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*OoC*
I'm a bit pressed for a time, so I'm going to do a short introduction for my character and remove Selax from the TS for moment.
*BiC*


Selax stirred from his position and headed out of the library. Finding a room with a window, he climbed out and flew off into the distance. An idea had come to him. He didn't much like having to act on it, but he felt he had little choice.


Downstairs, a young elf with blond hair and blue eyes and standing about 5'11" exited the kitchen. He'd spent the last half hour trying to convince the cooks that the food was of poor quality. Disheartened, he sat down at his table. Soon, he cheered up and began to amuse other guests around him with amusing and unlikely stories.

*OoC* In response to a long discussion on #cythera. *BiC*

Wolfie trotted over to join the group under the table. Whether it was the collar, or a random effect of Enna's magic, but somehow, he didn't really look like a wolf any more. More like a rather large dog with red eyes.
Cat eyed him warily, but it didn't look like the wolf was going to attack her. Wolfie just sat there panting, with what was obviously a grin on his muzzle.
The children got on with playing I Spy. Retsy got particularly annoyed when Starfall wouldn't let her spell 'chandelebra' with a 'k', and started sulking.
Within a minute or so, she forgot all about her sulks and joined the game again.

Sideline worked his way slowly around the great hall, eyes darting furtively hither and yon. He could only hope that his finely tuned instincts for the out-of-place would serve, as he had no idea what to look for. So far he'd spotted two secret notes being passed, four bribes being paid, one attempt at extortion, two young couples making their first date, and another couple breaking up. On any other day, some of those things might even have merited his attention, but tonight, his concern was reserved for one thing only.

The ceremony had gone without incident, and Trundaylan had clearly been relieved not to have had to try and foil some nefarious plot against Malis and his bride. Sideline saw him relaxing a little, now, dancing contentedly with his wife. Malis had presented Sideline to Danae, who had insisted on dancing with him at least once after hearing about Malis' life-debt. Sideline didn't often get to attend such events, so he wasn't an overly accomplished dancer, but in spite of the nagging sense of danger, he found himself having a surprisingly enjoyable time.

After one dance with Leandra, he strolled casually over to where Brianna was taking a break - Sideline had noticed that she'd had a steady stream of young men escorting her out onto the dance floor all evening, and this was the first chance he'd had to approach her. She saw him coming, and nodded a greeting.

Sideline whistled appreciatively at her appearance. "I bet you wish Trinias was here," he commented. "One look at you would cure him of his flirtatious ways forever!"

Brianna laughed. "Why, thank you, kind sir!"

"You must be tired, but would you do me the honour of the next dance?"

"I'd love to."

Sideline lead the vision in green onto the crowded floor as the orchestra struck up a medium paced tune.

"So where did you disappear to, while all the rest of us were making our way here?" Brianna asked.

"I went to look for a friend, to invite her along. Unfortunately, I couldn't find her."

"Pity. Oh well, her loss. I've never noticed you wearing jewelry, before," she commented, pointing at a slim gold chain, glinting under his collar.

"You've never seen me dressed for a formal occasion, before, either."

"Good point."

"May I cut in?"

The question startled both Brianna and Sideline. They hadn't noticed the speaker approach, but more surprisingly, the voice belonged to a woman.

"Oh, ah, not at all," Brianna stammered. "Go right ahead." So saying, she returned to where the Scribe was holding her wineglass, eyes twinkling in amusement at finding that secretive Sideline seemed to have an admirer.

Sideline frowned in consternation. The woman was quite good looking; slightly shorter than he was, with long, wavy locks of the darkest, richest red he'd ever seen. He didn't think she could possibly be involved with the kidnappers, yet his every sense was tingling with... what? Something he couldn't quite place.

"Well?" she said, posing with arms outstretched and an amused smile that went all the way to her eyes, waiting for him to swirl her away.

"Oh. Yes. Right." Sideline took hold of her right left hand in his right, and slipped his left arm around her waist just as the orchestra moved into a slow waltz. He quietly cleared his throat. "Um, it might seem impertinent, but since we are waltzing - may I ask your name?"

"Katie. Katie O-" She stopped suddenly, and Sideline got the impression that, if her hands hadn't been otherwise engaged, she'd have slapped one of them over her mouth.

"Curious," he thought. "Well, Katie O," he continued aloud, "you can call me Sideline."

"Of Arunsen Trading. Yes, I know."

"Even more curious," Sideline mused. "She appears to have done her homework on me. But why?"

"I've been watchin' you for a while," she confessed, "and when I saw you dancin' here, I thought, 'the opportunity's too good to miss,' so I did."

"Your accent is quite exotic," he observed. "I can't quite seem to place it - where are you from?"

"We originally hailed from Kildare, so me Da always used to tell us, but I never saw the Emerald Isle, myself."

"Kildare? Emerald Isle? I've never heard of either of those."

"Well, that's not really all that surprisin', now, is it? Cooped up here on this wee dot of land, tucked away from the rest of civilisation. There's a big old world out there, E. J., and someday soon you'll get to see some of it."

Sideline froze in mid step. Only a handful of people in all of Cythera knew his initials, and even less knew his real name - more importantly, none of them would have talked. His released her and took a half step back, hands falling to his sides.

"Who are you!?"

"Oh my, is that the time? I really must be off!" She whirled about, and hurried out of the room.

Sideline recovered from his shock, and rushed after her. He reached the door almost on her heels, just in time to see her turn left into the corridor before the wall blocked his view. He skidded out into the passage, and received his greatest shock yet.

For all the long, uninterrupted length of the hallway, there was no-one in sight. The woman had vanished.

Lyxzén sat at a table off to the side of the dance floor, chatting amicably with some people he had just met. One young elf, by the name of Asran, was entertaining the group with tall tales. Lyxzén was pretty sure they were made up, but they were still amusing.

"You should meet the Scribe," someone challenged the young elf. "Now there's someone that's hard to beat when it comes to story-telling."

"Who's the Scribe?" Lyxzén asked curiously, and the person directed his gaze across the ballroom to an elderly-looking elf leaning on a cane. Upon seeing him, Lyxzén realized he had seen him before in the Alraeican Tavern. But his attention was caught by the beautiful young woman standing next to the Scribe. "And who's that next to him?"

"Brianna, the Scribe's granddaughter. The jewel of the ballroom tonight, isn't she?"

Lyxzén nodded. There were several attractive ladies in attendance, some of which he had danced with already that evening, but most of them had given off the impression of being giggling, lovestruck airheads. Even from where he sat, though, he could tell that this "Brianna" gave off a different sort of air. After debating for a moment, he stood up and excused himself from the table with a smile.

He had been blessed with the ability to feel comfortable in all sorts of social situations. It wasn't arrogance or over-confidence though. He was reasonably good-looking, and tonight had exchanged his archery gear for a pair of black pants and fine deerskin-coloured tunic with dark blue embroidery to match his eyes, but never relied on that to get him places. Instead, it was a simple faith that if he were nice to people, they'd be nice back.

"Good evening," he cheerfully introduced himself to the two elves. "I don't believe we've met before. My name is Lyxzén." He gave a courteous nod to the older elf, and politely kissed the hand of the younger.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Brianna said warmly. "Are you new around here?"

"Somewhat, yes. I've never been to Pnyx before, but it seems quite enjoyable, and I've been meeting several interesting people." His eyes twinkled. "None so charming as yourself though, milady. Would I be permitted to share a dance with you, in the name of friends?"

{{OOC: I'm assuming that the first section of my post begins and ends before Ledstjarna's post}}

With the ball in full swing everyone seemed to be having a grand time, talking, dancing, and laughing. In her black dress Maladera stepped off of the dance floor, waving to a smiling young nobleman with a very convincing smile of her own. She didn’t want to dance with the man, she didn’t want to dance with any of the steady line fools in the steady line that had tried to court her, but to turn too many down would only attract attention and invite the affections of someone who was probably more brazen and almost assuredly more annoying.

She wasn’t sure of the customs of this place, but as her crimson eyes combed over the crowd she saw many fair ladies she would not have minded sharing a dance with, she did not however find the one of the two men she actually wanted to see, and her frustration was mounting because of this. “My lady?” Mala looked back over her shoulder at the sound of the deep charismatic voice to see a man in a trim white tunic decorated with gold scrollwork, he had short light hair, deep blue eyes, and a winning smile upon his clean shaven face. He was probably the type that made other women swoon, this was exactly what she didn’t need right now, “I could not help but notice you from across the room, could I have the pleasure of a dance with the fairest maiden of the ball?”

