Sadly, Orchid unwittingly called the druid Torus in front of Krets, to which I believe he would have noticed.
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@Lady Selune, you have been poked but after my edits of the last post. Hence, here is Alf's formal hand.
The tail was distracting, even for the gambler.
Parlé relied always and ever upon his stoic countenance in such a high stakes circumstance, perpetually perusing the players whilst always paying attention to what the proverbial dealer possessed in their grasp. However, the to and fro of the tip, similar to an incessant metronome, irked the curiosity of the bookie.
Now, wholeheartedly gawking at Renée and her shouldered pet provoked a paradoxial inquisition within Alf.
All the wonder was, how this maiden, with her lack of worldly wisdom and agonizing consciousness of ridicule, could have been induced to take a measure at once so prudent and so laughable, as that of bringing an actual feline, but yet be invited to such a culpable chorale. A wardrobe decision both deliciously fatal but also lively, if the cards were played right. Was this woman's intent to obscure not only identity but alignment?
While the unmoving masks of immersed British people gabbed, Fred yearned to seep into the glow of such a chosen madness, for he adored all things cats. From the tapestry of Bastet, these animals were worshiped, offered often the same mummification as humans of import. Praised once for controlling plagues of snakes and rats, the domesticated mouser has now been forgotten as a symbol of grace and poise.
To only be resurrected here, behind another veneer. Intriguing. This guest bandaged herself within this indistinguishable archetype while simultaneously hoisting a smaller icon, to foster, what message, pray-tell.
The ball, solemnized itself according to an anti-Episcopalian fashions and standards, in a closed venue, with a degree of possible publicity that would have attracted many spectators, due to the clumsy wheels of several old-fashioned coaches still mounting the overt exterior, if it were not for the heavily guarded front.
Zorkybski who occupied the front seats of the galleries, decided to brush past the drinking Raven and the other pews of people. The mob, except the principal figure, seemed to be constructed mostly up of youth and gayety, opposing his impending fifth decade of experience. As he streamed up the broad aisle, pillars, entrenched intermittently into the wall, appeared to decay, with time, on either side. His steps became less buoyant and more cautious as if he suddenly mistook the ball-room for a church, ready to court a daughter in hand to the altar.
Still was so brilliant was the costumed spectacle, to the parlay, that few took notice of his singular bee-like phenomenon, until he marked its entrance to the closest circle gathering around Schrödinger and his ostensible master. At the moment when the gambler's foot breached the threshold, the musical vibrations swung heavily in the foyer, sending forth its deepest knell to entreat all to bend the elbow and dance.
This was a perfect opportunity to corner the likely disguised mistress, with a thick French accent.
"Enchanté! Care to dance, mademoiselle?"
@Lady Selune@shylarah@Hekazu
Parlé relied always and ever upon his stoic countenance in such a high stakes circumstance, perpetually perusing the players whilst always paying attention to what the proverbial dealer possessed in their grasp. However, the to and fro of the tip, similar to an incessant metronome, irked the curiosity of the bookie.
Now, wholeheartedly gawking at Renée and her shouldered pet provoked a paradoxial inquisition within Alf.
All the wonder was, how this maiden, with her lack of worldly wisdom and agonizing consciousness of ridicule, could have been induced to take a measure at once so prudent and so laughable, as that of bringing an actual feline, but yet be invited to such a culpable chorale. A wardrobe decision both deliciously fatal but also lively, if the cards were played right. Was this woman's intent to obscure not only identity but alignment?
While the unmoving masks of immersed British people gabbed, Fred yearned to seep into the glow of such a chosen madness, for he adored all things cats. From the tapestry of Bastet, these animals were worshiped, offered often the same mummification as humans of import. Praised once for controlling plagues of snakes and rats, the domesticated mouser has now been forgotten as a symbol of grace and poise.
To only be resurrected here, behind another veneer. Intriguing. This guest bandaged herself within this indistinguishable archetype while simultaneously hoisting a smaller icon, to foster, what message, pray-tell.
The ball, solemnized itself according to an anti-Episcopalian fashions and standards, in a closed venue, with a degree of possible publicity that would have attracted many spectators, due to the clumsy wheels of several old-fashioned coaches still mounting the overt exterior, if it were not for the heavily guarded front.
Zorkybski who occupied the front seats of the galleries, decided to brush past the drinking Raven and the other pews of people. The mob, except the principal figure, seemed to be constructed mostly up of youth and gayety, opposing his impending fifth decade of experience. As he streamed up the broad aisle, pillars, entrenched intermittently into the wall, appeared to decay, with time, on either side. His steps became less buoyant and more cautious as if he suddenly mistook the ball-room for a church, ready to court a daughter in hand to the altar.
Still was so brilliant was the costumed spectacle, to the parlay, that few took notice of his singular bee-like phenomenon, until he marked its entrance to the closest circle gathering around Schrödinger and his ostensible master. At the moment when the gambler's foot breached the threshold, the musical vibrations swung heavily in the foyer, sending forth its deepest knell to entreat all to bend the elbow and dance.
