Open Chronicles Two-Faced Lover

[Former and the Foal]

»ONE ALE FOR THE BIG UN,« the bartender hollered as he launched a fat mug sliding down for Thrukk Guldarp .
It slid gracefully and smoothly across the counter. The counter which was probably...most likely, definitely the only sterile thing in this locale.
One of the cutesy servers was quick to intercept it and haul it and many more stacked in a pyramid-like arrangement.
They were quite heavy, but so was the elf girl serving. She was also quite busty and freckled on her face.
Some would say she's quite a looker, though she was somewhat unusual compared to her sylvan cousins.

»Here you go sweetcheeks,« the girl winked as she set down the mug for the handsome ogre.
And as quick as it was set down, the long nose of a giant horse already pushed itself into the mug.

 

[Dearien Verook]

A soft smile of relief crossed his lips once he saw that neither the woman nor the man she was with, were going to be hostile.

"No, that's not what I meant. I mean, I'm sure you are. It's just- " He paused lifting his wooden leg an inch or two off the floor and pointing to it, "I have one too." The wooden prothetic did not quite fit the shape of a foot and there was no shoe. Instead, it curved around in an upside-down hook shape vaguely reminiscent of a leg and foot, with the curve bending slightly with his weight.

"Is your's enchanted? I've been trying to fix the enchantment on mine for a while. Though I imagine an arm is more complicated than a leg." He had to stop himself from trailing off on a tangent his head snapping back up, actually making eye contact with the woman for the first time.

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Majister elbowed Hillby--the closest, him sitting on Majister's right and one of the empty seats on his left--and motioned with his head toward the troll. Oh yes, the troll was quite the sight. How could he not be, with such girth and mass and sheer impressive verticality. He'd been crushing a fair number of drunken and emboldened takers at arm wrestling ever since Majister and his raiders arrived, but now it looked like he might have a decent opponent. An ogre. How splendid!

"Hillby, my good man, what say you to a small wager?"

Hillby chuckled. "Shit, bossman, ya oughta be talkin to Darla bout that, seein how she come into such good fortunes as of late."

"Hm. Yes. Solid point." Majister glanced across the table to her. "Darla."

She pretended not to hear him. But her lips pursed when he mentioned her name.

"Oh Darla..." He cooed.

"What."

"Surely you wouldn't be adverse to a little wager, hmm?"

She groaned. "But I just got all this coin. There's things I want to buy."

"Mostly my coin," said Krull, with a serene and smiling resignation (Hillby: "Hey, mine too, ya ballsack"). "I welcomed bad fortune by gloating. Unbalanced my flow."

With a little flourish of his hand, Majister pressed two crowns down onto the table, the sound of metal against wood distinct even in their loud environs. "A small and friendly wager, my dear. All for a spot of delightful fun and investment in the goings-on of this squalid establishment."

Darla did that thing where she pulled her lips to one side of her face as she thought hard. Then she said, "Alright. Fine. Two crowns on the ogre," and placed her own on the table.

"The ogre?" said Padre. "Might as well have bet on the horse over there."

Yes, there was a horse. Drinking somebody's ale. Peculiar, that, but perhaps not so much for The Shallows.

Majister grinned, and he laid an arm on the top of his seatback. "Now that's the spirit, Darla! Let's enjoy the show, shall we?"

And Majister and his whole table were all looking toward the troll, each with a vivid interest.

Tol Thrukk Guldarp The Steed of Hellet

 

[Jakub Bram]

Hey! He knew him! His eyes quickly spotted Tol and he squeezed his way through the crowd, flagon raised. Tol was participating in a bit of arm wrestling, not that he was stupid enough to face him, even while tipsy. “How ya doin Tol!” He managed to get out. "Arm wrestlin' huh? Obviously nobody's had much luck."