Mala flashed him a smile that she didn’t mean at all, “Oh, I’m sorry my lord, I am a bit tired right now and…” she took a quick glance through the crowd for the first thing that caught her eye, smiling genuinely when she caught a flash of green, “I really must see to my friend over there. I hope you don’t mind.” The man seemed about to answer but she didn’t give him an opportunity; instead she made her way briskly across the floor. She reached an enchanting half-Elvin woman with deep emerald eyes and a dress that matched them beautifully, a sagely Elvin man stood by her, occasionally giving an affectionate glance like that of father to daughter. The pair saw Maladera approach and greeted her with smiles. Bowing her head in respect she turned to the dark haired woman, “Are you enjoying the ball my lady?”

The other woman nodded, looking out to the dance floor, “Oh yes, I’ve been dancing almost since the ball started, I’m only taking a break for now. And you?”

“I am finding these young men far too persistent.” she said with a smile, earning a chuckle from the other women. She looked around the room quickly, still not seeing either of those she came for, and decided there was no reason she shouldn’t have fun, it was a party after all, “Do you think you would care to dance with me?” As her ruby eyes met the other’s green she saw a questioning look beginning to form and smoothly turned to the Elvin man as if she had meant him the entire time. She held out her hand and bowed slightly, “If you would do me the honor.”

The elf smiled, “It would be my pleasure.” Taking her hand he led her out to the floor and she gave one last look to the young woman as she passed by. “And what is your name my lady?”

His voice stole back her attention and she offered him a small smile, “Maladera. What about you and your…” she pursed her full lips, “Daughter?”

The elf chuckled as the two began to dance, “I am called the Scribe, and my grand daughter is Brianna.”

“Glittering gift?” she mused, and noticing his inquisitive look she continued, “I know a few things. It seems very fitting.” She smiled sincerely as the Scribe led her through the steps. While he had not originally been the person she wanted to dance with she found that she thoroughly enjoyed herself. The Scribe had a grace and rhythm that spoke of great skill as he no doubt had large amount of practice and as the two spoke she saw that he was a delight to talk to as well. They had gone through three dances before Maladera recalled that there was something else she was supposed to be doing. She laid a hand on his forearm, “This has been such fun, but I believe I’ve had enough dancing for one day. It was a pleasure meeting you Scribe.”

The sagely elf shook his head, offering a graceful bow, “The pleasure was mine Maladera, enjoy the rest of the party.”

**

“How did she get here? When?” Aron paced the hall just outside of the ballroom, armor gleaming in the light that streamed in through the windows, where he had been since he had finished his first dance because now he had to hide from that woman. He looked over to his shadow where it stood on the wall, leaning against the shadow of a glass case arms folded across its chest. The shadow spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, in a voice only Aron could hear, occasionally gesturing for emphasis as it watched him walk back and forth. Aron shook his head, “You aren’t helping Steve, getting drunk is not going to solve our problem… no, I don’t care if it would make you feel better…” he stopped in his tracks and pointed directly at the dark silhouette, “For the last time, I am not going to run in there screaming ‘Fire!’… Wait, what?” he tapped his gauntleted fingers against his chin in thought, “Scream ‘Jello!’ instead? That might work…” the paladin sighed, “Whatever I do, Rythan is going to be anything but happy when he finds out she’s here.”

**

With a flourish of his blue cape, Kaius bowed to the Court Musicians who performed for the ball as he tucked away his flute, many asked him to stay and keep playing but with a broad smile he politely declined the offer. The bard strolled across the ball room, exchanging greetings with lords and ladies who had enjoyed his playing, and he smiled happily at the thought of all the possibilities such contacts presented for his trade. His blue eyes surveyed the scene, quickly finding Maladera where she danced with a regal Elvin gentleman with the look of a mage. With a laugh he shook his head, how did she intend to keep attention away from herself dressed the way she was? If that was her idea of stealth he hoped she wasn’t a thief of some kind, getting herself caught and naming him her accomplice would be the last thing Tarn needed.

As he continued his circuit around the room he felt a tug upon his cape, and he turned to see a young girl holding the edge in one of her hands and looking up at him quizzically, “Are you a bard?” The old man arched an eyebrow at the child and with a grin noticed that she had several young friends gathered in a corner, an Elvin woman with azure skin apparently keeping an eye on the lot of them. He nodded to the young girl she giggled happily and then led him along by his cape to the rest of the group, she smiled to him, “I’m Mariya.”

The Elvin woman sighed, “And I’m sorry, I hope she didn’t bother you.”

Kaius shook his head and smiled to the children, “No not at all.” He looked about the group, taking them all in as well as a large crimson eyed dog that his senses told him was not a dog at all, and then he turned his attention to one of them in particular, “And what is your name young lady?”

The little girl beamed, “I’m Retsy.”

He laughed, “Such a pretty name.” noticing a servant walk by with a tray of sweets he swiped something off the tray without the man noticing then turned back around and crouched down among the children, “Tell me Retsy, do you like sugar?” he displayed the small glass jar of sugar that he had pilfered and Retsy was not the only one answer yes. With a grin he poured just a little pit of sugar into the palm of his right hand, one of the children speaking up about how he was wasting it, “Oh no, not a waste, this is magic.” That last seemed to captured the attention of the group and so he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “You see here in Pnyx, the home of Wizards, they will tell you that to perform amazing magic you must have great power and determination,” he shook his head, “But I will tell you that all you need is a little power, and great imagination.” He closed his fist, turning it so that the sugar slowly fell from his hand. As the grains fell they shifted in the air, forming the glittering outline of a beautiful woman in a sparkling dress. As the children looked on in amazement she began to dance gracefully in the air in time with the music that was being played and finally she took her bow as the last grain fell from Tarn’s hand and her sparkling image faded from view. The bard wiped his hands and passed Retsy the jar of sugar with a wink, then bowed to everyone with another flourish of his cape, “Have fun everyone.” He waved to the smiling group and moved on across the room.

*OoC*
I don't know much about how Cytheran elves address one another (mainly addressing an elder), so I made this up as I went along. If someone has any improvements, please let me know.
*BiC*


Asran laughed lightly at the man's challenge.

"Kind sir, I do not wish to be the best storyteller, nor do I think I am. I merely wish to spin an amusing tale," then he paused. "Although I must say, it would be an honor to meet this Scribe. Is he here?"

Someone pointed out the Scribe, who was just finishing his dance with Maladera, and Asran headed toward him.

"Greetings, honored elder," he said, giving a slight bow. "I am Asran, recently arrived here on my travels from my home. It was told me that you were a great storyteller, and, being one who desires to learn, I decided that I should like to meet you."

"I greet you, in turn," the Scribe replied, "and that is an excellent philosophy you have. One should always be prepared to learn from others, even at my time of life, and I would welcome a meeting of the minds."

The pair of them found some vacant chairs, and began to discuss some of the stories they'd both collected on their travels. Asran was impressed by the depth of the older elf's experience, and in return recounted a variant on an old story that had the Scribe in stitches.

"Those two seem to be getting along well," Asran commented, indicating Brianna and Lyxzén as they pirouetted by.

"Listen," the Scribe replied, cocking his head to one side in order to hear better. Asran's elven ears easily picked the dancer's voices out of the babble of chatter that filled the great hall.

"... prefer a pine shaft sealed with bees wax," Brianna was saying, "with a swallow-tail fletch, spiral bound with silk thread."

"That has its good points, I suppose..."

Asran chuckled. "In the middle of a ball, they're discussing the art of fletching?"

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

More confused than ever, Sideline turned to re-enter the ballroom. Before he could regather his wits, something sharp poked him the back.

"Do exactly as I say," a voice whispered menacingly in his ear, "or I'll push this knife a little harder." Sideline nodded his compliance. "Good. Now, walk back out the door and go left, down the corridor."

-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-

Kwon Chen was the first to sense something was amiss. "Ulf," he said, staring up at his gargantuan friend, "I do not see Sideline in the ballroom. It appears he has vanished."

The celebration was still going strong when another figure entered the ballroom. The man wore a suit of fine obsidian chain mail that gleamed in the light, over that he wore silver plates of armor, pauldrons, arm and shin guards, a piece over each of his biceps and thighs, as well as a silver cuirass upon which the sapphire image of a roaring four winged dragon was engraved. His skin was tanned, his short hair black as night, his left eye was a vibrant red and his right a deep blue. Rythan seemed like a foreign lord as he strode into the chamber, his youthful clean shaven features drawing the eyes of several ladies.

He spotted the lovely Brianna dancing with a man he didn't recognize, Scribe sitting off to one side, chatting amiably with a younger Elvin gentleman, Silverfish and Katerei in a corner watching over several small children, but he did not see Sideline or Aron. The first did not worry him, Sideline was a clever and accomplished warrior, and this was as far from danger as one was likely to get in Cythera, but the second did. He watched the dancers for a small time, but he failed to see the self pronounced Paladin, and so he turned away, and stopped cold at the sight before him.

