Evermore Hollow - 2023-10-01 - Costume Contest (log)

Jastatos 01, 5123 Competition

Hosted by Fluffybits at Ebon Gate 2023 in Evermore Hollow. Along with Fluffybits, this contest was presided over by the Vistix Akrath, the severed head of Henshor and a few others in Naidem. Categories for this year's competition are Most Creative, Most Original, Funniest, Spookiest, and Best Couple.

Introduction

[Yvalyst Manor, Ballroom - , ]
Sprigs of alyssum and amaranth are hand-painted across the parquetry dance floor, the sanguine and ivory-colored flora traced in splatters of gilded ink across the sweeping ballroom. Pallid marble fountains spray water between the potted dark-colored foliage, the chilling mist clinging to the velvet-curtained windows, leaving the stained glass covered in rivulets of condensation. Chiseled marble busts flank the various thresholds, each profile covered in a veil of aged, discolored lace. You also see the bright pine green Faiyth disk hung with tiny ceramic kobolds, the alabaster Kialeigh disk with interlocking silver knotwork, the skull-shaped Irval disk, the severed head of Henshor that is flying around, the hammered silver Meliyara disk, the Yardie disk, several groups of draugr interspersed with numerous others, a short-legged pudgy kitten, a set of garland-framed bloodwood doors and a wrought-silver arch.
Also here: Squire Delindra, Jisandra, Lord Obelin, Lady Lylia, Xorus, Lady Uniana, Faiyth, Master Yukito, Madam Naamit, Kialeigh, Town Councilor Irval, Merrymaker Opalina, Vistix Akrath, Fluffybits, Sirona, Lady Aliashyrah, Grand Lady Traiva, Giogionni, Loremaster Rohese, Lornon Chair Rivienne, Shadowwind, Chronicler Falvicar, Lady Starletdawn, Tikba, Lady Meliyara, Lady Avawren, Tabubu, Blade Yardie, Lord Vyctus, Tasthera, Jouster Littlemelody, Yairra, Aubriella, Fleurs, Yipsy, Samyrha, Kalyrra, Wolfloner, Pub Proprietor Lithyia, Dahcre Reader Ordim who is sitting, Mister Tibs, Picklemaster Niffly, Darrovik, Rillarie, Lady Toxana, The Fabulous Fyg, Lord Teveriel, Gardener Elysia, Pixie Seeker Erek, Helnora, Lord Thrassus
Obvious exits: none

Speaking awkwardly to Akrath, Fluffybits asks, "Excuse me, Vistrix sir... may I start my contest?"

Akrath distractedly says, "What? Oh--"

Speaking to Fluffybits, Akrath says, "Yes, yes. Go on."

Entrants

Entry #1: Sirona, the Wood Sprite

Fluffybits recites:

"And our first contestant... Sirona!"

You see Sirona.
Due to the wood sprite mask she wears, it is difficult to determine her race...or even whether she is living or dead.
She is taller than average and has a waiflike physique. Her features are hidden beneath a smiling wood sprite mask, though her thick-lashed stormy grey eyes shine through. She has shoulder length, disheveled brown hair littered with twigs and leaves. Little else about her appearance is easy to distinguish.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a smiling wood sprite mask, a woodland sprite costume, some opalescent silk wings, an autumn leaf garland, a butterfly charm, an enameled orange pumpkin pin, a vine-threaded canvas foraging satchel slung over her shoulder, some fine silk stockings, and a pair of dark brown open-toed shoes buttoned with topaz autumn leaves.

Several strands of Sirona's brown hair slip free from its bindings and falls into her face and across her eyes.

Sirona gently brushes her brown hair away from her eyes and, with a deft twist of her wrist, tucks it back into its bindings.

Sirona attends to her brown wig, making the wig as presentable as possible.

Sirona smiles abashedly and her cheeks glow with a growing pink-tinged warmth.