Thrukk Guldarp The Steed of Hellet Mathis Majister Mejeure

 

[Amalia Rosethorn]

"Well, pardon me." Her eyebrow raising from behind her mask. Not much of a charmer, was he? Blunt. She didn't mind. Though she preferred sharp. Not welcoming to the presence of strangers. Okay. Tone her advances back a bit. Let him realize she wasn't alike the rest of the crowd. She wasn't. She wasn't. SHE WASN'T LIKE THEM. Her neck cocked a bit as she followed his step off the wall with a far too large swig of champagne.

"I meant no harm. Though it's not common to be here without a partner. You get stood up, too?" She was lying on her end, but it gave her enough of a normal reason to have approached him to begin with. And with how aggressive her approach was. An abandoned pretty girl left to her own devices with no warning that it would occur to begin with. Yeah. That was enough of an alibi. Not an odd occurrence in the world of the high and mighty.

"Just thought some company could be good for the both of us. I apologize for my desperate opening. A girl's been drinking." She extended a hand his way with a polite and an lax posture. "Amalia, you?"

Faurosk

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Cleo watched, very confused by everything going on right now. Admittedly, it usually didn't take much to confuse her, but this was taking the cake in a most fascinating way. He talked really fast, and she was finding it hard to keep up all things considered. She let him finish his little shpeel, as he offered his hand to her. There really was a lot to unpack.

"Did... Did you just shove a potato full of glass into your pocket?" She asked, leaning to the side as if trying to see for herself. That, was strange. "And... You cast magic with potatoes... Actually, to be honest with you I find it very... Uncomfortable?" She asked, thinking about the whole situation. She found it all very uncomfortable to be entirely honest. "Uh, I'm really glad to make your acquaintance Steve the Spudmancer! I am going to have to decline for the moment though! There are just so many possible friends to make! I just can't stop at one!" She said happily, waving at him. "Thank you for helping me with my tongue though! That was almost awkward!"

 

[Fife]

Fife was practically glued to the seat in the carriage. It had been fine when she'd been getting dressed, but somewhere along the ride to the ball she'd started getting a little motion sick. Or perhaps nervous. The carriage had made her feel strange, unaccustomed to riding anything she wasn't in control of. But she was also starting to feel anxious, irrational fears twisting her guts into knots.

She was fine. As long as she stuck to Raigryn's side, what could she possibly have to worry about? She'd picked a dress that fit all of her criteria to feel comfortable -- sleeves, high neckline, floor length. It was horrendously feminine, and she'd forgone her usual practice of binding her chest so she looked like a girl instead of a boy.

Not a girl, exactly. She hadn't ever thought of herself as a young woman, always trying her best to hide any shred of her female form to pass on the streets. But buttoned into this scarlet gown, her hair brushed and left loose about her face, she certainly looked like a young woman instead of the boy who had tagged along at Raigryn's side for the better part of a year.

It was as terrifying as it was exciting. Hence why he was having to coax her out.

But Fife was more afraid of causing a scene than actually going, so she reached for Raigryn's hand and stepped down. Behind her mask she looked around, taking it all in. She'd seen some fancy affairs in Elbion; parties were good places to slip deft fingers into pockets and coin purses. However, she'd never been to anything like this formally. As nervous as she was, she still looked up at Raigryn with a small smile of excitement.

// Raigryn Vayd //​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

It was the difference between seeing a wall in the distance and running straight into it. You could see the distant barrier, you were fairly sure it existed but it was some fact to be stored away. Running into a wall meant colliding with the harsh reality that was a wall. It was full of rocks, it was tall, it hurt a very great deal to run into.

That was the reality of the day. Finding out that his travelling companion of a year was not a boy, but a young woman was a rather starling revelation. However today was the day he was struck very firmly by that reality.

"You look lovely," he said softly with a nod of his head. He decided not to labour that point and turned to walk up the stairs, lightly holding her hand. "Now just remember half the people on the dance floor will also be terrified they don't know the steps so don't worry if you feel the same."

