Elanthian Vogue/Winter 5121 (Part I)

Editor: Rohese Bayvel-Timsh'l

Editor's Thoughts

I should begin by prefacing that my thoughts as Editor for this edition are going to be somewhat brief because those featured are considerably more knowledgeable about "adventures after dark" than I am and have far more of value to contribute. As someone who tends to be in bed early - apart from attending the occasional ball or court assembly – this is unknown territory to me and I admit that I was somewhat taken aback by my findings. Apparently, there are a lot of fun things going on in our towns and cities at night of which I was completely unaware!

On one occasion last year, we opted to split a publication into two parts in order to accommodate all of the fabulous material made available to us. The Elanthian Vogue team have decided to do so again with this bumper winter edition because we want to give the personalities involved their fair share of the spotlight. This first part ventures into nocturnal activities at the Ebon Gate Festival and the denizens of some of the lesser-known places found on Caligos Isle.

The second part, to be published later this month, will dive into Elanthia's night life in general and the opportunities available to those who are looking for people to meet, places to go, and fun things to participate in. We will also look at day-into-night fashion and how easy it is to make the switch with just a few key wardrobe pieces. But for now, let's part the indigo mists and see what macabre delights await those who loiter in the damp and dark places of the Isle.

As always, don't forget to send us your comments on any of the articles in this month's publication or suggestions for future editions!

Editor

Taking a Wrong Turn

Built into the rock face of the northern slope of Caligos Isle is a derelict tavern. Relatively bare, it houses only a handful of slipshod tables and chairs with a bar bereft of both glassware and beverages. Not somewhere people would actually choose to frequent, you'd think, but you would be wrong! With a little careful searching, it is possible to discover a rather disturbing cavern filled with all manner of macabre merchandise ranging from ritualistic blades to grisly looking sheaths to keep them in.

A passageway stretches a good way to the east drawing the curious - or, in my case, hesitant - interloper downward into the gloom. More peculiar daggers and sheaths hang from ropes on the walls for those that are interested in such distractions. Marked along one of these walls are a series of black markings that look vaguely like Arkati symbols, though a single, thin, and impeccably straight line of blood, as well as tiny - but deep - scratch marks, sully each one.

This prompted me to continue on down the slope rather quickly as I had an appointment to keep and I was conscious of the time. I should have been in bed a long time ago!

The cavern opens up affording a spectacular view of the sea hugging the island's craggy shoreline. The wall falls away completely open to the elements with a precipitous drop-off, while the opposite wall expands outward with more weird wares draped from multiple hooks and on a long driftwood table. It's hard not to notice the unpleasant odour of rotting sea life so I was grateful for the occasional gust of a sea breeze, even if it was chilly.

This is the lair – for want of a better word – of the infamous Goblyn and where she can usually be found "socialising" with her partner Cruxophim during the Ebon Gate Festival. Fortuitously, today happens to be one of those days and I am warmly greeted by them both.

There is definitely truth in the statement that appearances can be deceiving because, despite their disconcerting guises, they are both very agreeable and gracious hosts.

You see Miss Goblyn.
She appears to be a Sylvankind.
She is unusually short and twig-like in build.  She appears to be young.  She has large milky white eyes and stark white skin.  She has long, golden hair that sticks out in all directions, lending her the appearance of having recently been struck by lightning.  Her curving, pointed ears and finely formed cheekbones are quintessentially sylvan in nature, but her squat nose and wide mouth render her visage strangely goblin-like.  Patches of skin, clearly not her own, are decaying along her neck.
She has a pair of black-inked fang marks on her neck.
She is holding a glistening black apple in her left hand.
She is wearing a dried black apple suspended on a blackened wood necklace, a slim black leather jacket, a thorn-hooked stygian cendal corset, a sparkling crystallized black thorn finger-armor, a braided sinew belt with a slim eonake raiding axe hanging from it, a pair of sleek black breeches, and a pair of boots.