Sirona's eyes twinkle with merriment as she playfully drops into a quick curtsy, letting out a soft giggle as she rises.

Sirona skips sideways a few strides to her left.

Sirona sways to and fro as she dances.

Sirona gazes in amusement at her sprite costume.

Sirona attends to her sprite costume, making the costume as presentable as possible.

Sirona glances away.

Sirona's salmon-colored longwing butterfly flutters upwards, turning in the air to display the pale violet darts and cloudy white crescents along its wings before settling back down.

A butterfly rises up from Sirona's fingers, hovering in the air as its wings beat in a flurry of pale violet tinged salmon-colored light before returning to its resting place.

Sirona removes a carved wyrwood short bow from in her canvas foraging satchel.

Sirona plucks at the string of her wyrwood short bow, making a dull twanging sound.

Sirona casually observes her surroundings.

Sirona drums her fingers against a carved wyrwood short bow while glancing nonchalantly about the room.

Sirona thoughtfully taps a finger against her lips.

Sirona removes a ripe red apple from in her canvas foraging satchel.

Sirona grins wickedly at a ripe red apple.

Sirona amusedly asks, "I'll need a volunteer from the audience. Anyone willing?"

Sirona raises an eyebrow.

Sirona glances at Yardie.

Yardie gasps.

Yardie blinks at Sirona.

Sirona smiles and giggles slightly as she places the apple gently on top of his head.

Sirona loads the arrow into her wyrwood short bow and turns toward Yardie, grinning mischievously.

Sirona fires her arrow with a lack of grace that sends it flying wide, missing Yardie completely. She pulls her arrow back into her hand, flushing slightly.

Yardie glances nervously around the room.

Sirona lets out a cheer!

Sirona flushes slightly, some color reaching her cheeks.

Sirona looks around nervously, ready to bolt.

With a fancy pirouette, Sirona fluidly drops into a curtsy with one foot sliding gracefully forward before rising with a grin.

Sirona quietly says, "Thank you."

The severed head of Henshor exclaims, "They want to steal your pumpkins and put smooth stones in your socks! Don't trust the wood sprites!"

Speaking softly to Sirona, Rohese exclaims, "Adorable!"

Entry #2: Rohese, Perpetual Twilight

You see Loremaster Rohese Bayvel Illistim.
She appears to be a Gjenganger.
She is taller than average with a slender willowy form. Her age is indeterminate due to the constant state of shift that overtakes her features, causing her to at one moment look young and at another ravaged by age. She has silver-lashed misty grey eyes and water-sheened preternaturally pale skin. She has lustrous, cool silver hair tied into a loose ponytail with a pale lilac chiffon ribbon. Her movements are accentuated by a fluid, waterlike motion. She has a scattering of tiny opal droplets set along the slender tips of her pointed ears, a cascade of tiny silver stars tattooed over her right eyebrow that fades into her hairline, and an inking of a faint star constellation on her neck.
Flickering motes of light drift lazily around her.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a white pearl mask overlaid in a frond-patterned gold filigree in her right hand and a rosy pink chiffon ribbon in her left hand.
She is wearing a scattering of golden aragless fireflies twinkling across the decollete, a bare-backed twilight velvet gown spilling into a train of faintly bronzed chiffon, and a delicate gold toe ring.

Rohese softly begins, "I was so enamoured with the view of Naidem from the Orchard Overlook last year that I have chosen to create a costume that hopefully reflects its beauty."

Akrath once again returns his lingering gaze to Rohese.

Rohese softly elaborates, "Picture the black shapes of buildings rising against a horizon frozen in perpetual twilight and ribbons of colour coursing across the firmament - blues bleeding into greens that twine through wisps of violet and pink."

Rohese dreamily continues, "The lights that twinkle and dance through these braids of colour, unlike stars as they rise and fall through the bands before floating along the lengths like meandering celestial fireflies on lazy paths across the sky."