 

[Thrukk Guldarp]

OGRE TEST YA STRENGTH AGAINST TOL DA BULL. IF YA WIN NEXT ROUND ON TOL"

"Aye, lit me finish mah swally!" Thrukk called out. How had someone even fit that troll in the door. Surely they would have needed to take an entire wall off the establishment to get it inside. For the first time Thrukk's confidence faltered, not that he was about to let it show. Hopefully the thing didn't tear his whole arm off.

And as quick as it was set down, the long nose of a giant horse already pushed itself into the mug.

Thrukk had been giving the waitress a friendly smack on the arse as she walked away when the horse plunged its nose into the beer.

"Whit the fuck is thes?" he cried out. "Whit divit let a horse in?"

At first he was outraged and then he let out a great belly laugh. For some reason the idea of an alcohol addicted horse living in a pub tickled him. Still, the animal needed to get away from his beer. It was a beast and needed to know who was boss.

He grabbed it roughly by the mane and yanked its head out of the mug.

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Melody was determined to make the most of tonight.

It wasn't often that she was "let out." Technically speaking she hadn't been tonight, either, but she had made certain that Faith could not fall asleep before sunset this evening. The news of the party and the excitement therein had kept her active, and although Faith would be very cross with her come morning, it would all be worth it.

She almost skipped down the dirty streets, watching with wide eyes the raucous, filthy populace. As she grew closer to the epicentre, the debauchery only increased. Everyone was moving towards some place called the Lucky Heron, and Melody, grinning impishly, hurried inside.

It was spectacular. So many colors, so many smells! A devious-looking group playing cards, quite a looker amongst them, and... what?? She had never seen a troll before, but his bellowing shook her bones.

"OGRE TEST YA STRENGTH AGAINST TOL DA BULL. IF YA WIN NEXT ROUND ON TOL"

She could not contain her excitement, and she yelled "Yes! Face him!!"

Seeing that bets were being wagered now at the card table, she strode over, placing down two coins that Faith had probably earned honestly. "Everything on the big one." She said, looking Majister dead in the eye.

 

[Fife]

If there was anything that Fife did well, it was probably gawking. She liked seeing new things. Raigryn led her by the hand toward the steps and she let her eyes wander as he did because, once they hit said steps, she was going to be spending more time than not looking at her feet so she didn't trip on the front of this dress.

Her cheeks were red, a result of mixed excitement and nervousness. A little bit of self-consciousness when he told her she looked nice. Lovely. Fife, personally, was reminded of a fairy tale where some mice had been made into people for an evening. The look she gave him was dubious, but she grinned a bit wider nonetheless.

Raising a hand, she pointed to him and gave a thumb up. You too. She only hand one hand, so she was trying to be economic with her signs. Smile widening and a brow rising behind her mask, she indicated him, combed her fingers through the air, pointed to him again, then made a scraggly beard sign of wriggling her fingers at her chin. You brushed your beard. She had to make jokes about his beard or she simply wasn't herself.

The advice on dancing, she remarked mentally, wouldn't be necessary. Fife had zero intention of dancing. She was a habitual spectator and would be just fine watching from the side. She'd danced as a child, and in the throes of rare elation a few times since, but never in a formal sense -- hardly knew how. Shaking her head, she picked up her skirt and focused on climbing the stairs.

// Raigryn Vayd //​

 

[Otto von Stehlen]

"You ready for this?"

"..."

"Heh, I'm going to take that as a yes....I must say, it's been quite the long time since I've been to a formal get-together. I hear these Easterners don't quite hold up in the party department when compared to how we do it in the West."

"Trust when I say your not missing out much...it's often nothing more then a couple of rich snobs and elites whom had decided that they'd rather use public funds for needless lavish party that serves very little practical purpose outside of excessive luxuries..."

"Was there every such thing as "public funds" in the vocabulary of the aristocracy? Or were they more content with taking the pie and running with it."

"What do you think?...Also, are these skulls really necessary?"