You see Cruxophim the Shadowborne Sin-Eater.
He appears to be an Aelotoi.
He is possessed of a statuesque height and has a slender, cadaverous physique shadowed by gaunt features.  He appears to be of full age.  He has black hollows that frame crimson-veined luminous yellow eyes and pallid black-veined ceraceous skin.  He has windswept, tenebrous hair haphazardly threaded with various tiny slivers of decaying bone, the matted disarray held to one side by a blackened crow skull ornament.  He has a gaunt, almost skeletal face and a glowing red claw-shaped mark scorched into his flesh.  He has a pair of blood red-veined deep black wings decorated with some green nephrite accents variegated with shadowy mottling.

Attempting to try and mask my unease at being in such a location and in their august company, I start with general introductions and explain the reasoning behind my seeking an interview in the first place. Both seem content to answer my questions so I ask them to share a little about themselves, such as when and where they were born.

Perhaps sensing my initial discomfiture, Cruxophim begins on a light-hearted note.

"O'er strange aeons?  But no, really - the answer is the small, quaint town of Cysaegir.  Definitely, absolutely Cysaegir.  I hail from a perfectly normal family unit.   And if anyone asks, that's exactly what you should tell them."

He smiles beatifically at Goblyn, prompting her to answer but not before making a quip about the "when" portion of my enquiry. His partner in crime – so to speak - is more measured in her response. I sense she is being careful not to give too much away for some personal reason unbeknownst to me.

"I was made in some past times, maybe it will be many years for the living in this city, maybe it will be only some short time.  In this other question of the where ... it is close, but not close, to the mist lake eastways of the Spine of the Dragon."

I am reminded of the reputation these two both have for certain arcane and macabre practices – this being largely why I sought them out - so I venture to ask them if they’d like to give me a little insight into what those practices might be and what motivates them. I happened to look up from my notebook to catch Goblyn giving Cruxophim a sidelong glance before responding.

"I do not think I will be calling this practices "arcane" or "macabre"... they are maybe very mundane, yes?"

Was that a knowing wink I saw from Cruxophim as he interjects with, "Perhaps for you, dear," and continues with his own thoughts on the matter.

"Of course.  Let's start with ‘motivation’ -- I imagine that what motivates me is the same as what motivates most people, as it were.  Power.  Purpose.  Practicality.  And other alliterative allegories."

Goblyn chortles softly at this and continues with her playful teasing before adopting a more serious tone.

"They are maybe mundane for you, too, yes.  But different motivations in some times."

I am highly amused by their repartee and allow them to continue without any further prompting from me. I focus instead on capturing Goblyn’s peculiar expressions in my notes. She has a rather mesmerising quality to her voice; the intonation of each word a little "off" but adding a touch of – I want to say melody - to her speech.

With his equally spellbinding laugh, Cruxophim adds, "Practice makes perfect, no?" and Goblyn eagerly agrees with a toothy grin and mild laughter of her own.

"This is what this practices are for, yes! And maybe for making the weeds of some of the living."

I suspect Cruxophim noticed my raised eyebrow at the reference to "weeds" and opts to be more direct in his approach while Goblyn nods along slowly; I assume in agreement but it's hard to tell.

"As for the much maligned 'Blood Magic'... in truth, it's not terribly different from most schools -- to use the colloquial term -- of magic.  Most forms also use catalytic means to produce results, akin to elemental magic, but the primary objection for most seems to be the more... shall we say, corporeal nature of the reagents involved.   There is horror in the body for most, after all, until one is able to transcend such."

"But in truth, there are far more forms and variations than I could list here -- all disparate and diverse within a spectrum of possibility.  My particular brand involves the fusion of hematological practices with necromantic sources, or the interactions of blood and flesh with spirit."

The discussion is gathering apace now and I quickly noted down a few references that Cruxophim offers to share with our readers, while Goblyn adds her own thoughts.

See: "Study on the Occult Origins and Intrinsic Properties of Everblood and its Derivatives (Part I)." - As Researched and Presented by Cruxophim.

"In my particulars, maybe it is different than in Cruxophim's.  I do not do this... blood magic in many times.  The studies I will be making practice of are more in this other world, with my friends that many do call demons?  And maybe also in the different times in different places... it is very interesting in these places!"