Gazing thoughtfully into the distance, Rohese absently runs her fingers over the surface of the golden aragless fireflies around her neck.

Rohese humbly announces, "So, with that imagery, I present to you, Perpetual Twilight."

Rohese steps forward, the faintly bronzed chiffon train of her twilight velvet gown sweeping the floor as she turns slowly. As she completes the revolution, the length of faintly bronzed chiffon follows, rustling slightly as it pools around her form.

Rohese flushes slightly, some color reaching her cheeks.

Cupping the face of her pearl mask, Rohese settles it on her face before tying it in place with the rosy pink chiffon ribbons.

Rohese quickly removes a pale lilac chiffon ribbon from her cool silver hair, and returns it to its normal style.

Rohese flips her lustrous cool silver hair off of her shoulder, revealing a brief glimpse of pale green streaks beneath. When her hair settles, the delicate wisps of pale green are nowhere to be seen.

Rohese recites softly:

"In a realm where life and death entwine,

Lies a place cloaked in perpetual twilight.

A land where shadows and sunbeams align,

With flashes of silver and gold, so bright."

Rohese leans over slightly, reaching down to rearrange the faintly bronzed chiffon train on her twilight velvet gown. With a pleased expression, she slowly straightens her back, her hand tracing along the silhouette of her gown as she gazes about the area.

Rohese recites softly:

"The sky above, an endless canvas of dreams,

Painted in shades of lilac and amethyst.

Where the sun's last embrace forever gleams,

Mingling with twilight's hazy bronzed mist."

(Rohese moves her hand in a gentle wave through the air, her pale lilac chiffon ribbon accenting the movement by fluttering in a gentle arc to her right and then to her left. The flickering motes of light around her rise and fall, swirling with the undulation of the ribbon.)

Rohese recites softly:

"Trees with leaves of auburn and apricot,

Their branches adorned with blossoms of pink.

In this enchanting haven, they never forgot,

To dance in the breeze of mortality's brink."

(Rohese dances in a tight circle. Bringing her arms out from her body, she causes her rosy pink chiffon ribbon to spiral around her in a colourful display.)

Rohese recites softly:

"The Lazy River, a ribbon of liquid gold,

Reflecting the sky's pastel embrace.

Its slow waters, a story so far untold,

Winding through this tranquil place."

Rohese slips her hand beneath the faintly bronzed chiffon train of her twilight velvet gown, winding it about her forearm as she coyly nibbles her bottom lip. With a confident outward gaze, she dramatically tosses the train into the air, watching as it descends to the floor with a soft rustle.

Rohese recites softly:

"Creatures of whimsy call this place home,

With frond-like whiskers and skins of pearl.

In this eternal dusk, denizens freely roam,

With each day a haunting but beautiful swirl..."

Rohese lightly touches her fingers to the brow of her pearl mask, closing her misty grey eyes as she does.

Rohese lowers her gaze.

Rohese folds her hands.

Rohese quietly concludes, "Of perpetual twilight."

Rohese drops into a deep curtsy, moving smoothly as her arms sweep grandly to her sides.

Entry #3: Traiva, a Secret in Winter

You see Grand Lady Traiva Verethundi.
Due to the pale maiden mask she wears, it is difficult to determine her race...or even whether she is living or dead.
She is petite in stature. Her features are hidden beneath a silk-wrapped pale maiden mask crowned with a delicate silver coronet, though her smoldering, viridian-flecked dark hazel eyes shine through. She has hip length, softly curled deep cordovan hair woven into a multi-strand braid pinned by a garland of lapis-hued alpestrises centered by an organza rosette. Little else about her appearance is easy to distinguish.
She has a knotwork and dragonfly tattoo on her neck.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a frosted blue wine glass in her left hand.
She is wearing a sapphire-set hammered silver half-mask, a pair of alum chandelier earrings featuring rows of mistvein diamond teardrops, a triple-tiered vaalin choker riddled with tiny wintry blue peridots, a strapless corset of ivory silk velvet framing a front panel of mistvein sapphire beadwork over a wintry grey satin gown shot with wisps of vaalin threading, a pair of silver gloves clasped with sapphires, a delicate rose-intaglio diamond bracelet, and some crystal spike-heeled shoes inset with icy blue glass snowflakes.

