Chapter 1B: The Ball of Pure Souls and Tormented Minds

[Tomás Valentín]

(OOC: Your first post should be something along the lines of your char's thoughts upon the events that brought him to the ball in Chylikis, basically a reflection of his most recent traveling. Your char may not leave the ballroom, as there are guards posted at each exit to prevent any revelers from stealing the family jewels. You may create minor NPCs by having your char introduce himself to that NPC or something like that, but only I or Nystacea may puppet them. You may also create the NPC's appearance, thereby making my job easier. Please, only create NPCs that would be present at such a ball, i.e. nobles, citizens of Chylikis, etc... Also, Duke Tasul'i is not yet present at the ball, so you can meet any major NPC except him. You can create details of the ballroom as long as they do not contradict with the ones mentioned in my post, just remember that it is a ballroom and should look like one.)

Tomas leaned against the wall as he swirled the wine in his glass. He had not been in a castle since the day he left the home of his father, and such a place aroused memories he would rather forget. Duchess Sera possessed more wealth than his father, Lord Valentin, and this ballroom clearly reflected such wealth. It was quite a large room and could easily hold a hundred people without being crowded. A roaring fireplace at the front of the room that a man could easily walk into was the only source of light, casting shadows into the far corners of the room. The ceiling arched several peds above his head, an example of dwarven architecture. Guards were posted at each columned entrance, wearing the livery of the duchy yet steel armor gleaned under each brightly colored tunic. Each one wielded a pike as was customary for the town guard, and their stances revealed that they were truly capable of wielding such a weapon efficiently. Their purpose was obviously to prevent the revelers from wandering aimlessly within the castle walls, and such a wanderer might happen upon a secret of the family. Such a wealthy family often had secrets that were buried deep within their past, and this one had more than most.

Servants mingled among the guests, bearing silver trays that held glasses of wine. The feast would not occur until after the wedding, and the guests would have to settle for wine at the moment. Several couples danced on the hard oak floor, dancing to the music played by an elven bard. The bard wandered all over the room, even passing between dancing couples as he played his harp. His face seemed to be lit with an inner light, and a smile crossed his face whenever someone requested a particular song. The royal families of Chylikis and Brinsley had thrown this betrothal ball to celebrate the arranged marriage of Duke Tasul'i and the Lady Fenyn. The marriage was only a week away, and each citizen was excited by the benefits this political union would bring. Such families rarely concerned themselves with human emotions, so it did not surprise the young noble to see such a marriage arranged without the consent of the bride.

It had been a strange turn of events that brought him to this ball in Chylikis. His horse, Chaos, currently resided in the stables of the castle, and his bastard sword, Bane, had been placed in the keeping of the guards. Weapons were not allowed in the presence of the royal families, for they feared an assassination attempt. It had not been his intent to attend a betrothal ball, but the castle had seemed to be the best place to seek shelter from the downpour of rain that impeded his journey south. He had not wished to leave his beautiful wife, Valannía, but his wanderlust had once again overcome his desires to live a simple life. He would return to her and his other wives someday, to think otherwise would severely depress him. His love for them burned constantly within his heart, and he would not abandon them. He left Cavthan with no clear direction in mind, only knowing that he desired to see what existed over the next horizon. His journey had been aimless, lacking a destination and only his guilty consciousness accompanied him. The leagues had passed quickly beneath the hooves of his feisty stallion, and only the sudden rain had halted his progress. Anyone that had met the young noble often claimed that he did not seek adventure, instead he fled from the demons of his past.  

[ratdragon]

Ratdragon's elegant form leaned against one of the high walls, slightly slumped. His cloak dripped drops of water onto the floor. He had donned his violet cloak over his purple cape in an attempt to keep the rain out. It hadn't been very successful. With his hood thrown back, Ratdragon scanned the large room with his violet eyes, his exotic gaze sweeping the ballroom. It was larger than most he'd been to in his long years of traveling. The fireplace alone was large enough for him to fit into. Guards wielding pikes barred the doors, and an elven bard weaved between the dancers. Grabbing a glass of wine off of a passing tray, Ratdragon mused over the events that had brought him here.

He had just gotten finished with a mercenary job and had ventured to this city. Unfortunately it started to rain, hard, and Ratdragon had no shelter. Hearing about the ball, he decided it was as good a place as any to take refuge from the downpour, and maybe something interesting might even happen. He was constantly on the lookout for things interesting and exciting, and this seemed an oppurtunity.

