(Event) Ceremonious Dormont | Page 2

He gave a nod in response, the risk of socialization bending towards the cat man's favor. This Seto fellow did not seem too bad so far. In addition he was not made a fool of by mistaking a NPC for a player. Good times, "I am Alonso Thorlion, and as for some form of title I suppose Berserker would be the best term considering my combat style. To be honest I did not wander the festival outside and just came straight here." Feeling it right, Alonso clasped his hands behind his back, the Felis's stature looking as though he fit right into the whole nobility scheme. In addition, the man figured he needed to add more people to his every lacking friends list. Typical games involved Alonso filling that sucker up with people he can contact in case of any severe changes or much needed groups.

The low rumble of his curious hum rose as a stranger clad in heavy refinements and jewelry approached the duo. Normal logic noted this newcomer as an omen of things to come. Cliches of vibrant nobles revealing themselves at parties just hinted at something plotting in the shadows. First instinct caused Alonso to desire his getaway from the situation, yet he stayed, knowing full well he might miss an opportunity learning a few bits of information. He glanced at Seto, following suit as he placed a hand on his chest, giving a bow in respect, "As my acquaintance, I too am grateful to be in your presence, Lord Alligans. I am Alonso Thorlion, and though my title is not as fancy as Seto Kurama's, I have been known as a Berserker."

As if the famed Earl of Gild was not shoving his light reflecting fancy in everyone's face as it were, a servant had been summoned with the offer of a goblet. Wine, of course. Rejecting this courtesy, while shady in some regard, may lower the reputation of Astorea with a foreign country Alonso had not even heard about until now. If there was any hope of doing good in this world, acting as a representative of the player made country was going to be a priority in this instance. His own hand grasped the offered goblet, giving the object a small raise of courtesy towards the Earl. Unknown about the contents of the alcohol, the man gave it a polite sip.

This stuff was not bad at all.

Alonso kept his attention on the Earl of Gild's small lecture, critical as it were, figuring that given the chance he may from an alliance if the conversation smoothed out well enough. He gave Seto the first shot at a response, allowing the hulking cat man to consider his own in the mean time. Suspicions remained, and may be that way for a while, but the situation with Astor was given out by the Fiend Knight. Good. Less explanation for the cat man to deal with, but adding on was not going to hurt. Or at least, he figured such.

"I can assure you, my lord, that I concur with my fellow Astorean's response. We do stand by our king to the best of our abilities, but are also aware that he has weakness that need to be worked on. That includes having a critical breakdown of King Astor's own actions in hopes of improving the well being of his political aspirations both in and out of the battlefield, in addition to our concerns over his physical and mental health."

Once more the large man took another sip of his goblet. In truth, he was against having to run into these sorts of conversations with nobles, feeling it gaudy and a waste of time and air, but this felt right. Fun even. Not once has he had to play ambassador face to face aside from guild troubles in other MMOs. Those were a bit of practice, but this right here was the real thing. "I myself have focused my abilities towards combat oriented goals, but I also have begun study on the architectural subjects in hopes of developing skills to improve this country, and in turn my king, by means other than battle," the Felis continued, attempting to ensure he was not taken as nothing more than a brute who relished combat more than the sanctity of those around him.

His curiosity peaked about the Earl now, taking a moment before speaking up again, "Though if I may, Earl of Gild, might I inquire about where you hail from? In truth I have not traveled elsewhere aside from Falderen, Astorea, and a bit of Yladia. Apologies if my inquiry seems intrusive, my lord."

@Seto Kurama @Snide

 

This seems like a good place to start.

There were many things Stampede had in mind, making plans to create a home for himself within the forests of Astorea was just a start. It took him nearly a week in-game time to look for perfect spots to make his hideouts, places that was less ideal for a player to nest in such as predatory territories of known fauna. A total of approximately 7 hideouts were found as he would mark them on the map and once memorized, he would then proceed to delete it afterwards. He received news of the recent events that happened in Dormont but such would concern him little if it wasn’t for the fact that they’d be holding some sort of ceremony within unfinished castle grounds.

That changes everything.

Zone Outside

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He certainly had to come even though he wasn’t invited, this was quite the opportunity for him. To intermingle in a party, to see beautiful women and to feast on whatever food was prepared. Of course unlike the forest, he knew nothing about Dormont as this would be his first time entering the castle. For all that he known it was just a rundown structure where players used to explore and loot for valuables and hunt Wurms that lurk underneath it. Now it was being rebuilt but the progress of construction has been halted just for this day in particular. This time he decided to avoid the open streets and started to slither around, making his way towards the castle itself.

It was been awhile since he last climbed up surfaces that requires him to shoot out a hookshot and climb up. The last times he did that was in another game… a game he once considered his home. Thank the Gods that he hasn’t lost his touch.

He must act fast before he gets spotted by spectators or alert the guards. While he doesn’t possess any mastery of a rogue, he stick to the shadows and used the trees and nearby foliage for cover (whereas a rogue wouldn't require such elements to lower their presence). He put on his hood and masked the lower part of his face with a piece of cloak. A dangerous and bold move would be to target a place where the construction hasn't finished yet. He would then proceed to look for a boulder and tie it up with durable rope, afterwards he proceeded shoot a bolt to the highest point of the tree and started to climb up towards the point.

