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Masquerade! Every face a different shade!

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Welcome to King Milorian’s coronation masquerade ball!


Things to Note:

  • A Council of Dryads from the Free Marches are holding a meeting in the garden to discuss the current state of nature of Ursa Madeum. They are open to inquiries and are partial to acorns.
  • The Lounge has been occupied by a group of dwarves who are far into their cups for the night. They are holding an arm-wrestling competition; the winner gets a prize.

Participants: Open


Dice Rolling Thread - Look at the result for the D2. If a 1 is rolled, you won! If a 2 is rolled, then you lose that round.

There will be 3 rounds per-participant. You need a 2/3 win to get the prize.

  • A mourning fairy has taken advantage of the famous festivities. Its victims experience sudden feelings of grief, and if the fairy is not caught, the grief can turn one mad. Catch the fairy and receive a reward.
  • A witch is dropping elemental rune stones around the castle! These stones can be used to enchant weapons, armor, or yourself; only two stones per participant, please.

Stones: wind, water, fire, earth



Red is off limits; Green is open


Milorian felt extremely uncomfortable; Milorian looked extremely uncomfortable. He wasn't exactly sure what his attitude should be towards the gathered individuals, and it left him feeling adrift among the large crowd. To his right was Primera all dazzling in her glamour and dress; to his left was an emptiness he felt right down to his very core. Birdy was not there to accompany him during this rather momentous - strange - moment in their lives. When he was made King, she was made his Queen; he hates to think what her absence will cause.

On the other hand, he was pleased that she was hidden somewhere, safe and comfortable. He was not going to burden her with superficial gestures that could risk her comfort and health. Comfortably married for a short time, the two had maintained a sense of privacy from the moment they took vows in silence. It worried him that there may be a demand they marry in front of the entirety of Ursa Madeum, just to ensure that neither were manipulating their position and power by lying to their fellow citizens. The elf prayed they'd leave Birdy alone.

At least he can speak of his wife; there had been a few compliments towards his attire. Birdy, Primera, and Odelia had ambushed him with options of different suits that would fit his newly acquired position, though he doesn't know why. Whatever opinion he had about the attire was quickly swept aside by one of the women. It took them four days to decide on a simple black suit void of any embellishments - four. days. When it was time for the masquerade, they threw a cape over his right shoulder that carried the Mythal wolf and pinned the fabric with a variety of golden chains that now hung from his shoulder.

He hated it, but he had no opinion. Primera was rude enough to point out he was blind, so it didn't matter what he thought since he can't see.

"You're a rather quiet host, my King."

 Primera dragged the sour-faced elf to the dance floor that was overly crowded with excitable company. He had to right himself when she manipulated him to hold her irresponsibly close, but the lack of space on the dance floor made it impossible to be appropriate. Without much choice, he was forced into a quickstep that shook a few laughs from his dry lungs and drew a smile across his usually tight features.

"There you are! Such a handsome King should smile, it'll make the ladies weak."

Milo rolled his sapphire eyes, not sure if he should feel complimented or not. He didn't care if the people should find him handsome or not, what mattered was what they thought of his behavior and his actions. Though he understood the small spread of truth behind her evaluation; a kind and thoughtful individual on the throne could sway the uneasiest of hearts, as first impressions do matter. Being an elf sitting on a somewhat changeable throne, a smile and some kindness could do him some good.

"I suppose I can smile every now and then," he said begrudgingly.

The two made it out alive and took refuge on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. Unable to hide it, there were flecks of pride in his blind gaze as he "watched" the elves of his land mingle with the rest of the crowd. The normality of the sight was endearing, he never really expected such a thing to happen yet always yearned for it. Such an amazing view was exemplified by the laughter, the teasing, and the general conversation coming from differing individuals. Even if it's just for now, even if it's just for show, he can take these small triumphs and covet them when needed.

Primera looked up at the elf who was clearly lost in the moment. Teasingly, she elbowed the gentleman, knocking him down back to earth.

"You are a regal sort, you know. Seeing you as you are, in all your kingly glory, it's a marvel."

"You keep feeding me these compliments, and I'll become fat on pride."

"Oh? Is that why your belt is cinched extra tight?" The Grand Kommadant reached down and pulled at his elaborate belt all shiny in gold and jewels. Aghast, the elf slapped her hand away - a handsy woman!

"I beg your pardon, my lady, but it's not very ... lady-like to just grab at a man's belt."

"I beg your pardon my King, but that all depends on the gentleman."

They were in a public place with eyes already drawn to their playfulness, the last thing he needs is this pompous woman speaking far too candidly for her own good. Damn her! He could see a few individuals hiding their smiles behind sips of wine and the flush of fans; they were going to talk, and it's all her fault. He certainly did not help the situation by laughing behind his gloved hand, the terrible attempt only exasperated the crude comment.

The masquerade was to introduce him to the rest of society and open the doors for conversation. He did not want to talk politics, he barely wanted to acknowledge his newly acquired title, but he understood that parties as these are opportunities to get your foot in the door. With the party currently gliding towards its peak, Milorian has spoken to many people who have all welcomed him and nothing more. He was grateful that, at least for a moment, his people can enjoy a single night of celebration without any underhandedness.

"I hate you," he finally said. He couldn't see it, but he certainly could tell that she was beaming.

Which she was, from ear to ear, her smile reached; opal hues glittered and glowed with amusement behind the elaborate mask she wore.