His huge riding snake, Rip Fang, was currently in the stables, though the horses and stablehands dissapproved of this. His eagle had flown off to hunt somewhere. Ratdragon was not happy with leaving his weapons behind, but seeing as they were not allowed inside the building, the elf had stripped off his arsenal of arms and stowed them in his saddlebags.

Sipping his wine slowly, Ratdragon awaited the Duke's arrival.

------------------
Beware the BladeSinger of the Silver Sword.

 RatDragon

[Aurelian Cyrosa Asaen]

Aurelian could not believe how advanced the guards’ vulgarity was when they delivered a summons from Duchess Rose to his chambers. Firstly they had not at all bothered to knock (or at least wait for an answer) and then, without even asking for forgiveness, informed him that he was to come down to the ballroom immediately. Aurelian in turn gave them a very thorough and ruthless tongue-lashing – which, he was now beginning to regret (the guards would not let him go back up to his chambers to refresh his cologne). Cyrosa did not find the tiniest fault in himself for his late arrival: To begin with, that dim attendant who was supposed to help with his hair appeared a full hour behind schedule. He wondered if it was possible for the Duchess to have handpicked someone more incompetent. Trying to curtsy, the foolish woman had emptied the entire bowl of herbal concoctions on Aurelian’s feet. Another two hours gone trying to clean the mess, retake a bath and prepare the infusion all over again… Further, the brazen woman had offered to assist him in bathing! However, even Cyrosa had to admit that she had a miraculous talent in hair-styling – he could not remember looking so remarkable with his richly wrought locks. The woman, once she finally started working, had even produced a sapphire headband (another gift from the Duchess) to match his sign of House.

Overall, as he walked across the ballroom to greet the other guests, Cyrosa was immensely satisfied with his appearance. The royal blue robe with its stylized, gold patterns turned out to be a most regal choice (although he still somewhat regretted not being able to wear his spilk clothes due to this terrible Sarvonian cold). It was worth all the trouble of having it fashioned in Voldar.

Once more he reflected on how morbid a place these Santharian – what were they called again? – ‘castles’ were. The halls were always dark with their accompanying cobwebs, a ceaseless freezing gust howled within the grounds, and perhaps most repulsing of all, an unseen mist of mold and decay hanged over everything. Aurelian could not imagine any of the Nybelmarian nobility living in such light forsaken, macabre dwellings (at least Anpagan keeps always proved to be intriguing with their endless puzzle-machineries and hidden contraptions). No wonder all the Santharian aristocracy drifted from one gloom to another depression – oh how he pitied the young Duke! He would forever be imprisoned within the dark halls of his state. The fearsome fireplace, as if to accentuate the sad fact, was casting sinister, dancing shadows all across the large chamber.

Suddenly he caught the Duchess’ glance from the other side of the hall and watched her interlace a path between the visitors. Aurelian carefully adjusted his spectacular amulet to catch the secretive light, and began his own intricate dance among the clustering nobility towards the Duchess.

[Gararion]

        Gararion stood by the fire, gazing into the flickering flames that seemed to stretch out towards him, almost as if they knew that the elf that stood before them was one with the air that they consumed with greed.  Memories of past nights spent within the Thirsty Herald on the outskirts of the desert that laid next to the great city of Strata.  The elven mage remembered friends from long lost adventures, some of which he had been through a great deal with.  

        The mage was attempting to dry himself off in the warmth of the fire, standing upon the stone hearth that stretched out form the fireplace.  It had just started to rain as he made his way to the ball, which seemed to gain more strength the closer he got to the castle.  Gararion had been travelling through Chylikis and was seeking shelter from the weather when he stumbled upon news of th ball within a tavern.  Upon asking direction, the mage headed for his new destination, hoping that this was the place he was seeking.

        As the mage come to the castle, he stopped, sheltered from the rain under the canopy of a rather large tree.  As he travelled through the city, his staff had granted him various glances from peasant and royalty alike.  With this thought on hand, Gararion spoke a few words of Styrásh, concealing the blue flames that engulfed his staff from sight, he hoped that this would reduce the chance that his staff would cause him any hassel as he seeked entrance to the ball.

