The Game - Acting it out [Team Dawn & Dusk]

[Alistair deGrey]

This bluster and chaos seemed entirely unnecessary to Alistair. These people did not seem real to deGrey. It was all immensely strange to him. It appears as if acting and lying are not quite as synonymous as I previously believed. Regardless, he would do his best. He saw Karona’s swaying form approach the back stage, he eyed her warily. The man drew his legs in and moved into a crouching position, leaning against the wall. Karona moved into the back stage area and made an offhand comment about Alistair arriving late. At first he was torn between ignoring her and responding, but then deGrey spoke regardless, ”Late? Late is an exceptionally subjective term, what is late for you may be on time for me. In any case, even if time was a completely objective topic, a clock maker would indubitably be better informed than a dilettante.” Alistair’s eyes turned back to the spectacle at hand. A wan, pale man had just entered from Team Dusk’s side of the stage. Upon his face was a purple mask with the face of tragedy etched into its porcelain features. deGrey stood as the purple masked man began to speak, intently listening to his words. I believe this may be my queue. Alistair quietly moved over to his pack and dug out one of the eggs from his pack. deGrey scrawled a message onto the egg, What challenge awaits the players of this game after the play? Taking the egg in his right hand, deGrey snatched the cane laying by his resting position and hobbled onto the stage. He was now Rodosius ”Cease! Cease! What farce do I see before me?” Rodosius spit on the stage to emphasize his disgust, and hobbled to the congregation. ”I do detect a foulness on the breath of the friar and a venomous tongue on the princess; for these wise eyes tell me stories of their tainted egg.” With that the advisor rapped his cane loudly on the floor and moved his eyes to each of his Team Dawn companions. ”Who is to trust the tongues of reptiles? Only a fool.” The old man man a slight flourish with his cane, and raised his own egg ”But I do declare my companions, there is no cause for worry or fear. For here lies an egg of unquestionable validity.” Rodosius paused for a few moments, stroked his smooth midnight black face and glanced at the egg that lay with Queya. However, this matter arouses a curiosity from deep slumber. I would be honored to investigate the nature of the fraudulent symbol presented by the princess. If my good madame Queya would only be so kind as to relinquish it.” With that, Rodosius hobbled past the priest, clearing the few steps from him to Queya. He tucked the cane under his arm, leaned on his good leg, and held out his hand expectantly for the egg.

[Tarot]

As the play unfolded, Gromhir was in the best position to investigate the theater. Masked as he was, he could move past the audience members undisturbed. Short of screaming in their ears or ruining their enjoyment of the tragedy, they wouldn't even acknowledge his presence. The Kelvic was the odd man out, the wrench thrown in the clockwork. He, and he alone out of the twelve players, could see the platform right above the curtains, and the barely visible door behind it. Maybe, just maybe, Gromhir could get there from the third tier of boxes, through a rather thin ledge that framed the entire theater. A thing best suited for an acrobat, though the Kelvic was very dexterous. The platform hung from the ceiling of the theater, vertically above the center of the stage, but as all the lights were on the stage itself the actors would have a hard time seeing it even if they looked up. The platform could be lowered onto the stage, as hinted by the pulley system connected to the four cables that kept it suspended. Gromhir would probably not know this, but such devices had often been used in drama to enact the arrival of a god onto the stage, the literal deus ex machina, a god from a machine. There were several problems, though. For once, deus ex machina was mainly a thing of comedy, whereas this was to be a tragedy, as hinted by the masks of the main characters. A play that ended badly. Second, the controls for the device were probably in a control booth somewhere near the stage. Even if he made it to the platform, Gromhir could only open the door himself - and venture completely alone towards the next dangers - or somehow communicate with the actors below. Even so, someone would have to activate the platform's controls to lower it to the stage and back up. Most likely someone who would have to be left behind. On the stage, the actors were fighting their own battle under the scrutinizing, but as of now satisfied, eyes of the audience. What Karona did to Evarette would have warranted a Sinner's mark, if only Queen Eugenia did not already have one. The poor girl was first stunned by Chaon and then assaulted by a wave of Hypnotic suggestions. It seemed that a battle of eggs was underway, paralleling one of egos. The audience did not bat an eyelid at that. Apparently the actors were discovering their boundaries and using them to their advantage. There was a short, but unexpected interruption. A masked boy, dressed as a court page of some sorts, entered the stage carrying a large sign reading: "Act I will be over in 10 minutes". The mysterious actor went offstage as quickly as he had come.

