Closed Of Masks and Men (Various)

[Phobius]

22nd Day of Winter, 514 AV

Phobius had barely gotten any sleep, but for once it wasn't because of nightmares.

No, today just happened to be a very, very special day. He had been waiting all season for it, and was so full of boundless energy and excitement that he'd woken himself up at the peak of dawn, pressing his face into his window so that he could watch the sun creep its away over the distant horizon.

It would be nice if it snowed, the boy mused, his eyes trained on the skies as their dark blues and purples faded into oranges and reds. I know it won't, 'cause it's too warm here, but...even if it was only for a chime, it'd be okay...

A pointless wish, but Phobius couldn't help it. An early childhood in Wind Reach had conditioned him to kind of expect snow in the winter. Around this time in the mountainous city, the ground and trees would be covered in thick blankets of the stuff, while snowflakes quietly drifted down in clumps from a pale, cloudy sky. And it was more often than not that he'd be outside, digging himself little snow-huts to sit in or trying to build snow-people for bells and bells. Other Yasi would be there, too, but the Inartan boy tended to keep to himself, and was usually the last one running around when everyone else had gone back inside with red noses and numb fingers.

It wasn't until he'd turned sixteen, when Tarrow had gifted him an itty-bitty strawberry cake, that he'd learned to separate birthdays from normal days. As far as he'd been able to tell, celebrating the day that you got a year older had never really been important to the Inartans. Or the ones running the nursery, at the very least. They would bring it up, and the child in question would get hugs and, on occasion, some sort of treat, but that was it. There was no huge gathering of friends, no performance by musicians, no wide array of food...and Phobius had given the whole thing some serious thought after his little revelation, curious as to what it was about birthdays that could made them so...well, unimportant. Eventually, he'd settled on thinking that the nice ladies at the nursery hadn't bothered with celebrating because there were too many kids to keep track of, and too many birthdays to remember. But they were hard-working people who had meant well, so he couldn't be angry with them for it.

It looked like today was going to be his chance to make up for all of that missed fun.

Bringing his face away from the cool glass of the window, Phobius swiveled around and threw his legs over the side of the bed, eager to go grab his clothes and get himself ready. No sooner had he risen to his feet, however, did he suddenly remember that the party wasn't until sundown. The sun had barely finished coming up.

With a frown, he sat himself back down and stared at the floor for a moment. Then he shifted his attention over to Nini, who was picking at her downy feathers with her beak. "I guess I've got to wait for a while, huh...?" he said to the bird.

A "while" was a bit of an understatement, though. There was a good amount of bells between now and the party, but the boy had absolutely nothing else planned for the day. Unsure of what to do next, he decided to try and go back to sleep. And when that wouldn't work, he scooped Nini up into his arms and headed outside to take a walk. She could use the fresh air, and he was simply too energetic to stay in one place for long, every muscle and tendon in his body compelling him to be out doing something.

For the next few bells, the two went traveling aimlessly about Alvadas, stopping a few times to get snacks or simply sit and enjoy the things around them, namely the weather and the people who'd walk by. Then they headed back to the inn and, deciding that he'd waited long enough, Phobius immediately went and fished his special doublet out of the drawer he'd tucked it in. It was still as smooth and new-looking as it'd been on the day that he had bought it, and he took a moment to marvel at it before shrugging out of his lontev to pull it on. The fabric felt nice against his skin, and it was a good fit; he was especially fond of the poofy sleeves, and giggled to himself as he waved his arms around, pretending for a moment that they were wings that he was flapping. Nini didn't seem too impressed, but she had no complaints to make when he asked her how it looked.

Feeling confident, he hurried into the lobby to show Miss Georgia.

"Well, look at you!" the woman exclaimed, a broad smile growing on her lightly-wrinkled face when she saw him. "Getting all fancied up for our birthday, huh? What a perfect shirt."

"You really like it?"

"I really do. And you've even got that little mask to go along with it."

Phobius blinked at her, confused for a moment before he looked down and noticed the fox mask in his hand. Right...he'd grabbed it off of his dresser right before he'd left his room. Beaming a little, the boy held it up so that Miss Georgia would be able to get a better look.

"It's a present," he explained. "A early one. I'm gonna wear it at the theater. ...but...but what if no one knows I'm me?"

"Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem."

"No?"

She shook her head, pursing her lips a little. "No. But you know, adding a bit of mystery to things makes them more interesting, don't you think?"