        As a servant passed by, offering the mage a glass of the fine wine that their hosts were offering, Gararion could only hope hat the servants at the door would follow his word for their own sake as he lifted a glass lightly from the serving tray and watched as the servant moved onto the next guest.  Gararion minds trailed back to his admittance within the castle.  

        As Gararion made his way through the massive open gates that would normally block entrance into the castle, several servants welcomed Gararion, while a guard requested that the mage hand over his staff.  After a brief moment of attempted persuasion failed, Gararion placed his staff by the door and insisted that it not be moved by anyone, wether they listened or not Gararion would surely find out sooner or later.

        His mind drifting back to his present location, Gararion glanced about the ball room at the various guest of the room.  The mage hismelf wore his normal outfit, though slightly different in appearance through the use of several spells of illusion.  His outfit was fashion out of snug leather.  Black leather strings crossed between the eyelets that ran down the center of his chest.  His shoulders were covered in several 'armored' stiffened leather plates, similar softer plates ran down his arm to his elbow, where they were met by plates that ran in the opposit direction attached to his forearms.  The black cloak that he would normally wore was left at the door with his staff, in its place was one of the magical illusions that he had woven into his clothing, a transaprent cape with viens of golden color that seemed to swim within the 'fabric' as it moved.  What other illsuons the wizard had woven into his attire was not certain, though he looked in place in his dark attire nevertheless.

        As another servant passed by the fire, Gararion signaled him over to replenish his wine with a new glass and inquire when would this celebration commence.

Edited by: Gararion  at: 8/29/05 21:18

[Tomás Valentín]

Duchess Sera:
Sera smiled broadly as she wove among the guests. Her hair was fashionably coiled on her head, and golden earrings descended from her ears. The seamstress had fashioned a silver dress especially for this occasion, it was radiant as it reflected the firelight. She did not know all the guests present at the ball, but that was to be expected as a duchess could not personally know all her subjects. She was pleasantly surprised to see a few elves among the guests, for she had always been fond of that fair race. There were even rumors that the half-elf Xalan was her lover, she neither denied nor confirmed such rumors as her love life was not the business of the people. Just recently a noble from Nybelmar had become a guest of the castle. He seemed to be a little odd, but she assumed that was the manner in which nobles behaved on Nybelmar. She had been polite and courteous, even sending him several expensive gifts. He had never been rude, but his shrewd glances around the castle seemed to imply that she and her family were uncivilized. In truth, he was the guest of her son, but Tasul'i had not been well in the past few years. The duchess was often the one truly ruling the people and attending to affairs of state. She noticed him across the ball room and began to walk toward him. He seemed to have an arrogant attitude, but it was her duty to accommodate guests. She met him halfway in the middle of the ballroom and curtsied gracefully.

"Hello, Aurelian. Are you enjoying the ball? We are celebrating the betrothal of my son to the Lady Fenyn. I am pleased that you chose to grace us with your presence."       

Lady Yijeni:
Yijeni walked among the guests, searching for a handsome man to dance with. Her sister called her a flirt, but that simply was not true. Yijeni enjoyed the company of men, and she especially enjoyed the company of handsome men. There were elves among the guests, and she had never danced with an elf before. One elf seemed to be garbed in strange clothing, and she had no desire to go anywhere near that one. Her green eyes soon came to rest upon a younger elf with golden spiked hair tipped with purple. His violet eyes were mesmerizing as she stared into their depths. Her heart began to flutter within her chest, and she gracefully walked toward him. She did not want to marry, instead she wanted to have fun with as many men as she possibly could. Some men believed that she was a whore, but she had never lain with a man and did not intend to in the near future. It would not be proper for an unwed lady to be alone with a man. She stood before him as he leaned against the wall. Her delicate hand tucked her black hair behind her ear as she spoke.

“Hello, sir elf. I am Lady Yijeni. Might I inquire as to what your name might be? Also, would you like to dance?”

Without waiting for his answer, she grabbed his hand and lead him onto the dance floor. She figured they could talk as they danced, and she did not want to waste time standing around. Her slender fingers interlocked behind his neck as she slowly began to dance.