[Rhylen]

With his left hand holding that of the blinded Drykas still in his own Rhylen stood, hesitantly taking the egg as the white witch first removed it from his pack and then thrust it into his right. This game was beginning to wear on his resolve. He could think of little else but to use the girl as his pawn, but his duty to her as a Sister of the Grass put the scheme at odds with his deep rooted beliefs. He would not allow her to return to the clutches of the Queen, nor would he allow his teammates to take further advantage of her disabled state. The answer came to him as Demetri swept forward. The tingle if djed in the air lead Rhylen to instinctively grasp for his own, the almost subconscious welling of rez in his palms would likely cause Iolanda some discomfort, but not enough to warrant alarm. With egg in hand he stepped between the gaze of his teammate and the young Drykas, shoving him gently so as to assert his position in front of the audience. Leave the poor girl be, he thought sadly, the gentle swirl of air about his fingertips a sign of his growing discomfort and lack of trust for both sides. “Surely you don’t wish to pressure her, Olok. You old fool!” His frown said that a suitable distance would be preferable to their current proximity. “The decision should be hers, and hers alone.” A light flow of air seemed constant between him and the Princess, Ashak was prepared. As a new face emerged, this one bearing a distinct air of intent, Rhylen let go of the Drykas, squaring his shoulders to the man's approach. Another enemy meant he must be prepared, this was a crucial moment. Talk of a tainted egg and the now outstretched hand of the kneeling entrant gave the wildlander an idea, though it would be risky, the reward would be worth it. “But of course! My eyes have surely deceived me, for you are completely correct!” Taking a steadying breath the shaman compacted the air about his free hand, transforming the rez into a block of dense gas. “Please,” he said, a smile etched into his features though there was no reason for it to be there. “Take it.” And as he placed the egg gingerly in Rodosius’s outstretched hand he simultaneously unleashed his power, aiming for the man’s chest at an angle so as to catch him off balance. The audience would hopefully see nothing, and should all go as planned the two sins would be claimed by their opponents and two secrets would be revealed to the quickest hands, his already seeking the answers.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden watched things unfold before his eyes, releasing a slow sigh as his fingers ran along the side of his mask in the darkness away from the spot light. His eyes darted back and forth between some egg being spoken of and being passed around, oblivious to it's true meaning. His eyes then slowly gazed over the character passing by giving the ten minute call for the closing for the first act. Jaeden released another sigh, feeling himself to be dead weight on the stage. Finally, he dropped his pack to the floor behind him before his leather armor and shirt were removed and set beside his pack. Then, stepping out into the spot light, he slowly drew his sword, slipping the blade between Iolanda and Ashak. "Hold," Jaeden then said in a stern voice as his hand reached out, grasping Evarette's, guiding her slowly behind him as he placed her hand along his shoulder for guidance and he lead her out of the full mix of being surrounded by the characters. He then slowly turned, laying his hand along Evarette's shoulder as he leaned in, whispering into Evarette's ear so on she could hear him. "Make a quarter of a full turn to your right and you will be facing the exit to the back stage if you need to withdraw until whatever is plaguing you passes." Jaeden's head then slowly turned, his light blue eyes peering through the eye slits in his mask as he tapped Evarette's hand lightly and began stepping back towards the other players. "If this marriage is to take place, before any ceremonial breaking of eggs, I wish to judge whether this Prince be worthy of Iolanda's hand," Jaeden then said as he slowly raised his sword. "Royalty, does not a man make, and I will see that the Princess can be properly protected by this man in times that danger arise. Best me, her Champion, and you will be such a man." Jaeden knew that he may incur that tear drop along his hand should a duel break out. Considering the fact that only one other member of his team had one thus far, he was fine with such a price, and since his last attempt at being a part within this play failed when trying to break the forth wall, he considered that he would simply play his part to the best of his ability until someone else came up with a better plan that a play of words.

[Karona Isenbach]