"Hey, it gives adds to your uniqueness and flare...it'll certainly turn a few heads, and if we're lucky, keep a few of the overcompensating ones away...besides, it is rather fitting for you."

"Is it?"

"Well, your face does ruin the entire outfit...so, perhaps not? But fear not, I've got you covered...*shuffles*..."

"What is...this?"

"It's your mask, it's masquerade ball after all. See, I got my own."

"But why does mine cover the entire face? And why does it look like that?"

"Well, because since you have such a stoneface, I figured we'd upgrade it to a marble face! Tehehe~"

"..."

"You know...you use to smile."

"And you use to be hairless."

"Hmhm...touche...You know, I truly did miss our conversation..."

"Nevermind "this"...do you have our way into the ball?"

"Of course I have our way in...though I cannot say it was difficult to gain access...but I'm guessing your little "friend" will probably be mingling in the VIP section...from what I could gather, this Lord Harlington quite the interesting company...which only serves to reinforce your little theory...though I'll admit, this seems a bit too impromptu for the likes of you...especially considering your sovereign status..."

"There is no doubt in my mind that this is far beyond reckless...but we cannot allow this window of opportunity to bring that man to justice...the more we wait, the more time he has to prepare for another go..."

"Would the local authorities, nay...the local government have some issue with us just snatching one of their 'alleged' citizens?"

"They'll have bigger problems if they do catch us; We were promised that he was going to be delivered for trial within the realm. It has been weeks since that promise, and all we heard back from the official channels have been messages about how they were "unable" to locate them...so if they catch us in the act, they'll have a lot of explaining to do..."

"Ah, there's the old adventure spirit, oh how I've missed seeing it."

"Don't get too attached to it."

"We shall see...perhaps this may be easier then we initially thought...find the bastard, snatch him when no one's looking, then chuck him off the balcony. Easy."

"Don't...jinx it...for us..."

"Please, don't worry about it too much...you just kick back and relax...and let me set the tempo."​

 

[Zufar el Hassan]

Spoiler: Optional Music Theme

Amidst the crowds of a ball, it may have been hard to spot any new comers had those attending not been looking. But if some eyes were turned towards the main doorway, they might have spotted somthing akin to minor fog was seeping through the hallway, masking the silhouettes of two...particular individuals. As they came into view, there appearances would become much more...noticeable:

Spoiler: The Princely Corsair

He was rather regal in his manner of dress, both militant and elegant elements were present in all that he wear. Though he wore black, it was his golden accents that stood out among the black foundation, bold in it's presentation, much like the wearer. Certainly, he stood out from the rest with a sense exotic air around himself...but it didn't seem to bother him, if anything, it made just made his steps more confident. The mask that the man wore for this occasion was enough to cover enough of his face as to remain a mystery, yet leaving enough for him to flash a a pearly smile at passbys. That sense of mystery that he hid behind his mask, could of prompted many questions. Was he royalty? Or just someone with a lot of money? What did he do? Who was he connected? Who was this man?...And why was he here?

Was he after somthing? Or someone?

Spoiler: The Marble Mask

The man's companion on the other hand was defiantly leaning more on the militant side. The most noticeable feature was certainly his mask, which let of a rather eery vibe with every step he took forward. What made it worse was that you couldn't see his eyes...not that you could tell who he was looking at, since his head seemed contempt to be locked forward, as he followed his companion into the crowed.

"Ah...I can already see that this party is going to be such a bore..." The man in the turban announced, seemingly to himself then anyone else...even if he continued to flash his smiles at those individuals that one might have considered to be rather attractive. "...these Easterners should learn how to party from us desert folk...but no matter...best we make the best of our circumstances, eh?"

The man in the marble mask said not a word, nor even tilting his head. He didn't seem like he was much the talkative type, but his response...or lack their of...seemed to amuse the prince like character, as he began chuckling, turning his attention to the crowed.