Advisor Xalan:
Xalan stalked through the crowd, with a scowl on his face. He did not enjoy such social gatherings, as he considered them to be loud and tedious. A servant passed carrying a tray of wine, and he took a goblet for himself. A few of the guests actually appeared to be intelligent, and that was a rare feat in the small city of Chylikis. A few of the guests were elves, and they had always intrigued him. Running a hand over one pointed ear, he considered his own heritage. He had never known his father, as his mother had been a prostitute. She had been dust for more than two centuries, and he did not miss her. It was possible that his father still lived, as elves were often long lived, but he had no desire to meet the elf. He considered his father to be scum that was desperate enough to hire a prostitute. He noticed an odd looking elf standing near the fire, with a strange cape that had to be magical in its origin. So, it seemed an elven mage had decided to grace the ball. Surely the mage would possess some intelligence. He walked toward him and was soon standing before Gararion. Noticing a servant nearby, he motioned him forward to refill his glass and then sent him on his way. They were drones that barely deserved the meager wages that were paid to them.

“The wise stand among the foolish, that is a rare occurrence. The acorn does not fall far from the tree, but your eyes will see that soon enough.”

Edited by: Tomas Valentin at: 8/29/05 22:15

[Tomás Valentín]

Tomas was not content as he leaned against the wall. There were several beautiful ladies in the ballroom, but he missed his wives. He would do anything to see Nisa, Aria, and Valannía again, the few months that he had spent with each one had been the happiest times in his life. He hated that he was forced by his desires to leave each one, and the guilt of leaving them alone to raise any children he may have father weighed heavily upon his soul. He often wrote letters to them, and he swore he would return to each wife someday and deliver the letters. They contained every feeling he had for each woman, and a few were even stained with his tears. He did not believe that he would be cheating if he danced with a woman tonight, but these women reminded him of those that often visited the home of his father. They wanted to be seen and to marry wealthy men, he sometimes doubted that a thought ever crossed their minds. Most women considered him to be handsome, and he noticed quite a few staring at him as they whisper amongst themselves. Soon one would work up the courage to approach him, and out of courtesy he would be forced to dance with her. He noticed a woman sitting alone, not enjoying the ball. Curious as to what could be bothering her, he walked across the room and kneeled before her. He looked into deep brown eyes, and it felt as though lightning had struck. The firelight was reflected in her auburn locks, and he longed to softly stroke them as she told him of her woes. He had felt like this four times before in his life, and he knew it to be love. There was no other emotion as subtle nor was there another emotion that so ruthlessly swept him off his feet. He was bewildered as to how he could love several women equally but in different ways, but he knew what his heart wanted. It was agony to see such a fair creature in pain, and his hand gently clasped her delicate hands as they were balled in her lap.

“Might I inquire as to what woes are troubling you? Maybe I can help.”

Lady Fenyn:
Fenyn sat alone as she considered her options. She did not want to marry Duke Tasul'i, but her father had given her no choice in the matter. It was her duty to the family to marry an important noble, and her father had been delighted when Tasul'i asked for her hand in marriage. She was horrified at the idea, for she wanted to marry for love. She did not love Tasul'i and she did not believe that she ever would. Several rumors about his temperament circulated the town, and she was terrified of the young man. She could run away, but she did not know how to survive in the wilderness and feared being attacked by bandits. It was not in her nature to harm another living creature, and she would not even consider poisoning Tasul'i. There had to be a way out of the marriage, but whatever the solution was: it remained beyond her grasp. She jumped as she felt a hand close over her own, and she looked up to stare into hazel eyes. He had to be the most handsome man she had ever met, and he appeared to be capable of taking care of himself. If his soul matched his outer appearance, then perhaps Ava had blessed her and sent her a savior.

"This ball is intended to celebrate my betrothal to Duke Tasul'i, but I do not believe such an event should be celebrated. I would rather throw myself from the castle walls than to marry a man that I do not love. My father is adamant in his belief that the marriage will be for the good for our people, but I know he lusts after power. I'm sorry, I shouldn't burden you with my troubles."

[Aurelian Cyrosa Asaen]

At last the Duchess immerged from behind the constellation of hoisted curls. Upon seeing him she curtsied politely:

"Hello, Aurelian. Are you enjoying the ball? We are celebrating the betrothal of my son to the Lady Fenyn. I am pleased that you chose to grace us with your presence."  