Interesting...? Phobius inwardly echoed. What'd she mean by that? Expecting her to explain, he was silent for a moment, blinking at her until she chuckled and leaned forward to rest her elbows on her desk.

"Actually, that scarf might give you away. You don't have a red one you could wear?"

"...I like this one."

"Ha, alright then. Go and have fun at your party. And happy birthday!"

Smiling, the boy gave a nod before turning and heading out the door. It took every ounce of control he had within his body to keep himself from breaking into an automatic run, so he settled for a jog, instead. Reaching the Crooked Playhouse didn't take as long as he'd expected it to and, with a quick glance at the sky, Phobius determined that he was early, if only by a few chimes. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Being early to his own party? At least this way he'd be able to welcome everyone in.

The food and Musician's Guild probably hadn't come, yet, unless they'd shown up earlier than he had. Maybe the juggler had even joined them. Either way, all that the boy had left to do now was to wait.

Slipping the fox mask over his face and adjusting it a little, Phobius hurried through the stone arch and went inside.


OOCSorry that I took so long with this, guys. Now that I know that there's nothing wrong with the prep thread, though, we can go ahead and get this thing started! c:
Oh, and here's the invitation that he sent:

"You're invieted to Phobius's Birthday Party!
At the Crooked Playhaus, On the 22nd, When the Sun Sets
Food, Music, and More Fun Stuff!
P.s. It's a Maskeraid Party, So Bring a Mask!"


"This is speech in Nari."

This is thought.

[Yisanareysin]

Reading was hard. Reading was an exercise in frustration, angrily staring at a jumble of ink or charcoal scratchings until they formed into something vaguely resembling meaning. Some humans, he knew, could simply glance at a word, and glean from a single look all the meanings and nuances of that line of scribbles. Rey could not. Yes, reading was hard for the Dhani.

Especially when half the petching words in the message were spelled oddly. And just what in Hai was a Maskeraid party? Rey sighed, tossing the invitation onto the desk. Bring a mask, the boy said. Where, exactly, did he think Rey was going to get a mask? They weren't exactly household items, even in Alvadas.

Still, the thought intrigued him. A party, where his identity was hidden? Where he, and likely no one else could see, or rather, sense past the masks? Now that did sound fun. Besides, given everything that had happened, it would likely be for the best if he were to cultivate a stronger relationship with one of the few people who could expose him as a Dhani. And he never knew when he might need a little human to do a favor for him. So, it was off to see what he could find at the Bizarre then.

Despite the lingering cold, the Bizarre was as crowded as ever, maybe even a little more so than normal. Rey slipped through the throngs of people, looking through the stalls and stores.

It took a bit of searching, but he eventually found his way to an almost terrifyingly brightly colored stall. The table was covered in clothing in every color but black and white, and hung along the sides were, among other accessories, masks of all shapes and sizes. Rey's eyes were drawn instinctively to a green serpent mask, complete with slitted eye holes, but when the stall owner offered it to him, he shook his head. Too obvious. Subtlety was the way to go. Besides, what was the fun in just announcing his true nature?

Rey rejected a few more masks before the man pulled one out from behind the stall. Unlike most of the others, it was a half mask, covering from forehead to just below the nose. The feathers that decorated it were a dark, reddish brown, and the nose area extended into a yellow beak with a hooked, black tip. "A hawk." The man told him, perhaps sensing that he was about to make a sale. He continued speaking, but Rey had stopped paying attention, fully focused on the mask.

He remembered being a youngling, around forty years of age. His mother had taken him to Ahnatep, and they had ended up watching some parade or the other. The details were vague, but Reysin remembered two things from that day. He remembered the profile and the six gesturing arms of the then Pressor, Teremun, and he remembered the guards that had surrounded him. They had been glorious, decadent and dangerous at the same time. He remembered gold and jewels lining their armor, and gleaming steel at their sides, and most of all, he remembered their helmets, with the image of a hawk engraved on the sides, a metal beak protruding from the front. There had been Jackels and Foxes behind them, but it was the image of that skulk of Hawks that had stayed with him.

How much? He heard himself say.

Unfortunately, the man was apparently encouraged by his success, and Rey was apparently too entranced by the mask to be sensible, because within chimes, Rey was trying on a vest, while the man fussed about the color matching his silver hair. Before he knew it, the man was waving goodbye, a smug grin on his face, as the Dhani walked away with a full set of clothing, in addition to the mask.