Traiva slowly empties her lungs.

Traiva says, "Following that is going to be difficult, to say the least."

Rohese wiggles her nose.

Speaking softly to Traiva, Rohese mouths, "Silly."

(Traiva strides forward, the light glinting off the sapphires and crystals adorning her.)

Traiva wistfully says, "It has been many years that I have held a Secret... and it will linger with me many more."

(Traiva lifts her skirts slightly as she strides around the room, letting the icy blue glass snowflakes set in her shoes glimmer in the light.)

Lifting up her blue wine glass, Traiva takes a measured drink of the mead inside.

(Traiva stops suddenly, turning to the left and then right, the lights catching the wintry blue peridots set around her neck.)

(Traiva closes her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. Her mouth slowly forms a small O... and without a word she gathers her skirts and scurries to stand behind Lithyia.)

Traiva gathers the wide skirts of her grey satin gown in her hands and drops into a low curtsy while maintaining impeccable posture and grace.

Agathilea appears to be struggling to keep a straight face as she glances at Traiva.

(Lithyia clinks her absinthe against Traiva's wine glass.)

Lithyia says, "Cheers."

Lithyia grins at Traiva.

Entry #4: Lylia and Xorus, the Sorcerer and His Verlok

You see Xorus Kul'shin the Necromancer.
He appears to be a Dark Elf.
He is tall and has a gaunt frame. He appears to be extremely old. He has brooding black eyes and dark skin. He has shoulder length, flowing silver hair. He has a gaunt face, a sharp nose and a spider-shaped birthmark on his wrist.
He is in good shape.
A slowly rotating ring of sigils encircles each of his hands, scribed on the air in pale energy.
He is holding a warped black surita runestaff with twisted stygian sigils in his right hand.
He is wearing a shadowy black hood, a warped black bone hexagram talisman, a high-collared black leather coat, a black vruul skin button with a three-lobed burning eye reading, "Obey Xorus", a six-fingered dark glaes hand set with pale azure crystal talons, some dark double leather, a tentacled armcuff encasing dark glaes-pupilled eyes, some blackened glaes vambraces, a vruul skin dagger sheath, a twisted silver wedding band displaying black dreamstone accents, a dark glaes band, a small abyran'ra skull, an archaic urglaes dodecahedron, some high-waisted ebon marbrinus pants with an obsidian buckle, and some ebon vruul leather boots with blackened ora straps.

You see Imperatrix Lylia Rashere the Witch.
She appears to be a Faendryl Dark Elf.
She is taller than average and has a slender build. She appears to be in the spring of life. She has wide-set storm grey eyes and cool-toned alabaster skin. She has waist length, thick auburn hair divided into several elegantly twisted sections and adorned with some carved fiery red gem flames. She has a sleek bronze verlok mask with a crest of brilliant eahnor red feathers partially covering her face. The smooth symmetry of her face lends a patrician grace to her angular features.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing an elaborate multi-tiered necklace of firebird stone teardrops, a tasseled silk wrap embroidered in autumnal reds and golds, some articulated metal wings fashioned from hollow bronze rods and bright eahnor-hued feathers, a point-hemmed red copper-boned corset displaying an overlay of whorled lace on silk, a feathered and sequined tulle skirt in vivid flame hues, and a pair of rhinestone-studded sleek dancing shoes.

Xorus places a lushly painted forest backdrop in deep perspective accented with a lone an amber verlok feather in the foreground down on the dance floor.

Xorus says, "Today, I stand before you in the guise of a powerful sorcerer and summoner, having found the ideal location away from superstitious townsfolk."