Cruxophim laughs at this, adding a comment, "Indeed! Very interesting," but allowing Goblyn to continue, albeit vaguely.

"I will be having other studies, I do know, when I am deemed... 'perfect' in this ones.  Perfect like the practices will make, as Cruxophim did say."

Their discourse takes a delightful turn at this point as Cruxophim poses a rather important question to his beloved on a more private matter. It seems I have caught them in the throes of planning their nuptials.

"Speaking of which ... have we found an appropriate venue yet, my dear? Good caterers are quite difficult to find, especially on other planes of existence."

This appears to catch her off guard, judging by her reaction, causing Cruxophim to ...I can only describe it as a purr.

"Venue for this... practices?  I do not think Rohese will be wishing to hear about th--"

She quickly corrects herself, however, perhaps noticing I had almost dropped my quill with a start.

"Oh.  Oh!  You do mean this marriage venue.  The appropriate place will be... home, but I do not think they will let you in.  In this time of meaning, maybe we do have some appropriate ones for this... substitution?  It will be very nice.  With very delicious foods and all of my friends!"

We chat a little more about weddings and Cruxophim kindly shared his engagement ring and a sneak peak of his wedding band. I will keep the rest of details for a possible future edition!

a carved scaphoid bone ring
Inset into the simple, polished bone ring is a faceted crystalline gem.  The gem glows with a shadow-infused sanguine light.
There appears to be some writing etched into it: "Maybe, yes.  If you promise to bring me rotting flesh and black apples all of the time!  ~Goblyn”

an enruned witchwood box
This small box, crafted from witchwood, is lined with black velvet and is just barely large enough to hold a single piece of jewelry.  Strange runes are lightly carved into the lid, but their meaning is undecipherable.

In the witchwood box:
>a blood-infused black ora choker

a blood-infused black ora choker
The choker is an imposing band of solid black ora, roughly a quarter-inch thick and two inches wide, hinged at the back and designed to tightly encircle the neck when closed.  The dark exterior is subtly engraved with a panoply of eldritch bloodrunes that cast a lambent crimson glow over the choker's cold black surface.  A locking mechanism on the front is linked by two adjoined vertical half-rings, bound together and secured by a dangling black ora padlock with the name "Goblyn" etched into its facade.  The shadows surrounding the black ora choker contort into writhing tendrils.

Returning to the theme of this month's edition, I ask them both about their thoughts on Ronan - given his connection with the night - and whether they have a relationship with this Arkati – or any other for that matter - to which Cruxophim immediately shoots Goblyn a sidelong glance in amusement as she laughs cheekily at my query and rolls her eyes.

"Ronan is very funny when he is riding atop his horse with the horn. He will not like it when I say this like this, but it is very true.  When he is not in the places of nightmares and dreams, he is maybe... nice.  Though he is thinking very much of himself.  I will not be having this relationship with him, no.  With this other Arkati... it is depending on the individual ones, yes?  They are maybe all very full of... emotions and dramas.  I do not know why this living people do make the worship of them, though -- it is very strange."

With a glance at Cruxophim, I catch her repeating a sentiment that gives me pause for thought.

"Many things the living do are very strange."

They exchange fond glances and Cruxophim agrees with her, although somewhat dryly.

"Yes, I have no particular objection to Ronan or any other Arkati, such as it were.  Live and let live, I suppose.  Indeed, few things are stranger than the living and their practices."

There is a notable shift in his body language as he steeples his fingers and pauses for a moment before continuing to answer my question, initially taking care with his diction but quickly resuming his usual playful tone.

"I do not have a connection with any other Arkati or spirit, no.  I suppose I do have a bit of a nostalgic fondness for Zelia, however."

I confess that the mention of Zelia disarmed me a little but a quick glance down at my notes soon rectifies that and I move on. This being a publication about fashion and style, it would be remiss of me not ask them about their wardrobe choices. Cruxophim defers to Goblyn on this who seems to relish the prospect as she positively beams and sidles closer to him. With a shrug of her shoulders and a non-specific wave of her hand at her current ensemble she humours me with her thoughts.