Karona felt another urge to kill tremble down her spine as Alistair displayed his senile defiance and insolent sarcasm. Still she relinquished her desire in hopes of better things for later, simply standing by the end of the backstage in wait for the events to unfurl. An offering of a peculiar egg. Her now blind 'daughter' is obviously in a tight spot concerning it, with the scions of Mullonde taking full advantage of the leeway her own selfish actions had given them. As her hands were shakily guided towards it, with their voices exhorting her to break it, the Queen's smile grew more and more malicious as she licked her lips deliciously; whatever it was was certain to bring pain and trouble for the beleaguered Drykas maiden. This dissipated, however, when Jaeden stepped out and stepped in, hoisting his blade before the royal siblings Queya and Ashak. She did not know much about Jaeden, still those primed muscles of his and his stance with the sword hinted of strength, while Rhylen's delicate form radiated with a sickening frailty. "No, no, no." she mused to herself out loud. "This will not do. Not yet, my sweets. Not yet." Taking out her fan to have something to sate the aching sensation to kill which prodded her tingling fingers, she re-entered the fray, the golden lights setting fire to her visage once more. Her eyes glinted dangerously at her conjured fury as she approached the group like a wraith from a tomb. "No soul shall duel in my presence without my consent!" she declared, her voice hard with arrogance of royal sublimity. Once she was a few feet away from Jaeden's side, she reached out her free hand to point at the blade. "Fyodor! You shall not harm my future son-in-law. Retract your sword immediately, or suffer the consequences, insolent peasant! Remember your manners before royalty!" He was in no position to challenge her authority and supremacy in this play, even Jaeden should know it. With an avalanche of chaos neutering her perception of ally and foe, the Queen approached further, gliding across the glamorous floor until she was already beside her daughter's champion. Reaching up to his height, she drew her masked face closer and closer to his, till the lips of the azure was right next to his uncovered ear. "I believe... Your stomach is calling out to you. Aren't you feeling the movement of your bowels boring down on you? Oh my, my, my, my, my. I can smell you from a mile away, my dear. I can smell it pouring out of you." She had just planted something into his collective consciousness, a seed of corruption that would eventually turn his insides into a churning oblivion of filth and upheaval. It would grow more profound and more dangerous as time goes by, with the tumultuous pain eventually turning into a humiliating sensation of release. Everything that Jaeden's stomach had held up to that point would be pumped out forcefully, even violently, and it would have been impossible for him to even stand when it does come out. But even with the very last jet of excreta, the movements would not stop, as if his body was trying to shove everything out of him. The pain would return, further spreading into his insides, consuming even his lungs and his mind. The process would take two days, or until the end of the Game. Karona simply covered her masked face with her fan, as if she was surprised and confounded by what was happening. There was nothing visible for them to see, afterall. She turned towards the group, shrugging sheepishly at the twisted scene. Casting her eyes at Alistair, she pointed to Iolanda's champion, so sturdy and noble-looking. "Rodosius, kindly escort our dear Fyodor to the hall. We need level headed people here, and he clearly is all out of his element." She shook her head in makeshift disgust as she crossed over towards the royalties. For a split moment her face turned towards Queya, the cold emanating from her presence giving her an inkling of what she is able to do. She was free to abuse them all, as the stage's mechanics should permit the Queen to do as she would. Aside from that, her powers never manifested into anything that the crowd might dislike, for they were always hidden under normal actions. She has them all in her fold. A quiet laugh began to trail away as she took her place by their side, taking hold of Evarette's limp and shaking hands roughly. "I am sorry my dears, but it seems that my daughter and I must have a talk concerning her actions. Please, if you will be so kind as to excuse us." Without further ado, she dragged the poor Drykas girl to her feet, then pulled her towards the sides inch by inch as she struggled with her thoughts. Once she was a few meters away from the siblings, she allowed Evarette to slump down in her misery, then froze in place, neither saying what she meant to say nor doing what else she wanted to do. In the crowd's presence, she is, more or less, invulnerable against anything that Kamalia or the others could do. The crowd was not on her side, but she held the greatest amount of authority, and she relished it.

[Jaeden Kincade]

Jaeden paused, his sword lowering slightly as his hand casually gripped at his stomach when he heard that subtle moan and felt the slight twinge of a knotting sensation rise. He casted a glare at Karona, suspecting her words to be the cause especially after what happened to Evarette. His was to come differently as let a slow growl, inaudible to the audience, escape his mouth. Whatever neutrality and fear he had towards Karona as his teammate he had was now gone, replaced by simple dislike and anger. "I do believe, I wish to kill this woman," Jaeden thought to himself as he tightened his grip along the hilt of his longsword. Jaeden rarely wished such violence towards anyone, much less a member of the fairer sex, but Karona was different. For all the elegance of her walk and the beauty of her features and figure, she was nothing more than an egotistical sadist in Jaeden's eyes, whose words weaved a sick manipulation to those who would hear them and fed on any and all attentions for better or worse. Jaeden's sword slowly rose a mere centimeters as Karona began walking away. A quick swing and he could inflict a mortal wound in several different places, despite whatever affliction she further chose to curse him with after. Words may have ran deep with this woman when it came to others, but a sword could run just as deeply and more quickly. He could even make it part of the play. He would become the traitorous assassin of royal blood, allowing the one he safeguarded within the play to rise to power. He stayed his hand in the end, his own self control getting the better of him. He made a silent vow, however, that if this woman with the forked tongue spoke one word to him again, his blade would not be hesitant to strike, the game and her being a team mate be damned.