This was a perfect opportunity to corner the likely disguised mistress, with a thick French accent.
"Enchanté! Care to dance, mademoiselle?"
@Lady Selune@shylarah@Hekazu
Parlé adores cats. Moreso, people with cat masks.
How would you like to pursue a collaboration, @shylarah?
How would you like to pursue a collaboration, @shylarah?
What the frell! I did not get this notification at all o.O Found the OOC by chance. Oh well... Have fun
There still may be a vacancy, but it is ultimately up to @Hekazu whether you are on the guest list.
Anyone want to dance?
Brooding over her innovative glacial brazier, the azure prankster hoped the consumption of these herbs, by magical fire, would satiate the fey to bring her a help-meet in this time of emotional need. Maybe a fairy or better yet, a pseudodragon? She then stood lingering, as her stare observed the man of her yearning, burning heart approach.
"Koan, are you alright my sweet ebon fury?"
Noriam’s subtle inquisition imbued a reactionary spirit of Eumenidean punishment, for torturing her lust with pangs of a scorned love. The guilt was frigid and conscious, as the Agathysian armor instantly pressed its forbidding and frosty helm upon the shadowy skin-tight panoply of the warlock, in the form of a platonic embrace, distancing their parade of partnership, until the marathon between Jill and her, culminated in the cursed subjugation of the more doted bard.
“Just a little cold, is all. Waiting to see if this works.”
Ugh.
Sudden groans and grunting, audibly discerned admist their hug oddly with both participants' mouths visibly closed, took the jester by surprise, as if her arm was attempting to scramble off her body in a mountainous ascent. Pushing off the star-crossed lover with the now flailing extremity, the crazed blue clown enquired furiously after clicking her boots once more.
“What in the hell is going on, Sauron?!?”
Abruptly, a sinister spider squeezed out of a tiny crevice within her left icy gauntlet, falling and floating onto the stalagmite riddled floor, before transforming back into an imp.
“Geez. Not what, but who, toots.” The demonic familiar dusted water off his attire and then ogled the hexblade, with a wink and a smirk. "Adorable, Norey-baby. Did you get'em at the Eldritch outlet? No, don't tell me. Or was it the Stygian flea market? Since youse a miser on the essentials. Like clothes."
The rarity of embarrassment on the joker’s visage impregnated the room and her trembling voice. “Dox?!? I thought you were on a decade long… What did you call it? And who’s Norey-baby?”
“A sabbatical.” The greenish gremlin was sharply dressed, in a violet suit, tie and vest, adorned with a silver undershirt, cane and pocket square. Finally, a purple top hat, crowned with an Amethyst, sat upon the writhing scalp. He cranked his neck, to look up at her proverbial lord but secured his trilby with his greyish wicker. “And it has, ya old blue bird. After I sprungs youse from that king’s harem, thrall and all awhiles back, I, the infamous Dox, has returned. Been spendings my eternity, workings my way down the infernal ladder. Youse know, promotions and such.”
The imp spat, reflexively to clear his throat, into the aquatic ambiance, uncaring of its dissolved destination.
“Let’s get to the knitty gritty, before everyone retires. How ‘bout youse and I cuts ourselves another contract, eh?” He gawked at the bladesinging Beholder and Noriam intently before continuing.
“What kind of deal?” Her entranced lips followed with the appropriate questioning.
"Youse beckons me and I do a thing or three to be, ah, useful to master folk like you." He jumped onto her shoulder. "In the meanwhiles, I gets to corrupt a few souls, kills a few goodie two-shoes, and sees a little action of those assets of yours."
His eyes greedily glanced at Jill, aware of the relational strain, the captain haphazardly placed between the dancing duo. She subtly felt the unconscious sway of his pervasive sight, and spontaneously agreed.
“Deal! So, what now?” She crossed her arms, after batting him away.
The fiendish con artist braced his impact with the shiny rattan, flipping forward in the style of an acrobat, hurriedly about-facing with another sharky smile. “Perfect, toots.” A mystical chain attached to a handcuff, jerkily jetted from the palm of Dox, nippily shackling the cerulean geisha. After a second or two, the fettering display vanished, leaving a broken pocket watch in the vise of the familiar.
“Done. So, the singing Dyn and the white haired masochist, I already know.” The devilish lawyer closed the gap once more with Koan. “First, throws in a good bad word of me with rest of your crew. Finder’s fee still applies, no matter the realm. And who knows maybe I do youse a favor, every now and then, especially since I now have high friends in low places."
"Koan, are you alright my sweet ebon fury?"
Noriam’s subtle inquisition imbued a reactionary spirit of Eumenidean punishment, for torturing her lust with pangs of a scorned love. The guilt was frigid and conscious, as the Agathysian armor instantly pressed its forbidding and frosty helm upon the shadowy skin-tight panoply of the warlock, in the form of a platonic embrace, distancing their parade of partnership, until the marathon between Jill and her, culminated in the cursed subjugation of the more doted bard.
