(ooc: That it will) Ura, acting quick, ran forward. "Zephyr..." he whispered, his feet now a blinding streak of brown, constantly moving. His grace and mobility kept him from hitting people. Upon closing in on Serj, he thrusted his right hand into the ground, creating a whirlwind around the Wolfen. He coughed harshly, blood dripping off the mask. ***** Xarioch silenced the room, unspeaking, his aura of fear and power supreme. He began to walk towards the great circle of people, eyeing the great whirlwind with more than just general interest.
"The ring," he smirked. "You lost, entirely. This One has said nothing about a ring." he chuckled. Ura had one the game. "If you would please?" he asked nicely, hand outstretched.
Ura was beyond amused, he was entirely entertained. He couldn't help but chuckle. "Your appointment was with a court of vamphyr?" he asked, laughing. He bowed low, mocking the Wolfen greatly. His stark white hair danced about. "Sadly..." he muttered, the air pressure increasing tremendously. The water began to tighten then become sand, then it went into nonexistence. A spiral of wind formed about his right arm. "Your lie is most obvious, and you're quite clumsy." he whispered. He saw the sleight of hand. He was facing the lad, seeing the swift, nimble tactic. He smirked. "He wishes you were much better at stealing, else This One would enjoy the game all the more."
The entity, Ura, felt the tingles of magick... but he was, by far, amused. The ever so wary Ura cocked his head. "A pity," he mumbled. He sighed gently. "If anything, you should be dancing." he chuckled, arms unfolding. The dance was coming to a close. "A pity," he repeated. (OOC: Jesus, you guys work fast o.o)
(Ooc: Damn it... how can I fix this? x.x)
A series of royal guards killed the town guards on sight, removing the bodies quickly without a scene. It was easy for these guards to kill many, due to their advanced speed and stealth, even magick. With great swiftness, before an eye could see, they all vanished. ***** Ura shook his head, ignoring his thoughts. "I think it may be best for us to stop dancing, I agree." he sighed. He spun her once more, but he released her, sending her into a seat. Ura chuckled, vanishing as a dancing couple swung right past him. ***** Ura appeared before Serj. "This One thinks you have something that belongs to her," he spoke calmly, his arms crossed. (OOC: You can join Jenkins.)
"I am glad you are enjoying yourself, then," he remarked, his steps gracefully silent. "As for the song..." he let it end there. He could not deny its beauty, but the history and the reality of the song was as frightening as the Emperor himself. He was soon lost in thought.
He almost wanted to laugh. He was glad for the mask he wore, for he was smiling, and his face would say pages. She did not know his dilemna. He began chuckling slightly. "I have my reasons," he replied, slowling their movement dramatically, the long minuet coming to a slow-beat chorus. The piano keys released a sad cry, their melody genius. "Are you enjoying the dance, Ruby?" he asked, his velvety voice, as sing-song as ever, no more of a whisper, keeping the tempo with the beat.
"My name?" he asked gently, almost saddened by the thought of having a name. His cloud-like hair, whipping about behind him like a whip, seemed like a blur to any onlooker, for they were moving in quick, zephyric steps, spinning about. "My name is Uramasses... but you may call me Ura." he replied, making her spin once more. "And you are quite welcome," he chuckled, remembering his manners.
With a secret smile, the masked entity grasped her hand. His hold, compared to a vamphyr, was incredibly weak, but his swift, graceful movements were otherwordly, magickal. And spun her about, holding her close. He enjoyed the dance, though, he had a permeable aura of penance, a saddening veil that not most would understand. As they danced, a faint sound of creaking old wings filled that small, bodily aura. Ignoring it, the man spoke. "You're grace equals your beauty, madame," he began, his melodic voice a strange lament to the minuet. It made his voice all the more charming. "What is your name?"
