Open Chronicles Two-Faced Lover

[Aivrid]

Tag: Zufar el Hassan

I've seen this one before...

---

​

When one entered important balls such as this, it was expected of an important attendees to recognize others of their stature. This was the first human ball Aivrid had ever attended. He'd crashed a few weddings in the past, a coronation or two, but he certainly didn't remember anyone from then, and they were certainly long dead.

He'd kept up with the world here through visions and divination. The universe showed him what it would -- Aivrid was simply the audience, a passenger along for the ride. He'd seen much in his long life, and his long memory allowed him to recall the many important figures he'd seen...

Zufar el Hassan was one such creature.

A pirate prince was of some interest in current ventures of the dragon. The disguised wyrm took a sip of his drink, and as the turbaned man passed he stepped out, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "Zufar el Hassan. I believe you can help me," Aivrid said calmly.

 

[Thrukk Guldarp]

Tol Rämna Sisters Former Mathis Majister Mejeure

His drink was brought in a glass. A great thing that held two pints. Without caring for the suds that spilled down his bare chest Thrukk tipped it back until the last of the foam had drained away.

Then, without so much as a glance, he tossed it over his shoulder. The heavy, dimpled glass must have weighed at least five kiloes.

If it had landed on a human it might have knocked them cold. It it had landed on an elf they might have died.

It landed on a dwarf.

The bar drew in a collective breath.

Then the fighting started.

 

[Fife]

Cleo seemed proud, and Fife couldn't blame her. Industriousness and the means to make an income were things to be envied, in Fife's opinion. She had only been good at pickpocketing, which now seemed far worse than it had even been at the time. Cleo'a gifts could be applied differently -- just about anywhere she wanted to take them.

In attempting to indulge Cleo and ask after her instruments, Fife accidentally insulted her instead. Her smile vanished and Fife shook her head. She knew she was a bard. Before the mute could placate her with even the attempt at an explanation, Cleo was already getting her violin out of the case. Fife blinked. She hadn't meant to upset her! She had only meant to ask what she played!

But her doggy companion abandoned their dance midway through the song and tuned the instrument. Fife politely stepped out of the way of the other dancers, all the while watching the dog lady with interest. Cleo played beautifully. Or, at least, it seemed beautiful to Fife's untrained ear. It was different from the band, but in a good way, and Fife found a small smile warming up her features

Nearby, a woman's dress suddenly caught fire, and Cleo leapt into action putting it out, apologizing. Why was she sorry? Surely her violin didn't offend the lady so badly?

Almost as quickly as she had gone over to help the woman and the fire was extinguished, she slunk away, sulking. Fife felt a little guilty. She could see the cloud of Misery coloring her mood, a sadness that hadn't existed before the misunderstanding. What was Fife not seeing? Why was she so upset? Clearly she was a perfectly good musician. Her sadness seemed so out of place for the bubbly character that had been pulling her along just moments earlier.

Catching up, Fife grinned up at Cleo. She gave her two thumbs up and nodded. She mimed the violin, then laid her hand over her chest, sighing. The music had been beautiful, and she was trying to cheer her up. Even if she never saw her again after tonight, she had taught her some small, valuable lessons, however minuscule they may seem to others.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

A jubilant chaos, that--oh yes that--was the heart and soul of these dances held in the Lucky Heron and its sister taverns all the world over! Absent were the rigid restrains and stifling formalities of the upper strata of society, the silver-lined life and lofty class into which Majister had been born. Here, across from the lovely Melody, Majister enjoyed that bonfire of boundless passion and unleashed spirit, allowing the bard's tune to guide his motions and inform his extemporaneous flow. And so it was with the others who so allowed themselves a spot of fun and grabbed a partner and joined them out in the opening of the dance floor.

Melody bumped into several others in the course of the dance, but Majister did as well. Impossible not to, and it was all in the lively spirit of the dance! No slow and etched-in-stone prescriptions of moving this way and that, no. What they had here was freedom. Absolute and glorious freedom of flow and form!