"For efficiency and the occasion.  In other times, when there are costumes to be wearing, I do very much like this!  Cruxophim does also look very nice when he does make costumes to be wearing, too!  And in some times she is making very nice disguises!"

Clearly amused by this, Cruxophim laughs and adds his own thoughts on the subject.

"My habiliment philosophy is 'waste not, want not.'  And yes, I do so enjoy dressing up.  What is the skin, if not a means of expression?  What is flesh, but a means of conveyance for soul's deepest yearning?  What, therefore, is a choice of wardrobe...but a furthering of that most noble articulation?"

We pause at this point to discuss outfits and items of particular note and I thought many of our readers would like to see them.

Cruxophim ~ casual attire (before work)
He is wearing some circular black-lensed goggles, some sleek ebon leather pauldrons paneled with beveled glaes bands, a billowy cloak of shadows, an enruned black ora phylactery, a circular veil iron plate, a chain-bound small eldritch coffin, an interlocking black harness over some segmented sleek dark body armor with a sleek black silk shirt underneath, a shadowy black bone phalange, a dark array of swathed stygian bands, some sleek black alloy vambraces, some dark steel articulated gauntlets, a pale vertebral bone belt threaded with leathery sinew, a dark skeleton key strung from a twisted chain, some soft onyx leather pants, and some knee-high strapped black boots.

cloak
At first glance, the cloak seems tailored from some strange dark silk.  But as the garment darkens and shifts, it becomes clear that the cloak is woven from the shadows themselves.  Its folds are dark and thick but have the consistency of air, drifting about like a fog cloud on a murky day.  The cloak almost seems alive at times, wavering in tandem with the shadows around it.  Black tendrils break free to caress the surrounding gloom, as if yearning to return to the darkness from which the cloak was wrought.

phylactery
The phylactery is a small elongated cylinder that has been cast entirely of black ora, and radiates faintly with a cold metallic black light.  A chaotic host of small eldritch sigils and chthonic runes are scribed over its stygian surface, bearing no discernible pattern or order, their etched forms lending its facade a jagged and anarchic appearance.  Bound to the phylactery is an unpleasantly barbed dark chain that appears long enough to wrap several times around its bearer's neck.

vambraces
The vambraces are crafted of an unusual alloy, possessing a glistening black surface that appears so dark it seems almost lightless save for some native aberrant reflection.  Its uncanny form most closely imitates a sleek fusion of musculature and bone that has been wrought into a surreal hybrid carapace of shadowy flesh, with several complex mechanisms blending seamlessly into its inscrutable exoskeletal appearance.  Subtle segmented plates disguise the various joints so as to appear sleek and continuous.

belt
You see that a slender bloodstained awl is tucked into a hollow femur pocket next to an edged veil iron lathe that is neatly tied in place with treated sinew laces on one side of the vertebral bone belt, while on the other side there is a pair of black steel shears hanging from clavicle bone hook, a pair of grimy serrated scissors held in veinous leather sheath, and some rusted snips suspended from sacrum bone loops.

Goblyn ~ alternative
She is wearing a sanguine and grey rabbit fur scarf accented with a severely twisted rabbit head, a long dark red leather jacket, a pure white blouse spattered with gore and fleshy bits, a pair of elbow-length red velvet gloves, a pair of dark red velvet breeches, and a pair of slick sanguine boots.

Goblyn ~ dressed up for visiting home-home
She is unusually short and twig-like in build. She appears to be young. She has large milky white eyes and stark white skin. She has long, golden hair that splays out in all directions, floating around her and lending her the appearance of having recently been struck by lightning. Her curving, pointed ears and finely formed cheekbones are quintessentially sylvan in nature, but her squat nose and wide mouth render her visage strangely goblin-like. The edge of several faintly luminous lines on the back of her left shoulder peek out from beneath the curve of her dress's hollow-backed shape, and deep criss-cross scarring runs down her lower back, the flesh seemingly melted at her waist.
She has a pair of black-inked fang marks on her neck.
She is wearing a tiny pair of blood red-infused shadowglass earrings, a rune-etched sylvankind scalp talisman, a glistening scarlet reticule, a long pure white dress liberally splattered with blood, an inky black liquid bracelet suspending a vivid carmine bloodjewel, and a pair of red-toed white boots.