Rey sighed, patting his lightened coin purse. How dark red was supposed to match his hair, he had no idea. Still, more clothes was always a good thing, for a snake who occasionally needed disguises. Or perhaps he was just trying to make himself feel better about having been suckered into buying more things.

When Rey returned to his room, he looked down at his purchases, and sighed slightly. Ah, well. He might as well, now that he'd bought them. Quickly undressing and redressing, he turned to look at himself in the mirror. The vest was dark red, the shirt beneath quite a few shades lighter, verging on, but not quite as bright as fresh blood. His trousers were dark too, a deep, almost shimmering purple that looked black in the right light. The material was a tad finer than his normal clothes too, some fabric he couldn't identify.

He was.. colorful. Dark colors, sure but considering his normal attire was grey and black, colorful. Surprisingly, it wasn't as garish as he had feared it would be. And when he put on the mask...

Rey laughed at his reflection. Wasn't he a sight. His outfit was flashy and eye catching and, best of all, drew attention away from him and onto his clothing. Nothing like the armor of the elite Eypharian guards, but it suited him just fine. Turning to look out the window, the Dhani grinned. The sun was going down, and it looked like it was time to go. It wouldn't do to be late.

Rey turned back to the bed, and picked up his last purchase. Birthdays weren't really a Dhani custom, as they would likely get tedious after the first hundred, but humans had to take what pleasures they could in their short lifespans, he supposed. Still, he understood that the buying of a present was traditional. Tucking the final article of clothing into his pack, Rey turned to go.

Bribery did wonders for a friendship, especially if the recipient didn't realize they were being bribed.

Snake Tongue : Common : Arumenic

[Aislyn Leavold]

22nd of Winter, 515 AV

Well, this was different.
Though different in a good way or bad, she wasn’t sure yet.

Aislyn didn’t go to many parties. Next to none, actually. The last one she’d been to had been Markis’ birthday, just before Ionu had marked her. After that, she wasn’t a fan of parties. But she had to come to this one. She couldn’t let Phobius down.
At least, not again.
Yes, it had been a season since the incident at the mansion… But it had been a long season. She hadn’t interacted with either Kuvarakh or Phobius much since, especially after she’d retreated back to her own home instead of the safety of the mansion, armed thugs or not. But after Phobius knew about her illusionism, ‘the safety of the mansion’ didn’t seem all that safe.

But she wasn’t going to desert Phobius.
The invitation had arrived at her doorstep, out of the blue, wrapped in a neat envelope with ‘Miss Maya’ written on top.

You’re invieted to Phobius’s Birthday Party!
At the Crooked Playhaus, On the 22nd, When the Sun Sets.
Food, Music, and More Fun Stuff!
P.s. It’s a Maskeraid Party, So Bring a Mask!
The invitation, of course, had surprised her. She was convinced Phobius would have kept her at arms length after what happened, but when the letter arrived…
Maybe not everyone reacted to pain the way she did. And maybe the way she reacted wasn’t right.

Aislyn had gone out almost immediately after the invitation had arrived, purchasing a masquerade mask from a conveniently placed store. Insurance, so she couldn’t go back on her promise to go to the party.
The mask she’d bought was a pretty, nearly full-face crow, with black feathers dissolving to rainbow at the tips. The plume of feathers itched, but Aislyn loved the item more than the idea of going to the party itself, so it was worth it. The mask had a string to tie it around her head, sturdily holding it in place with a knot just above the braid she'd pulled her hair back into.
As for the rest of the outfit, the birthday was finally an excuse to wear the rainbow skirt that had been locked away in a drawer for almost a season, even if the thing didn’t seem to be meant for the kind of weather outside. Still, with a pair of pants underneath the iridescent fabric and a black, long-sleeved shirt on top, that wasn't an issue. The colors of her clothes went from rainbow to black to rainbow again, much echoing the form of Ionu that Aislyn had seen when she’d first been marked. It was almost symbolic.
On top of the clothes, she’d double and triple checked her 'Maya' illusion, just to make sure everything was perfect.
For once, she felt confident in her appearance.

Now all she had to do was be confident in her acting.

