dull when he's angry. The girl turned away from them. She didn't need to see them fighting

[Quint Caravel]

Standing in one of the box seats on the top ledge of the grand room, the little Kelvic man with the sinister smiled admitted to his first companion-- the barefoot woman with beads and feathers-- that this was more fun than he had initially expected.

The woman agreed, sitting down now in an opulent plum-colored chair. "I rather like that Roderick fellow. He nearly had me convinced he was young master Quinton's cousin."

The Kelvic man conceded the point. "Especially as Caravel really does have an Uncle Sebastien."

The third member of their trio was a previously unseen figure in a pale quicksilver-colored robe. The hood was up and tilted to the left, giving his face the appearance of a crescent moon. He merely grunted in agreement.

The trio watched the proceedings with various emotions, ranging from worry to amusement to ambivalence. The Kelvic man clapped his hands together. "Personally I like Wrenmae. He appears to have become the hero of this tale."

The woman shrugged. "That's a tie then. I believe our friend is rooting for Brandon."

The silver-hooded man gave a small shake of his head.

The Kelvic man looked at him curiously. "In any event, a sacrifice has been made. We shall soon have what we came for."

The woman next to him gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "And the one we used as our original host?"

"Let me see." He glanced into his champagne glass and the waters swirled, showed an image of a man lost at sea. "Ah, I see Caravel-- the real one-- is drifting in and out of consciousness. He is currently drowning on the high seas. Rather an ironic turn of events for the man who envies ghosts."

The woman pointed downward. "All is still going according to plan. The room will hold. There are enough here now that we need not worry about him."

That drew an indignant frown from the hooded man. He raised a single finger, indicating that the time for chatting was over. The others obeyed. Another finger pointed at the clock on the wall. It was close to midnight: the season was winding down.

-=~ Quint Caravel ~=-

[Brandon Blackwing]

They should’ve know they were no match for the peacock. In hindsight, only experienced fighters or crazy people calmly waited for their opponent, who had outnumbered them, to come close and were about to aim a blow at them. Only they could look and act so relaxed in a situation adrenaline usually rushed through their bodies. That was their first mistake. The second one was not splitting up. They had the advantage of being with more than one, but they’d wasted it. Although their tactic to strike a blow to the man’s mid area and legs was in essence a good plan, all it took for the peacock to evade it was a simple step backwards. The grace and drama the leap was executed with made the observer a bit jealous. A dagger was pulled from underneath the peacock’s cloak. A casual gesture of his arm sent the weapon on its way to the reckless one’s throat. The blade buried itself deep in the soft flesh under the bat’s chin. Blood streamed down from the wound, staining his scarf. The man’s eyes were wide with shock and disbelieve. His dark orbs wandered from the blade sticking in his throat to the peacock’s hand. His knees gave away. His lips made their final movements, his lungs did their very best to provide the necessary air for forming the words. “C- curse you… peac- cock…” The light vanished from his eyes, his head hit the floor. The body of the reflection dissolved into a silver smoke, which spread out across the room. The reckless one was no more. The thief saw it all happening. A needle stabbed his heart as the reckless one disappeared. Only the dagger remained, laying on the floor, no blood was left to testify what had happened. Coming back up, the thief’s face was a mask of sorrow, and hate. His gaze burned with bright flames, feeding the rage building in his insides. He clenched his fists. He kicked the dagger laying next to him away, out of the reach of both of the fighters. He wouldn’t let the man get his hands on the thing again. That would be disastrous for him as well. "And now I have no weapon,"the man remarked. He held both his hands out, and to the thief’s despair, claws grew from the man’s fingertips. He could feel it building, fear. He knew he stood no chance. He would love to back out now, like the man suggested, but he couldn’t do that. This man had just killed a part of them. A part all of the other reflections liked. “Unfortunately, I cannot do that. The me you just killed was our best friend. He was loved by all. He was a bit reckless, aye, but he was a good lad. He was our happiness. Without him, we are but a pathetic person. So for his sake, I will continue this fight, and if the Gods should, by any chance, how tiny the possibility might be, favour me, perhaps I might come out of this victorious.” He beamed the man a smile with no happiness in it. “So, you see, my life has absolutely no value. And even though I oppose the thought of having to waste anything, be it money, tools or my life, I will throw it all away to make you atone for what you have done.” He shifted his position, placing his hips sideways facing the peacock, his upper body twisted towards him as well. His feet were slightly distanced from each other, his knees bended. He held his hands at eyelevel, his fingers curling a bit inwards, fatalistic determination gleaming in his dark orbs. He took a deep breath in. He tried to calm his instincts telling him, urging him to run. He breathed out. Focusing on what he had to do. He had but one shot. One chance. He couldn’t afford to waste it. His life was over, that he was sure of, but he wouldn’t go down without getting his revenge. He gave the man a sad grin. “Let us dance, peacock! Let’s make this the pinnacle of this celebration you’re so fond of.” He charged.