reticule
The reticule is formed from a layer of skin, the epidermis lining the interior, while the hypodermis makes up the outer surface.  As if it was freshly preserved immediately after flaying, the hypodermis is flush with a sticky, shiny layer of blood, lending the reticule its vibrant dark scarlet hue.

dress
Cut from white velvet to fall in a straight line that only tucks in at the waist, the dress is long -- so long that the hemline spills onto the floor.  The scooped neckline is high, just grazing over the collarbones, and paired with long, fitted sleeves, all reflecting a distinct modesty in stark contrast to the hollow back.  Bringing life to the simple, plain design are scores of vivid scarlet blood spatter trails splashed over darker bloodstains that have already set.

bracelet 
The black liquid flows around in a never-ending circle.

boots
The boots are slim, meant to hug the wearer's feet, with soles so thin that they may as well not even be there.  Thin laces run up the full length of the boots.

I was particularly curious about the bloodjewel and the bracelet itself since it seemed to feature predominantly in a lot of the outfit choices Goblyn shared with me but she was difficult to pin down, despite my pressing her on, her answer was still vague.

"It is... It is from my home.  It is not a thing I will be making more discussion of in this current time.  This liquid? It is the magic that I do use, yes?  That is enough for you to be knowing."

Oddly enough, she cannot contain her eagerness in explaining more about some of the other interesting items in her possession.

"In many times, some of the living do give me very nice things!  If it does have an appropriate... purpose, I will be adding it to my wardrobe.  Also, sometimes this things that are in the wardrobe, if it is for... an occasion of the living -- maybe a party! --, it can be like art, and I will choose very nice shades, and sometimes I will add my friends, too, so that they will be at the party with me!"

Goblyn ~ dressed up for some ball or another!
She is unusually short and twig-like in build.  She appears to be young.  She has large milky white eyes and stark white skin.  She has long, golden hair that splays out in all directions and floats about in the air, the circlet of contorted gold-painted bird claws crowning her head clearly unable to contain the chaotic disarray.  Her curving, pointed ears and finely formed cheekbones are quintessentially sylvan in nature, but her squat nose and wide mouth render her visage strangely goblin-like.  Several faintly luminous lines on the back of her left shoulder are partially covered by her gown.  Patches of skin, clearly not her own, are decaying along her neck.
She has a pair of black-inked fang marks on her neck.
She is holding a stein of spiced blood vodka in her right hand.
She is wearing a golden bird beak choker, a long piceous gown of birds accented with gold, an inky black liquid bracelet suspending a vivid carmine bloodjewel, a small black bag, and a pair of black boots.

choker
A series of gold-coated bird beaks are strung together along a single, short strand of thread-thin black metal.

gown
Stitched together with their bodies in all manner of positions, from open-winged to awkwardly cramped and contorted, varied dead birds of a naturally ebon hue -- primarily ravens, crows, blackbirds, and vultures -- and their stray parts make up the gown's simple, strapless construction.  The upper front edge of the bodice is formed by the topside of a large crow's widely spread wingspan stretched up into a V-shape, with the bird's head and lower body twisted around so that it stares outward from the wearer, with legs splaying out to attack with its gold-dipped claws.  There doesn't seem to be rhyme nor reason to the placement of anything else, save for the ring of blackbirds that dangle down to make up the skirted hem, every other hanging upside-down so that their heads, rather than their golden tailfeathers and claws, scrape along the ground.

bag
The bag is as black as a moonless night.  Nothing else in particular stands out about it.

Moving swiftly on for fear of learning more, I ask Goblyn about her business interests and in particular the infamous Pie Shop in Wehnimer’s Landing.