Ah, and just as he was thinking of flow. Melody herself gave Majister a spin in the course of their dance, and his grin re-emerged as he fluidly went along with it. A certain initiative, an edge of boldness, a go-getter attitude. Evidence thereof, and my how he adored these qualities! Much as a craftsman might see the vast potential in a collection of sterling components laid out before him.

The bard concluded his tune. A good portion of the Lucky Heron clapped, both for him and the dancers who'd gone to the floor. Majister fished in his pants pocket for a few more coins...

...when there came the unmistakable and deep sound of sudden violence. Sounded hollow and glassy, as if someone had been smacked with a mug.

Oh yes, and the calm before the storm. The near complete stillness before the breaking of the already thin veneer of civility.

And the tavern erupted into a huge brawl. Meanwhile, somewhere back at Majister's table, Darla shrieked and Krull let out a triumphant cheer and Hillby said, "Hell yeah, I love me some fisticuffs!" and Padre grumbled.

Somebody lunged at Majister. One of the dancers, who apparently had not taken so kindly to being bumped into during the dance. A quick sidestep and a kick at the dancer's shin sent him tumbling on his way to the floor. And though Majister preferred talk to violence in matters of business, he reserved for his pleasure these bouts of violence during his leisure. My, what a not-so-guilty pleasure it was!

The ogre and the troll were likewise going to put on a marvelous showing, no doubt! Possibly even the horse if it went wild with fright!

"Melody," Majister said, turning to her amidst the brawls all around them. "Now this is what it means to--"

A dwarf, maybe even the same dwarf whose head had caught the initial glass which incited everything, tackled Majister from the side. And they both went down hard to the floor, both he and the dwarf punching each other in what was almost a near gentlemanly exchange of blows back and forth.

Rämna Sisters Tol Thrukk Guldarp Former

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Phillipa Ebonheart

It was all interesting information. He had heard about an attack on the college, but very few details reached him from sources he could rely upon. The interest was clear on his face.

The dress that had been set alight was being patted down. The band would be quick to strike up again.

"Probably one of your students," Raigryn mused.

"Who attacked the college?" he asked rather directly. The question was almost impertinent the way he asked it, no dancing around the subject at all.

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Her eyes held his for a moment at the question, amusement flickering across her features for both the jesting and the inquiry.

"Former college professor Maho Sparhawk, attacked and killed students." Phillipa informed him, not caring about the fussing it would bring from her mother. It was an old incident, and while it was the event that had begun the investigation, most in Elbion had learned all about it given the proximity to the college.

"He had a short career, but what little I had seen of him he had great potential. If the higher ups in the college had not sent him to watch over a battle, he might still have been teaching his own apprentice." Phillipa informed him.

 

[Smiling One]

Willis Reede hated balls.

A bunch of stuffy, pretentious, pricks going around talking how rich they are. Or better yet how are the poor people who scrummage their thrash for food. As a child, Willis remembered hearing stories of men and women meeting on the ballroom and falling in love. Hah! What bullshit! In reality, ballrooms are for scheming and gaining political clout. The young man had worked closely with nobles in the past and seen how it worked.

Besides balls are boring especially when compared tavern celebrations. The bawdy parties, the drinks, the sex with tavern maids...... shit why was Willis in this ball? Right to find Phillipa Ebonheart . The young man didn't get a chance to ask Philippa the question, of course fighting his former friend in a burning school put an end to that but Willis recovered from his injuries and is now able to walk for at least week now. So Willis put on his mask

and headed for where Phillipa was headed. "Pssst!" Willis said secretly waving to the masked woman.

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Cleo sniffled, looking at Fife as she caught up. "I'm glad you liked it... But I still set someone on fire..." She whined, continuing to walk. "I always set something on fire... I'm a terrible bard! Bards aren't supposed to set people on fire when they play! They are supposed to make people happy..." She pouted, continuing her sad walk.

 

[Jakub Bram]

He hovered over his drink, watching the arm wrestle unfold. He was soon disappointed to see that Tol failed, however, all was well that ends well.