Xorus dryly observes, "I am sure you are all surprised at this choice of costume."

Xorus says, "But it is the perfect time for a demonstration, with an emphasis on the 'demon,' of one of our most notable skills: that of summoning entities to do our bidding. Unleashing an oculoth would be ungracious at a festive event, but let me see what heeds my command..."

As Xorus murmurs in an echoing voice, the very space around his outstretched hand wavers and distorts in response...

(Lylia leaps out from behind Xorus as if she had hurtled out of the rift enveloping his hand. A shake of her shoulders unbinds a pair of articulated metal wings that had been wrapped around her, concealing her tulle and lace costume spangled in matching shades of eahnor, copper, and gold. She tips her extravagantly feathered head back.)

Lylia vocalizes a keen cry in talented imitation of a shrike.

(Lylia holds her gleaming wings outstretched as if soaring and dances a wide curve around Xorus, moving quickly enough to send the long streamers of her spangled tulle skirt rippling behind her like a lyrebird's tail. Her arcing path brings her back to his side where she moves in a tighter orbit, her wings opening and closing in a hypnotically slow rhythm as Xorus talks.)

(Xorus points a gaunt hand at Lylia and motions for her to move closer.)

(Lylia's fingers twitch, pulling an unseen array of wires in the articulated wings she wears. The great wings beat against the air with an audible chiming of metal on metal, and the breeze stirs the silken finery of the party-goers nearest her.)

Xorus says, "Ah, the verlok. Wrought of metal and magic, hailing from Lorae'tyr, where even time is not fixed in place."

Samyrha gazes at the couple in rapt admiration.

Xorus continues, "In the usual catalog of demons, this particular verlok would be a rare creature, comprised of magical and elemental metals together. Difficult to name, neither verlok'cina nor verlok'ar."

(Lylia cocks her head and seems to be listening to Xorus so intently that the crest of feathers on her beaked verlok mask quiver. When his hand moves, her gaze follows it, and her body inclines toward him as if prepared to take flight.)

Xorus suggests, "A verlok'ylia, let us say."

You do a quick double step and kick up your heels.

Xorus says, "Most are no larger than game fowl, but this magnificent specimen could carry off its smaller cousins." He looks over at his costumed partner and reaches toward a metal-feathered wing. "That is, if it is predatory."

(Lylia approaches his outstretched hand, then deftly turns away at the last instant, brushing him softly with a rustle of wire-suspended feathers. The fire-hued gems and sequins she wears catch the ambient light as she leaps and turns, magnifying and multiplying the candlelight until she seems almost aflame with it herself.)

Xorus says, "This one seems safe enough to touch, at least for me, but petting demons is a risky proposition for anyone who is not a sorcerer."

Xorus chuckles at Lylia.

(Lylia stops and stares at Xorus for a heartbeat before a squawking chuckle erupts from beneath the gracefully curved beak of her mask in avian mimicry of his laughter. With another powerful beat of her wings, she sails past him again on flashing sequined slippers. The overlapping metal feathers sound like a jostled case of knives as she flexes and bends her artificial pinions.)

Xorus notes, "Although they have been seen perching in their own valence, they are never still when we command them here. They are always in flight, always on the move."

Xorus says, "And as with any summoned demon, they do not linger in our valence."

(Lylia makes one more leaping circuit of the space and, with a final avian cry, vanishes at the height of one of her bounding leaps. The thud and heavy breathing following her abrupt disappearance suggest the cunning deployment of a glass amulet rather than a shift into a different plane of existence.)

Xorus picks up an amber verlok feather.

Xorus says, "But sometimes they do grace the persistent sorcerer with a reminder of their presence."

Samyrha breathlessly says, "Amazing."

The severed head of Henshor says, "This story is familiar to me."

Speaking to Tasthera, Samyrha says, "Oh Mother, thank you for letting me attend. This is glorious."