Now where would a good place be to start?​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Why thank you Fife," Raigryn laughed. "But if you're going to continue to be amazed that I can cut my hair, brush my beard, wear formal clothes and in fact generally groom myself then I will continue to highlight the fact that you are, in fact, wearing a dress."

They reached the top of the stairs, he handed over his invitation and then skirted away from the announcer. He had no interest in being named out loud as a minor research assistant at a nearby college. A post he had held in name only through an old acquaintance. Long ago he would have been proudly announced as a master from the college of Sympathomantic studies.

"Now, I suggest that we head towards the delightful looking table of tiny, tiny cakes and sugars. Don't worry I'm not going to abandon you at all. We'll see if we can't find a few of my old friends and I'm already sorry for how often I'll have to say 'this is my apprentice Fife who is a mute but that doesn't mean don't talk to her.'"

somthing akin to minor fog was seeping through the hallway, masking the silhouettes of two...particular individuals.

"Well, someone wanted a touch of drama on arrival," he mused out of the corner of his mouth to Fife.

 

[Former and the Foal]

A yank or a tug is nothing when you weight more than two tonnes. Still, such a display towards a high horse is most unwelcome.
The brown horse turned his face, not quite thinking to present his business end just now would be an acceptable form of escalation.

The horse craned his neck to nip at the other hand of the Ogre.

 

[Ermengarde]

»He-he-, alli's fine, lad.«
Ermengarde, twirled her dress slightly during the conversation. The leaves did not rustle, making more of a sound akin to hardned cloth and leather.

»Enchanted, mine? no, just a simple wooden log. Don't use it much other thn to fix my silhuette.«
»So you have an interest in magic as well? Curious.«

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Cleo, slipped back into the crowd to meet even more friends. Spudmancer seemed nice enough, but something about him being a dead dancer with friends made her brain hurt. Either he was a Necromancer who was terrible at lying, or maybe he was just dumb... Oh well, it wasn't for Cleo to decide, so she went back along her mission to get a drink and make more friends!

As she walked, she noticed yet another very bright red dress. The same bright red that her dress was. They were dress buddies! Cleo knew a lot of ways she could make friends, probably more than she knew anything else, but there was nothing better than being dress buddies! At least, not at this second there wasn't. Sure, having a casual conversation and realizing you have similar interests and passions was a better way to make friends, but Cleo didn't care. She had a Dress Buddy!

She rushed up to the couple, and in that moment realized that her Dress Buddy was actually a child, which meant they were even better friends already. Like, seriously, who didn't like dogs? Certainly not children! Children loved dogs! And as it happened, Cleo was exactly that! It was Destiny! Fate herself swooped in to create this meeting! As she closed the distance she grabbed the girls other hand.

"Oh my gosh! We're dress buddies!" Cleo squealed excitedly, shaking her hand rigorously. "Isn't that so amazing?! I mean, look at us!" She said, letting go just long enough to spin around, an immediately grabbing Fife's hand again. "You're so pretty in your dress! Which means I must be pretty in my dress, which means we are automatically the prettiest people here! Isn't that so awesome! We should totally dance to show off let's go!" Cleo squealed, dragging Fife off.

((OOC: You asked for it ))

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Pleasant surprises walked around in a fashions and forms. And here was such a one! A notably tall young lady, standing out in appearance and perhaps temperament--like gracefully rounded edges on an otherwise wholly rough and tattered cloth--from many if not all of the other patrons of the Lucky Heron.

She came right up to Majister's table. Set down two coins on the table, and looked right at Majister himself in a headstrong manner.

Appearance and perhaps temperament. Well, scratch the latter. She fit right in on that count.

A slow spreading grin across Majister's face, and he said, "Now that, my dear, is the level of aggressive surety I absolutely adore." He nodded to the empty seat on his left. "Would you be so kind as to grace us with your lovely presence? We're having a splendid night here in this fine establishment, and it could only be made more so with your company! Majister's the name, my fair lady, and what a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance and have a dive in the tides of whimsical luck with you."