Edited by Aleksei

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Coming back to Ursa Madeum was always a bittersweet affair.

For a year of his life he had poured his heart and soul into the land that had been given to them by the Veluriyam government. When he had arrived, the island of Thraece was a polluted, dying wasteland. The people had mostly fled, while those who remained barely eked out a living fishing the mostly dead waters. Raveena, his mother, and himself had helped to heal the land, bring hope back to its people, and bring the island back to life both environmentally and economically.

Then the new government had asked them to leave.

In some ways it felt like a betrayal. As though he and his family, his nation had been used until they were deemed no longer necessary. Rationally he knew that the King had good reasons for asking Hyperion to leave; and the two nations had parted as friends. But it still irked him when he would look in the direction of Thraece and be reminded of the land he had given his all to rebuild.

But that was the bitter. The sweet, he found, far outweighed it.

Before foreign influences were expelled from UM, Grant had forged a romance with a member of the ruling House Mythal. Delphine had come into his life during a time of great turbulence; and had been like a shelter in a storm for him. The pair had fallen in love during their first meeting, and that love had only deepened in the time since. She was the reason why he kept coming back to UM; bending time and space to travel great distances in an instant.

Currently, he found himself laying on her bed, watching her try to decide what mask she would wear to the party. He had only managed to get into his trousers, and his lover was similarly dressed as she fretted over the costumes.

"Do we really have to wear those silly things?"

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TmSftZy.png"Shouldn't you be getting dressed, Prince?"

Delphine rose from her seat and approached the lounging gentleman who looked far too comfortable considering the time and day. He looked perfectly mussed, but as much as she enjoys seeing him in a state, they have an appointment to keep, and Delphine will not be caught slacking. Milorian has been kind with his understanding, allowing Delphine and Grant to have their times together; they should show their respect to their new King for his kindness by arriving in ridiculous costumes and honey-dipped praises.

"I can't very well arrive in all my glory with a perfectly satisfied, partially dressed man on my arm. It would not look appealing, and we are going to cause enough scandal as is."

She graced the gentleman with a quick kiss before pulling away from his eager grasp. They've not the time to return to their previous conversation that was equally important and selfish. Grant has a specific well of freedom he has been allowed to drink from, but they are getting closer and closer to the end of their cups. Ideally, it would be better if the two were closer, and that is where their conversation had been left on. They obviously wish to be together until the very end, but neither of them comes from a simple background.

Setting aside her minor worries, the Seeker got ready for the night. Normally she would wear the colors of the Mythal House, but tonight she chose to represent Hyperion. Her dress was an elaborate affair, all red and glittering gold; the golden foliage accentuated the elf's figure in a most becoming way that hopefully pleases her dear Prince. Her choice of attire - the colors, the jewelry, and even the pin - was to show him that he is who she chose. This display would also show Milorian, as well, her choice.

Once they were ready, the two were taken to the castle that was already vibrant with singing, dancing, and loud conversation flowing through its entirety. She stood there at the doors holding onto Grant's arm; the lights of the general splendor reflecting off her red and gold mask. It suddenly occurred to her that this would be the first event she and Grant are going to together, and it made her a bit nervous. Their relationship isn't a hidden thing, they've been very open about their feelings towards one another, but not in front of so many people.

"Are you ready my Prince?"

She would allow the gentleman to lead the way.

Edited by Aleksei

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How did this Half Demon came here in the first place is a surprise to his own, he was reminded on his invitation that he was highly regarded for what he did sometime ago. Though he didn't remember it quite well, he was after all 3000 years old, he couldn't remember everything he did.

He must have been assigned on dealing with someone, that must have been it. Jack O'Neal was known to be a Notorious Bounty Hunter and Slayer of Kin, whatever it is that he do so many years ago that he can't even remember, he was invited to this place. This grand palace or castle whatever they wanted to call it, looked pretty gorgeous to say the least and that he would see a King, that was something to behold.

This elf person was indeed something different, he remembered a few Demons who became Kings, his father included. He was after all a Demon Lord but that was kind of different compared with this King but he felt like he rambled inside his head too much, he was nicely dressed with his black coat, t-shirt, pants and boots.

His facial features were a pale soft skin with a few scars, one on his right lower cheek and jawline and one right under his left eyes accompanied by his dark brown, almost black with shades of dark blond through his long and curly hair and of course his signature eyes, the light grey color, were the women would fall in love to and enemies hate.

Indeed he wore all black his fit muscular but slim body as it was clearly still noticeable as a few women dropped a few lustful gazes at him as he walked through the Grand Ballroom, ordering a glass of his favorite whiskey he takes it gladly and takes a sip out of it.    5ccacb568ae38aa5be277a64b458cb28.jpg
Immediately feeling like he was in heaven some of the women here did look nice and they were very tempting as well, after all he was a good looking Half Demon, no real woman could really resist him, due to his supernatural traits and good looks. Though it didn't always went over his head, when he felt like it he could have some fun as he smirked behind his silver half mask with a unique design.

Leaning against a wall he crossed his right leg around his left one and had his left arm tucked in his standing right elbow, that held with his right hand the glass of whiskey as he took another sip off of his drink. Though it didn't seem to bother him that he needed to wear a mask, what would someone expect? It was after all a Masquerade Event and you were bond to wear a mask, noticing a few giggles coming from his left side he looks in that direction only to see those exact women he saw earlier that gave him those desireful gazes.