Due to the extremely rickety social circumstances in which the party was placed, along with the risk of certain, unfavorable people attending, Aislyn had prepared an emergency illusion to switch to if things got too out of hand. At home, she’d practiced flushing out the Maya illusion and into this new one as quickly as possible. ‘Casting’ illusions was much like mentally applying makeup, or putting together a puzzle. She had to imagine where each piece would fit, from eye colour to skin tone, then harden it and keep it constantly going, like a buzz in the back of her mind. It was like remembering to keep your fist clenched over a long period of time; easy at first, but also very easy to forget the second a distraction came along.
So she had to be careful, but then again, it was a party. Being too careful might end up wasting the day.
It was all a very careful balance, and not to mention a very annoying one. Aislyn had never not been careful, not even in a setting such as a party. But paranoia cut deep, so the woman approached the Crooked Playhouse- right on time of course- with an air of caution, mask on, and present in hand.

[Niello]

placeholder for Niello!

[Vard Briar]

22nd of Winter, 514 AV

Vard sighed, waking up as the sun peered through his tent. His dishevelled, torn-up tent. There had been one particularly vindictive raccoon that tore the entire eastern-facing side of his tent, and since that incident he woke at dawn. Fumbling about, the Symenestra managed to pull on his clothes and sniffed at them with apprehension. He'd washed them yesterday and they still smelled faintly of sweat. Nevertheless, as he pulled on his shirt he reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment with Phobius's cheerful writing on it. The Crooked Playhaus...bring a mask. "Where the hell am I supposed to find a mask?" He mumbled, and he looked about. Not much gave him hope. He rummaged through his sack and found he had no food. Not surprising, as he'd been subsisting on the errant small animal that wandered by and he could go on like that for at least another...month? Week? No, what worried him more was his empty waterskin.

Starlight nickered softly, when he came out holding his ocarina and the invitation. His rapier was slung at his hip and his clothes were at least a little less rumpled. Vard stifled a sob when he looked at his horse, she was damn near starving. He hadn't tied her for days but she wouldn't graze further than the edge of the clearing. He'd given her the last of his water a few days back."One last ride? I think you deserve better Starlight." The horse huffed, and Vard managed a sad smile as he mounted up. He gently nudged her side and they set off. The gentleman hazarded a gaze back at his camp, and realized it was little more than a torn tent and a long cold fire pit.

They cantered along the trail, and he contemplated how he'd gotten so damnably poor. He'd arrived in Alvadas so hopeful, fresh from Wind Reach and feeling as though he'd finally found a home. And he'd found friends, he had no doubt about that. Only in spite of that, he'd not found a job. That was the crux of the problem. He was unused to working for money. In fact, the finances he had nicked from his father had been rationed well. So well in fact that he had only just run out when he came to Alvadas. I spent lavishly, enthralled by this city of illusions... As he thought that, he and Starlight had reached the gate. If you could call it a gate. The mouth seemed to leer at Vard with hostility. He didn't know if it actually was, but it was enough to dampen is spirits further. Then he saw that the face-gate's eyes were leering at something. Its stony pupils were directed at the ground to his right.

Starlight nickered nervously as her master rubbed her nose and told her to take care of herself. She would wait for him of course. That was what a good horse did. And Vard would cry himself to sleep on occasion, knowing that the horse loved him despite his being penniless. He stood aside and then went to investigate the object, rubbing his eyes furiously. Squatting to pick up the thing, Vard's mouth quirked in puzzlement. It was a mask. At least it seemed to be, you could never be sure with Alvadas. He turned it over and put it to his face and found that, of course, the mask fit his face decently. The Symenestra became quite wary and gingerly removed the mask. He'd heard enough stories to know that coincidence especially in one's favour, could prove treacherous. Still, he tapped it with a finger and it made a brittle noise, by all appearances the mask seemed to simply be a plaster old with paint. The mask itself was eerie, as Vard could make out several different faces in the paint and mold. A young woman, an old man, even a baby or was it a crone? It was very well-made,to say the least. And if the damn thing was evil or cursed or Ionu knew what else, Vard was convinced it couldn't get any worse than being broke. As he put the mask to his face and brought the string back into his ashen curls, he had an epiphany. The mask could very well be Ionu. If the god of illusion was as mysterious, long-sought and seldom found as the priests claimed then why wouldn't his face be composed of multiple likenesses? Vard almost put the mask down again, but as his hand brushed his featherlight coin purse, he realized that this, a forgotten or lost mask, was the only one he could afford. Underneath the old thing, his face grew grim and he stepped through the maw into the city.