Hillby and Padre looked at each other. Krull nodded in greeting. Darla, though trying to keep a "tense and concerned" face in relation to her bet, couldn't help but look a little giddy when the small prize pot got a little bigger.

Six coins. One bet on the ogre, two bets on the troll. If, of course, the two of them didn't through some grievous mishap end up fighting that oddly placed horse.

And Majister stayed leaned and relaxed in his chair.

Rämna Sisters

 

[Fieravene]

Spoiler

A separate Manor house a short distance away...

"We are in danger of transitioning from fashionably late to just plain late," Raziel declared. He blinked his eyes rapidly as if it could flush away the thumping pain behind them. Blood magic could do a lot of intruiging things, but not even the most complex spell could change his own blood enough to provide complete relief from the hangover. At least the light had stopped trying to creep in around the blinds.

He padded over several empty bottles. Dark stains had ruined a carpet that likely cost as much as a dozen peasants could make in a year. That amused him plenty.

"We've got an hour's carriage ride to the Harlington Manor still. Also we need to decide whether we're burning this place to the ground or not."

The house they currently inhabited was isolated well outside the walls of Alliria. The occupants were currently occupied. Their wardrobes had been emptied across the floor and their wine cellar was much emptier than it had been two days ago.

A drawn-out groan sounded from somewhere beneath a layer of silk sheets on the bed.

"Burn it ... burn it all ..." death by fire sounded particularly well over the current state of things for the elf. Two days. They'd been here for two days and managed to indulge in damn near every cardinal sin there was, and likely several that weren't already. "My Kingdom for a cure..." words muffled from beneath the comforter.

Why had she agreed to go to this again? Free wine? The payoff wasn't nearly as alluring as it had been two days ago, before they'd consumed half the wine cellar of these wretched nobles. She likely wouldn't feel quite so horrible if she'd skipped the whole Eldar God stunt. Slept for nearly a day after that and she still didn't feel recovered.

"Have I told you how much I loathe you."

Raziel

 

[Amorea Delarosa]

INNER CITY BALL

The Priestess could not say that she'd ever arrived to anything late, and she still couldn't say it today. Their Cortosi Carriage bearing the seal of the Solar Choir arrived not shortly after the festivities commenced, depositing Priestess and her Ward at the entrance of the estate. Amore stepped down at the hand of her companion and fell in stride at his side with the same ease she had in the church garden. They'd traveled to Alliria to seek out its famed Healer in hopes that they might have more answers for her than the Healer of Brightvane.

Inquisitor Bergara had been indisposed after returning from their journey, swept up in a new mission, so her natural inclination was to ask after the man presently guiding her up the stairs. As before he was more than happy to oblige.

The Galla had not been part of the plan, but once the Lord of the Manor caught wind that the Priestess would be visiting the city an invitation had been formally presented. So here she found herself, dressed in a gown and wearing a mask she'd never once laid eyes upon, walking on the arm of a man who's own appearance was drawn up in her mind only from memory. Despite all the material she felt weighing upon her, she still felt naked with her shoulders and arms exposed. Yet this, the gown-maker had insisted, was the latest style.

"Kishou," she leaned towards him as they waited their turn to enter into the main hall, "is this a bad time to admit I have never attended such an event before?"

seogsa

 

[Rämna Sisters]

Slum Knees Up

The man spoke quickly and loudly, drawing her attention with every word and gesture. He was like one of those travelling peddlers, the ones that knew to make the customer feel good, and they’ll give you whatever you want. Always with a song and story about why you should buy this and that and oh how wonderful your life will be if you just spend your hard earned coin here. The only thing he appeared to be selling was his company, but he was selling it very well. He was first of all entertaining, and that was all Melody needed.

With a self-satisfied smirk she walked to the chair, deliberately slowly (don’t want to seem too desperate for social interaction), and sat down about as gracefully as a goat.

”Melody,” she said with a toothy grin. She looked at each of the motley band in turn, nodding back at Krull, flashing an awkward wave at Darla.