They looked like they were already in love with him, he points with his glass at them and gave them a brief smile as he takes another sip off of his whiskey. Now he was wondering, should he really get laid, have some fun do whatever the hell he wanted? He looked around as he thought of that, people were having fun, they talked, they danced, they did whatever, he also noticed a few races in there such as Elves and Dwarfs.

This event looked like it included everyone, so the King was acceptable of everyone, now he was interested to see who this King really is in person. He must be a great King but if he had a good heart it would be hard to be a good King, he saw a few glimpses of the King and he looked like a man of education, strong and willful not ease to seduce. Something he truly needed to be since some of these women were already aroused by his presence and now him, this party would surely prove to be an interesting one, so much so that he couldn't shake that smirk off of his face as he hid it behind the glass of whiskey which he, of course, took another sip out of, enjoying the scenery. 

Edited by MichaelTheLightBringer

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Odelia could be found somewhere in the background or likely as close to Austere as she could get herself in the press of people, dancing, noise and laughter. She wasn’t used to being as such a grand party - but she’d certainly had a hand behind the scenes in it. Even right down to what they’d stuffed poor Milo into, with his hopeless taste they just had to intervene. She couldn’t have just stood off to the side and let him commit himself to his grand entrance in something plain, and she certainly couldn’t have left the other two in charge of it themselves. 

While she was raised in a rather well to do family, her father didn’t care for these kinds of things. Nor did he like to parade his embarrassment of a daughter around. Lucky for her Austere cherished her all the more for what were once supposed flaws. Under his careful and gentile care she blossomed into the most vibrant of flowers in her own right. 

Odelia’s dress was simple, elegant, but not over lavish with gems or beads or shiny things. It’s light blue hue with silver flowers embroidered into it gave it a pretty look. The bodice with its A-line skirt painted Odelia as a classic beauty. The only problem was - well the dress maker had to do a little quick work to let out the seams for her..... something she would have to divulge later when she had the time. With all the changes and the activity from finding her sister to Milo’s crowning - there simply wasn’t any time.  She checked her dress nervously quite a few times to make sure she looked alright, being extra careful not to brush down her skirts too much or pull her bodice too tight. 

Her fingers would stay laced with Austere’s as she looked around the room. She had difficulty speaking over the noise and didn’t care to shout over anyone. It was a very rare occasion that she shouted - very rare, but it happened. A mere squeeze to his hand and the press of a shoulder was enough to covey she was happy right where she was. She would dance if he wanted it, she would meander the room if he led her. So long as such a magical night could be spent with him, she wouldn’t much care what he wanted to do. 

Odelia’s eyes tracked her sister across the room with a slight glare to them. Her twin was insatiable in her propensity for mischief and had a flair that could only have come from her time as Oscar Uldwar’s lover. Riha wore a dress that was much too low cut, the fabric hugging her curves like it was sewn onto her - which it was. She’d insisted on wearing red too, bright red. It contrasted with her black hair that hung down her back in waves, gems woven into their folds peeked out like bright red stars. Odelia thought her sister looked a bit morbid, Riha thought she looked just right.  Riha walked around and spoke with anyone that graced her with a hello or a smile, a confident sway to those overly flaunted curves. 

Nearly identical, the only distinguishing feature that made Odelia and Riha different were the color of their eyes. Odelia’s were blue, Riha’s were lavender. Their personalities couldn’t have been any further from the other either at times. Riha was outgoing and demonstrating it well in her sweep around, stealing dances where she could, giving toasts.

Riha could feel her sister’s eyes on her and looked over. She gave a wink and a theatrical bow to Odelia, knowing that she was being judged and not caring one wit. Odelia took a step as if to usher her sister back and away from making such a spectacle of herself. But before she could Riha vanished within the swirl of colors and a wave. 

Edited by DarkHorse

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0JTdvJv.pngHe listened to his company speak, intrigued by what they had to say about the night and the newly crowned King. Some shared a somewhat sour opinion about his sour-faced brother, but most of such were harmless and sat aside for later. Everything else was compliments about the gentleman's attire, his demeanor, and the mysterious lack of Birdy at his side. Milorian was a protective sort and would move the heavens to ensure Birdy was protected from the tiniest drop of hate and gossip. She would never have to beg; if she spoke about her dislike or discomfort, Milorian would never force her to make an appearance.

Austere did worry, though. There was so much talk that the marriage was nonexistent, that Milo and Birdy were simple acquaintances, and he was playing the doting husband protecting his fragile wife. He had no comment on such, as the woman was a slight mystery to him as well, yet he knew she existed. The current group of individuals that had him cornered was bold, something he admired immensely as they voiced their concern about his brother's loneliness. True, the man was melancholy, but he was hardly lonely.

Between quips, he would raise Odelia's hand to his lips, freckling her knuckles with reassuring and gentle kisses. He is an oblivious man when it comes to open affections showered upon his wife. There was no reason to hide his appreciation for the woman, nor the love that steadily courses through his veins for the woman that is his imp. Now, as Lord and Lady of House Mythal, he ought to have more restraint, a bit more control - he has none. Whenever she squeezed his hand, he would rub her hand between his fingers; when he felt her scoot closer, he would kiss the palm of her hand. The elf made sure that his company and wife had his full attention, while obviously playing favorites towards Odelia.

"Your sister is enjoying herself," the Seeker said. Killian had swum through the throngs of people to get to Odelia's side. "It's good to see her healthy, no?"