Three insults in four simple sentences; Duchess Sera should be awarded with a medal for subtle indictment. Cyrosa had to suppress a mental grimace and refrained from correcting the mode of address to “Lord Aurelian”. We are celebrating the betrothal of my son to Lady Fenyn. How skillfully did the late Duchess reduce him to an ignorant fool! Of course he knew the ball was in honor of the recent marriage – for the sake of Ankriss he had been staying at the castle for a full week by now! Although he saw little to celebrate in the occasion as neither party’s consent had been asked (and thus it was not likely to be an emotionally fruitful alliance) Aurelian fully understood its importance. A dear price the aristocracy paid, their marriages were ultimately marriages of (or in certain cases ‘for’) power. He could follow, even in this alien land, the political corollaries ensuing from such a union. ‘I am pleased that you chose to grace us with your presence. Of course you would be pleased,’ Cyrosa murmured within his mind. As if he had been offered the option of refusal after such a noble message heralded by three uncouth monsters! Not that he would miss the public attention. He merely found it rather irritating that the Duchess, throughout his stay, insisted in playing at such petty games to reinsert her authority.

It had cost Aurelian no more than a measly fraction of a shade-blink to orchestrate this round of mild resentment. When he returned the Duchess’ curtsy with the stateliest of Nybelmar (which almost a short dance in itself) nothing of his previous state of mind showed. With his most charming smile Aurelian fashioned his response:

“Ankriss set your path Duchess; may your gardens be ever blooming. I am grateful that you found me worthy of extended generosity. Indeed I am most grateful! Let the land crown this union with its flowering bequest! Speaking of which – if you would not deem it ill-mannered of me to inquire; I have not been successful so far at locating the Duke. The birds of bliss wonder where the proud husband keeps.”

[ratdragon]

Ratdragon stares watches the other guests with interest. There was at least one other elf, and a gray-haired half-elf. Before Ratdragon could analyze much further, however, a young girl with long dark hair inquired his name. What's more, she grabbed his hand drew him to the dance floor, causing him to drop his half-full wine glass. The girl wrapped her arms around his neck and started to dance.

Ratdragon was quite disturbed by this, seeing as he was quite shy around females, especially around assertive ones. Staring into her dark eyes, Ratdragon realized that she was very young, which for humans was infinitely young. Shakily, Ratdragon intoned his name, " M-my name is Ratdragon, Blade Singer of the Silver Sword, Lady.

Still quite uncomfortable, Ratdragon decided to make the best of it. He did enjoy dancing afterall, and did so with his intricate, refined grace.

[Tomás Valentín]

Duchess Sera:
Sera grimaced slightly as Aurelian began to bow in an odd fashion, it seemed to be a dance in the movements and time required to complete it. It may have been court manners in Nybelmar, but she found it to be strange and flamboyant. It was her duty as the Duchess to accept such guests into her home, but she would be glad when he finally left. He had been staying in the guest chambers for the past week and showed no indication of leaving soon. She had given him expensive gifts, hoping that he would accept them and quit her home. Her servants were exhausted due to his constant demands, and she feared that they would inflict physical harm upon him. It was not unknown for servants to attack their masters, and he had surely given them enough reasons. Sera would even condone such behaviour, if it guaranteed that he would leave her home and her city. She forced herself to smile as she replied to her unwelcome guest.

"Duke Tasul'i comes and goes as he pleases, there is no telling when he will arrive. I hope he is in a good mood, but he has had a quick temper as of late."

Lady Yijeni:
Yijeni smiled as he told her his name. She did not care what his name was, her only concern was that he was pleasing to look at. She giggled softly as he danced with her, she had never known a male could be this graceful. It must be his elven heritage that lent him such lithe grace, elves truly were the fairest race. She stared deep into his violet eyes and imagined the life they could have together. He would work each day and come home to a warm meal and their children. There were half-elves in the city, so she knew such a union was possible. They would have twins, a boy and a girl. The boy would be just like his father, handsome and graceful. The family would live beside a small brook, and she would listen to it each night as he held her in his strong arms. They would truly be content, and he would love her for eternity. The day that he stopped loving her would be the day that he stopped breathing. She would not live with a husband that did not love her, though she would cry as she buried the mutilated corpse. Her children would always wonder what had become of their father, and she would tell them that he had a hunting accident. It would not be the truth, but it would give them closure.

"Hello, Ratdragon.You are quite a graceful dancer. We will be happy together. I wonder if the children would have your pointed ears."