Speaking quietly to Samyrha, Tasthera says, "Of course, my pet. I wouldn't deprive you of such fancies and excitements."

Speaking to you, Akrath praises, "That was exceedingly fantastic."

Entry #5: Rivienne, the Crow: Sister of Night

Fluffybits recites:

"Our next contestant is... Rivienne!"

Samyrha says, "I cannot believe Yraelia is missing it."

Rivienne asks, "Already?"

(Rivienne moves to the center of the room, her slight form a dark drop of ink amidst a sea of colors.)

You see Lornon Chair Rivienne Mandaire Loenthra the Witch Doctor.
She appears to be an Elf.
She is petite and has a balletic body. She appears to have come of age. She has demure violet eyes and silken alabaster skin. She has long, free-flowing starling black hair pulled back from the face by a thin, stark black headband adorned with decorative glossy ebon crow pennae. She has narrow, delicately pointed ears. Her visage is a subtle mix of raw and refined features, sharp angles, and gentle curves. She has a thick horizontal black stripe painted across her eyes.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a pair of floor-length broken black-feathered wings, a pyrographed black leather chest-wrap, a set of faenor finger-armor with sharpened polychromatic crowstone claws, a voluminous skirt of densely layered dried black corn husks, and a pair of muddy black burlap footwraps.

Rivienne explains, "For my presentation, I'm going to tell you a story that explains who I am."

Rivienne mysteriously says, "In a realm distant and peculiar, at a junction where stories take curious twists, a tale began to take shape - a tale of a crow that wasn't fooled by the farmer's scarecrow."

Rivienne says, "She feasted in his cornfields, sometimes with other crows, but mostly alone. The farmer's son threw rocks to drive her away, but his clumsy hands were too slow."

Rivienne paces back and forth, muttering something about casting stones, leaving a trail of dirt in her path.

Rivienne crosses her arms, grasps her shoulders, and sways to and fro.

Rivienne says, "One frigid afternoon, as the crow pecked at withered stalks of field corn left behind after the harvest, she heard the unwelcome sound of footsteps drawing near."

(Rivienne slides her hands down her hips, causing the dried corn husks to crackle.)

Rivienne quickly says, "Tensing in preparation for flight, she began her escape into the darkening sky when she was knocked out of the air and into blackness."

(Rivienne rises on her toe, creating an illusion of weightlessness before executing a tightly controlled pirouette. She spins three times, a fleeting streak of black and the rustle of corn husks. Eyes closed, she abruptly steps out of her pirouette into a flat-footed stance with the authority of an exclamation point.)

Rivienne says, "When the crow woke, it was to the cold embrace of dirt, one eye staring up into the shroud of night, and the dark realization that her wings were crushed and with them her future."

Rivienne says, "By beak and talon, the crow made her way up the stuffed burlap scarecrow to perch defiantly upon its shoulder to better gaze at the expanse of the unattainable sky."

Rivienne haughtily tosses her hair over her shoulder with the back of her hand and gives an elegant shrug.

Rivienne says, "That night, the thirty-first of Eorgaen, the shadow moon was bathed in crimson and the crow considered herself fortunate to witness the sight before her journey's end."

Rivienne says, "The dark moon had watched the plight of the broken-winged bird. She, too, could not imagine an existence outside the sky's expanse and admired the crow's final act of defiance. "Dark sister", whispered the moon to the crow, "I know your troubles. The people have wronged me too."

(Rivienne's visage darkens, her violet eyes vivid against the black stripe painted over her eyes.)

Rivienne angrily hisses, "On this, my night of radiance, rather than pay homage to my power, they celebrate the birth of a new year. In defiance of my waxing face, they hold a masque, covering their faces, hiding their true selves beneath costumes."

Rivienne silkily says, "Shall we strike a bargain?", murmured the dark moon."

(Rivienne clicks the taloned tips of her fingers against each other.)