She hung an arm over the back of her chair, leaning back and taking in the sights. Six gleaming coins on the table, buxom serving girls carrying heavy mugs. She caught one passing the table, said ”Hey! Bring me one of those!” pointing to a big stein of some dark and frothy liquid.

She turned back to Majister and asked, quite abruptly, ”What’cha use that sword for?”

Before he could answer, she burst into laughter. There was a horse drinking the orc’s beer.

What a night to be alive.

Mathis Majister Mejeure

 

[Raziel]

"Many times Fi. And it is a constant delight how unpredictable you are in expressing either your loathing or delight at my presence. Often with the same breath."

"A shame that we can't stay and watch it burn all day. These drapes will go up a charm."

Raziel tried three times to tie a cravat and failed. He might have been suffering just a regular hangover but even that was proving taxing.

"Come on now, up!" Raziel called out. He did this from well beyond arm's reach. In the last two days he had been enticed into discovering some new fears. However, the reprimand of a hungover Fiera had already been placed on that list.

He only hoped she didn't notice the glasswear on the table.

"We really do need to get going."

 

[Kishou]

Attempting to fit Kishou into tight, form-fitting threads proved to be futile, much to the chagrin of the Priestess' confreres. Finding a suitable gown for Amore had been easy, as every option had complimented the Priestess' natural beauty. In the end, to the surprise of nobody, a vibrant red gown was selected.

Of course, the Priestess herself had little say in the matter and placed her trust in the so-called professionals that handled the subject of her appearance.

On the other hand, Kishou had vehemently refused the selection of fineries presented to him after trying on the first. It had been unbearably tight and suffocating, especially so around the more delicate spots of his body. They had, with a stroke of luck, found garbs imported from his homeland. Begrudgingly, the foreigner was allowed to wear the soft blue robes in place of the recommended finery.

If he were to spend the evening absorbed in the festivities, he would at least dress comfortably. Or, so was his adamant stance when arguing over the matter of his attire.

Kishou followed those in front of him, moving with the leisurely flow of traffic up the stairs. Behind him, several others did the same. Then, suddenly, Amore's gentle tone grabbed the foreigner's attention.

"That would make two of us," He responded, his tone falling somewhere between anxiety and excitement. "I'll apologize in advance, for I have all the comportment of a common man."

Amorea Delarosa

 

[Faurosk]

So this stranger had been stood up, same as him - Alright, maybe that made the mage feel a little terrible. Faurosk wasn't foreign to the minor pangs of such plain abandonment, and his jaw softened faintly in sympathy. "I'm sorry to say that we're in the same predicament, then."

That fact alone was enough to remove Amalia from his list of annoyances, but that she'd been drinking her sorrows away mad his heart ache ever so faintly. This woman seemed young, after all-- Younger than him, anyways, and substantially less road weary. Nobody like that should be driven to binging on champagne of all things.

"It's Faurosk," he answered with a faint tremor to his name. There went the purpose of a masquerade, he thought. "They used to supplement that with, 'The Clever', but I'm afraid I've lost that honor for one too many clouts to the head." Was that a joke from the previously blunted magi? Perhaps it was, but that would mean he'd softened up like butter - And fallen straight into her trap.

"If a girl's been drinking as you've said, then I'd hope her legs are still sure enough for a dance?" The query came with an offered hand as Faurosk set his goblet aside, teetering it on a jutting piece of the wall's ornate architecture certainly not intended to serve as a cup-holder.

Amalia Rosethorn

 

[Thrukk Guldarp]

"Och buck thes. Somain tek there horse oot!" Thrukk bellowed, stepping back form the horse and its clacking teeth. It was only one pint so the equine thief could keep it.

Thrukk strode across the Lucky Heron and parked himself down before the troll. Between them was the sturdiest table in the bar. It did not look study enough. Tol

"Co'main 'en lit gie oan wi' it!" he declared, placing his elbow on the table.