Up until a loud thud and glass shattering made sure it was not ending well. He quickly backed up moaning as the fighting started, throwing on his helmet. Before remembering. “I ain’t no guaaard!” He cried this out triumphantly. Fortunately, sober Jackub had the foresight to not arm a drunkard, himself, with a weapon. He quickly spotted a man, Mathis Majister Mejeure, pinned down by a dwarf, with a large yell, he charged the short man off him, yelling, “Ha! Gotcha! Sucker!”

 

[Fife]

She padded after Cleo, not yet realizing she was distancing herself from the mentor she couldn't see. Fife watched her and listened to her, taking a quick step or two every so often to compensate for her longer pace. Hurrying in a dress was strange and she kept stepping on the front hem.

She had set the woman on fire? Fife's brows rose sharply. Ohhh. It certainly made more sense. Here Fife had been thinking a woman had coincidentally caught fire and Cleo had mistaken that shock for disapproval. No, she had accidentally started the fire in the first place. It was turning out to be a strange evening.

Fife hurried enough to head her off and sign. She touched her chest and smiled, tracing an emphasized curve under her smile. I'm happy. There was an honest innocence in her softening grin. She pointed to Cleo, gestured from her to herself, then raised her hands to her face to trace the smile again. You made me happy.

Biting her lip, she finally surveyed her surroundings. She could see a table of food, but realized she had no idea what part of the room she was in. The slight smile slowly fell from her features and she looked around. She could see where she had entered, but not Raigryn.

Telling herself not to panic, she put on a soft smile again and pointed to a table of refreshments. She was hellbent on cheering her up if she could. Cleo was a bit silly, but well-meaning.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn sighed, "I do not know the name."

In his time he had been associated with a number of schools. Teaching had never been his strong point in his own opinion; He hadn't had the patience for it back then.

"I believe someone is 'psst'ing you. I assume you will need to go and fetch another permission slip from mother?" Raigryn asked, assuming a second dance was likely off the guards now. The mask did not hide his sardonic smile at all.

Besides it was time to find the real food.

 

[Ermengarde]

»Marvellous,« she offered him her arm and placed her prosthetic on his shoulder. Couldn't quite replace a real arm, that was for sure.
Ermengarde was no stranger to court dances, they were formal, that much she could tell about that, there to enjoy the music to the fullest. For whatever reason listening while standing still never quite felt as satisfying. But for such occasion, perhaps a less feisty arrangement would have been better-

»No need for introductions, « Ermengarde leaned in »I could be both the milkmaid and the countess in this mask.«
»But tonight I'm just a wood nymph, see? It's somewhat thematic.« She chuckled, likely at her wooden arm.

 

[Former and the Foal]

The horse was a figure of stoicism at this point. Perhaps the music was calming.
And the horse remained ever so still while downing the booze.
Kegs and limbs and benches could be thrown over the beast any it couldn't care more.

Except for when, a person bout to trip, grabbed it by the tail to dampen the fall.
Former kicked up his legs into the air and people, at least those with a sense for survival backed off. even the unlucky man that got the business end was lucky to stay on ground and barely miss the kick of a one-and-a-half-tonne beast.

 

[Dearien Verook]

Dearien smiled, the nervous energy seeming to melt away with the remainder of the anonymity of the occasion. "I suppose you're right. Would that make me the king of birds then?" He smiled spinning them around the dancefloor through predetermined paths. "So what would a lovely nymph such as yourself be doing so far from her tree?" He embraced their roles. Tonight he would just be a bird and her a nymph with no worries for consequences or tomorrow.

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Cleo mumbled, seeming to fight with herself internally. It didn't look like Fife was having any affect on the poor dog woman's perspective as she looked at Fife with watery eyes. She just continued to watch as Fife looked around, noticing the look of concern flash over Fife's face. Wait a second. Wait just one dog gone second! Cleo, had dragged this poor, socially incapable girl away from whatever comfort and security she had with the old dude, and now, was being a big stick in the mud. After she said Cleo made her happy!