The dance seemed alive, all was dancing, all was loitering, drinking, eating, spying, and loving. Some even hated. Within the dance, the beautiful minuet, danced a fabulous looking character. He had long white hair, miraculous hands of pure perfection, as white as snow with black nails that were femininely long. His hair was up in a topknot, his bangs passing his face, dancing across the mask he wore. It was made of ivory, similar to the style of the Emperor's. He wore a dark, jade green tunic with tight mahogany leggings, and a gentleman's rapier at his hip.The jade guard, gracing the beautiful blade's hilt, stood out, its enchanting craftmanship and design brought upon greedy eyes. He wore a thick cloak of black velvet with emerald green silk within the inner crevice. The young noble danced about, his feet abnormally quick and a blur, dancing with the women. Soon, he spun, stomped his left foot as he stopped, left hand out, his eyes, shown as perpetual shadows by the slits of the mask. He stared at the lovely vamphyress, Ruby. "A dance, m'lady?" he asked, his voice melodic and charming, as soft as velvet. His dark brown leather boots seemed to be silent. ***** A shadowy figure appeared upon the balcony, behind the young Nox, hidden within shadows. "A pity your father did not invite you to the ball, young master," spoke a falsetto voice. The figure was eternally shadow within the corner of the balcony, the eyes a dull grey light, pulsating as they shown. "I thought, of all things, you would escape." it chuckled, the soft sound of ruffling robes heard in the gentle night breeze. ***** (OOC: If you don't mind me using the man Morgana is dancing with...) The young noble who danced with Morgana seemed pleased, his gentle gold eyes resting into her's. His golden eastern dress, royal robes, fluttered about, his black ivory mask shimmering like obsidian. He spun her once, passed her with unrenowned speed, and held her close. "Do you enjoy my lord's dance, young one?" he asked gently, his cold skin shimmering. He was pale and transparent, his golden eyes seen only through the slits of his black mask, which hid only the upper half of his face. He spun her out, once, holding onto her hand. ***** "Ah, Lord Sithos, 'tis a pleasant surprise you are here, especially so far away from your own kingdom," spoke a melodic voice. From the corner of the floating emerald dais, a thin, frail figure appeared. He wore a gown of white with silver chains dancing about his figure, his eyes a cold blue, like a tundra sky. He danced elegantly about. His voice was twinged with feminine dialects, his snow white skin illuminace through the veil of his raven-coloured hair, the violet tints apparent due to the bright lights of the ballroom. "I am my lord's manservant, Treah Nevar. It is a pleasure to be in such a presence of someone of your reknown," he spoke humbly, bowing. His graceful, lightning quick movements were beyond normal. ***** Sitting in a far corner of the room, stood a figure, his hair and skin as white as snow, his eyes crimson. He wore bandages and chains about his body. The gauze he wore were fresh and the chains he wore were as black as the Abyss. His hair, though long, was a mess, sticking out of each bandaged gap, spiking irregularly. He wore a simple mask, which covered three-fourth's of his face, his lips and a flesh apparent. He was slender, womanly slender, and he wore a black webbed gown and a leather cape. Upon his hip was a broadsword, which seemed to shake gently, and a low moan was heard between verses of the Minuet.
(OOC:I'll just surprise you guys...) The aria of Gena Hardtwin, a Tanelae priestess of Krymson, God of Blood, death, and Necromancy, filled the ball room, which exploded into a brilliant series of waltz. Right, one two three, step, turn, left one to three, step, spin, halt, pose... The brilliance of the ivory room shunned the darkness of night, save for the true darkness that lingered in the shadows of the ballroom. Gena sang her heart out, a tribute to her beloved god. Krymson, her one true love. As the song ended, she fixed her ruby satin dress, the jet pearls, golden trimmings, and amethysts outlining her fine features with a shining brilliance. She was small, only four and a half in height. Slender and beautiful, quite otherworldly, the deviant black haired, silver-eyed priestess headed towards the grand piano, her pale skin illuminace even in this obscure brightness. Her ruby, black, and gold mask, hiding only half of her face. Her lips, visible and a lovely shade of lavendar, made the room awed by her beautiful smile. Lightly, gently, Gena pressed down on the ivory keys, the mahogany grand piano releasing a harmonious howl. The fingers began their work, the strings creating a beautiful string of penance. This was the Minuet of Shadows. The dance began. The graceful dance swept over everyone within the room, the euphoric rush of sorrow and excitement overtaking control. With a beautiful note resonating her throat, Gena began to sing, adding to her beautiful peace. Under the sun and moon, Walking with grace, An angel with unimpending doom, Sings to the shadows. Under the melting twilight, The starlit shadows arise, Dancing and weaving, Before his eyes. Speaking in gentle tongues, The god of Oblivion, Blessing the angel with eternal sleep. With a furious tap, The angel danced, Weaving in his dance, Shadow and blood. The god of eternal slumber, Ever so awed and sad, Weaved his dance, Of shadow and stars. As the minuet continued, All stood still, Trembling and dying, Forgetting and Crying. As the god of Oblivion paused, Tired and merciful, He granted the one of Blood and Shadow, A gift of dreams. ... As the song went on, the minuet continued, long but ecstatic, filled with euphoria encouraged by sorrow and excitement. The dance continued, while two green eyes flared like a flame through the bright ivory of the room. ~~^v~~v^~~^v~<@ Sitting upon a great dais of floating emeralds was Xarioch, wearing a bland, full-faced mask. It was an angular mirror, with only two slits for eye holes. His brown hair was like a lion's mane, untended but beautiful. His hands were covered in white satin gloves, his thin shirt a bright green, outlined in gold with a cresent moon emblem racing across the gold. His pants, black leather and tight, showed his near corpse-like frame. He released a sigh as he tightened his black and gold cloak closer to his body, making himself appear more royal. The mithril chains connected to the collars held the cloak in place about him, giving him an omnipotent appearance. Through the slits, Xarioch's flaming green eyes were set firmly about the dance hall, searching... (Let us begin!)
Alright, thank you, Akua. Accepted, Overload. I'll introduce my Characters in a bit. I'm gonna be off somewhere. So just wait a few hours.
I'll only accept if you do not include any water dragons.
Tomorrow afternoon.
Medieval. Think about puffy silk dresses, velvet, linen, etc. It is formal, the masks being the only true costume.
I don't mind, none at all. I am sorry I left and never returned until now ^^ No, I am trying to keep it balanced decently. Sorry :(
Accepted. You're also very welcome ^^
Wonderful! Accepted ^^
lol, how so?