Standing there, her black dress hugging her figure, her fiery hair matching her crimson eyes which were identical to one of his own, stood Maladera, wearing a smile that could only be described as triumphant, “I knew I would find you here, Lord Aron would never bring himself to miss an event like this one.� She put on an amused smile as she looked over what he wore and wagged a finger at him in mock disapproval, “You released your Oca’eon’saa in a place like this.� She extended her hand to him, “So, would you like to dance, or just glare at me some more?�

Rythan closed his eyes as sighed, then took the woman’s hand and led her out to the dance floor, as they joined the others he turned to her, “When I left you were still training, you should still be training, what are you doing here?�

As they began to dance gracefully casual on lookers may not have noticed the volatile looked she gave him, “Training? When you just disappeared right in the middle of it, how did you expect me to train when my master wasn’t in the same plane of existence anymore?�

Rythan twirled the beautiful girl, and then brought her back, “So you thought trekking across Yggdrasil and braving Charybdis would force me to abandon what I’m doing and finish your training?�

Maladera laughed as she danced away from him, removed one of her black gloves, and showed him the back of her right hand which bore an onyx and crimson rune the warrior knew well, “My training is already over.�

His eyes widened slightly as a testament to his surprise, “Xar’ken’saa.� he looked at her questioningly, “So if you have earned it, why are you here?�

The beautiful woman smiled darkly, gliding over to him through the dance, “Isn’t it obvious? The student must surpass her master, I’ve come to break you.� With her gloved hand she grabbed his right wrist and twisted, forcing him to spin away or see it broken, but she danced forward and swept a kick for his ankle, forcing him to dodge once more. The surrounding dancers began to make room, some stopping completely to watch. Maladera moved with the fluid grace Rythan had trained her with, though her half-Elvin blood gave her a subtle agility over his own. She moved smoothly and timed her strikes with the rhythm of the music that played, to everyone else it seemed that the two were locked in a beautifully exotic foreign dance, and in a way they were.

Rythan did his best to fend her off, but it was anything but easy to avoid serious injury and she continuously flowed away from his counterblows. Though he struggled against her advance it wasn’t long before he found himself smiling along with her and beginning to lose himself in the battle. She lashed out with her right, and Rythan caught the blow at the forearm, dropping and trying to sweep out her legs with a kick, but, using her captured arm and Rythan’s grip for leverage, the woman kart wheeled over the blow to land on his other side. The dark warrior hand to roll away from her and release his hold to keep from having her knee smash into the side of his head, when he rose fluidly to his feet and turned to face Maladera several of the onlookers began to clap…

The sense of Rythan’s presence drew Aron into the ballroom, where he joined many of the others in watching the show the warrior put on with Maladera. The paladin smiled to himself, he had aided in some of Maladera’s training and sights like this one were not uncommon back home, but they were always welcome.

“Aron?� the Paladin turned to see an old Elvin gentleman and a young one standing side by side. He couldn’t help but view the two as before and after pictures, which brought up an amused chuckle, Remember kids, don’t do time. With a smile he nodded to the man he recognized as the Scribe and the Elvin mage continued, “You are a friend of Rythan’s correct? I noticed he bears a striking resemblance to the lady Maladera, are they perhaps related somehow?�

The younger elf nodded, holding out his hand in greeting to Aron with a smile, “Hello, I’m Asran, and now that the Scribe mentions it, she does look a great deal like your friend, I might guess she was his younger sister.�

Aron shook the man’s hand, “You would be guessing wrong, even if your friend is right.� He looked back to the pair who fought gracefully amid a crowd of onlookers, “You know what makes Hyperians and elves similar? I mean aside from the crazy looking eyes you people all seem to have. It’s that, compared to normal people, you all get to live for a really long time.� He looked back to the elves with a grin, “That isn’t his sister; Mala is Rythan’s first born daughter.�

This post has been edited by Ragnar0k: 16 March 2007 - 05:18 PM

"Very nice, but do children always try to break their father's bones where you come from?" Asran asked in a puzzled tone.

Before Aron could answer, there was a loud crash from one of the tables. The three turned to see that one of the dancing pairs had tripped and fallen into the table. However, no one was hurt and nothing of any value damaged, so it really just gave the room a good laugh.

Asran turned back to the other two.

"Thank you for speaking with me, elder," he said to the Scribe. Turning to Aron, he added, "Nice to have met you as well, sir. Both of you have a good day."

With that, he turned and walked away into the crowd.

Avatara stirred irritably, something had woken him up. While sudden noises were not uncommon in the iron cells below Pnyx, they certainly were seldom appreciated. The dark and closed confines were well suited for echoing careless noises, conducting and amplifying sound far better than the spacious structures on the surface.

He rolled onto his side, attempting to reclaim some last strand from the peaceful dream that was even now slipping from memory. The noise came again, it was a murmur from somewhere down the hall. From the sound of it, two people were arguing furiously in whispers, the stressed syllables in their intonation drifting clearly through the cold stone catacombs.

Finally deciding he wasn't going to be able to return to his dream, Avatara sat up on the stone slab that served as his bed. To pass the time, he decided to try and listen in on what was being said.

"...just not sure. I mean, won't they find out?" The first voice sounded frantic, as if its owner was nervous.

"Nobody will know." The second voice was calmer, more determined, and apparently trying to pass that determination on to the first voice.

"What if the mages find out?"

"They won't! He already saw to that."

"I don't trust..." Avatara frowned, he didn't recognize the next few words, "...betrayed them, why not us?"

"I don't trust him either, but I will see to it that he does what he is told."

There was a pause, a moment of silence that almost seemed as if the two voices had departed. But before long, it was broken again, "Is this really necessary?"

"We've been over this," the second voice growled, sounding as if it was getting angry. "It is necessary to maintain the balance of power. By the end of..." another noise intruded, a door opened further away obscuring part of the voice's statement. "...will be dead."

"Are you done? Its almost time," a third voice, the raspy sound and irritation making it distinct from the other voices. There was a pause, a brief scuffling of feet, then the faint echo of a door closing quietly.

Avatara quietly stood up and walked to the door of his cell, peering out. The hallway was almost pitch black. The outlines of the walls were faintly visible in the scant light, stretching towards the left and in front of him, away from his corner of the floor. The voices came from the hallway in front, probably from a side passage far ahead. What was surprising was that the guard hadn't heard them, most people weren't allowed below the city. As a matter of fact, it seemed odd that the guards who normally watched over the jail hadn't done anything. As Avatara tried puzzling out why, he noticed he hadn't heard the guards in quite a while. Being in the dark, it was a bit understandable to lose a sense of time, after all he wasn't certain whether it was day or night anymore, nor how many days he had spent in the dank cell, but it seemed too long since he had heard the sound of a patrolling guard.

The sickening feeling of panic slowly rose in him as he realized there was going to be an assassination tonight, and nobody else would knew about it.

The children had, by now, bored of I Spy, and were instead pointing out everyone they knew.
"Ooh, lookit Brianna! She's dancing with that man over there! What're they saying?" asked Enna.
Cat strained to catch the conversation, and thought she could hear something.
"...apparently, they prefer to use glue made from pine pitch."
"I suppose that would hold together, but it's a little primitive..."
"It works well, but if it's not properly seasoned, you end up with sticky arrows and a useless bowstring..."
Cat smiled. How very like Brianna!
"Archery, I believe."
The younger children giggled.
"But this is a ball!"
"Wait. I haven't seen Sideline for a while. Maybe something's happened?" said Starfall.
Cat dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "He's probably on a tour or something. He'll be back."
Kerran coughed politely, and said, "May I have the pleasure of this next dance, Cat?"
It was Starfall's turn to grin. "Don't worry, I'll look after these imps. You enjoy yourself."
"But I don't know the steps, or anything!" wailed Cat.
"I'll teach you. It's easy."
Before she could protest any more, Kerran steered the doleful Cat towards the centre of the ballroom.

Jehezekel had moved, and was now sitting in a corner, watching the people. He saw a student magess gesturing toward the dance floor, and he saw the helpless look of the student mage she was speaking to. Then he noticed a side door open, and one of the older students approached the two, and spoke to them for a few moments. The helpless look on the student's face was alloyed by a hopeful gleam, and he hurried to the door, followed closely by the young magess.

Jehezekel was intrigued, and walked over to the door. A small piece of paper tacked to the door read:

Dance Lessons

He entered.

Over the din of music and clapping Aron waved to Asran and bid him a fond farewell as the young elf faded into the crowd, then turned to the object of the crowd’s applause. The normally stoic Rythan wore a broad grin as he and his daughter seemed to be squaring off for another round. Maladera shifted her footing, leading slightly with her left as she settled into a stance no one from Cythera would recognize. Aron enjoyed the show, indeed the gathered crowd seemed to share his opinin, however the ruse would not hold for long if people like the young Asran were able to see through it and if the pair made it past their little warm up Aron doubted that they would avoid the notice of the guards. The Paladin shook his head with a wry grin that was hidden by his helm, and began to push through the crowd towards the warriors, apologizing to those he bumped out of the way.