The transition was instant and Cleo's personality did a complete one eighty as she perked up. It was flawless, to be sure. "Oh you want food?!" She asked, lifting her nose into the air, sniffing about frantically. "I don't have glasses, but I can smell the food! Why don't you lead me there yeah? I'm about as blind as a door I am! And let me tell you, doors can't see much, unless they have a peep hole! Or are a mimic... Never trust a mimic..."

 

[Fieravene]

Spoiler

The graceful curve of white gravel on which the carriages had been queueing had presented a surprising challenge for exhausted legs. Not that Raziel would admit to being worn out. He had the advantage in the hangover stakes because of good old fashioned cheating. Blood magic had more mundane uses than people expected. He was not going to offer to touch her blood, not for that. The fire, that raw unbridled power was not a temptation to handle lightly. No matter how enticing.

He smirked and stayed dutifully still for Fiera to re-tie his cravat. That she had ruined him for other woman by showing him that he did have limitations was a secret he would keep for some time.

"Perfect disguises," he mused. "I could simply swap my mask with another man and no one would be able to find me again. Stop that!" he admonished his own tail which had flicked against her shin.

"It means that at the end of the night when we leave everyone will remember it. Of course we won't have left."

Raziel needed to have a private conversation with Lord Harlington. Fiera was to ensure they were not interrupted.

"Let's make friends," he smirked. By that he did of course mean to find the guests most offended by a tiefling and a dark elf being present and ingratiate themselves. Watching high born humans writhe beneath their own skin always amused him. However, there were acquaintances on the dance floor who were likely to scupper such plans.

Yes, of course, no one would be able to tell hide nor hair of the only red-skinned, devil-horned, sassy-tailed heathen traipsing about the party. She cinched his cravat snugly, gave his prying tail an obligatory suggestive glance, and took up his arm once more.

An excited croon was her reply to the mention of making friends, "I do so love making friends..."

With a drawn and sanguine smile, the pair stalked through the crowds, leaving a wake of confusion and distaste as they went. There upon encircling the dance floor she gave the tiefling's arm a tug, "Let's have a look at the guests," and stir things up a little, "do you know the Telarian Tango?"

 

[Rämna Sisters]

The dance was fast and lively, and Majister continued to prove himself capable partner. By the time the music had stopped, Melody was huffing and flushed. Her heart was beating and she felt tingles in her feet, and she was ready for more.

Music would not come next, though, and the sound of the heavy glass hitting the dwarf in the head preceeded the shouting, scuffling, and jubliant violence that followed.

“Melody,” she heard Majister call her name, but before he could finish he was knocked to the ground by a stout and angry dwarf. Melody stepped back in surprise, but her smile didn’t wane. Should she step in and help? ...Nah, he was doing fine.

A decidedly drunker patron stumbled into her side. He looked at her with bleary eyes, and seemed uncertain how to proceed, as if he had not expected to bump into a woman and was a little disappointed not to be fighting.

Far be it for her to let him down, so Melody socked him across the jaw with surprising strength, sending him reeling back. She caught an elbow in the ribs from behind, and she turned to uppercut an older woman who was yanking out the hair of a spritely elven man.

Someone else’d fist collided with her face, and the bar went fuzzy for a moment. Her devilish delight blended with anger, and after standing back up to her full height she sent a knee sailing purposefully into someone’s stomach. She couldn’t tell who had hit her, so she may as well beat everyone. She could feel electricity crackling in her fingers, Faith hadn’t used up all of her holy magic during the day, so Melody had been given a bit to play with.

 

[Fife]

Cleo continued to sulk, muttering something to herself, and Fife worried that she hadn't been convincing enough. How did one cheer up a dog person? Was consoling a dog lady any different from consoling a normal person? The mute didn't even know how to communicate with a normal person; she was already so far outside of her normal capabilities, and was truly at a loss for how to proceed.