[Tomás Valentín]

Duke Tasul'i:
Tasul'i paced back and forth in his room, considering the ball that was taking place below him. It was meant to celebrate his recent acquisition of Lady Fenyn, but he saw no reason to celebrate the union. It was a political alliance, and nothing more. He did not love her, but he would greatly enjoy their wedding night. He had to admit, if only to himself, that she was quite beautiful, and there were far uglier women that he might have been forced to marry. His luck had been with him when the duke of Brinsley had such a beautiful daughter. Duke Tylithis was a fool, but at least he knew how to tame his wife. His harlem was quite impressive, and Tasul'i intended to have one in the near future. His harlem would shame that of Duke Tylithis, with exotic women from each corner of Caelereth. He would even have elves to tend to his needs, and he ran a hand over one pointed ear as he considered his own heritage. The man that he had accidently killed in a hunting accident could not have been his father, for he clearly had elven blood running in his veins. According to the rumors, Advisor Xalan was his father, but he could not believe that his mother would touch someone as old as Xalan. Surely his mother had consoled herself with another elf sometime before his birth. He was curious as to whom his true father was, but it really did not concern him. He was the duke of Chylikis, and no one could doubt his claim to the duchy.

Deciding that he should attend the ball held in his honor, he silently stalked down the stone steps. Maybe he would even enjoy dancing with his future bride, Lady Fenyn. He arrived to find the ballroom filled with guests, and many of them danced as couples on the wooden floor. His gaze came to rest upon Lady Fenyn, and a rage pervaded his soul as he saw another man kneeling before her. He walked briskly toward them, and crossed his arms as he stared down at Tomas.

"You dare to propose to my fiancé? Infidel! You will pay with your life! Guards! Take him to the dungeon!"

Tasul'i sat down next to Lady Fenyn and placed an arm on her shoulders as the guards arrived. He would not allow any man to steal his property.

[Tomás Valentín]

Tomas kneeled before Fenyn as she told him of her woes. No woman should be forced to marry someone that she did not love, but it was something that he had often seen as he grew up in the home of his father. Such marriages were arranged for the benefit of the families, and the emotions of the individuals involved was never taken into consideration. He considered it to be a flawed method in obtaining power, but he had never desired power. His father was a ruthless man that would do anything to advance among the nobles of Milkengrad, but Tomas was nothing like him. He truly could understand her issues with her father, and he would do anything to help her. Maybe he should saddle Chaos and find some way to sneak her out of the castle. It was not a perfect solution as she would be forced to leave her family, but flight was the best plan he could think of. He could challenge Tasul'i to a duel, but a duke would most likely name a champion. It would not help Fenyn if he defeated Tasul'i's champion, but there were other ways to kill a noble. No, he would not kill Tasul'i. He regretted the death of every man he had been forced to kill, and he would not gladly add to that list.

His eyes widened in shock as he noticed Tasul'i standing behind him. He had never met the duke, but such rage could not belong to anyone else. He was about to stand and deny the duke's accusations when he felt strong hands grasp him by the arms. A guard stood on each side of him, and he looked into the eyes of the one on his right only to realize that he did not feel pity. Such hardened men would think nothing of throwing an innocent man in the dungeon. They led him from the ballroom with his hands held firmly behind his back, and he was pleasantly surprised as they thrust him into an empty room. The guard spoke in a gruff tone that lacked all emotion.

"Yer lucky the dungeon is full, otherwise ye'd be spending the night with the rats. The executions tomorrow morning should leave ye with an empty cell."

The room clearly was intended for storage, though it was nearly empty save for a couple of chairs. The walls were bare stone, lacking all decoration, and their starkness fit his mood. He was worried about Fenyn, for he had last seen her sitting next to Tasul'i. He did not trust the duke to be kind to Fenyn, but there was little he could do from this room. Hoping for a slight miracle, he leaned against the door and found it to be soundly locked. The guards had locked the door behind them, and it was obvious that he was not intended to escape. Placing a chair against the far wall, he sat down and faced the door. He would be prepared for anyone that decided to visit him, and he would not be surprised if Tasul'i cast more guests into this room.

[ratdragon]

Ratdragon continued to dance, slightly nervously. Hearing the girl giggle softly Ratdragon flicked his ears in annoyance. Was she laughing at him? Looking down at her, Ratdragon wondered why she was staring into his eyes so strangely. Quite uncomfortable, Ratdragon mentally kept a look out for a means of escape. Not that dancing with her wasn't pleasant, but she was making him feel uneasy.