“Just a little cold, is all. Waiting to see if this works.”
Ugh.
Sudden groans and grunting, audibly discerned admist their hug oddly with both participants' mouths visibly closed, took the jester by surprise, as if her arm was attempting to scramble off her body in a mountainous ascent. Pushing off the star-crossed lover with the now flailing extremity, the crazed blue clown enquired furiously after clicking her boots once more.
“What in the hell is going on, Sauron?!?”
Abruptly, a sinister spider squeezed out of a tiny crevice within her left icy gauntlet, falling and floating onto the stalagmite riddled floor, before transforming back into an imp.
“Geez. Not what, but who, toots.” The demonic familiar dusted water off his attire and then ogled the hexblade, with a wink and a smirk. "Adorable, Norey-baby. Did you get'em at the Eldritch outlet? No, don't tell me. Or was it the Stygian flea market? Since youse a miser on the essentials. Like clothes."
The rarity of embarrassment on the joker’s visage impregnated the room and her trembling voice. “Dox?!? I thought you were on a decade long… What did you call it? And who’s Norey-baby?”
“A sabbatical.” The greenish gremlin was sharply dressed, in a violet suit, tie and vest, adorned with a silver undershirt, cane and pocket square. Finally, a purple top hat, crowned with an Amethyst, sat upon the writhing scalp. He cranked his neck, to look up at her proverbial lord but secured his trilby with his greyish wicker. “And it has, ya old blue bird. After I sprungs youse from that king’s harem, thrall and all awhiles back, I, the infamous Dox, has returned. Been spendings my eternity, workings my way down the infernal ladder. Youse know, promotions and such.”
The imp spat, reflexively to clear his throat, into the aquatic ambiance, uncaring of its dissolved destination.
“Let’s get to the knitty gritty, before everyone retires. How ‘bout youse and I cuts ourselves another contract, eh?” He gawked at the bladesinging Beholder and Noriam intently before continuing.
“What kind of deal?” Her entranced lips followed with the appropriate questioning.
"Youse beckons me and I do a thing or three to be, ah, useful to master folk like you." He jumped onto her shoulder. "In the meanwhiles, I gets to corrupt a few souls, kills a few goodie two-shoes, and sees a little action of those assets of yours."
His eyes greedily glanced at Jill, aware of the relational strain, the captain haphazardly placed between the dancing duo. She subtly felt the unconscious sway of his pervasive sight, and spontaneously agreed.
“Deal! So, what now?” She crossed her arms, after batting him away.
The fiendish con artist braced his impact with the shiny rattan, flipping forward in the style of an acrobat, hurriedly about-facing with another sharky smile. “Perfect, toots.” A mystical chain attached to a handcuff, jerkily jetted from the palm of Dox, nippily shackling the cerulean geisha. After a second or two, the fettering display vanished, leaving a broken pocket watch in the vise of the familiar.
“Done. So, the singing Dyn and the white haired masochist, I already know.” The devilish lawyer closed the gap once more with Koan. “First, throws in a good bad word of me with rest of your crew. Finder’s fee still applies, no matter the realm. And who knows maybe I do youse a favor, every now and then, especially since I now have high friends in low places."
"Not only queen." The old man added a spiritual insight to the flattery of Krets. "But scorned mother."
The druid also moved the tankard to the side, for a moment, speaking plainly in Common.
"... banished by her brother, Bahamut, to Avernus, her current solace resides within the Nine Hells. To proclaim her name is to embrace the salvation of perdition. Utterly and completely. To scorch one's identity is to be liberated of purposelessness. It is no longer Torag who should live, but the undying Queen who scalds within this ember."
The double entendre was subtle, hinting both at Xaron's rise to surface of this ancient shell and an apparent connection to evil five headed chromatic dragon.
"Only then, in the bright inferno in one's razed soul, can the flame of avarice bloom and ignite like wildfire across this realm."
The pirate eventually raised the flagon, but held her pursed lips to discern a response.
"To Tiamat's glory."
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher
The druid also moved the tankard to the side, for a moment, speaking plainly in Common.
"... banished by her brother, Bahamut, to Avernus, her current solace resides within the Nine Hells. To proclaim her name is to embrace the salvation of perdition. Utterly and completely. To scorch one's identity is to be liberated of purposelessness. It is no longer Torag who should live, but the undying Queen who scalds within this ember."
The double entendre was subtle, hinting both at Xaron's rise to surface of this ancient shell and an apparent connection to evil five headed chromatic dragon.
"Only then, in the bright inferno in one's razed soul, can the flame of avarice bloom and ignite like wildfire across this realm."
The pirate eventually raised the flagon, but held her pursed lips to discern a response.
"To Tiamat's glory."
@Hekazu@Lucius Cypher
Just in case anyone was interested in the mathematics behind the cryptography mentioned in Alfred's scandal, I would be more than obliged.
For now, here is a taste of the Faro: plus.google.com/101584889282878921052…
For now, here is a taste of the Faro: plus.google.com/101584889282878921052…
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