Very abruptly, like running into another room and closing the door behind you, Cleo perked up. Any trace of her melancholy vanished. Fife blinked, not sure if she was confused or impressed or concerned. Likely all three. But something she had said much have worked. Fife grinned and nodded, then lifted her brows in surprise. Cleo couldn't see well? Well, it must have been difficult to wear glasses with a mask, she supposed.

She hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with her fingers. Looking from Cleo, to the table, then Cleo again, she realized she wanted her to lead her. As in take her... paw? Hand?

Fife awkwardly took her hand and led her in the direction of the snack table. Thencontavt made her feel uncomfortable, but at long last, she laid eyes upon the tiny cakes. Fife had the appetite typical of small creatures, in that she could have ate half her body weight in a day. And after dancing and feeling anxious about not seeing Raigryn anywhere, she was definitely ready for some comfort food.

Quickly letting go of Cleo, Fife picked up two of the little cakes and held them up for her companion to see with a grin before eating one.

// Raigryn Vayd // Cleo O'Conner //​

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

The name wasn't familiar to the man, and she did not push the issue further. The discreet sound of being called upon however did not escape her, and Raigryn's comment on it made her frown. Being reminded of the literal chain wasn't pleasant for her, but it was what it was.

The voice calling however sounded alarmingly familiar, and if it were who she thought it was, a strong panic attack was shortly to follow.

"Permission is likely to be withheld. Decorum dictates it. I haven't rubbed enough elbows with people that hire hands to wipe their backsides for them." She sighed, knowing full well the rest of her evening was likely to be tied to her mother's side like a flashy pet. She bowed to the man, before excusing herself and making for the one calling to her.

She had one guess as to who would wear a full face mask and be calling for her whilst her mother was so terrifyingly close.

"By the gods above Willis, you should not be here. If mother catches sight of you she will have both of us flayed and quartered." Genuine fear was in her voice as she caught his arm and slowly walked them to where her mother stood.

Felicia had not missed the pair splitting from their dance, giving a small smile before sharply frowning as her daughter moved into the crowd rather than heading her way. It made her question just who had caught her offspring's attention to disobey her so readily. The woman slowly wove through the crowd, chatting idly as her magic in the anklets about Phillipa's person began to wind up and activate.

Those that she still spoke with in the college had told her that Phillipa had been seen in someone's company quite often now. Curious that her daughter had kept the one in question hidden, but so much so was daughter like mother in such regards.

 

[Raziel]

"do you know the Telarian Tango?"

Raziel grinned a wicked grin. The kind that could make the faint of heart wilt. He gently clasped her hand and led her out towards the dance floor.

"Now," he drawled, "I hardly think they're ready for that kind of dance...perfect."

Raziel wasn't about to admit that he ached in all the wrong places for such a fluid, intimate dance. It amused him too much to stop. The tradition in these parts considered a waltz with a hand on the hip on the edge of becoming inappropriate.

So when he hitched up her knee across his thigh and dragged her across the last few feet onto the dance floor there was an audible intake of breath. He came to a halt and Fiera could plant her trailing leg and stand tall.

"We might get thrown out for this," he mused. It didn't matter. One way or the other Lord Harlington would not be surviving through the night.

 

[Zufar el Hassan]

"Help you? Hmm, perhaps you should buy me dinner first; we can talk about it more...privately then~" Zufar replied, his posture was as relaxed, idly gazing over at the fellow with a suggestive eyebrow visibly raised.

Was it surprising someone had figured out who he was? Not in particular. Out of a crowed like this he was certainly to stand out, and didn't take a genius to figure out whom Zufar was if they even had the vaguest of knowledge of him. In fact, Zufar was more surprised the fellow hadn't tried to shank him or put a hex on him'; his enemies loved to make his life difficult.