If nothing else, he was lucky in finding the Playhouse with ease. Once he'd tracked it down he parked his rear on a bench and loitered like a champion. Nonchalant, seeming to all the world as though he was meant to be in this bench, Vard sat peaceably and watched people walk by. Thoughts of many different lights and colors flashed through his mind. Was his brother Verin still in Alvadas? Would Phobius be serving food and drink? (Vard's stomach growled at that) Could he perhaps find a job as a musician at a tavern? If so, would they give him free room and board? (Vard's stomach growled once more) As he was pondering the availability of a eye-catching young lady window-shopping across the way, he spotted a shock of red hair coming towards him. At first Vard jumped a half-foot in the air but then he thumped into his seat and tried to regain his casual pose. He failed miserably. Luckily, Phobius seemed distracted which was only fair given the day. Getting to his feet, Vard straightened his mask, smoothed out his cloak, shirt and pants and took a breath. He followed his friend quietly inside and tapped his shoulder when they were through the door. "Phobius," Vard proclaimed in a sonorous voice, "I have come to see you come of age. This turn of the year shall prove most mesmerizing indeed."

A gentleman, rich or poor, maintains his class in every way possible.

Class is remaining true to yourself

No matter the cost

[Phobius]

No sooner had Phobius emerged from the tunnel into the theatre's spacious belly did something poke him on the shoulder. Startled, he whipped around and found himself face-to-face—mask-to-mask, really—with someone and, unable to recognize them at first, tilted his head a little. It was a strange mask, too, resembling a face that wasn't quite a face...well, it was, but it kind of looked like a bunch of different faces all meshed into one. And though the voice behind it was a bit muffled, Phobius was quick to realize how familiar it sounded, along with the unmistakable head of ashen-white hair.

"Pryzavard!" the boy exclaimed after a beat. Then he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around the man's waist in a hug, overjoyed to see his friend after what had felt (to him) like ages. "You're here, you're here!"

Feeling hopeful, all of a sudden, Phobius peeked behind him at the tunnel they'd come through, his eyes searching the darkness for any signs of movement that would signal someone else's arrival, but there weren't any. Oh well. He was patient, and didn't mind waiting some more. It probably wouldn't take long for the others to show up, anyway.

Phobius let go of the man when he decided that he'd squeezed him, enough, then grabbed him by the wrist and began to tug him into the Playhouse, a gleeful grin on his mostly-hidden face.

"C'mon, you gotta see inside! It's big and pretty, and music-people are coming, and I found a man that juggles, and—oh!"

He came to a stop, all of a sudden. The theatre's massive stage was few feet ahead of them, and down at the very front of it sat a long, rectangular table that Phobius couldn't remember having seen, before. A white cloth was draped over it, and there were plates of food from one end to the other; meats and some cheeses, and tasty-looking pastries. Oh, that was right...the nice people he'd met at the Bizarre must have gotten here early and set things up.

"And there's food," Phobius added, releasing his grip on the Symenstra. "Lots! If you're hungry, you can go and eat now. Everybody else is on their way."

It was more of a suggestion than anything, but the boy was somewhat hoping that his friend would go ahead. Though the party hadn't officially begun, yet, he wanted Pryzavard to enjoy himself, and there wasn't much for them to do except wait around for everyone else to show up, including the entertainment.

Much too excited to stand around and do nothing, Phobius couldn't help but start to bounce on his toes and continue to talk. "Has stuff been okay...? I haven't seen you in forever! Well, not really, but a really really really long time. How's Starlight? And it wasn't hard to find here, was it? I found it on accident, and I really liked it. The stage is so big and colorful...like your mask! It's really nice. Where'd you get it from?"


"This is speech in Nari."

This is thought.

[Vard Briar]

22nd of Winter, 514 AV

"Pryzavard!" Vard hastily sucked in a breath as Phobius took him into a strong (rib-creaking for a Symenestra) hug. "Well... I'm excellent at disguises apparently." He muttered sarcastically under his breath. Phobius's joy was contagious however, and he couldn't help but smile at his friend's happiness. It warmed his heart. He was jolted forward when the boyish individual yanked him by the wrist into the Playhaus proper. It was a homely place, he'd not had an opportunity to visit beforehand. He cast a wandering eye about the cavernous space before Phobius's voice drew his attention back to the forefront of the room. At a table furnished with a white tablecloth lay plenty of food for the hungry.