Rivienne says, "Thus, a deal was struck. The moon sampled from the cornfield and the crow was changed, save for her wings, which remained tightly bound to her soul. As the crow walked towards the light and clamor of the masque, they dragged behind, etching sinuous trails in the dirt."

(Rivienne cuts a path through the crowd, the tips of her broken, beautiful wings a dark wake behind her.)

Rivienne turns around.

Rivienne cocks her head.

Rivienne concludes, "Hours later, the crow returned to the cornfield, before the moon began her journey from the sky. It was difficult to tell if it was the crimson moonlight bearing down upon her form, or if she had acquired a sanguine sheen of her own."

Rivienne takes a few steps back.

Fluffybits claps her flurry paws at Rivienne!

The severed head of Henshor says, "A crow ate one of my eyes."

Speaking warmly to Rivienne, Akrath says, "That was beautiful."

Speaking to Rivienne, Akrath compliments, "You are quite the storyteller."

The severed head of Henshor exclaims, "Take that! Crow!"

The severed head of Henshor bites Rivienne.

Speaking firmly to the severed head of Henshor, Akrath scolds, "Do not bite my guests."

Entry #6: Agathilea, the Wyvern

You see Legionnaire Agathilea Rassine Vaalor the Crimson Destroyer.
Due to the wyvern mask she wears, it is difficult to determine her race...or even whether she is living or dead.
She is average height. Her features are hidden beneath a carmine-washed gold wyvern mask displaying a gruesome soot-stained gaping maw, though her thick-lashed amethyst eyes shine through. She has waist-length, cascading caramel brown hair. Little else about her appearance is easy to distinguish.
She is in good shape.
She is wearing a gold-winged headdress, a trim carmine linen coat displaying gold-sheened organza wings, a carmine sheath gown embraced by overlapping layers of gold-swept scaling, and some aureate talon-shaped shoes set on low curved gold heels.

Agathilea bows deeply and pauses, glancing around expectantly. She stands up and adjusts her carmine linen coat with a slightly embarrassed look on her face.

With a firm grasp, Agathilea tugs on the edge of her carmine linen coat, and a pair of gold-sheened organza wings unfolds from the back of the garment.

Agathilea says, "They once soared through the skies. Majestic. Powerful. Mysterious."

Agathilea says, "Fables told by the young, the inebriated and the old."

Agathilea says, "Tales of danger interrupted by a fiery flame, a wing-covered fool, a talon mirrored in a hidden pool."

Agathilea tugs on the edge of her carmine linen coat, and the attached gold-sheened organza wings bounce playfully.

Agathilea turns sharply on her heel, reversing direction with military precision.

Agathilea leans forward.

Agathilea respectfully recites, "Pride."

Agathilea tilts her head up.

Agathilea thoughtfully says, "The noble and the fierce, captured in wrought wax forevermore."

Agathilea says, "Lest we who seek to emulate, forget the past."

Agathilea says, "For as long as we are reckless with our environment, naught will last."

Agathilea says, "Remember the winged messengers, those that loved this world, and remember their pride."

Agathilea smiles.

Agathilea triumphantly recites, "Glory."

Several draugr mill about the edges of the crowd, each in turn trying to get a good look at Akrath.

Speaking to Agathilea, Akrath says, "What an interesting coat."