"I do own this shop with Ordim and Telsas, yes!  It is first for making pies for the living people who do have this allergies.  It is second for making many other delicious pies, and maybe some very gross and disgusting ones, too, like this chocolate cream or blueberries.  The favorites in some times are the kitten pot pies and Rhaveign's blapple tarts!  Maybe also the sludge coffee?"

I can't help but giggle as Cruxophim jokingly adds, "Do not disturb me before I've had my sludge coffee," while Goblyn continues, somewhat excitedly, despite the occasional grumble.

"There are many people who do work for this shop, so yes, it will be... a shop still for these things, and also for the making of art.  But it is... remaking itself … again.  When it is done with changing its mind and will stop making this arguing with me, maybe then it will return to the town of Wehnimer's Landing.  And maybe only if this people do not make it to burn down again."

It strikes me that Cruxophim likes to tease his fiancé quite a bit but he is gentle in doing so. It is obvious that these two are well matched in many ways. Just watching their back-and-forth is quite delightful and I’m sure they won’t mind me sharing this brief insight as they "do battle."

Cruxophim was quick to add that the shop was "terribly fickle ...much like its owner," which only served to cause Goblyn to stare blankly at him. A smooch on her cheek then prompted a scowl and a snap response of, "I am not this 'fickle.'" Cruxophim is quick to sardonically advise her that she should perhaps vet her employees more thoroughly, "especially those with mops for appendages." Goblyn, in turn, frowns at this and I notice her hand snaking out to pinch his arm with a rueful grin sneaking over her expression. Small tendrils of shadow rise from Cruxophim’s arm and he gently pinches her back. Goblyn rises to Maylan’s defence by adding that, "this is mops is very nice for making the floor clean after you do bring the... messy ingredients," to which Cruxophim gently adds, "messy ingredients, made with love," and Goblyn cheerfully suggests, "Maylan will maybe make a new mop from your hide and hair."

Perhaps another interview with the Land Pirate will be in order soon to get her side of the story! For now, though, I opt to change the subject in order to avoid further domestic discord and ask them about the current festivities taking place on the Isle and their significance to them both.

Goblyn ponders this for a moment and carefully answers my question.

"It is a... festive time, but it is only of significance in the correct places, and not all places it is in are this... correct.   In this current time, it is maybe important for my studies, when these doorways are open with more wideness, and there is, sometimes, more space to visit in this in betweens."

"This festivals where shops and games are played, they are maybe of not the same significance for my studies, but it is very nice to be seeing all of this interesting living people who do visit and make art -- and many hands! --, and bring many interesting things... and secrets.  I will also like to play Fire in the Sky and the Corpse Dance with them!"

On that note, Cruxophim draws the interview to a dramatic close by smooching my cheek lightly and adding something that I’m sure you will be pleased to her.

"Of the utmost importance... primarily in the sense that we greatly look forward to seeing you -- and many others -- there."

I encourage you all to take them at their word and drop by to visit them both during the festival.

A Taste of Things To Come

Remember that we still have part two of this bumper winter edition to come so while we're on the subject of the Ebon Gate Festival, I'll share some thoughts from one of our next contributors.

"The shorter days and encroaching darkness of the season seem to remind us all of our own mortality and the need to revel in the here and now, to burn brightly together and stave off the darkness for as long as able, because eventually we all pass through that gate. I think that's why all peoples across the lands seem to have festivals around now, to keep the warmth of life burning through a cold, dark winter and beyond. I always try to do that through our nighttime revelry, but it is perhaps most important in these darkest parts of the seasons."

"In regard to the particular festival on Caligos, I worry about an island consumed by Gods that appear to be playing a game with its peoples. It is a vibrant place consumed by darkness that appears to be growing. I would hate to see it go. Perhaps our revelry there is my own way of having a stake in this 'god game,' to bring some joy to a place that needs it. Maybe I should start amassing followers too!"

He gives me a wry smile before continuing. "Of course, I'd be lying if I said that despite all these large-scale machinations of gods and ruminations on mortality, I also just like the bevvy of shopping options at festivals of these sizes, I am only elven after all, and the fineries of life are often our weakness."

I'll leave you all to ponder on who it might be!