He offered Odelia a sweet he was able to pilfer from a passing waiter's tray. It was sweet bread covered in powdered sugar with a dollop of whipped cream on top; he ate one already and figured the lady would like a bit of something to eat. There had been a moment of fretting some days ago when the lady was a bit pale, but she cured the situation when she ate something. Killian, a Seeker, charged with ensuring Odelia and Riha are kept safe, takes his job seriously and will make sure his lady doesn't fall victim to sickness.

"Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Mythal? You're not bored in this dry toast of a man's company?" His evaluation of Austere was ... well. "You should be out there mingling with the rest of the fine ladies! Talking about silks, brocades, and ... whatever else you all talk about - face creams?" The last was obviously invented, but he rolled with it.

"Killian, why don't you go ask Riha for a dance? And stop bothering my wife." Austere was finally left alone to tend to his wife and her company.

"I could, but I'm not armed to the teeth to fight through that crowd," he said, pointing towards the gathering of interested men and curious woman surrounding Riha. "I wouldn't do your sister justice, Lady Mythal. Your husband should be ashamed for making such a suggestion."

Austere rolled his yellow eyes, but would do no more to entertain Killian and his jokes. "How are you feeling, imp? It's not too warm in here for you?" A general question that showed Austere's affections for Odelia.

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Odelia didn’t mind Austere’s attention to her. In fact her cheeks flushed a little more each time he demonstrated such outward affection. Each kiss to her hand left her weak at the knees.....or perhaps it was something else that did....  regardless Odelia glowed brightly. Her skin, her hair, even her eyes held a warm shine that even a star couldn’t rival. 

Killian stole her attention away from her increasingly weak feeling legs and her husband.

“She certainly is.” Odelia agreed with him. 

Especially since the’d found her in terrible shape..... the damage was as bad on the inside as it was out. A scar would grace her face from the still healing wound. A jagged slice that carved its way from the outside corner of her left eye to her chin. 

“I’d rather her look like a scarlet letter than be back where she was.” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the treat he brought her. 

“You are always thinking of me!” She quickly accepted it and ate it. 

Sweet delicious treats were her lifeblood at the moment..... and how odd Killian arrived once again with food. Just like the last time she got feint.....she looked at him suspiciously. Did he know? She couldn’t risk him blowing her sweet surprise. 

His conversation didn’t dwell on it though and instead he wanted to know why she was with Austere instead of gossiping. More importantly, how she hadn’t died of boredom yet. Truth was she didn’t care to talk about face cream. She adored Austere so much she found even his most ‘dry’ moments enjoyable. 

“Face cream!” She let out one of her increasingly common and infectious laughs, “No - no it’s nothing like that!” 

Her husbands attention was finally returned fully to her and Odelia was more than pleased at the notion. Even more so that Killian could keep a leash on her sister - to which he declined. 

“You would be doing me a favor if you did.”  She gave him a pointed look, “and none of that ‘not doing justice’ nonsense. You just don’t want her to tease you again.” 

She looked over at the crowd her sister was entertaining. The girl knew how to work a room. Chin tilted up, back straight, voice commanding the attention of those around her. 

“At the very least keep her from boobytrapping the servants hall again or something.” She muttered. 

Austere’s question drew her admiring gaze up to him. Transformed in seconds from the piercing look she gave Killian to Austere. She gave him a soft smile. 

“I am a little warm actually.” She admitted, “I could do with some air....” 

Really what she wanted was Austere to sweep her away and shower her with sweet sweet affection. 


Riha was mid entertaining her group of ‘friends’ she’d just made. She was reading auras, something that always drew attention when she was at a party. 

A glimmer in the air caught her attention. Just within her peripheral vision it cast a dark and gloomy glow.

Suddenly her hand shot out, straight towards one of the guests faces before disappearing right into thin air. She was sunk into the other realm, right up to the elbow. Fingers nearly clamping down on the wings of that miserable fairy she sensed was skulking about. The crafty creature just barely escaped her grasp. She let out a sigh and pulled her arm out, it slowly materialized with a blue tinge to it. 

Brushing it off as nothing she resumed her work reading auras. Making jokes about pesky fairy’s all the while. 

Edited by DarkHorse

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Dauner had never been fond of balls. He remembered the thousands of balls he had been made to attend during his childhood living in the palace of Dreia. But he reckoned that this was a ball where his father wont be so he assumed it safe to drop by and if he hadn't come, Gozen would never let him hear the end of it. In the end, the idea of turning down an invitation to the palace was one he didn't plan on considering. He walked into the castle wearing his signature all-black attire comprised of a jacket, shirt, pants and boots. He replaced his usual robe with a jacket seeing that the robe might not fit the occasion though it was mostly because Gozen hid all 9 robes so he'd get to wear something different for a change.

He walked into the rather large room and got temporarily stunned by the view. It was no news that he had a very weak spot for beautiful ladies just his physique was the ladies dream. He could help but remember Gozen's words to him before he left for the ball, 'Don't go about flirting again'. The warning was clear but Dauner didn't look like he was planning on paying it heed.

He thought of going up to the newly crowned king to give him his congratulations but this one seemed rather busy with some other guests. He decided to wait for a while and go up to him when he was less busy.