Upon reaching the highest point of the tree, he would remove the bolted projectile and proceeded to tie up the branch. The window was just across the drop…. This was it.

Zone Castle

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It was a miracle that he was able to grab on to the window, while gravity was trying to drag him down to the earth. Mustering all his strength, he lifted himself up and into the second floor area where there was some unfinished construction work done. With no abilities of a rouge to give him an advantage, he would have to use his improved detection skills as a hunter to locate any presences of other players and NPCs. There was one main objective he has in mind:​

​

So far there hasn’t been any guards or artisans nearby so he’s off to a good start. To lower his presence, he will have to reduce the sound that he makes and complete breathe control in order to do so (while a rouge doesn’t require such thing as they can walk without making any sound at all). To what will happen to him next? We’ll find out.

 

Her eyes took notice of @Temperance waving at Kyupin and the blacksmith quickly kept a mental note for later. When Kyupin reciprocated her hand shake, Ursula gripped her hand tighter, though not enough to hurt. Though she didn’t get that much time to interact with the Felis before her, the same could be said nearly to anyone that participated in the hellish fighter back in Vulpus. “That’s a really cute name! Can I call ya Kyunya? Feel free to call me Ursa!” She let go of the felis’ hand, not wanting to scare the blonde off. She couldn’t do that now, considering the whole image of the guild in this ceremony and whatnot. Being part of the merchant faction had great advantages, but their negatives had a personal ability to hurt her.

The flow of their conversation was interrupted by a large and fluffy wolf. Though she was analyzing no merchandise, Ursula’s eyes were prone to quickly finding the defining characteristics of things around her — she had to, in order to spot shady transactions and products as a blacksmith. With that said, what her eyes could gather from observing the presumed tamer and her companion was that Kyupin raised it fairly well; she could judge how fluffy the fur was by just how beautiful it looked.

Her gaze shifted to the felis once again as she introduced her companion, “Ooh, ‘das a nice name. Hey there, Vulcan, buddy!” the blacksmith leaned closer, attempting to pet her wolf tame in hopes she wouldn’t get bitten in return. She wasn’t a pet master, but she knew enough to understand that not every companion was the same. If it bit… Well, she hit herself with her hammers, endured explosions from her machines and was almost toasted alive back in the fight against Azog. She could endure a wolf’s bite.

Hopefully.​

When done with ruffling the wolf’s fluffy fur, her eyes shifted once more to Kyupin, “Uh… Message… “ She scratched her chin, straightening up after petting the wolf, her left eyebrow raised as her mind tried to find an answer for Kyupin. “Strange, Kyunya… I don’t recall gettin’ any letters lately. Then again, I ain’t the person that manages those...” She sidestepped, glaring back at Mike, an Yladian boy in one of the many guild booths outside. The boy straightened abnormally when noticing her glare. “But in any case, if ya want to contact me...Here, have this.” Ursula checked her thick coat’s pockets, eventually finding a small, hexagonal badge made of steel. The blacksmith leaned closer to Kyupin, offering her the emblem.

goldsmith's recluse

“Keep ‘dis. It should help ya enter Fortuna without trouble. If ya ever need a good oomph on yer weapon or armor, find my shop in The Guild headquarters! Don’t show or tell about it to anyone other than guild folk, alright?” Ursa stepped back.

“Since yer bunny-friend is waiting over there to talk, I’ll be on my way. Heard there’s an underground place and I ain’t missin’ the chance to git some ore! See ya later, Kyunya!” She waved farewell, proceeding to the underground.

@Kyupin Felnya

 

Zone Outside

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Elves! Elven NPCs!

It definitely took a while before Sylpha managed to find NPCs of her chosen race. Unfortunately, her incredibly short height for a Yladian made for a few uncomfortable stares being sent her way. Some just straight out treated Sylpha as a child which felt strange as she didn't believe her face was so youthful she could be mistaken for a teenager. There may or may not have been some other factor in play, but she didn't really take it into consideration.

Right now, she was munching on some bread bought from another Yladian running a store. It was quite crumbly compared to the usual loaf seen in any run-of-the-mill bakery. Since Sylpha didn't get to see the baking in action, the most she could learn about it, apart from asking, was just straight up eating it. At the same time, she was eyeing several other stores for souvenirs and other bites.

Sylpha had the feeling she had seen some of the other festival-goers before, but due to the crowd she had either been unable to get close enough for a greeting, not know the person in question well enough to approach, or had completely missed them altogether.

Somehow, it felt like the crowd was waiting for something bigger to happen, so Sylpha held back on going on any sort of feasting spree just in case.