When he finally made it through he stopped directly between the pair of warriors before they charged back into the fray. He gave the crowd a bow, flourishing his crimson cape as he did, “I am happy you could all enjoy this traditional Hyperian dance, but I think it’s time these two gave up the floor.” Still smiling Aron walked over to Maladera and grabbed her bare arm then led her towards Rythan whose arm he grasped as well. Leading them out of the ballroom and into the hall the way a parent might guide a pair of misbehaving children Aron gave a small nod to Scribe as he passed, the Elvin mage adjusting his glasses and offering a quizzical expression.

Once out into the hall, oak door closed securely behind him, Aron turned on the pair with an arched eyebrow, “I thought your reunion would be unpleasant, but I didn’t expect you to attempt to kill each other for the amusement of the newly weds.”

The hall was barren save for the three gathered there, the chorus of sounds from the party were muffled as they drifted to the group. Maladera bowed deeply, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment, “I’m sorry Lord Aron—“

The knightly figure waved the words away, removing his mirrored helm and letting his own crimson curls fall to his shoulders and frame his sun darkened face, “No, that was fun to watch, if a tad on the risky side, I just need to talk to you.” He turned to Rythan, “And I need you to go away.”

Rythan blinked in surprise, “My lord?”

Aron gestured back over his shoulder towards the ballroom, “Your friend Offsides has been gone a while don’t you think? You should probably go look for him.”

The dark warrior seemed confused, “Wait, you mean Sideline?”

The Paladin’s sapphire eyes stared blankly at the assassin in dark armor, “I honestly don’t care if his name is Technical Foul. Friend. Missing. Go.” The puzzled look remained on Rythan’s features but he bowed and reentered the ballroom without another word. As the doors closed behind the man Aron turned his attention back to Maladera, “This trip was secret, so someone told you about it and someone else brought you here. Who and, at risk of sounding like an owl, who?”

The normally vibrant beautiful woman was greatly humbled in Aron’s presence, she wrung her gloved hands and swallowed hard under his gaze before answering quietly, “Lady Amarra informed me just after I was granted my Xar’ken’saa… Ares accompanied me to Cythera.”

The Paladin rolled his eyes, “The head of the Shadan Cor came here, do you have any idea what would happen if he was even seen?” he sighed, “I should have set the ballroom on fire when Steve suggested it.” He lightly poked Maladera in the shoulder, “I have come here to be as a mortal, you will not treat me otherwise in the presence of anyone at anytime so long as you remain here. And,” he rounded on the young woman, “you will tell Ares that he is to avoid anything he doesn’t plan on killing, on the spot, unless I tell him otherwise. Do you understand?”

Maladera nodded her head weakly, “Yes…” she hesitated, “Aron.”

He smiled, “There is still this wonderful party going on and many fine young maidens I’m sure you haven’t danced with yet. Shall we?” he offered her his arm, which she accepted, and together they headed back to the ballroom.

Katerei had been watching Kerran's attempts to teach Cat to dance, but her attention was drawn away by the entrance of two people into the ballroom. The man Aron that had accosted her in the Tavern upon her return to Cademia had just strode in, arm-in-arm with a stunning young woman that she didn't recognize. Hmph, she scoffed to herself. At least with a distraction like that accompanying him, he wouldn't be bothering her this evening.

She felt someone tugging on the hem of her cloak and looked down in surprise at Starfall. "Yes?"

"Mariya's gone," the copper elf replied, looking up with wide eyes.

"What?" Katerei felt the blood drain from her face. "Again? When did she leave? Did you see where she went?"

"Just a moment ago. She said something about going to look for her mother... she went that way." Starfall pointed towards the ballroom doors.

"Oh, no..." Katerei rubbed a hand across her eyes, and turned to look at Silverfish despairingly. "Would you..." She trailed off as he nodded, and, feeling relieved that at least the others would be in good hands, she dashed out of the ballroom to look for Mariya.

Once again, the guards had seen her leave, but this time they didn't know where she had gone to. Katerei asked at the kitchens, but none of the chefs had seen the little girl either. Desperately, she looked around for any sign at all- then a flash of pink caught her eye.

A little pink ribbon was caught on the corner of a wall next to a dark staircase, snagged on the rough stone bricks. It looked exactly like the ones Mariya had had in her hair, and it was about the right height for the girl's head. Katerei looked dubiously down the winding stone stairs. She had no idea where it led to, or if she was allowed to be down there, but it seemed she had no other option. Casting a quick glance around to make sure she wasn't being watched, she stepped down and was quickly obscured by the shadows.

The stairs wound deep below ground level, lit only by the pale flickering of the occasional torch in a bracket on the wall. It was cold and damp, and the air smelled stale. Clearly this was not a place that wedding guests were intended to visit. When she finally reached the bottom, she found an imposing wooden door, but it had been left ajar. Slipping through, Katerei suddenly realized she was in the guard post of the dungeons. Strangely, it looked totally abandoned.

She stood in the guard post for a moment, her sensitive hearing attuning itself to the echoing chambers. There seemed to be a faint sound coming from down one passageway. Steeling herself against the distinctly uncomfortable feeling she was getting from the place, she followed the sounds, praying that it was Mariya and that she hadn't gotten herself into some sort of trouble. Passing cell after cell, she tried to avoid looking inside, afraid of what might be looking back at her. She had been in more than one prison before and had seen too many dead bodies chained up, left to starve and rot into nothingness. Silently she prayed the mages of Pnyx treated their prisoners better, but it unnerved her all the same.

Katerei was feeling more and more desperate with every step she took. There was no sign of Mariya anywhere. Perhaps she'd taken the wrong corridor, or perhaps the young girl hadn't come down here at all. Then, as she neared the end of the corridor where it turned a sharp corner, a weak voice called out to her.

The blood seemed to freeze in her veins. A man was staring out at her from the corner cell. His expression was unreadable, and time spent in the prison had obviously taken its toll on him, but the face was very, very recognizable. Recalling how she had painfully longed to see old friends again, her heart skipped a beat. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not like this at all. Katerei stepped forward hesitantly, reaching through the bars of the jail cell towards him. "Avatara?" she whispered.

The young ones watched the fight in amazement, and were disappointed when it ended, it was so pretty. They watched as Aron dragged the combatants from the room, and then ran off to explore.
Seeing several people disappear through a door, the children figured it must be another way to the kitchen, and decided to try it. Upon bursting through the door, they were surprised to see a gathering of people in the room. A moments scrutiny was all they needed to realise it was dance lessons, and they joined in with abandon.
Starfall looked sad for a moment, but Silver, understanding her grief, made a marionette to dance with her, and controlled it from the ceiling.

In spite of the almost overwhelming burdon of research weighing upon his mind, Wolmark found himself thoroughly enjoying the chance to dance with his wife. The cares that had been pressing down upon him faded a little into the background, although he never completely forgot his missing friends, and his desire to find a way to get them home. It was with some regret, then, that he noticed Kwon making an unobtrusive hand gesture in their direction. He brought it to Leandra's attention. She sighed, and the pair made their way over to their two friends - one so short he would disappear in a small crowd, while standing on tip toe; the other so tall he had to stoop to go through most doors.

"What is it?" Leandra demanded. The absense of Flynn and Sasha had created a leadership vacuum amongst the remaining Ronin, and against anyone's expectations, it was the fiery-tempered healer that had stepped up and taken charge.

"Sideline is missing," Kwon reported. "It would appear that it has begun."

Leandra pulled a small metal disc from a hidden pocket in her skirt. It was a curious device, made almost entirely of highly polished gold, with ony a few different kinds of gems around the rim to break to monotony of colour. She pressed one of the jewels, and a number of tiny lights sprang into being above the mirror. Turning this way and that, she abruptly pointed in a certain direction. "That way! We'll have to double back a bit once we're outside."

The four Ronin made their way to the exit as quickly as they could, without appearing to hurry. Whoever their enemy was, it was distinctly possible that they'd left an observer at the ball, and their actions might already have drawn more attention than they'd have liked.

This post has been edited by cache22: 17 March 2007 - 10:49 PM

Weary, Propontis, Elder and leader of House Strymon, entered the office in the chambers alloted to him. It had been a weary day, but he was glad it was over. Today might mark a great achievement in Cythera's history, if all that went on today came to pass. As he stepped toward his desk, he noticed a piece of paper on the floor.

Frowning, he stooped and picked up, glancing at it. He froze for a moment.

It read: Hello, Uncle.

A moment later an all too familiar voice repeated the note, "Hello, uncle."

Propontis straightened and looked up.

Sitting at his desk with his feet on it was a smiling Rapierian.

Sécundus had arrived early to the wedding. It was a magnificent ceremony and a perfect one at that. The young archeologist had really dressed up for the occasion, but he did not know any of the people here. He asked a few ladies to dance, to be polite, but, not being the best dancer around, soon settled himself at a table with an elf named Asran and a human named Lyxzén. He remained there for the rest of the ball.

