The object of the Beholder’s wrath thrusted out from the magical dusk, an eventide to which the jester’s fiendish sight was akin; the moniker mumbled was Sauron, a seemingly adept mancer of shadow puppets and terrible first impressions. However, that sly smile reminded her of the abandoned pretense she so readily summoned at a moment’s notice.

A manacled man fashioned after her own labyrinthine and deranged heart. He would fit nicely in the dungeon of her glass castle, the vision where each playmate had their own room in the magnificent mansion of her sacrilegious mind. 

Once the real captain rematerialized and introduced the newcomer, the snowy joker sent tumbling with her foot, a conjured frozen chair, rippling into the waters of the deep, glinted with an abrupt bright and light cerise, thanks to an abused prestidigitation, pushing the edge of attention and annoyance. The rosy throne spindled along the marine trek to the assembled trio, hopefully distracting the audience from the playful magician’s antics, mirroring an additional illusory tornado slowly enveloping her blanche body, leisurely pulling white tendrils away from her, dissolving her disguise and manifesting a Gothic shimmer her drow dermis artificially beamed. She recognized the twigged ruse as a yester Kor, discarded with Askia, the night prior, would provoke draconic envy.  The kobold would be jealous, no doubts about it. 

This was worth the betrayal.  

The stilettos’ moist clicks soon dampened as she trotted to the many-eyed pirate scrutinizing the newcomer, as Cynthia’s tour was waylaid. Her sloughed footsteps left snowflakes in a wake, as her legs performed a swizz waltz aided by the bleached whirling dervish as a façade, sprinkling the surrounding with a hoary blight, a frosty darkness spreading from the shapeshifter's hurricane.

[color=ed1c24]“Wanna drink pink?”[/color]

Grasping the seat jerkily from its aquatic orbital, the murky half-elf plopped its four legs next to Dyn. After the verbal diarrhea completed its course from the interrogating tentacled abomination, the now sultry woman formed an eschewed quadrilateral, where her vertex was beginning to abut more and more the position of the warlock.  Her steamy bubbles fluxing into his face, cuddling a current of sensual undertones.

Koan had the hots, and it glowed.

Her gloved hands purloined the shoulders of the fallen aasimar, caressing him deeper into the floating cathedra. Her talons gripping his throat, a loose noose enthralling the novel hostage. The jester’s hips began to elude control.  Working her twerk orgasmed like second nature, maneuvering the boogie over his lap, as a long slender sliver of a sickle stiffened with rime, its frigidity matched by its blade. The clown pirouetted the shear, to stroke the pale skin of the devil. The li of the stripper was purposeful. 

A maniacal sacrament. Since horror and comedy oft are requited lovers.

As exsanguination delicately oozed from the meager bare flesh by its razor, the ritual swelled as the blood coalesced, into a blossoming chalice, molesting and overflowing the brim of the goblet as his freshest future soon to be bed partner persisted to make waves about his flowing locks of hair.  The instance became uncapped in light of the tiny theatrical flare, once the skyless sea screamed adultery. 

However, the incestuous magma was then poured over both their faces, overhead, intentionally shielding the smooch to be laid upon the cheek of the vampire, before soon breaching the vermilion borders. Her grin harmonized with the burgundy tilt of their now shared pew, until their slimy splashes broke due to the tenacious weight of their scarlet sins. Long illustrious eyelashes burrowed like hungry worms above the bridge of her nose; like trumpets, announcing the angelic ascent of its new queen, the fiery wreath circumscribed the circular void ingesting all sights around the femme fatale. With each triad blink, the inky geisha batted her eyes against the sacrificial damnation. Her watery breath commenced to invade his nostrils as she heaved and sought promiscuous permission to bite, with a tiny tsunami of sound.

[color=ed1c24]“You’re thirsty, aren’t you? Me too.”[/color]

[Hider=Hazing Mechanics]
Koan is no longer hiding her identity, shedding the Kor mask via [i]Disguise Self[/i], but donning even more Gothic gear.

[i]Shape Water[/i] and [i]Prestidigitation[/i] were exploited, making a frozen pink chair, snowflakes, scythe, and finally a chalice collecting his quarry's blood, to only pour it over them as she twerked. 

Five grapple checks were required to complete the lap dance; Four of them were successful.

Two uses of at will [i]Silent Image[/i], via [i]Misty Visions[/i], to elaborate a dressing room from with a tornado, and eventually triggered a Wild Mage Surge roll of 26.

[i]An eye appears on your forehead for the next minute. During that time, you have advantage on Wisdom (Perception) checks that rely on sight.[/i]

All to kiss Noriam.
[/hider]
[@Hekazu][@The Grey Dust][@JBRam2002]