On 6/4/2023 at 11:37 AM, mystic1110 said:
Arabella squeals with delight as she is bitten, and blushes at the Merlyn's guess, she is about to reply when someone sternly yells "Ella!"
Tanner Finchley and Matron Finchley are seen walking angrily towards the couple. They, like Dampwood, are wearing Pigskin, as tradition asks Tanners and their spouses to wear, but there's is pink leather made of the softest piglets, softer than calf, almost as soft as silk. What else to say about them? Whereas Arabella could be called beautiful for a human, if perhaps a bit jaundiced from lack of sunlight, her Parents are exaggerated angles. Sharp elbows are connected to sharp faces with sharp lips and sharp noses. Sharp hips hold sharp legs with sharp feet sticking out. They talk at once, contradictory. "Hands off my daughter your Cur!" "Honestly Ella, what have we told you about teasing the Help!" It is hard to tell which one said what.
Truth Bash keeps eating as his listens and in between mouthfuls tells the host "I am too afraid to see the Sun Rise. I heard it from my cabin on your ship. I had to lock myself in the dark while it went screaming over the shade. It was awe inspiring."
Merlyn Gul Twir looked at Arabella for a second, then at their parents, and then back to Arabella. They pulled out a knife from a hidden sheathe on their thigh and brandished it at the Finchleys. "Who are you calling Help?" The lingering taste of venomous bile was thick on their tongue.
Zan Cuddlu quirked an eyebrow at Truth Bash's story but said no more on the matter, seemingly at ease with their response. A quick somatic command beckoned a lumbering beast of rotten wood in the shape of a bear to come forth and begin cleaning the empty plates off the table. Preparations were to be made.
On 6/4/2023 at 4:28 PM, BladeofOblivion said:
If Waxil seemed startled by the intercession, Aporie's face bore a faint smirk instead.
"We actually just needed more time to calibrate our instr-" Waxil started to say before Aporie cut them off, grabbing the knife: "Gladly."
While the level-headed elf rolled their eyes and set back to getting their instruments set up, Aporie happily partook of the opportunity provided. She crudely scratched her best impression of a scroll into the bones, then a shaded circle, and then a series of swirls that might be a raging sea. "And it goes into the inferno?", she asked, more quietly than before.
"Yes, when you are ready to embrace the end throw them into the inferno before us."
"But no later than when the Convergence is nigh."
They nodded their heads in sage agreement, not looking directly at the bone scroll out of a sense of respecting privacy, and the sanctified nature of this task.
On 6/4/2023 at 7:40 PM, Bellossom said:
Afon paled at the thought of displeasing this most amused Merlyn and began plan B. With a swift kick in the rear, Hefin was sent out into the night only being told to find out if the Merlyn's truly drink blood. With a hearty laugh, Afon settled into the warmth of the nearest pie. "It would be wrong of me to truly claim that High Witch Bryn is preparing for another shindig when in fact, we have waited for these same celestial traits to align. Oh how lovely they will look with the blood moon temple doused in red! You must send a delegate!"
Hefin let out a bemused sigh and began to circle the perimeter of the room, looking for a conversation partner and gulping down the nearest goblet of wine. If he was going to get away with lies, might as well wear red.
"Yes! I will send my fastest Raven or Vulture to your estate. If only I could witness such a sight myself, rapturously rupturing with red ruby rays, and yet I will have to sate myself with the description doubtlessly embellished by them. Tearing you so far from home, I hope tonight's festivity is worth missing your own people." Suddenly a thought occured and Zan Cuddlu perked up "Indeed I think a cultural exchange is in demand. A witness in both our lands to recant to the other. One for one what could be more fair?"
Hefin found himself with no lack of wine or for conversation either. As soon as his cup ran dry a swarm of bees made from smothering ash would buzz over and hand him a new cup nearly overflowing. His departure from Afon lead him from one group to another, whisking him from conversation to conversation, and finally ending up at a table down the way in a secluded corner of Caler Myrffdin. Knucklebones were being tossed by several Merlyn and Darkkin, their eyes all swiftly falling upon the drunken witch, and bloody lips sliced open to cold smiles as they bid him sit to join the pot. Who cares if he had anything to bid? His was the most valuable resource in all of Ruin. Fresh crimson. As unfortunate rolls compiled one after the other, dept began to collect, the door began to close behind Hefin, and carving knives sang from their sheathes as Hefin was All In.