* * *

Even on horseback, Wizard had arrived late. As he dismounted, he realized that he had forgotten to grab an invitation before leaving the tavern. Oh well, perhaps there would have been none left anyway, he thought, leading his steed to the stables.

At the front gate, Wizard had to decide his course of action. “Invitation please, sir,” the guard asked, hand expectantly waiting.

The old man feigned forgetfulness. “Invitation... yes... invitation. It’s here somewhere.” After a convincing show of feeling inside all of his pockets, he shrugged. “Don’t you just have a Mr. Sideline on your little list there. I’m with his party.”

The guard flipped through several pages before replying, “Yes, there is a Mr. Sideline here, but he and his party have already arrived.”

“Well, I’m just a little late.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but no one is allowed admittance without an invitation.”

“Oh, I see. Very well.” He turned away as if to give up. Wizard closed his eyes for a moment, I hate having to do this. When he turned around a moment later, the guard was smiling.

“Your command, sir?”

There were several other guards posted at the door, and at the last remark, they all turned in surprise. Wizard smiled innocently, “He means invitation, of course.” He flashed an invitation in front of them.

“That’ll do, sir. You may proceed, and if there’s anything you need during your stay, please ask.”

“I’ll do that.” As Wizard passed through the front gate into the hall, he grunted. They ought not have such weak-minded guards checking invitations. His “invitation” vanished into the nothingness from which the illusion came, and the guard at the front gate seemed to return to normal, Wizard’s hold over his mind relinquished.

He entered in time to see the end of the wedding ceremony but was able to attend the ball. Wizard was dressed in his finest robe, pure white with gold embroidery down the middle and at the collar and sleeves. Although his main intention was not dancing, he figured it would be best to keep up appearances.

“Excuse me, madam,” he bowed with a flourish and very soon he was escorting a young lady around the floor. He made idle chat with her as they whirled about, but his eyes were mostly at the front of the room, where the most important guests were seated. Wizard had lived a long time, attending more than his fair share of balls and weddings. Dancing came to him without any sort of concentration. As much as he enjoyed it, there were many other matters that needed his attention.

When the music stopped for a moment, Wizard took the opportunity to end his dance. “You are truly gifted,” he remarked with a smile and a kiss on the lady’s hand. He turned away quickly, wiping his mouth on a napkin as he walked. He had a couple of people to speak with.

As he came nearer and nearer the front of the ballroom, the crowd he had to push through became thicker. Hector, Meleager, Aethon, the head mages, and the nobles were all in this area and security was fairly tight. Selinus was just up ahead, sitting across from Meleager it seemed.

“I’m sorry, sir, but we must ask you stay behind this point. We can’t let just anyone mingle with the nobles,” a guard had stepped into Wizard’s path.

“I’m not ‘just anyone,’ I am a friend of Selinus. You have no reason to worry.”

“You may be surprised at the number of ‘friends’ of the mages and nobles I’ve run into today. Sorry, sir, but please turn around.”

“But I see Selinus right through there,” Wizard forced his way past the guard. Wizard never claimed to be strong, but he was stocky, with a lot of “weight” (Rapierian would have referred to it as “fat”) at his command.

“Sir, sir, stop,” the guard said, trying not to disturb the other guests but hoping to attract the attention of a few other guards. Meleager looked up from his talk with Selinus as the two approached his table. “Is there a problem?” Meleager, still very strong for his age stood to face Wizard.

“I apologize, sir,” the guard explained quickly. “But he forced his way past. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

“Meleager, isn’t it? I’m honored to meet you,” Wizard extended his hand to the burly man.

At this point, Selinus turned around in his seat. His eyes lit up. “I thought I recognized that voice.”

The guard, mortified that a mage had been disturbed, spoke rapidly. “Master Selinus, please don’t let this disturb you. I was just about to get this man down and throw him into the clink.”

Selinus heard the guard as well as he hears anything. “Just about to get him a drink? Magnificent idea. Please do and get me another while you’re at it.”

“Oh, you know this man, Selinus?” Meleager asked.

“Why, yes, this is my good friend Lizard!”

Wizard shook his head, trying to repress a smile, “No, no, you mean Wizard with a W.”

“Oh, Lwizard with a W. No, that doesn’t sound right. Are you sure?”

Wizard sighed. “Yes, quite.”

“All right. Well, guard, please get us those drinks.”

“Any friend of Selinus is a friend of mine,” Meleager said, grasping Wizard’s hand firmly. “Please join us.”

“Thank you, I believe I shall.”

“So, my friend, what brings you to Pnyx. Somehow, I doubt that you would have come just to enjoy the party.” Selinus’ probing abilities seemed as sharp as ever.

“You’re very right, Selinus. I wasn’t even planning on coming here, but then I had. . . a . . . premonition of sorts. I believe that someone, perhaps someone I knew once, has evil in store for tonight. That is why I came to speak with you.”

The guard had returned with two drinks, which he quietly set down and left. Selinus took a sip and remained silent. Meleager stared at Wizard, as though he was awaiting more.

“In this dream, I was in the middle of nowhere and nothing. It started to rain, and everything turned to darkness and mud. Then I saw a figure surrounded by a cloak of blackness. It came into my head that this growing aura of black was slowly taking control of everything, something no one would see until it was too late.”

Selinus seemed to have heard everything, most likely by the aid of Wizard’s tendency to project thoughts directly into Selinus’ mind when he spoke with him, “And you believe that this dark shadow was taking control of Cythera?”

“What else is there to believe?” Another silence ensued. “The only defense between me and this blackness was a great chasm. But I felt that the only way to defeat the shadow was to face it, so I leapt across the abyss. The figure in black suddenly disappeared.”

“So, let me see if I’m understanding this.” Selinus was staring at the beverage in his glass swirl as he rotated his wrist, “You dreamed that Cythera was slowly being taken over by some unseen evil, starting here, in Pnyx. Furthermore, you believe that if we... act fast enough? —”

“ — Yes, we can stop it.”

“I see.”

“What is it that you propose?” Meleager joined the conversation for the first time.

“I don’t know, but I am convinced that something is going to happen tonight. We need to be ready for every contingency.” Wizard suddenly glanced at Meleager, the concern and worry on his face replaced by a smile. “I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Wizard; I’m a great fan of you and your work with Bellerophon.”

“Thank you. Did you know Bellerophon?”

“Not personally, but you could say I knew him.”

Selinus interrupted the two before their conversation went any further, “I’m, I’m sorry, but Wizard, do you have any idea what exactly is going to happen tonight?”

“I wish I did, but thank you for reminding me. I need to speak with someone else. Have you seen Propontis?”

“I think he retired for the evening, actually.” Meleager replied first. “When you say ‘not personally’ but you still knew him, what do you mean?”

“Well, I’d seen him a couple of times and perhaps met him informally. Besides, everyone knows of Bellerophon’s great work.” Wizard smiled, hoping Meleager wouldn’t catch on to the half-truth. It also helps when you’re a telepath who accidentally reads minds here and there, he completed the explanation in his head, but Meleager seemed content with the other answer.

Meleager nodded, “Ah. Well you best hurry to see Propontis, he may have turned in early tonight.”

“I shall do that. It was truly a pleasure. Meleager, Selinus,” he said with an inclination of his head as he turned.

“Goodbye, Wizard,” Selinus replied.

“Yes, goodbye.” Meleager seemed concerned. He waited until Wizard had disappeard, “Selinus, are you sure he’s trustworthy?”

“What? Oh, positive. I’ve known that man longer than I’ve known you, Meleager.”

“Very well, then. What should we do about what he said?”

Selinus thought for a moment. “The last time we had trouble at Pnyx was when someone tried to assassinate Lindus. Summon the guards and have them place very heavy security around Lindus’ room.”

“On the other hand, Lindus may not be their target,” Meleager remarked.

“Yes, but security is already as tight as it can be throughout the rest of the city. There’s not much more we can do than wait and be prepared for action.” Selinus appeared as unsatisfied with the answer as Meleager, but what else could be done? They didn’t even know if anything would go wrong. Both of them knew that waiting was their only option.

Wizard proceeded in the direction of Propontis’ room.

This post has been edited by The Wizard: 26 May 2007 - 09:44 PM

Elsewhere…

Daylight began to wane over the pyramid city of Pnyx, the sun high above was falling inexorably towards the distant horizon. The grass swayed on a windswept plain not far away, but distant enough from prying eyes, where a fearsome monument to war stood looking out towards the city.