[Kamalia Timandre]

Queya’s blood-gem eyes shone a deadly glimmer when Rodosius the Old Advisor called Olok the Priest to have a foul breath. Her eyes widened incredulous when the old goat began accusing the Princess of Mullonde herself to possess a venomous tongue. For all this indignity and defiance, this fool was going to pay and pay dearly, Queya swore. She listened to the man as he insulted a prominent member of the Mullonde clergy and the royal scion without tact. Whoever was playing the royal counselor to the Queen of Invari most likely had perused very little on court politics in classic literatures. She felt the twinge of wrath and enmity when Prince Ashak himself offered the egg to the senile fool, and she glared at the Drykas, outraged by his treachery, but before she could hiss a reply to stop her brother, Queya suddenly felt the thrum of djed springing from both Olok and Ashak. In a span of a breath, Queya had seen and realized what had just happened: Prince Ashak subtly compressed air with his res, and fired it off towards the Old Advisor’s bosom It was her turn to act. Princess Queya stood in front of Invari’s royal advisor, lifting her chin in a royal hauteur, lips curved into a deadly smile. “What is this? Surely, milord, you do not aver that the Church of Mullonde would mislead its flock? Surely you do not aver that the princess of a Royal House and the daughter of King Asheram II would speak fabricated words? To sully my holy name in a royal court, and to dub me a lowly serpent, what gall you possess! You should tremble with fear to mock the Heavens so! To insult a man of the cloth and a daughter of Mullonde is to wound this fair land’s peace. To abase the dignity of a princess is to be a turncloak to this holy alliance’s cause. Were you in my kingdom, I would have you beheaded for this obloquy.” Princess Queya might be the younger sister but it did not mean she held little sway and influence in the Kingdom of Mullonde. On the contrary, she had more political savvy than Ashak, which was why she was here in the first place. Queya drew djed around her fingers, freezing them into sharp icy claws. With silvery res, the mage-princess elongated the crystal claws several inches and pointed them towards Rodosius. She stared at the lecherous old goat with a frosty smile. “The next time we meet, milord, I shall still your tongue,” she half-whispered ominously, “or tear it asunder.” This was a reminder to Eugenia—and her actress—what the konti wizard could do. Queya’s icy claws slid lightly down the advisor’s porcelain left cheek, before the princess bade the spell-crafted claws to dissipate. She regarded the man with one last smile, before she turned to Fyodor, Iolanda’s champion. “And you, milord, we must converse on matters of import when the sky dons the star-speckled cloak of darkness,” she smiled at him seductively, eyes glinting with a conspirator's gleam. Eugenia might have the crown right now, but she had overlooked one certain problem—that this power could be taken away from her. The first act drew near to a close and it was time to conspire.

[Evarette Karmine]

Sorry :

Sorry folks. I've been very ill...

Words. Too many words. Some close, some creeping in from further away. Evarette was losing and she was losing fast. There was a crowd waiting to pierce her through. There were strangers surrounding her, asking of her, and she dare not lift up her head less she direct her unseeing gaze in the wrong direction. She tried to find her voice once...but the icy grip of fear still it as she witnessed her body being shorn in two in on of her visions of horror. She wanted to scream...but silence held fast to her tongue.

Rhylen's voice gave her some stirring. It was familiar, and yet it tugged at disbelief. Was it really him? Or was this another fragment of the visions bearing down upon her? If it was him...he was on the other team, so would he play the game against her? She was reluctant to believe it...but her reasoning was marred. She blinked furiously against tears as more footfalls bore down upon her, and Karona's voice sprouted behind her...

She was yanked forward, first by Jaeden, and then by Karona. Her chiding words overrode the man's good intentions, and Evarette felt herself pulled aside, the woman's fingers digging into her arm like bony needles. Eva was repulsed by the touch, and yet unable to pull away. She cast a blind glance over her shoulder, her expression wrought beneath the mask into one of despair...

The young drykas crumpled where she was dragged to a halt. Too many voices, too many hands upon her. The visions of torture surged before her eyes whether they were pressed shut or open and struggling to see past them. A wave of nausea threatened to override her senses...but Eva pulled her knees in close, wrapping her arms about them and burying her head down in an effort to push it away. I don't want to see anymore...I don't want it. But Eva's wishes remained unanswered, and the torturous visions of blood and bone and terror continued to parade past her unseeing eyes...