As she spoke Ratdragon's large, almond shaped eyes grew wide with fear and surprise. He didn't mind her commenting on his dancing, but the rest of her short speech deeply disturbed him. "Er.. thanks. H-happy together? I suppose my children would have pointed ears. Ratdragon said helplessly, his fear of females urging him to run, but his gallantry and kindness forbidded him to be so rude.

Seeing a man with long red hair enter and call the guards upon another man Ratdragon had noticed earlier, the elf's interest was sparked. This party was getting more interesting. In a desperate attempt to change the subject, Ratdragon turned back to the girl. "Is that the duke, lady? And who is the man being dragged away by the guards?"

------------------
Beware the BladeSinger of the Silver Sword.

 RatDragon

Edited by: ratdragon  at: 8/31/05 21:53

[Tomás Valentín]

Duke Tasul'i:
Tasul'i left Fenyn as she wept silently into her hands, for he had no desire to be around a woman when she was crying. He began to search the crowd for his whore of a mother. His resentment clearly shone in his eyes, and he hated her for the one act of passion that lead others to believe that he was not the son of the man he had killed years ago. It had been a simple hunting accident, but he could not help but believe that he had murdered his father. He finally located his mother, and she was talking to that fool, Aurelian. He had been a guest of the family for a week, and Tasul'i had wanted to strangle him for several days. Most people believed he had violent tendecies and stayed away from him whenever he was in a foul mood, but such moods were often unpredictable. He stalked toward his mother and Aurelian, arriving only to hear his mother describe his temper. A quick temper? He would not tolerate such disrespect in his own home! She was beyond his reach, as the people loved and respected her. The fool had no such protection against his rage. He could simply imprison Aurelian, but it would be better if the people hated him as well and did not view him as a matyr. The idea struck him like a bolt of lightning. He would claim that Aurelian insulted Duchess Sera, and only Sera's word could prove his innocence. She feared her son far too much for her to confront him on such a small matter. He motioned for a pair of guards to approach and shouted in a voice that could be heard throughout the ballroom.

"You dare to insult Duchess Sera? You will pay for such insolence! Guards! Imprison him with the other infidel!"

Tasul'i turned his back, clearly unconcerned as the guards led Aurelian away.

Lady Yijeni:
She leaned into Ratdragon, wanting to be as close to him as she possible could. Her arms slipped from around his neck and wrapped around his torso. She held onto him and laid her head on his broad chest. She smiled as she heard his lovely heart beating in his chest. She could just imagine him loving her and if he didn’t, then she would merely be forced to cut out his heart while it was still beating. She would carry the heart with her wherever she went, so that she could always be close to her elven warrior. She nuzzled her head against his chest, causing her dark hair to brush against his lips. It was a moment before she realized that he had asked her a question. She leaned away from him and once again looked up into his eyes.

“Hmmm? Yeah, that lunatic is the duke. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but everyone says he’s insane. The man? The only thing I know about him is that he is incredibly handsome, but of course you are cuter, my dear husband.”

She held onto Ratdragon with as much force as a young girl possesses and pressed her body against his. She would not let him get away, and he would become her husband. They would have their quiet life by a stream, and he would give her the gift of twins. It would be a simple wedding, nothing more than herself, Ratdragon, her family, and a few hundred people. They would be married in the home of her father, and she would do anything to ensure that her elven warrior stayed true to his vows.

Edited by: Tomas Valentin at: 8/31/05 22:15

[ratdragon]

Watching curiously as yet a second man was carried away by the guards, Ratdragon became aware of the girl leaning into him as her arms left his next to slip around torso. His heart skipped a few beats, and then started beating quite a bit quicker.

The girl looked up at him and answered his question, “Hmmm? Yeah, that lunatic is the duke. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but everyone says he’s insane. The man? The only thing I know about him is that he is incredibly handsome, but of course you are cuter, my dear husband.”

At the mention of husband, Ratdragon's heart started drumming rapidly inside his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. Breathing became somewhat more difficult as the girl tightened her grip around him, apparently using all the strength in her small arms. Ratdragon was on the verge of panic, he barely even knew this girl! In a shaken voice, Ratdragon replied, Hu-husband?... We don't even know each other, we just met! Frantically trying to breathe, Ratdragon's violet eyes were filled with a mix of amusement and horror.

------------------
Beware the BladeSinger of the Silver Sword.