A dragon to any that saw him, a creature in armor so dark that light seemed to fade in its presence. A being with the form of a man who stood five meters tall, his massive arms crossed before his chest. Encased completely in that armor of the deepest black, armor crafted masterfully and specifically for him, he only watched from afar. The armor’s surface was polished smooth and its joints were subtle with a crimson chain mail visible beneath them. The fingers of his gauntlets came to long razor points, the way the claws of his own hands did, and the same was true of his boots where the armor flowed over his talons. His great onyx wings, large enough to wrap around himself and keep him completely concealed, were armored as well, with a dark spike topping each of them and a dark chain mail over both sides of their leathery ribbed surfaces. The tips of those wings held the edge of an armored blade that ran the length of their undersides. His helm was a single piece which completely hid the features of his face, save for his sapphire eyes that burned of other worldly flame like a star in the pool of the night sky. Though he held no weapons, it would be very clear that he had no need for such.

Ares permitted himself a few more moments of viewing those distant structures, knowing that he could but raise his hand and point directly to Lord Aron. In the distance behind the Shadan Cor stood a quiet tree line, its leaves whispering in the breeze that just swept by him. He knew he would have to return to those dark woods, where mortals feared to trek lest they meet the creatures who lurked within, creatures that he was beginning to teach that same fear in turn.

**

The ball continued as though nothing had happened and nothing was amiss. As far as most of the party goers knew everything was fine. However the warrior who entered the chamber, dressed in lordly black armor fit for fierce battle, saw otherwise. Rythan’s ruby and sapphire gaze scanned the crowded ballroom calmly, ignoring the dancers that twirled about and the people who chatted happily with one another, searching for anything that simply did not belong until... The Hyperian’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon a group of four people that stood apart from the lords and ladies present, among them a woman with flowing red hair pointed directly towards a door on the opposite end of the chamber.

It was a quick gesture that had come and gone before any could notice. The four made their way through the crowd unhurriedly, not even seeming to be a group as they uttered greetings to others in passing, but Rythan had already seen what he needed. Heading into the crowd he began to follow them, moving swiftly without seeming to he still was unable to reach the group before they exited the chamber. In order to retain some level of stealth and keep from attracting the attention of the guards the warrior had to keep moving at the same pace until finally he reached the door to the hall.

He slipped into the corridor smoothly, but took no special care in closing the door. The sounds from the ballroom must have flooded into the hall as he opened the portal, to have tried closing it quietly would have been suspicious. He caught sight of the red haired woman as she made a turn far down the corridor and, glancing either way to ensure none waited in ambush, he began to pursue her. His steps were light and quick as he ran down the corridor, years of experience let his soft boots hit the stone floor while uttering barely a sound that he could hear.

The warrior slowed as he reached the end of the hall before the turn, he stopped to listen and judge the distance of those he followed; far down the hall he heard three sets of footsteps making their way at a brisk pace. Three? Rythan leapt back as a white blur flashed across his vision, a dark haired man dressed in a simple white cotton tunic and pants came into view from around the corner, completing the spin from his kick and studying Rythan as if for the first time. His eyes radiated calm and held an ascended clarity that was extremely rare even among great warriors, he was the missing fourth. In the distance Rythan could hear the others stop, but he did not divert his attention from the man before him. The Hyperian had seen several good fighters since coming to Cythera, but this man could easily have been the most skilled.

The two men sized each other up in the bare moments of silence that began after the first attack, and to Rythan everything else faded away. His focus settled over the master he faced and he shifted his stance to prepare for an attack while the stranger stood perfectly still, the calm before a storm. Two running steps brought Rythan into striking range, and so the dance began. The Hyperian lashed out with his own kick for the warrior’s leg, sweeping in with his right, but the stranger jumped over the attack to counter with a flourishing spinning kick. Rythan used his palms to stop the blow from crashing into the side of his head but was surprised by the power behind the attack; the man was far stronger than he looked. But then, so was the Hyperian.

The stranger surged forward with a series of powerful flowing hand strikes in a style Rythan had never seen, and it was all he could do to defend. The Hyperian’s style and skill allowed him to predict his opponent’s movements and counter accordingly, to direct the course of a battle, but the stranger seemed to have the same ability and the two fought in an ever more complex web of attack and defense. A hole appeared in Rythan’s guard and the stranger launched a punishing kick to fill the void, the strike smashed into Rythan’s torso on the right side, shaking his body and forcing him to grunt against the impact, but in the moment the attack landed Rythan’s right hand grabbed hold of and trapped the man’s left leg. His opponent off balance Rythan threw a powerful punch with his left that crashed heavily across the stranger’s jaw, but using the force of the blow for added momentum and Rythan’s hold for leverage the stranger sent a blinding kick for the left side of Rythan’s head. Forced to block the blow Rythan released his opponent to deflect the kick and the two men hastily disengaged.

The stranger looked Rythan over appraisingly and shook his head, “I did not believe that our adversaries had acquired warriors of this skill.” He settled back into his stance, “If it is indeed your organization that is responsible for Sideline’s disappearance I can no longer consider myself surprised by this fact.”

Rythan maintained his guard, but held up a hand, “My organization? I thought it was you and yours who were to blame for Sideline, I followed you in the hopes of finding him.”

The two warriors looked each other over once more, but in the end they both seemed satisfied in their honesty. As a testament to how fast the two had fought the other three people in the group of four only then arrived. The red haired woman looked from one man to the other, her green eyes lingering on Rythan questioningly, “Who are you?”

It was the stranger Rythan had fought who stepped forward before Rythan could speak, “He is a formidable warrior, but he is by no means our enemy this day. It appears that he was searching for Sideline as well and thought to pursue our group because of his belief that we were somehow involved. In the same way it seems that we were mistaken, for when I sensed you following us I felt certain of your guilt.” The man bowed slightly in respect, “My name is Kwon Chen, tell me fellow warrior, what is it that you are called?”

The Hyperian inclined his head, “My name is Rythan.”

**

**

{{OOC: If you want you may ignore this section as though it never happened}}

Another song played though the ball, this one the same that had been heard two or three times before. The musicians had been playing for most of the day, and it seemed that they were running out of music the crowd had yet to hear. From where Aron stood, off to one side of the dance floor, he could see that he wasn’t the only person to notice this. He drew himself up and walked over to where the musicians were finishing their song, obviously it was about to fall to him to save the day here.

As the Paladin approached the gathered players looked to him questioningly, a man in light blue robes who held a sitar was the first to speak, “How can we help you mi lord, do you perhaps have a request?”

Aron smiled genuinely, setting his ornate helm upon the polished floor, “Indeed, I believe I do.” He reached into the small blue satchel and pulled out some sheet music he just happened to have for such an occasion, which he handed to the musicians, “I trust you can all sing correct? Just play and follow my lead, when it comes time my words are in blue and your words are the ones highlighted in red. Alright gentlemen?” The performers seemed unsure as they passed the music around, it read like nothing they had ever played before, but in the end they each nodded in turn; it was always a good idea to get in good with nobles. With his winning smile Aron turned to face the crowd who were waiting curiously to see what was about to be played. He raised his arms to get everyone’s attention, “I would like to sing for you a song I learned long ago during one of my many travels, a song about a soldier I once knew, named One.”

The musicians began to play a curious and merry tune, and as the gathered partiers started to smile and dance, Aron started to sing:

“One was the loneliest soldier that I ever knew—
You— could be as sad as One,
But the loneliest soldier was the soldier One,

Oh ONE was the loneliest”

“Sold-ier!”

“ONE was the Lone-liest!”

“SOLD-IER!”

“ONE WAS THE LONELIEST SOLDIER THAT I EVER KNEW—”

The dancers laughed and enjoyed singing along, especially the children who had a grand time of the hilarity. To most it seemed like nothing could ruin such a happy night.

This post has been edited by Ragnar0k: 21 March 2007 - 03:26 PM

The kids, being young, caught on to their dancing lessons quite quickly, and the teacher soon sent them off to test their new moves for a song or two. As Retsy stepped out of the sideroom, she looked around to see what her traveling-friends were up to, but was surprised to see that several of them were missing.

I thought the guests were going to stay in the ballroom the whole time, Retsy thought to herself, is there something else going on? Retsy's only worry was that she was missing something fun happening elsewhere, but watching the ladies dance in their pretty dresses was more than enough to entertain her; and she quickly forgot about the missing friends.

Someone Retsy recognized from the Tavern started singing...

*OoC*
Hmm, I seem to be having serious difficulty writing Rapierian right now. I'll just call it one of his mood swings.
*BiC*


Propontis's first reaction on seeing his smiling nephew at his desk was to grab for the bell cord on the wall. This would summon the nearest guards.

The story had spread quickly that a member of Strymon was a traitor and plotting some sort of attack. House Strymon had formally kicked Rapierian out at once. It had been expected that he might try something at such a big event, so the security was tight. No one had expected him to be able to get through all of it.

The Elder's hand never reached. He jerked it back when a "shadow" darted between it and the cord.

"Uncle, I'm disappointed in you. That is no way to greet family!" the necromancer said, shaking his head and smiling. "Particularly, after I came all this way to warn you. Well, I guess that's gratitude for you. I'm crushed! Perhaps, I should just kill you and hope that makes me feel better."