"So what is it this time? Assassination? Murder? Riots in the streets? Arson? Tax faud?..." It really sounded more cartoonish in Zufar's mind, but you never knew what people would try to coerce others in. The pirate prince was technically doing somthing now...but he figured he'd give this fellow the benefit of the doubt. "...Hope it be somthing interesting...unless...you're planning on asking me for a dance?"
Aivrid

 

[Mathis Majister Mejeure]

Well, certainly this would make for an excellent story somewhere down the line of his stride through life. Tackled by a dwarf in a tavern fight, you say? How did you ever escape, Majister? Hm, as it so happened--

--another man came running over and tackled the dwarf off of him. My, if that's not a spot of good fortune! Majister stood up quickly--any invitations to do so most unnecessary!--and once again straightened out his coat.

Then to the man, Jakub, he said, "Marvelous showing, my good man! Keep your fists up and your wits--" Majister ducked as a chair went flying over his head and crashed against the far wall of the tavern and a soaring profanity came from nearby, "--about you!"

And just where was Melody then? Majister spun in a half-rotation and, ah, there. Look at that gusto! Much like the good man who'd tackled the dwarf, Melody kneed some drunkard in the stomach. Excellent! All of this hullabaloo was enflaming his secret passion for thrilling violence. Hah, secret. But did not everyone harbor such a passion, even if social mores dictated they not so openly say or indulge it? Oh but of course, of course!

The story of Majister's own little duels here, getting tackled by the dwarf here, punching this--Hah!--punching this random fool in the chin there, they were all well and good, but what he really needed was a quality in this story that was truly exotic. Outlandishly exciting and captivating!

And, his eyes scanning over the larger or more unusual characters of the Lucky Heron, he thought of just the thing.

Majister weaved his way through the chaotic melee back to his table. My, Darla and Padre and Krull were doing an admirable job defending it. Hillby had gone off to do foolish and reckless things--Hillby things, as Darla would say--as was his wont.

And Majister jumped up onto his table, behind the adequate enough protection of Darla and Padre and Krull, and unfastened a pouch of coin from his belt and thrust it into the air and yelled at the top of his lungs, "COIN! YES, COIN, FOR THE MAN OR WOMAN WHO KNOCKS OUT THE HORSE!"

His finger snapped toward Former.

Jakub Bram Rämna Sisters Former

 

[Ermengarde]

»Many things of simple pleasure, and of course the many other people.« She leaned close to him, whispering. »O king of the birds, people don't like anonymity, and you can still see them all around us, those not engulfed in joy. Scheming, plotting.«
Ermengarde leaned back again.
»Yet such are courtly things.«

 

[Dearien Verook]

Drearien's heart beat faster. He glanced around. He was unsure exactly what she meant by Joy scheming and plotting. He was not sure he needed to know. It was probably better if he did not. He could leave the schemes to his sister. She had always been better at bureaucracy than him.

"I don't know, anonymity can be a bit intoxicating, don't you think. The freedom to do what one wants without consequence. What I think people don't like is not knowing what to expect. However, in one's own mouth the taste of anonymity can be quite sweet," Dearien said. He could feel the dull ache in his leg grow to a twinge as he passed the half-hour mark. He knew he should have waited till he got here to put on his good prosthetic but he and his sister had walked here from her city apartment and he did not want to have to carry his spare around.

It would be alright, he could dance for a bit longer. He was not ready to stop just yet.

 

[Cleo O'Conner]

Cleo followed along, being lead by the small girl. It was fantastic! Show someone some unadulterated kindness and the walls you can break through were unlimited! MAXIMUM POWER TO FRIENDSHIP! It was perfect! When they arrived to the cakes, Cleo did what Cleo did best when it came to food. Well, second best. Started sniffing!

"Nope... Nope... Nope..." Cleo said, going from treat to treat. Then she stood up, crossing her arm with a frown. "What is with you humans and chocolate? Don't you know dogs can't eat chocolate?" She whined before her head snapped to the table next to them, which had fruits on it. With an excited squeal, she picked up a bowl and filled it with various fruity treats, before doing what she was actually best at. Devouring the entire contents of the bowl in seconds, now licking the juices from the edges with several "Mlem, mlem, mlem, mlem."