[M'Wanii]

It happened suddenly all at once. One moment lost in the blur of the dream, the next see everything clear and shape like a smashed window in the cold of winter. This wasn't a dream. A hand full of people here were real. Dreaming the same not-dream as her. Letting go of her dreamed up companion, the Charoda ran from the centre of the ballroom behind her the people all blurred together colour and noise until they disappeared leaving the room empty and silent, bar a few other guests fighting off in the corner out of sight. They still saw the dancers, the food, the servants, the guards, still heard the music playing, the people laughing, still smelt the food, still tasted the wine, still half engulfed in the fantasy that had been created. Picking up her skirts, she ran towards the others, straight through the servants, guests and guards. Not past them, through them, showing them to be the illusions they were. Her dress had stayed with her despite her realisation and her jewels too. They clinked and rattled as she ran. In reality, she struggled to walk let along run on the land, being born and built for the water. But through the rules of perfection the dream had been created in, she could probably out pace a deer. Slowing down she could see many versions of the same man facing off against another man with a peacock feathered mask. There was a girl in a grey dress looking sad on the sidelines and a few other women sitting around a table. Another man stood beside himself as a ghostly specter. There was also that man. The familiar stranger walking away from her, dressed in armor, dark leather and brilliant blue. A name clattered around the bottom of her mind. Oh it didn't matter. Storming up to him she grabbed him by the arm and swung him around to face her. “It's not a real dream.” Her voice was smooth and firm, filled with power and authority added by none other than the not-dream itself. “It looks like one, tries to act like one but isn't. This is a trap for the mind. Someone's mind. And I will find out whose.” Letting go of the stranger, the amphibian walk straight through the middle of the peacock and many-man's sword fight and came to stop before the mirror frame. “First I need to find out where I am.” With that she strode forward, her back disappearing into the wooden back of the broken mirror and was no longer in the ballroom.

[Celeste Arumen]

Celeste listened intently, her expression growing increasingly more concerned. This explained a good bit of the anxiety she’d noticed before. Annalisa was being hunted and by a hypnotist no less. At times, Alvadas had a darker side, where humans were trafficked and young people were forced into humiliating acts, the kind that would make any stomach turn. She’d seen hypnotists at work, planting the seeds of kindness and friendship, luring their prey with a smile. The young girl understood the fear deep within, dread striking like an icy shard through her gut.

She looked deadly serious, far older than she had any right to. ”You’ve got one hell of a problem on your hands,” she began, marshalling a reply. But before she could go any further, a cat leapt onto the table. Her fingers itched to reach out and pet it, but her better judgment said otherwise. Nothing was as it seemed and now suddenly, there was the fear of someone listening in the shadows. Not for long, however, as the cat was suddenly thrown from the table. Her eyes narrowed in rising anger, looking to the culprit.

Wait. Didn’t she recognize him? Being partially obscured by the mask, she couldn’t quite place those eyes, yet they were painfully familiar. She frowned, getting a sense that his identity was just beyond her reach. The thought lingered, plaguing her as time passed. Annalisa explained away the duplicates of the thieving man and she nodded mutely, still preoccupied. Who was he? And why was it so important that she remembered?