"Warn me?" Propontis asked, hoping that a talk would put Rapierian off guard long enough for him to reach the cord and ignoring the necromancer's other words.

"Oh, yes, it seems word of your 'secret' negotiations have been getting around the House circles," he smiled. "They didn't like what they heard much, so they did exactly what I figured they'd do when I let them get word of it."

"What?! You betrayed your family again?!" Propontis was angry. Now, the necromancer had potentially put his own family in direct danger.

"Well, technically, I didn't. You threw me out, remember?" the necromancer chuckled. "Your memory is getting bad these days. Not that that will matter much."

"What do you mean?" the Elder asked, worried and already guessing the answer to the question. "You wouldn't dare kill me."

For several moments, Rapierian looked like he was having great difficulties in not laughing.

"Oh really? Seems I forgot to warn you about that! Funny, my memory must be going to! Sadly, I don't have the time to deal with you as I'd like to, although rest assured I will get around to the rest of the family. Oh, that will be so fun..." he trailed off, looking distant and eager for some future mayhem for a moment. Then, he returned to the present, looking amused and dangerously happy. He stood up and leaned over the desk. "Sadly, dear uncle, you will not live to see the day I massacre your wife, children, siblings, or any other distant relation. The story of Propontis ends in this room, I am afraid...though it should be fun enough."

Propontis lunged for the bell cord, as his nephew chuckled (restraining his laughter lest someone hear).

He didn't make it. His hand had almost grasped it, when the dagger went into his back.

The Elder's body slumped to floor.

"Well done," Rapierian said, still chuckling, to the third being in the room. "I must be off now. Get on with your business."

With that, the necromancer used a variant of Direct Nexus (which would return him to his own fortress) and was gone...

This post has been edited by Selax: 21 March 2007 - 09:48 PM

"Who's there?" Avatara blinked as he tried to identify the dark shape leaning against the bars. The scant light filtering in from down the hall only served to mask the figure in darker shadows.

"It's Katerei." The hand reaching through the cell door pulled back and clenched on to one of the bars, as if in uncertainty. "Do- do you remember me?"

"Katerei?" What was she doing down here? was his first thought, followed almost immediately by the realization that she was on the other side of the door. "Katerei!" Avatara shouted as he lunged forward, a glimmering of hope filling him with a sudden energy. She jumped back in fright and he panicked, thinking she was on the verge of running away. "No! Wait, Katerei! Don't go! Please!" His voice cracked as he fell to his knees holding the bars. "Please, its important..." he begged her.

The woman inched forward again, and though he couldn't see the fear in her widened eyes, he could sense her unease. "What are you talking about?" she asked. "Why- why are you here? Are you okay?"

"I'm um...fine," he replied uncertainly, taken aback by the sudden question. He paused briefly to refocus on the conversation he had heard earlier. "Listen, I need your help. There's going to be a- a murder tonight, and you're the only one that can warn the guards in time." He could picture her narrowing her blue eyes in skepticism, thinking he probably was looking for an excuse to escape or something. "I know this sounds crazy, I mean, why should you believe a criminal?" his lips curled into a smirk as he realized how ludicrous he must seem. "But if you've ever trusted me before, I need you to believe me now. Please!"

Katerei hesitated. "I do trust you... but... nobody's dense enough to risk a murder tonight. There's a wedding happening upstairs, a ball and everything, all sorts of important guests. I don't think there's ever been more guards around than there are right now."

"There's a what? No, but...well..." he stood up and started pacing furiously as he tried to figure out a way to convince her. After all, if what she had said was true, there would certainly be a lot of guards at a wedding. Guards! "Did you see any guards patrolling the cells down here? There should be one up near the front and a pair that walk the halls periodically, but I haven't seen them in a while."

There was a brief pause. "No," Katerei admitted. "I didn't see any, not even at the guard post. It seemed strange to me."

Avatara frowned, he wasn't imagining things. She mentioned a wedding, which was a rare occurrence at Pnyx. In fact, it was so rare that people from around the island would probably be attending. Which meant... "Who's getting married?"

"Malis, the heir for House Attis, and Danae. I think she must have worked her way pretty high up in the ranks of mages for it to be on such a large scale as this. There's all sorts of important guests around."

"So if you wanted to murder someone important, tonight would be the night to do it," he muttered, mostly to himself, but aware she would overhear him.

"I suppose so..." she said dubiously, "but wouldn't someone want to wait until they were alone- like I said, there's guards everywhere, to say nothing of all the people that would see. You couldn't just, well, kill someone and slip out unnoticed."

"You're right, it does seem a little odd," he scratched his beard while he mentally replayed the conversation he had overheard earlier. "I just overheard a couple people talking earlier. There was one other thing they mentioned, I think it might be a name. It was something like..." Avatara paused, trying to recall the pronunciation. "Ra-peer-i-an?"

He couldn't see her pale in the darkness, but he did hear her gasp in surprise. "Who did you say?" she asked faintly.

"You do recognize it," he noted with interest. "Who is it? What would they have to do with something like this?"

Katerei laughed bitterly. "I don't know anyone more likely to have a hand in committing murder. Particularly at a public event- he seems like the sort to want the attention."

"So there will be trouble?"

"If he's here... then, yes, without a doubt."

Katerei felt sick inside. She knew now that Avatara wasn't just making this up- how else could he have known about Rapierian? There was definitely something going on behind the scenes here, and as she thought over it, the urgency of the situation dawned on her. Rapierian could be there already, and nobody else would know. "I need to go tell the guards!" she cried, and after casting one last shocked look at Avatara, turned and fled the dungeon back the way she had just come.

She burst from the top of the staircase, struggling to catch her breath after the sprint. "Guards!" she screamed. "Guards! Help!"

The few people that were nearby turned to look at her in shock, but her words proved effective as a pair of guards came running into the room. "What's going on?" one of them demanded, seeing no immediate danger.

"There's going to be a murder!" There was a frightened look in Katerei's eyes, and between panicking about Rapierian and panting from the physical exertion, she was fighting to not hyperventilate. "Someone's going to be killed! Tonight! Here!"

"Who's going to be killed?" the other guard said, trying to calm this deranged-sounding woman down.

"I don't know- you have to believe me though- someone important, I think-" she was cut off by a high-pitched scream from upstairs, followed by a woman's voice calling for help.

The guards exchanged a look with Katerei, and the three of them followed the sound of the voice up a staircase towards the guest quarters. A terrified-looking maid was standing in the corridor, pointing into a room with a trembling hand. They crowded around the doorway to see what she was indicating, and Katerei winced reflexively at the grotesque sight. Two dead bodies had been dragged into an unused storeroom, leaving bloody smears on the floor from the multiple stab wounds in their chests.

The head guard stared in stunned silence for a moment, then turned and briskly swept into action. "Alert the captain that we need a sweep of the building done. Have all the outside doors locked; maybe we can still find the person responsible for this. Check the location of every important guest- heads of houses, et cetera- we don't know who else could be a target. Try to keep it as low key as possible, though, so we don't get the other guests panicking and getting in the way. I'll stay here and see what I can find out."

Nodding, the other guard disappeared back down the corridor. Katerei bit her lip and watched him leave, wanting to help, but not sure what she was supposed to do now. The first guard was questioning the maid, and she listened in curiously for a moment, but the sickening stench of death in the room was making it difficult to concentrate. Then, her eyes landing on the blood streaks in the storeroom, an idea struck her.

She slipped away quietly, retreating down the hallway and checking each door as she went. All she would need is a spare room to make things so much easier- then finally, she found a door that had been left ajar. Peering inside, she could see that it was empty, so she stepped inside and shut the door lightly behind her. There had been no one else in sight, so she felt secure in having at least a few minutes of being alone.

It only took a moment in her alternate form before she exited the room, readjusting to being humanoid again, following the new lead down the hall in the opposite direction from the dead bodies. Her sensitive wolf's sense of smell had told her exactly what she needed to know- the scent of blood was coming from more than one place. By tracing a mental path and estimating the distance and direction as she walked, she soon found herself in a short corridor at the far end of the guest wing. One of these rooms, she thought, eyeing the row of doors, wary of what she might find inside.

Katerei started at the door nearest her, praying that it would be unlocked. She was in luck. The guests no doubt felt that the guards posted regularly throughout the visitors' wings were more than enough security (a distressingly ironic assumption, considering the evening's latest developments.) The first few rooms were devoid of life, with only the occasional possession scattered about to give any indication that the rooms had been occupied. Then, at the second to last doorway, Katerei found what she was looking for- a tiny trickle of blood leaking under the doorway.

Steeling herself, she opened the door, and stared in disgust at the pool of scarlet liquid that was seeping across the floor towards her feet. In the middle of it lay a man, the face of whom she thought she recognized- Propontis, head of house Strymon. Katerei turned away and tried not to retch. She'd seen many dead bodies in her life, but it was the kind of sight one never quite got used to.