Vard, as a point of fact was seldom hungry. Whenever he had the urge to hunt, he'd play his ocarina, or go for a ride. When he actually required food though, the Symenestra had token successes in finding small animals to cook in the traditional Symenestran way. However, he couldn't remember the last time he'd ate. His stomach was worryingly hollow. What should I do? I don't want to frighten Phobius! He approached the table and appraised the snacks. Vard plucked up a plate with a pronounced indentation, as bowl-like as possible. Then, he studied what was being offered while tapping his foot idly. "Ah." He mumbled, placing some meats in the bowl, and added a small bite of cheese. One look at the pastries gave him more than enough incentive to step away with what he had. Before he did though, Vard nicked a small rosebud of choolate and popped it in his mouth. Tasty.

While the chocolate melted in his mouth, which Vard adored about the sweet, he felt his fangs extending. Turning away from the table and rushing over to the seats he fell into one and held the bowl under his mouth. Swallowing the melted chocolate, Vard felt his fangs itch lightly. A peculiar sensation, but generally helpful in dispensing a warning of, well, his dispensation of venom. Vard pulled his mask up into his ashen curls, and opened his mouth carefully. The venom hissed gently as it fell into the bowl and the acrid scent of it was a potent sign. An omen that Vard would need a far fuller meal before the next sunrise. He'd go hunting. Later. Now, he needed to pay his due to Phobius. Closing his mouth and waiting for his fangs to retract, the Symenestra turned his attention to the rest of the room while his food dissolved. An idle thought led him to place the bowl under the chair. Liquified food wasn't appetizing to most other races, he surmised.

The Crooked Playhaus was immense, and its ridged lines and sharp contours gave the building a sense of rigid attention. For Vard's part, he'd never fall asleep while seated amongst such fearsome spires, and asymmetric furnishings. Even his chair was off-kilter, though well balanced. Only the stage was not unusual, which in the context of Alvadas itself, seemed very unusual. Even with Symenestra eyes, the rest of the theatre was dark if not literally shadowy. The stage however, was well-lit and colourfully displayed. The curtains, the wood, everything down to the very masonry of the stage oozed colour. Colour, and story. While mostly silent now, the Playhaus whispered in Vard's ear. Its edges whispering, its colours shouting, and all the while the stories played in Vard's mind. He'd very much like to see a play here.

Vard realized he'd let Phobius babble without paying attention. Mentally reprimanding himself, he caught the end of the youth's tirade. "-like your mask! It's really nice. Where'd you get it from?" Vard seized that conversation point and ran with it. Removing the disguise and turning it over in his hand, Vard smiled. "I came into the city in a rush, since I didn't have a mask yet. Luckily for me, Ionu must be watching over my sorry self because I found this beauty lying just outside the Maw. It does seem to have a lot of faces, doesn't it? I had a thought, that maybe this was some artist's depiction of Ionu himself. What do you think Pryzabius?" This time, Vard listened attentively for Phobius's response but checked under his chair and saw that fortunately, his venom was dissolving the food at an accelerated rate. This was likely due to his hunger. It also produced a strong smell of the burning equivalents of those foods. Vard dearly hoped nobody would notice.

Playing with your food is not classy at all, it's true.

Class is remaining true to yourself

No matter the cost

[Sayana]

Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request. If there's anything I may have missed, please PM me and I'll be happy to look into it.

 

Phobius

Skills

• Socialization: 2
• Land Navigation: 1
• Animal Husbandry: 1
• Acting: 1
• Disguise: 1
• Observation: 1
• Hosting: 1
• Interrogation: 1

Lores

• My Masquerade Party (514)
• Hosting: Greeting guests and offering food
• Hosting: Preparing invitations

Miscellaneous

• Fox Mask (-5 gm)

 

Reysin

Skills

• Reading: 1
• Observation: 1
• Disguise: 1

Lores

• Phobius's Masquerade Party (514)

Miscellaneous

• Dark Red Vest, satin/velvet (-6 gm)
• Red shirt, satin/velvet (-2 gm)
• Dark Purple Trousers, satin/velvet (-16 gm)
• Hawk Mask (-5 gm)

 

Aislyn

Skills

• Reading: 1
• Planning: 1
• Disguise: 1

Lores

• Location: Crooked Playhouse
• Phobius's Masquerade Party (514)
• Planning an escape illusion

Miscellaneous

• Crow Mask (-5 gm)

 

Niello

Skills

• XP

Lores

• Lore:

Comments
Sorry, but since you only posted a placeholder I cannot award you any grades.

 

Vard

Skills

• XP

Lores

• Lore:

Comments
If you become unretired and update your seasonal expenses, please PM me for grades.

Comments: Cute thread. Too bad it didn't progress very far. A masquerade party is certainly a very Alvad thing to do.

Your Grader,

Sayana

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