[Devandre]

Devandre nodded at the tall by his standard Dhani. He ruffled his cloak a little while in thought. Hands stroking over the porcelain mask, it’s rough surface sent vibrations through his fingertips. The mini tremors seem to jump-start his mind. The Dhani’s words were only truth and acted as a catalyst to what he could do.

“Well there were no other entrancess that our team explored other then through the center. How about your side, weren’t there more of you?”

He paused only for a moment to think about what to say next. Slowly the ol noggin lurched forward in thought. He was hesitant but knew he could trust the Dhani to an extent.

“On the note of the audience, no we should not kill them, at least not yet, they are a valuable weapon. This play is supposed to be a tragedy on one side. What if the two jesters rebel againsst order and hierarchy? Throw a twisst ending if you would.” He spoke slow and low, mostly because he was still thinking out loud. His mind never stopped collecting data and information for use at a later date.

He thought some more, thinking about the rules of the game. His fingers on his mask run to the straps. Fingers fondle gently over the leather before gripping some of the hide and pulling it to tighten the smiling mask, a demon hid behind.

“But why stop there? Why keep the play a mere fantasyland? We could use our friends,” he turns out to gesture out toward the audience, “to our advantage.”
While turning back around he notices a man whose back was turned toward him, hand off an egg, then from what his angle looked like he pushed his teammate. He couldn’t help but cackled softly watching the brains of his team get shoved. Regardless, the strategist was needed for the end.

“Observer if you would,” he moved to un shouldered his bow and an arrow, “If I were to place a shot against the brittle maskss breaking it, I could use my friends the audience to take care of the resst.” He stops and ponders the outcomes. “Of course I would do it from off stage.” He continues to think but waits for the Dhani.

note :

Heh like Eva I was the plague man this last week and have lacked creativity. But I am back hope everyone else manages to stay healthy. ^ ^ Also who is still here actively?

[Gromhir]

Gromhir continued his search, effectively behind enemy lines. He was no solider, no great tactician but he was aware that right now, he was not playing this game by the rules laid down by the creator. But that did not bother the Kelvic in the slightest. Maybe, with him pushing ahead like this, he could save Kamalia from herself? Should it really be bothering him so much? He should have faith in Kamalia to do the right thing, to remain strong against the pressures that her power enforced on her. But still the thought persisted. Anger, lust, corruption. These were not things he wanted for Kamalia. Yet, he could feel them through their bond. Ever since they had left the Isle, Kamalia had used her powers little, had that weakened her to the whispers? No, it was the game playing tricks with his mind, he would not fall for such trickery and misguided beliefs. Kamalia would remain strong, she had to, she felt she had to. Why she felt it, he did not know but it was enough. He turned his eyes towards the heavens looking for some form of Nature, something to anchor his faith. There it was. A door! But how could he reach it back there? The Kelvic’s crimson eyes traced the gantry to the large platform above the stage. It never occurred to him to ask himself why there was a second stage. The only thing that mattered to him was the fact that there was a door and platform to said door. Which last the last part of the new puzzle unsolved. How to get there? The Ivaski traced the edges of the platform. It wasn’t far from the very edge of the highest box. Could he jump that far? It was not so different from traversing the rooftops of Mura, which he had done many times before. The decision was made then. He would push forward. Would Kamalia approve? That he knew the answer to, he had no need for that question. This was in the interest of the safety of the others as well. Not that they mattered as much as Kamalia, if at all in comparison. The Kelvic burst into a run once he’d found his way up to the box. Making sure not to disturb the audience, he made his way out on to the ledge. It was not something that filled him with great confidence. Could he survive a fall from this height? A trivial question, he had to try. He edged slowly across the ledge, there was no rush. Once level with the platform, the Kelvic breathed to calm his nerves. In one powerful and swift move, the Kelvic pushed off from the ledge throwing his weight in behind him as he reached out for the platform. As he pushed off but before he was fully extended, the Kelvic burst into white light. The mask falling from his face and tumbling to the stage below. It happened so fast as the form of an Ivaski briefly appeared to give some extra force to his jump behind the human form reappeared. Was it enough? Gromhir slapped against the edge of the platform with the flat of his stomach. Desperately grabbing a railing before he slid off. The Kelvic pulled himself up and made no hesitation in sprinted for and through the door before the audience caught him. Hopefully he could catch his breath on the other side of the doorway. The mask on the other hand tumbled and landed, smashing in between both sides. “Forgive me.” oocSorry for the wait guys