He first took a glass of whiskey from the tray of one of the servants who passed by and took a sip out of it. He noticed a number of eyes that had been fixing him for a while, mostly ladies. He wanted to stay away from the dance floor for as long as he could hold out and get to have fun filled chats with some of the other guests though the only guests he was quite interested in where the female guests. He didn't want to pick anyone right away so he waited by a wall with his right leg crossed over his left leg, his left hand in the left pocket of his pants and his right hand holding his glass from which he took a sip. He looked at a group of ladies to his right who were looking his way and letting out slight chuckles. He raised his glass to them, smiled and winked before taking another sip of his drink.

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On the night of the masquerade, Crowley wore black.

Not because it was a special occasion, but because it was all he ever wore. Colours, people insisted, didn’t look good on him. There was always a comment about his complexion being too pale.

Something about it that just seemed off.

Crowley didn’t know if he agreed with all that—nothing jumped out at him when he’d tried looking in the mirror—but fashion had never been his game. He was more comfortable in plate than he ever would be in silk. He’d grown up wearing boiled leather, patchwork cloth, breastplates of gladiatorial steel. Dressing up like some fop made him feel about as confident as a jester at a funeral.  

Yawning, he tugged at his collar, begrudging his choice of attire: a tailored suit, silver buttons, shoes so polished he could glimpse his own reflection. It made him look slimmer than he really was, trimming his six-foot-six frame down to the bare essential. All that was missing was a handkerchief for his breast pocket. He’d thrown it out earlier after using it to blow his nose. 

He slipped through the castle’s hallways, each corridor darker with him in it. The shadow at his feet trailed dutifully behind him, mirroring him step for step—though not quite, but no one would notice. He moved quietly, silently. Subtle as a whisper in a breeze.

His thoughts were the exception.

They’d grown louder since the summit.

No one’s going to want to dance with you if you keep frowning like that,” a voice said somewhere below him.

Crowley glanced at the shadow stretching before him. It wasn’t supposed to bend that way.

“I’m not really in a dancing mood, if you haven’t noticed.”

Not even if that witch shows her face?

“She’s not a witch.”

I know. I was just trying to be polite.

His eyes roamed the lightstone sconces decorating the stone walls. The rising moon peering through the castle’s gold-trimmed windows. He looked to the Greywood in the distance, Ravenell Manor hiding beyond the carrot-topped trees. He still thought it strange, that the Hildebrands should set themselves apart from the rest of the Kingdom, going against the tide of unification the islands so desperately needed. He thought about Himei and Sunscar, Oathblades that now fell under their house’s dominion. Marrow, locked in the royal vault. The dreaded Willbreaker, still missing.



Stormreaver and its unnamed wielder.


An elven king who had pardoned his sins.

“You’re doing it again.”

Crowley sighed, softening his brow.

“There’s just a lot to think about-“

Turning the corner, a tall brunette in an officer’s uniform abruptly slammed into him. She bowed, releasing a flutter of apology, voice dignified despite her embarrassment. Their eyes met, just for a moment. Something peculiar flitted across her face. She was gone before Crowley could figure out what it was; he forgot about it entirely when he noticed the darkness creeping along the walls.


Orenmir hesitated, hackles raised and ready to defend. A moment passed before it retreated, no longer preying on the light of the nearest sconce.

“Thank you.”

She recognized you.

“Is that really so odd?” Crowley asked. “Considering recent history, I’m not exactly the most forgettable face in the country.”

I suppose not,” the shadow mused. “But there was something about her…

Crowley wondered. “You think she’s cute?”

Impossible. I haven’t eyes to look upon her with.”

Crowley chuckled, continuing down the hall until he eventually reached the ballroom. Or rather the ballroom reached him, with delicate strings notes wafting on a breeze of drunken merriment.

He brought a hand up to his face, coiling wisps of shadow loosely around his fingers. They wove themselves into a simple black mask, darker than the night itself, merely stretching across the eyes while leaving the rest of his face exposed.

“Shall we?”


Together, they stepped into the room.



Getting into the castle had been a relatively simple affair.

A knife, paired with light feet, could accomplish wonderful things.

Adrya adjusted her ponytail and slipped through the window of a private study in the west wing. There was no one inside waiting for her, so she hid her stiletto in the sleeve of her navy-blue jacket. The officer she’d borrowed it from, before coming in, had been just the right size: tall, lean, charmingly straight-backed; oblivious when Adrya snapped his neck with a savage sweep of her hands.

Sorry, love, she thought idly, listening at the door for a passing patrol. When she heard nothing, she creaked the door open. A peak at both sides indicated the coast was clear.


That was where she needed to go. Past the cellars and into the crypt. It had been a long time since she’d been inside the royal castle; since the fall of Tyrant King, to be exact. But if memory served her well—and she was confident it would, for hers was long and sharp as a blade—then navigating its halls would be the least of her concerns. There were-


Peering around a corner, she bumped into a man walking by himself: tall, pale, dark-haired, dressed in all black. A part of her mind reeled at the sudden contact. She hadn’t even heard an echo of a footstep.

Regardless, she tilted her head to apologize, resisting the adrenaline swelling in her chest.

“That’s alright,” the man said, flashing her a preoccupied smile.

And then she saw it.

The shadow at his feet. 



Adrya stepped away, returning a stiff smile. Everywhere she looked, the shadows were watching. She could tell they wanted to tear into her, like a wolf teared into a newborn rabbit, and as soon as she escaped through an adjacent corridor, she nearly sagged against the wall.


He’d been right in front of her. What were the odds? The man who killed her father and the rest of the Oathsworn.

A heartbeat away from a knife between ribs.