He was a Chaon? Her eyes slid back to Anna’s and her stomach felt suddenly heavy. She’d never befriended a Chaon before her, yet she knew him, had to. Celeste ripped madly through her brain, trying to place that level gaze, so brimming with hate that she could barely stand it. Things happened – people came and went, and she sat, puzzling it over, brow furrowed with deep thought. Brown eyes, the color of a caramel too long in the sun, or extract on a windowsill –

Everything clicked. ”By the Gods, it’s Wrenmae.” She said suddenly, eyes alight. Her old friend and tutor was a Chaon, now? Celeste blinked. What sense did that make? The Wrenmae she’d known was a scoundrel and a showman, but he was far from a disciple of Rhysol. That explained the lead in her belly, then. Her heart had known far earlier, it seemed.

”I know that man,” she explained. ”He was once my friend.” But the question was: did the same rules still apply?

Meanwhile, it seemed the revelation of his identity sent the others off elsewhere. Perhaps they didn’t wish to be in the middle of the melee that was almost sure to begin. Wrenmae was good with words, just as she remembered. She watched grimly as he goaded the bearded man. Well, goaded one of them, at any rate. As they advanced on one another, she turned back to Annalisa with more questions in her eyes.

”How did you know?” She asked softly. ”About him being a Chaon, I mean. And how did you meet this Daren Marlow? How do you propose to kill him?” The thought of killing; no murdering another human, no matter how evil, did not set well with her. Celeste took a sip of her wine, puckering at the taste.

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna allowed herself to feel slightly relieved as the table's other occupants left, dropping that the man was a Chaon seemed to have scared them off. She was unwilling to divulge her information until there weren't ears that were unfamiliar close by, though her interest was increased by the Kelvic. The sorceress had... researched the existence and fine details of Kelvics while in Zeltiva, one had even briefly been her servant. Though that was after she'd brutally invaded their body with res, humiliating and torturing them for the thrill of it. A grimace crossed her face, that was certainly something she wasn't going to be sharing in good company anytime soon.

The sorceress took another sip of from her glass, nearly spitting the liquid out as Celeste identified that she knew the other Chaon. Instead of spitting it out the liquid went down the wrong pipe as it were, resulting in a brief coughing fit. Once it subsided the tall woman looked at her companion incredulously, not really believing what she was hearing. She knew another Chaon? Did she not understand the risks in associating with them? Probably not being that she likely was unaware of the power of Chaon, Anna opted to make a mental note to educate the girl on the subject eventually. Celeste was owed at least that much for her willingness to help her out of her self imposed slavery.

Wrenmae, she made mental note of the name and filed it away. Daren was suddenly not looking like the only problem here tonight, a fellow Chaon could only mean trouble especially as he looked to be trying to get into a fight. Technically it wasn't Anna's problem if the thief ended up dead, but still it was worrying that he was able to cause such a ruckus so easily. He was very good with his words, the mark of a skilled manipulator. She allowed herself a brief grin.

"You certainly have a way of choosing friends, Celeste. Two Chaons being considered good company seems rather unhealthy to long term mental stability. Not that I'm complaining mind you." The sorceress said with a low chuckle.

Her next round of questions was rather more complicated, the latter ones more so than the former. Explaining the entire Daren situation would take a while, though it didn't look like they were going anywhere at the moment. So she closed her eyes and sighed, recounting as much information as she could actually remember on the subject.

"I can't really explain how I knew, I just did. I looked at him and my own mark resonated. I felt that he was just like me. I don't know as much about the realm of the divine as I do that of the arcane. Perhaps those marked by the same god share a connectivity? That's my best guess. Rhysol's blood burned into both of us, it would make sense if it conveyed a sense of detection to other Chaon." The woman replied at length.

If that was the case then Rhysol's blessing was indeed something of a blessing, it meant that she'd likely never be caught off of her guard by another Chaon. A good ability to have if she continued away from worshiping Rhysol as she was. She was hardly fully turned from him, but much of her beliefs had been called into question.