Entry #7: Uniana, the Shadow Walker, N'Ereudien

You see Lady Uniana Anduin Nalfein the Socialite of Ta'Vaalor.
She appears to be a Gjenganger.
She is shorter than average. Her age is indeterminate due to the constant state of shift that overtakes her features, causing her to at one moment look young and at another ravaged by age. She has violet-shadowed, pale lilac eyes and water-sheened ivory skin. She has long, silky black cherry-hued hair spilling out from under a gossamer-like dark lace caul, the network of strands webbing her curls while two velvet-wrapped chelicerae hang down over the forehead. Her movements are accentuated by a fluid, waterlike motion.
She has a thin scar of delicate intertwined thorns on her neck.
She is in good shape.
She is holding a scorched black manzanita tree infested with silk bats and black wolf spiders in her right hand and a rose-engulfed arbor housing a tassaet spider and a web-snared viridescent grasshopper in her left hand. She is wearing a silk-backed sleeveless shirt of maroon netting surrounding an anatomical heart, a pair of long plum gauze gloves absent of seams, a voluminous grenache charmeuse train pinned on the side by a starveil arachnid, a a bias-draped ianthine satin skirt peeled open just below the left hip, and some hellebore red web-outlined silk pompes set on spider-carved heels.

Uniana places a rose-engulfed arbor housing a tassaet spider and a web-snared viridescent grasshopper down on the dance floor.

Uniana places a scorched black manzanita tree infested with silk bats and black wolf spiders down on the dance floor.

Uniana strides a few steps forward.

Uniana adopts an elegant pose and allows her gaze to wander the dance floor, pausing briefly to acknowledge each person with a charming smile.

Uniana silkily suggests, "Travel with me to the City-State of Nalfein."

Uniana reaches out with a subtle gesture and activates the panel of her lacquered cuff, releasing cerulean mist into the air that slowly coalesce into a jade-washed coastal city illusion.

Uniana introduces, "Here we tell the story of the web dweller, a creature that makes its home in the caverns of the mountains surrounding the region of Lae'Taslen."

Xorus whispers, "Ah. A horror story."

Uniana says, "Tales are shared all throughout the summer when families find refuge from heat and retreat into the interior lake country. Late evening garden parties and simple bonfires all have that one person eager to share the story or claim to know a distant acquaintance who was lured in by a shade who took the appearance of a Nalfein."

(Uniana reaches out and traces the spider on the arbor, murmuring something to it in a low, hushed tone.)

Uniana warns, "The first sign that you are under surveillance is the presence of spiders, ones who seem too intelligent and observant, not unlike familiars."

Uniana reaches out with a subtle gesture and activates the panel of her lacquered cuff, releasing cerulean mist into the air that slowly coalesce into a colorful and radiant illusion of floating paper lanterns.

Uniana says, "Then you attend a social gathering after sundown, finding yourself drawn in by a beautiful elf, weaving a web of allure and cynicism. The victims are none the wiser until they get close, realizing that it has no pulse. At which point, it is too late."

(Uniana idly taps on the arachnid brooch pinned to her charmeuse train, making the long nebulous starveil legs bob against the fabric.)

Uniana idly says, "They? The majority are who they have ever been but those immortals who found their place of ascension have changed themselves inextricably once, who is to say they could not do it again? However tales of the Arkati can often be so gauche, as of late few thread this narration into their campfire stories."

Akrath lifts both of his brows with a surprised hum.

Uniana dismisses, "So if you are thinking it might be Arachne evolved? Who can really know?"

A colorful and radiant illusion of floating paper lanterns hangs in the air, then slowly fades away.

Uniana shrugs indifferently.

(Uniana stalks around Teveriel, tangling her nails along the webbing encompassing his shoulders.)

Teveriel glances over his shoulder at Uniana.

Uniana explains, "What is this entity looking for? Hearts, to feed on, the darker the better," bows her head, allowing the chelicerae on her forehead to conceal her countenance, "macabre indeed and perhaps a cautionary tale about social climbing."

Uniana concludes, "I happily introduce you the n'ereudien, the shadow walker, a Nalfein cryptid who makes for the perfect monster story."

Uniana performs a bow characteristic of the Nalfein.

Speaking softly to Uniana, Rohese exclaims, "Terrifyingly wonderful!"

Fluffybits claps her fluffy paws at Uniana!

Rillarie says, "Normally I like spiders, but..."

Bending slightly, Ordim scratches at the floor in search of food.