If only she’d been quicker-

No. His shadow was with him. It was always with him. No matter what she tried, no matter what she did, it would stop her the moment she dared lift a finger.


Adrya gritted her teeth. Turned her head towards the nearest staircase.


That was where she needed to go.

But not for much longer.



Adrya is not open to interaction.


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"Now this King knows how to throw a party, however not everyone is throwing themselves that much on the dance floor." He muttered to himself, his sudden out loud thought wouldn't have become a reality if he didn't feel the aura within the people getting it on and started to move their hips and throwing their hands in the air.

It must have been because of the beverages, smirking to that revelation, how amusing he thought it was. People needed just a little push to finally losen those walls and enjoy the Party, something Jack never had a problem to do, in any party he was in. However, he felt like the Demon Parties were a tiny bit better and well that was just personal preference, the Women or one should one say Demoness, were less, how one might put it....not so clothed heavy, courtesy of the Demons, they couldn't resist it.

It's mostly because of his father, he used to throw parties no one really complained, it was for everyone and everyone did not mind somebody else's business, they were always so polite mostly because his father had strong rules he enforced drastically. He wanted for everyone to go all out but boundaries needed to be respected in a way and fun was a current theme in his parties, why would a Demon Lord throw a Party? Well, even Demons need to loosen up as well and just do things for the hell of it, they may be celestial beings but no one said they don't have a bit of humanity to them and Jack had that Half Human side to him, because of his mother he felt like the music would rush through his blood streams and veins while his heart pounded heavily in his chest.

"Time to spice things up a bit." He drinks the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and suddenly a Waiter came and offered him some more. "Alright." He takes the other glass of whiskey which was much stronger and gulps it all down and puts it on the Waiter's large plate filled with drinks and besides them was Jack's two empty glasses. "Thank you." He gave him a slight smile and the Waiter said that the King hopes he enjoys the Party.

"Of course." His casual low voice took over before he walked through the crowd, while he craved power and could sense it immediately he also enjoyed having human emotions flow through him it was like a drug to him, sadly they didn't have any though he shook his head and though again the King was a respectable man, he didn't want his guests to be limping back home while Jack could take it not everyone was like him.

What also caught his attention the more he went into the crowd he noticed a few new faces, to name a few that caught his attention was Odelia with Austere, they looked like a couple, surely it seemed interesting besides them was Killian. Though there was a certain woman that caught his attention and that was Riha with her small crowd or group of friends she managed to persuade with her looks or otherwise such as charisma and strong character, while he wasn't too close to examine her, the dress she wore was enough to get the Male audience going.

He saw Dauner as well while he made his way through this crowd that was mostly talking and that was a bit of the problem, for him,  this was a Party, everyone should dance, he loved music and dancing. He could only thank his dear mother because of this, she had a certain rhythm in her blood that made her dance to every kind of music and had good ears for music. He inherited his parents sides very well, how lucky he was but he didn't complain, at all. 

He took a deep breath before he started to walk like a male star, every man had his way of showing his perfect physique and Jack's one was simple in theory, as he opens his coated jacket collars a bit more wide, exposing the beginning of his collarbone and pale skin chest though not by much because the rest was covered by his t-shirt. Holding onto the collars he slightly bend on his waist to his right side and then left while he walked with a straight back with his footwork in perfect sync, already getting the attention of some of the ladies that wowed at him, he looked damn right hot but sassy.

Withdrawing his hands and bending them on the elbow not far from his pectoral chest, he snaps his right handed fingers and points with his index finger while having his thumb slightly up because of the motion at a part of the crowd which was filled with mostly women and men and says. "You..." He then does the same thing, snapping his fingers with that same gesture towards the other part of the crowd with men and women and says. "You..." Snapping both of his hands with his fingers forwards towards the dance floor and says. "Follow me...to the dance floor.." In his own casual way that had a certain hot demeanour and sassiness.

It may have been his good looks or overall bold behaviour that he called a large crowd towards the dance floor and he didn't even use his powers. Now these people felt like they needed someone to snap out of reality and do whatever that someone pleased and now that was Jack, of course some of the higher up people who were there may notice his accomplishment with just a few words as he was starting to rock the dance floor with very complex footwork while shaking his shoulders and tilting his head to each side and doing a spin that got the crowd wowing, the women were the loudest as his hip, upper body and leg movements got them excited and now dancing with him as well, little by little getting close to him, getting attractive towards him.

"Now this is a party!!" He said loudly that got the crow wowing with his overall excitement and joyfulness and his voice was loud enough for the crowd to hear and possibly have a few loosen up and just dance as he was having the time of his 3000 year old life, whatever reason it was that he came here, he didn't care but he was glad they invited him over.




OOC: Man these posts got me adrenaline rushin' through my veins, I love dancing and I wanna thank y'all for having me here, it's a great honor and I'm loving your posts, they're pretty cool. Keep that up volks! And let's get this party going, wooo! 

PS: Also everyone is welcomed to interact with my character, so ladies I'd better hurry before Jack gets taken ?kidding...but I'm looking forward in interacting with y'all if possible.

Edited by MichaelTheLightBringer

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The dance floor had started getting wild with Jack at the center of the action. Dauner's body also began to move to the rhythm of the music. He wasn't the best dancer in the room, but he had a few moves up his sleeves. He had been grown up in a life of luxury in a palace and was well acquainted with the language of a nobleman. Getting to talk a pretty girl into a dance with him would be easy but the same conflicting question stood before him once again; who to invite out for a dance. There were just too many beautiful faces in the room.