"The Daren situation... that's a little more complicated. This will take a while so get comfortable. Let me start by answering your first question about him. I arrived on Sahova only recently, the 75th I believe. A few days after I arrived I attempted to create a scroll to utilize in my Judgment, a display of Glyphing along with my considerable talent in Reimancy was likely to solidify passing. Unfortunately I, ah, was... unaware that the Common Labs were open to visitors so I might have used my own blood and a piece of my cloak to make the scroll." Anna felt her cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment.

That had not exactly been her proudest moment in the Citadel, especially the part where she had used her chamber pot to hold her blood. If she hadn't been a complete idiot she could have likely never encountered Daren. Then again, considering her talents it could very well have been Roknus Maelstrom she was apprenticed to instead of Amaryllis. That was worthy of a shudder, as much as she wanted to master her reimancy she certainly did not want to apprentice under the Mad Master of Reimancy. So Daren was a necessary evil in her path to status.

"In any event, I contracted a fever the next day due to infection in my left hand. I needed assistance and Daren assisted me to the Palsa Hydrasa to receive treatment from my wound. I... divulged to him a number of compromising things such as my magic and my background. It was from Amaryllis I learned who he was and what he could do. I suspect, through use of his talents he also figured out my little secret. Amaryllis also found out, though I don't know how." Anna continued, looking into her glass thoughtfully for a moment.

"According to Amaryllis I also requested to be taken as her apprentice on that day, after she taught me a method to conceal or change my memories. That last bit came with a price, I owe her a single favor of her choosing no matter what it might be. Which is also why I suspect she used her contacts on the Council to arrange for me to take my Wizard Examination ten days ahead of schedule, on the 20th of Winter. I'm more useful to her that way I suppose." The woman said with a self reflective nod.

Celeste had said no secrets after all, so this was Anna with no secrets between them. They weren't enemies or rivals here, the sorceress was willing to give this relationship a chance. Part of her really wanted desperately to trust someone, anyone, with her burdens. Not so much take them on, rather to understand why she was doing what she was doing.

"To make a long story a little shorter, Celeste, Amaryllis is using me to eliminate Daren for some personal motive of hers. Even if he wasn't trying to kill me, which he is, as my Master I can't very well refuse her. Petch, Roknus Maelstrom, Master of the Element Sanctum wants him dead for daring to try and search his memories. After crossing spells with him there is no way I'm going to risk incurring his ire." Anna said.

"As for how to kill him that's an even trickier prospect. The only sure way to do it will be to catch him off guard, which might prove difficult if he already knows I'm here like I suspect. Rest assured though, he very much deserves to die. Even if that were not the case he is a very large threat to my own life and that of others." Anna stated, her expression rather stony and her tone denoting no prospect of pleasure at killing her enemy.

Anna let the information sink in. It wasn't absolutely everything, for instance the sorceress had left out the trip to the Heartlands to gain Qiao's favor. That was mostly because the journey through the place was hazy, almost like she couldn't really remember the details. Still it was way more than she would give to anyone else, an honest if incomplete answer.

The sorceress allowed herself to think for a moment, deciding to inquire after this Chaon Celeste had associated with. If he was going to be a threat, then it was best to size up this so called Wrenmae.

"A little off topic but who is this Wrenmae? Here I thought I was the only Chaon for you. I'm hurt." The sorceress decided that maybe a little humor was necessary, sure things were strange a bleak but a little laugh helped every once in a while.

[Quint Caravel]

Now he was a waiter. Immune or indifferent to the chaos, the man in the butler's outfit and domino mask now focused his attention-- and his deep blue eyes-- on the table where the two women currently spoke. It was not that he wanted to or that he intended to; it was simply the most fascinating conversation that he had ever heard, and it was like going to the theater and watching a show written by a new playwright and young actress who suddenly astounds you with the depths of her performance. It was one of those moments where you enjoy being alive, where you appreciate finding something that was worth giving your time and attention to-- not just for entertainment value or educational value (though he admitted to having learned much about races and cultures he was otherwise ignorant of) but because watching moments like this connected with you and made you feel both vicarious and genuine emotions.