I need to tell the guards, she reminded herself, and shut the door on the grisly sight, lest someone else walk by and see it. Hurrying back to where the dead guards had been found, she had almost reached it when a hooded figure crossed her path, rushing towards the outside wall of the great pyramid of Pnyx. Katerei looked down at her hand, having felt something cold and wet brush it, and was surprised to see blood smeared across her skin- but she was uninjured, which meant the blood must have rubbed off on her. She looked back up again and felt her heart stop as she saw a glint of steel come from the strange figure- she'd just unexpectedly stumbled across the murderer.

"Guards!" she screamed instinctively as she took off running, hoping they were within hearing range. "Guards! Propontis is dead, and the killer's here! Guards, come quick!" Katerei cursed as the figure drew its arm back, smashed through the glass window pane with a blade, and leaped through the now open space. What are they trying to do? That drop would break every bone in your body- But as the person went up instead of down, she realized they must be going onto the slanted roof of the pyramid.

Without stopping to think, Katerei leaped into the air and caught the edge of the window with her hands, bracing her feet against the wall so her body didn't smash straight into it. Suddenly grateful for all the time she had spent climbing trees in the forest, she nimbly scrambled up through the window and emerged in the cool twilight outside. She took a moment to orient herself with the suddenly slanting ground, then looked up to see the murderer fleeing across the roof. As she watched, the person turned to look back at his pursuer, and the hood fell backwards, revealing not the features of Rapierian that she had expected to see- but blond hair, and piercing blue eyes staring directly back into her own.

A slow waltz started as the musicians began to wind down for the evening. The sun had started to settle, shining in through the west windows in a myriad of warm pinks, reds, and oranges.

Trundaylan slowly danced with his wife, relaxing in her arms. He had barely had time to see her the past few weeks, with most of House Attis in a frantic scramble to prepare for tonight. But tonight at least, they could have to themselves.

But even as he was relishing that thought, he saw a pair of guards discreetly walking over to talk to Malis. His wife saw them too, she tried to face him away by turning sharply in line with the music, but to no avail. More guards were slipping in from the opposite directions, taking up key positions around the room.

"Something's going on," he whispered to her.

"You have tonight off," she reminded him without missing a step.

"I know," he sighed. "But if something bad is going to happen, I have to try to stop it."

"Can't you let someone else handle it, just for tonight?"

"You know I can't. If innocent people get hurt...I couldn't forgive myself if I did nothing."

Ilene stared deep into his eyes. He knew she knew he had to leave. He could predict the words before she said them. When she spoke, he could hear the soft resignation in her voice when she replied, "I know."

The tune wound to an end, and as it finished she released him reluctantly. "I love you," she whispered to him as he started to leave.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, before making his way through the crowd towards the table Malis was seated at. Trundaylan noticed the man had his jaw set, indicating whatever he had heard, it wasn't good news. "What's going on?" he asked.

Malis looked up. "I thought I gave you the night off," he gestured towards Ilene, who was sitting solemnly off to the side.

"Something has happened," Trundaylan indicated the pair of guards he had seen deliver a message earlier. They were currently talking to the head of House Nicander, Philinus, and from the look of his expression he wasn't happy to hear their report either.

Malis sighed, "I suppose I can't convince you to let them handle it." He paused for a moment, taking in a deep breath before continuing, "There's been a murder. Well, several, but there's a rumor that the various heads of the houses might be at risk. Though personally, I don't see how anyone could-" he looked up, but Trundaylan was already gone.

If there are assassins, they'd probably be hiding in a less populated location, he thought to himself as he strode out of the ballroom. A quick stop at the guardroom and Trundaylan had his sword. He started walking down the main hall, wondering where to start searching, when he overheard the captain conversing in low tones with one of the other guards. "...Propontis was found stabbed to death in his quarters, one of the guests chased the killer onto the roof..."

Trundaylan took off at a dead run towards the stairs. What on earth was one of the guests doing trying to chase an assassin? Didn't they know that was dangerous? He bolted up the stairs, taking three at a time. When he reached the top, he saw another pair of guards yelling something out a window, apparently trying to coordinate with the archers scrambling on the ground. He guessed that was the window the culprit had escaped out of, and started running in the opposite direction. On his way, he passed by an open room where several people were attending to a body on the floor, that must have been Propontis' quarters.

Nearing the end of the hall, he grabbed one of the sitting benches and dragged it over to rest underneath the window. Using it as a stair, he hoisted himself up, then smashed the glass out with the hilt of his sword. Wishing he had put on his armored gloves, he crawled carefully through the narrow gap and found himself on the slanted rooftop of Pnyx.

Trundaylan took a moment to steady his balance on the angled rooftop. He took a few slow steps, trying not to look at the ground looming over the ledge several feet to his left. He didn't have to wait long, a cloaked figure rounded the corner ahead of him, only to find the path was blocked by the Attis guardsman.

"You're not going anywhere," Trundaylan held up his sword to block the path of the seemingly male murderer, who was still trying to advance slowly. Several seconds later, he figured out why, as the guest chasing the assassin rounded the corner. He frowned, he recognized her, "Katerei? What are you doing up here?"

"He killed Propontis," she stammered as she tried to catch her breath. "I couldn't let him just get away."

"Throw down your weapon," Trundaylan fixed a steel gaze upon the assassin. "Hold your arms out, I'm taking you in." The assassin hesitated, then dropped the dagger he was carrying. Trundaylan reached down to grab the rope at his belt and started walking forward slowly. A couple shouts to his left indicated they had been spotted on the roof and the archers were rushing into position.

He reached the cloaked man and started wrapping the rope around his outstretched arms, when suddenly he lost his footing. Trundaylan dropped the rope and threw his arms up to steady himself, when he felt a sharp pain in his neck and a warm liquid start to trickle down his front. His legs weakened and he collapsed to his knees as the man in front of him pulled his hand back, revealing a concealed dagger strapped to his forearm, a dagger that was dripping with fresh blood. He heard a shriek of agony from somewhere in front of him, Katerei's voice calling out in anguish, but the buzzing in his head was growing louder and his vision was rapidly turning red. He felt a brief pain of sorrow as he pictured his wife and daughter, then he slumped to the ground and the world turned black.

The last rays of the sun glowed red as they slipped below the western horizon, heralding the coming of night for Pnyx.

"Napkins!" the maître d' shrieked at the top of his lungs. "We must have more napkins!"

Menexes, the poor soul in charge of dinner preparations for the ball, had been carefully watching the influx of guests all night, and had just recently realized that the supply of guests had begun to excede the number of monogrammed flax napkins he had carefully ordered from the east of the island.

He was supposed to have seen every invitation before they had been sent out to avoid this precise problem. Had perhaps an extra three or four dozen invitations been sent to a particular guest without his foreknowledge? Menexes shuddered at the thought.

"I care not whether you have to rip apart an apprentice's robes to acquire the napkins we so desperately require!" Menexes yelled at his underlings, quickly scurrying about the dinner tables in an attempt to evade his wrath. "We must have napkins with which our guests may dab their lips!"

Realizing the possible futility of the present enterprise–even given the potential influx of napkins made from apprentice robes–Menexes began sizing up every piece of fabric in the room.

The tablecloths? Equally necessary to the presentation of the dinner, but there was perhaps a foot or two at the end of each that could quickly be clipped off to make additional napkins.

The banners hung in the huge indoor chamber of Pnyx? Those were sufficient fabric for the purpose, but with such gaudy colors, they could never fit in with the other napkins around the table. Also, people would surely notice the lack of the huge banners, though the importance of this obviously paled in comparison to the issue of color.

Menexes was sizing up how many napkins he could scrounge up by cutting apart his waiters' pants when he heard the voice of Lindus coming from the center of the amphitheater in which the ceremony was about to be held.

"Fellow Cytherans, I have grave news," Lindus began.

Praise be! Menexes thought to himself. One of his subordinates had clearly been thinking well enough to have brought the napkins issue to Lindus, and the full might of the Magisterium would soon be brought to bear on the problem. Menexes took a step forward, preparing to graciously accept any assistance put forth by the Mages.

Lindus continued, "I am afraid that one of our revered elders been murdered this night, in cold blood." Lindus related the circumstances of Propontis's murders to the crowd, and the joy of the wedding ceremony quickly turned to sorrow at the loss of the House Strymon's leader.

Before he could see the reactions of those closest the victim, Menexes quickly turned away and returned to the issue at hand. He was no adventurer, no righter of wrongs; the number of napkins was trivial in comparison to the life of the man that had died this night. But, napkins were a thing he knew how to deal with, and even if he could not help the departed, he would do the best he could.

Menexes wiped a tear from his eyes and quietly asked for the napkin at the head of the largest table. Surely, he could find another place for it now.