He finally decided to skip onto the dance floor and see who would tag along. Not too surprising was it when the ladies got around him after he busted some moves. The dancing experience was thrilling. He couldn't remember the last time he had that much fun at a party before. Every party he ever attended in the past had him in the spotlights causing rather greater discomfort than ease. Now he was attending this one a complete stranger to everyone which made him feel more at ease. After a while on the dance floor, he rolled a few moves as he got closer to Jack.

"Pretty good moves you got there" he said still dancing. He stopped and extended his hand towards Jack "Hi. My name's Dauner"

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dCnf6R0.pngLyrei Mythal came accompanied by the figment of the gentleman who has caught her attention over the last few months. The drifting memories of his love-dipped letters made the elf float on air; his admiration and sweetness kept the corners of her lips perked in a delicate smile. He was there in the flickering of candlelight ever so romantic and coy. He was in the sway of the bodies flowing steadily on the dance floor, and he was there in the thrumming of her blood.

Her dress was a specific blue with a particular design. The golden appliques were elaborate, and upon a closer look, one could see how the filagree twists and turns to create the likeness of lions. Freckling her golden hair is golden framed jewels so sweet and precious they are, they twinkle and shine with secret promises, and avowals only meant for her. Tonight she chose to release the Mythal Wolf from her attire and manner to instead done the Kholin Lion.

The youngest Mythal came accompanied by Alexandros Kholin.

Sauntering through the foyer towards the grand room, the elf took her time to admire her brother's newly acquired home. Canary yellow hues sparkled with delight at the sight of everyone drinking, singing, and mingling as if it were normal - as if they've always done that. Even if it's just for tonight, Milorian can be happy knowing that the people of Ursa Madeum can interact with one another without spilling blood. Apparently, the only thing they need to do is open up the cellar, and all becomes right in the world after a few cups of fine wine and good company.

"It's lovely," Delaney said, breaking Lyrei's focus.

She turned to look at the Grand Seeker in all her darkness and simplicity. In comparison to the elf, Delaney was a black mote that stood out more than any woman dressed in the best and grandest finery.

"I don't understand why you chose to wear ... that, and not a dress."

"It wouldn't be appropriate, my lady." The Seeker adjusted her collar some with a gloved finger, suddenly feeling a bit too restricted in the rising crowd of people. "I must stand out, as you know."

"You're not wearing a mask, either. What use is it to come to a masquerade when you're going to ignore the dress code?"

The guard laughed while gesturing for her lady to keep moving forward towards the ballroom. They had this conversation during the journey to the castle, and each time Lyrei became more incredulous towards Delaney's explanations. It just was not proper for the Grand Seeker to be part of this happy, dancing crowd when her job requires her to be set aside from the rest. Wearing a dress and other such finery would be a ridiculous display she wasn't comfortable with, to say the least.

Besides all that, she did have some bit of color to her person. Ly plucked some yellow roses from the Mythal estate and braided them into Delaney's white hair. Her lady said it matched the other woman's eyes perfectly, an evaluation Del is unsure about, but she had been in no position to fight it.

They entered the ballroom that was nearly exploding with people in all their magnificent splendor. Lyrei quickly slipped into the crowd, her dress and general demeanor spreading the crowd like a hot knife to butter; Delaney was left to linger on the outskirts right next to a gentleman who apparently took a page from Del's book. A simple glance to her left, she noticed he too wore black - perhaps it was the color for tonight? Even the King Milorian wore black, though she assumes it was not his choice and had been a victim to the ladies of the house.

"Well, one of us is going to have to go home and change," she said aloud, instead of to herself.

"Looks like we may have to wait to approach my brother," Lyrei says, reappearing before her guard.

"Of course, my lady. He is King now, not just a Lord." Reaching forward, she readjusted Lyrei's golden mask before flicking the young lady on the nose. "I guess you're stuck with me until then - you should feel ever so honored."

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It is often believed that a black cat is an omen of bad luck. Many things among black cats were omens of bad luck. 

But the black cat...

Crossing paths with one brought about death—brought about misfortune; a black cat mask was absolutely perfect for a man considered to be an omen himself. He brought about a fate worse than any black cat, and a tidal wave of fortune more fortunate than Lady Luck herself. A dirty pirate. A captain of a ship you would never want to see on the Madeum seas. His motley crew bathed in fortune and drowned in misfortune. Santana the Longtail, the very same one whose name sent superstitious sailors spiraling into horror, had absolutely loved parties. The king is a good king—he’ll give him that—freshly seated on the throne and what is the first thing he does as king?

Throw a masquerade for him and his lucky crew to trash. A good king indeed!

They had arrived at another entrance, one that led directly to the ballroom. Or was it the exit? 

"A-yayay," he said, stopping dead in his tracks to look at his hideously-dressed boatswain. He picked at his mask—nay—his potato sack with a finger. "What is that?"

"What’s what?" Bombo said, his voice muffled by the sack. The holes in it were too small for him to actually see anything. Bombo was half-human, often compared to a kobold, though he seemed more like a mangy imp than a man with dwarfism. "I got something on me face?" 

"Nay," Barcelo said, a beautiful, feminine face with luxurious ginger long hair, big green eyes and the body of a rough man and the voice of a drunk poet. He was also the first mate. "You've gotten something all over your head."