He was pleased by this outcome as he had not truly known that it was possible. Certainly it was not something he himself was capable of doing. Yet. Mulling the example of the young actress, he considered himself a very minor stage hand. He had perhaps a minor talent for setting a scene, or at least helping to set one. But no understanding yet of producing, directing or acting. No ability to captivate an audience.

All he could at the moment was be the audience. He did not yet know how to be anything else and rather felt he would ruin the quality of things should he open his mouth. He had not always been this way and things were not always thus, but for the moment he was willing to accept his passive place in the scheme of things.

Things would play out as they would. The fact that they were playing out at all felt like a gift to him, and he cherished it.

He had his brief moment. He came by, inquired if anyone wanted any more refreshments and walked off again once he had taken all the orders. For him that was enough.

[Celeste Arumen]

Her eyes were suddenly sad and slightly distant, even though she still wore a smile. ”He wasn’t always a Chaon,” she said. ”Back when I knew him he wasn’t, anyway.” It was a jagged pill to swallow. Whatever had happened to him, he certainly wasn’t the same. But she was promptly swept up in Annalisa’ explanation, thinking of her own gnosis mark.

”Ah, so if I were to meet another marked by Ionu, I would feel it too?” Wait. Had she ever even told her? Celeste grinned sheepishly, pulling her brilliant blue hair aside to reveal an inverted purple triangle just below her left ear. In the process, she had to crane a bit to do so. ”See? I met him when I was six. He was an old man at the time, though he could be anything and anyone. Even I could be the Trickster in disguise.” She winked. It was strangely fun to tease the older woman. She liked the way Annalisa’s lips curved up when she smiled. She was much prettier that way.

What followed made the dread return, though she swallowed it down. There was something else about her words that felt oddly familiar, as if two different pieces of the puzzle abruptly fit together. She’d said that Daren had murdered many pulser women, that he was strictly attracted to them alone. ”Can you tell me more?” She asked suddenly, leaning in on her elbows. ”I’m developing a theory, here. Do you know if Daren was always as he is? Was there anyone who’d ever survived him?” Her thoughts turned to Riyanna.

No secrets, she’d said. So no secrets there would be, though this one was technically not hers to tell. ”Please, please, never repeat what I’m about to say.” Her voice grew very low. ”Have you ever heard of Nemora Tepest? She is the reason Riyanna will never be promoted, though I may still have a chance. Once upon a time, someone took advantage of Riyanna when she first came to the island. In return, my Master… Well, she did something to him, though she won’t dare to say what. Lately, she’s been alluding to…” She shuddered. ”Something. I don’t really know, like taking revenge, once and for all. Nemora Tepest was close to this person and I’m getting the sense that perhaps these things are coming together. Maybe there is a reason you and I met, that goes beyond our own reasoning.”

Ah! From the mouths of babes, they say.

As for the inquiry about Wrenmae, she leaned back, downing the glass of wine before setting it aside. ”How could you think that? You ought to know that you’re the only woman for me.” And Celeste said it with such charisma that a weaker woman might flush. Her eyes glinted wickedly and she laughed. ”Anyway, he was my tutor and my friend, back when I ran the streets of Alvadas. He helped me with my morphing early on. He was vain, a womanizer and horribly sarcastic, but he’s never been… Well, darker than that.” She didn’t want to imply Chaon were evil. It would be an affront to her new companion.

”So what do you think?” Her eyes began looking for more wine. It was strange; normally, alcohol had a horrible effect on her, but she didn’t seem to feel it at all.

[Annalisa Marin]

Anna felt a good deal of sympathy for Celeste when she stated that he hadn't always been a Chaon, the sorceress of all people knew just how easy becoming one was. The woman had gained hers after a meaningful betrayal, something that was meant to distance her and push her towards Rhysol's camp. That next night after the deed was done he had come to her, his white orbs judging the character of her very soul. His words had been so very soothing, acceptance and an escape from the soul rending guilt. He had preyed upon her so very easily, enough to where he truly deserved the name the Lord of Lies.