 RatDragon

[Aurelian Cyrosa Asaen]

Aurelian heard Tasul’i’s approaching footsteps even as he was midway through the majestic salutation. Spinning around on his heel, he turned to meet the Duke. Catching the frenzied gleam in his eyes, Aurelian silently cursed “Too late now…” Before he could open his mouth to smooth the atmosphere (or for that matter reach into his hidden torso pouch for a strong calming herb) the Duke barked, "You dare to insult Duchess Sera? You will pay for such insolence! Guards! Imprison him with the other infidel!" Aurelian’s thoughts raced each other like Anpagan trade galleys competing for the Zhunite harbors: Stupid Duchess, as if you HAD to spark off his temper now! Arguing will only aggravate the matters now, placing him at an even lower standing with the other guests. Denial is sign of guilt. How can I get a pigeon to uncle Coren before I end up in the dungeons? END UP IN THE DUNGEONS! OUTRAGEOUS! Gather yourself at once Aurelian – will you let green Sarvonian posh out-maneuver you? The Duchess holds the only rope out - but can I supersede all her aversion towards my superiority and her chains of fear? Aurelian replied almost instantly trying to appear as undisturbed as a cat whose play rat had been replaced by a warm bowl of milk. Years of rhetoric finally recompensed as words poured out of his mouth with all the force and poise of the gushing Rhsall, “My dear Tasul’i I am confident you will see things clearly once the fever wears out. Try not to exert yourself too dearly tonight, or else the sickness may bud.” The guards stood at five paces hindered by a drunk Sir Valhk mistaking them for his sons. The proud Asaen knelt gracefully before the Duchess, “My lady…” Cyrosa whispered swiftly towards Duchess Sera as he rose: Seeds of integrity upon your heart. Ankriss! Uphold my vow! He could only hope the Duchess was familiar enough with Nybelmar to recognize the gravity of the warning…

Aurelian breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that the approaching guards were the only two sentries he was on bright grounds with: Thomas and Velsch. He silently thanked the High Goddess that he had offered the men a cup of his finest wine when they carried his standing mirror to the upper guestroom two nights ago. “Ah Thomas! Velsch! What a pleasant surprise to see you here among us! I fear I am feeling somewhat dizzy after all this fabulous wine– would you care to escort me out of this hall?” Aurelian bit back a retort as the guards took him roughly by the arms and led him out. They can be dealt with, either with the charm of gold or… Well, let us hope it would not come to that.

Turning to the guards he added, “Poor Tasul’i… The weather must have deteriorated his… condition. Between you and me, he has become rather moody these days…” Lucky the Duke was arrogant enough to have turned his back instantly. He feverishly hoped the guards picked up the queue. It had been very imprudent of the Duke (and very fortunate for Aurelian) to order the full guard to run in blind circles last week when he suddenly decided that their bows were not low enough. Obviously the Duke never tried to curtsy in full plate mail… “Surely he had a quiet, undisturbed room in mind when he requested your assistance. (He slipped three fat golden-bards into each guard’s pocket) I will gladly follow to save you (a small pouch entered the guards’ belts and was swiftly taken away) from further -irrational, if I may add – mistreatment. And none of us would want to deal with any unpleasant consequences resulting from locking Lord Coren’s nephew away in a cell, would we? (The clinking pouch finally made it into the sentries’ possession)” The two mumbled something incomprehensible and tried (awfully ineptly) to stifle the intensifying smirk. An empty, almost idiotic grin dominated their faces as they were handed over a sum handsomer than their monthly pension. Aurelian, feeling very ill at ease by the concept of having offered a bribe, reasoned that this new fragrance sent all the way from Elving perhaps truly did have the hypnotic effects the greedy merchant advertised.

Seeing that he was brought before a locked door instead of the stark entry to the prisons, Aurelian cast a warm smile at Welsch (Thomas was busy sorting out keys). “Once you help me settle in, perhaps you would like to sprint upstairs to my chambers and grab that most excellent Anpagan wine from behind my dressing cabinet? It’s in the third drawer from the bottom. Make sure you kick the horrid breakfront; otherwise your attempts at retrieving the bottle may prove unsuccessful. I know, horrible isn’t it, this Nybelmarian artisanship? Oh, I am sure our night here will be as remarkable as, if not more exciting that down the ballroom, yes?” One down, Aurelian thought. Never play around with Anpagan machinery…

Edited by: Tomas Valentin at: 9/2/05 18:39

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