It honestly seemed as if God had lopped off the head of a pretty woman and stuck it onto a body of a slender, chiseled man.

Santana fixed his feathered hat. One can tell the disappointment in his face, even with a black wooden mask. He flicked Bombo's bottle nose for coming to a masquerade in a potato sack.

"Ogh!" Bombo held his nose. "Ogh-"

"No matter," he said, directing his attention towards the entrance to the brightly-lit ballroom, "I'll just tie you to the buffet table so you get to guard all the food, and I get to chase the women without you scaring them away."

"And me?" Barcelo asked.

"You get to chase the men."

He laughed. "Aye, cap'n."

Santana had brought these two and these two only; they were the most sensible out of any of his crew members, who were all the least sensible, either by being too stupid or being too ugly to bring along. 

Incidentally, they were also two of the lucky four who had never once died aboard the Cat's Eye.

Santana placed his hands on the door, turned his head to the side, and grinned a wicked grin underneath that devilish mask of his. 

"Remember, lads!" He exclaimed, opening the door to the masquerade. 

"At your best behavior." 

They finally entered the room. His men scattered: one left to hog all the food, and the other, flirted with the men fooled by his beauty

It was fairly easy to spot Captain Santana—nay—Mr. Smith; with a jolly gait, he left behind him a trail of broken glass and clumsy folk tripping on their skirts and feet. Many dismiss the idea of omens or good fortune, but in the face of a man such as Santana Bacardi, it was quite alright to be a little superstitious.






Edited by SweetCyanide

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Grant wasn't all that concerned about scandal, but he knew that his lover was, and therefore he would at least put on the pretense of giving a damn. Besides, he did respect Milorian. The king had given him a lot of leeway in how he pursued his courtship with Delphine. If they were to follow strict tradition, he wouldn't be allowed to be alone with her until they were engaged; much less allowed to be in her bedroom. 

After a quick kiss, he threw on the rest of his clothing, a slate grey dress shirt, a black jacket, and dress shoes. The last thing to complete the outfit was a mask much like his lovers, but in the colors of her house. Once they were both dressed, it was a short journey to the manor. As they began to walk to the doors, he could sense Delphine's nervousness. 

On 9/19/2019 at 6:35 AM, Aleksei said:

"Are you ready my Prince?"

He smiled, "Of course."

And with that the two walked into the party.

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Riha abandoned her mission to entertain her new 'friends' in favor of hunting down that damned fairy. It was a matter of pride now and she couldn't let it sprinkle its misery on anyone else at Milo's coronation. She owed him that much, if not much more - she owed Austere as well - for their part in rescuing her at very least. The most she was able to manage to communicate her gratitude was a sincere thank you when in the presence of both her twin and Austere. Riha wouldn't dare attempt to approach or speak to the new King on her own, not being who she was ..... well the mirage of who she is. The ex-lover of a dangerous mad man, Oscar Uldwar, had no business spending time with the likes of Milo. It would cause scandal for days at the very least, at the very most she could be targeted by others for her supposed motives. A few words from her, a spilling of the truth would have set her free - yet somehow Riha just couldn't bring Old man Uldwar any lower than he was. She hadn't even shared with her twin the truth, Riha hadn't decided if she was hurt over the fact that Oscar never touched her once, or if it was a blessing. Regardless the loss of the family and friend's she'd made there stung and the less she talked and though about it the better. 

Initially, the only reason Riha agreed to go was because she heard that a group of Dryads were meeting to discuss the current nature of Ursa Maedum. She wanted to sit in and talk about the ravaged lands from the volcano and see if there was anything they could to. That was her prior mission before being abducted, the bugbears she was previously helping still waiting for her to return. Her plan was to go to the meeting and then become scarce, but Odelia begged her not to abandon her at such a large gathering and promised her it would be fun. So - Riha picked the most provocative scrap of cloth she could wrap around her body in an attempt to get Odelia to forbid her from going. Unfortunately it didn't work.... which brought her to this moment. Standing surrounded by people, looking exactly like that concubine she supposedly was, at a new kings crowning. 

The distraction the misery fairy presented her came as a relief, the arrival of all these men had her on edge. Women flocked and fawned over the promise of male attention in a way she never understood, and for several of the guests this seemed to be what they thrived on. Perhaps that was the point of a ball - if it was Riha wanted nothing to do with any of it. She was far too strong a woman to fawn over anyone, and in her time with Oscar he taught her what it meant to be strong. Just one of the many, many things he taught her. She was the one that had him melting in the palm of her hand, even his children said he was a happier man with her around. Just all the more reason to avoid Milo she thought with resolution. Despite all that, her last - encounter - left her less than eager to be around anyone. The stitched gash peeking out from under her mask was evidence enough. While her sister Odelia seemed to have learned to trust men again thanks to Austere, Riha was of a very different opinion. 

A glimmer caught her eye and she turned to find that damned fairy taunting her once more. Straightening her spine with conviction she moved as quickly as she could through the room. She walked through several groups of people, some of whom started crying randomly - thanks to the nearly invisible brat. Riha marched across the dance floor, not minding the people she was tripping up or interrupting - she was a woman with a mission. She even stalked right past her twin, who was looking paler by the second, without a second thought. 

She was going to catch that damned fairy and make sure it didn't ruin any more of the night for anyone. For now her initial mission to speak with the Dryads was forgotten, least ways until she could catch the fairy and get rid of it properly. 



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