Her attention was immediately brought to the fact that Celeste had been marked by a god as well, Ionu. The sorceress was unfamiliar with the God of Illusion, she knew of his/her domain and that was about it. Much of the deity was shrouded in mystery, the same being true for the followers of the god. Idly Anna wondered exactly what Celeste's mark could do, perhaps an inquiry into the matter could be made later.

Anna smirked at the girl's joke that she could be Ionu and the sorceress wouldn't even know it, it was an amusing thought. A deity so mysterious that even their followers were confused by it, that was truly one with an interesting sense of humor. For a moment she forgot that danger might be stalking her and felt at ease in the girl's company.

That vanished as Celeste brought up her theory, which sent the sorceress' mind into overdrive. It didn't seem possible really, that everything could be interconnected like she was suggesting. Though, considering Daren's high connections and reputation it was impossible to refute the possibility. Nemora Tepest... a name she was unfamiliar with but no doubt Amaryllis knew of her. The Embalmer always knew something, always had a hand or ear here or there.

The information about Celeste' master never being promoted was alarming to some degree, that might very well make the girl herself possess difficulties advancing. She mentioned possessing a chance at advancement, which Anna most certainly was pleased to hear. Apprentices tended to not last very long, and were rather low in terms of value. A combination of skill and dumb luck was likely the only reason Anna herself was still alive.

"I swear to you on my father's grave that the information will not pass from my lips. Your theory does... hold some credence. Daren arrived on Sahova a slave from what Amaryllis has confirmed, however his potential in hypnotism had him force his Master to free him and throw himself off of the highest point in the Citadel. He was granted and apprenticeship, and after driving his next Master insane he was promoted to Wizard rank." Anna replied, frowning slightly as she noticed her glass was empty.

"I believe that he has likely been up to his tricks for sometime, it could very well be that your Master was taken advantage of by him. The hang up point is what Riyanna could have done to him, Master Maelstrom alluded to voices and insanity but I'm not quite certain of what else could plague him. If Riyanna managed to survive that raises more questions about her than him, actually." The woman mused, pausing for a moment to search for a waiter.

As luck would have it one was passing nearby, she indicated for him to approach and leave two glasses. Once his task was done she dismissed him in a similar way as she did the other man. Idly she swirled the new glass, gathering her thoughts again.

"When I was fishing around for ways to undermine Daren's political support, which unfortunately counted Lector Qiao among them, Amaryllis pointed me to the Element Sanctum. After crossing spells with Roknus Maelstrom he spoke at great length about Daren, mostly about how badly he wanted to kill him. The Hypnotist tried to take something from the Master, failing because apparently Maelstrom's madness was enough to throw off Daren's influence. As far as I know that is the only sure fire defense, which begs the question of how your Master survived with her mind in tact." The sorceress stated, taking a sip from her glass and letting the potential implications sit.

If indeed Celeste's theory held light then Riyanna might know something, a method of how to beat the Hypnotist's power. It made her curse that she was here rather than the Citadel, the woman's knowledge would be highly invaluable if she was also an enemy of Daren. The other question on her mind, was why if this all was true had Amaryllis not mentioned it. It seemed a vital piece of information to her.

Celeste's quip had made a slight smile form on her face, reminding her of her days spent chatting with Velia in the Library. Days long past but good memories as far as she was concerned. That this Wrenmae was also a morpher was filed away.

"What I think, is that when we get back to the Citadel you and I will need to do a bit of investigating. I'll consult Amaryllis about this though if you spoke to Riyanna on the matter it would give us a clearer picture of how everything is connected. Though, if I'm right and he is here then he won't be an issue for much longer." She responded.

Working together with someone... it was a change as she normally did not work well with others. Still, Celeste was different and besides that she was now looking rather like she was going to be involved in this mess. Anna disliked the idea of dragging her down this dangerous road, and she certainly wouldn't blame her for any desire to turn back.

"If we actually manage to survive all of this hopefully the Citadel will have two more Pulser Wizards among its ranks. In that event the first rounds are going to be on me." She stated, taking a long draught from her glass.