 

"But, uh, your voicema...?" Oh. And the woman had turned around and was leaving. Welp. Kyupin frowned in confusion at Ursa's fading figure, staring down at the emblem in her hands. Fortuna? Shop? Slowly shaking off the funk, she tucked the small emblem into the pocket of her apron. She scratched at her cheek, an exasperated smile on her face. "Better say hello to my bunny friend, then." Weaving through the crowd with Vulcan still on her heels, she neared the kissing booth. A nervous energy seemed to fill the crowd. Was something happening soon?

 

Zone Throne Room

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A genial silence fell over Alligans as the two adventurers responded to his queries and challenges, the masked noble's attention fixed on each speaker as they parried his remarks and offered their own insights. Though the mask made him incapable of expression, his stance and body language served more than well enough to convey his attitude: He was relaxed and enjoying the discussion, yet his posture was dignified and respectable before each man, like a man for whom gracefulness was second nature.

He sipped at the wine as Seto and Alonso delivered their remarks, tipping the goblet back against the opening at the mouth so that the wine could spill into the dark orifice and, one might assume, be drunk by him. That there was no spillage out of the mask meant he was apparently successful and practiced in eating and drinking with it on.

seto agrees and alonso too. seto would use any tactic necessary to end his enemies. alonso takes a critical gaze to things and is an artisan as well as muscle.

Alligans

I see. It is my utmost pleasure to make your acquaintances, sir Seto Kurama. Sir Alonso Thorlion. While I remain somewhat skeptical about the inherent beneficence of your... chosen titles, it is heartening to see that this fledgling nation is protected and nurtured by men of class and character. Though I must confess, with names like Fiend Knight and Berserker, one might easily associate Astorea as a nation of demonic influences. Considering the recent plights of the yladians being driven southwards, and the uprising of cults all across the world, now is a poor time to go about claiming titles that could be confused with dark associations.

Unless of course Astorea is allied with the demons. I confess, that would take me aback, but it would also explain your recent successes. Stealing this castle and its lands from a more powerful nation. Helping the yladians to relocate rather than fighting their tormentors; a bold plan to herd them all into one place, should you happen to be working in secret against them. Which would simultaneously not hinder any demonic allies, who could martial their forces to strike, unfettered by resistance that you've convinced others to give up. Your triumph over a lord of fire which required the subsequent destruction of an artifact of the Elysid faith, creating one less object with which demons might be battled.

The tone and tenor of his voice had begun such lines of thought in a lofty and whimsical manner, as though the whole thing were one silly fantasy and joke. But with each example it lowered, becoming noticeably suspicious and tense as if the silliness he had speculated could hold kernels of truth and ought not to be disregarded until investigated.

His hand tilted the wine back, downing the last of it to quench a throat that must have run dry from the stress of such thoughts, and he put the glass on the tray of a passing servant so that he no longer had to busy himself with holding it. The subtle tenseness of his body and slight sloping of his shoulders made it clear he was no longer relaxed with people who called themselves 'Fiend Knight' and 'Berserker' so brazenly. As Alonso had already asked about himself, the Earl pondered how best to politely answer a 'Berserker' to satisfy the question without revealing anything that could be damaging.

Gild is, of course, the name of the city in which the seat of my power is located. I come from a land which has no official title for its kingdom. Indeed, we have no king; rather there is a powerful general that rules over all with an iron fist. It is a nation of... it is a kratocracy, if you will. Those who have the cunning, coin or clout to take what they want find themselves in positions of power. Those who do not, serve.

It is not as hopelessly inhumane as I make it out to be of course. Mind you, the general public's welfare is very much a concern of each Duke and Earl and Baron, as in any nation; for where magnanimity and altruism cease to exist, pragmatism takes over. Those in power that are not inherently beneficent still find it in their best interests to provide for those beneath them, or those beneath them will rise up. And it does not matter the strength of an arm or the power of a spell, if you have no head on your shoulders.

Gild itself is a city of vast fortunes. A hub for trade. A relic of beauty and splendor amidst a land ravaged by problems. For I find it in my best interests to expend some of my personal fortunes to keep it a place of security and comfort for my subjects, not just for their hope, but my peace of mind. Nothing is worse than being threatened from without while risking an uprising from within. But I've... said too much already, I think. Would that were my first glass of wine- I fear I may be in my cups and saying more than I ought at this point.

Should you wish to know more about it, Sir Thorlion, do speak to Sir Kurama here and his scholar's mind could doubtless tell you more. Apparently, I'm fabled, as he made mention upon our introductions... so he should have no shortage of insights to provide you. I'm afraid I must away with myself to sober up before the ceremonies begin in earnest, least I appear the drunkard oaf in the midst of all the splendor and excitement. Do excuse me... but ah, perhaps you'd enjoy continuing this conversation at another time? Allow me to formally invite you to speak with me at court, in the future. I would offer a less formal setting, but I'm afraid I'll be too busy for intimate moments such as this has been. My lords, if you'll pardon me.

With a stiff bow that was more nod than bend, the earl turned and confidently left the throne room, the tension that had been in his body erased as he put an air of confidence into every step so that none looking upon him could guess there had been turmoil just breaths before.

@Seto Kurama @Alonso Thorlion

 

The huntress didn't care for the call for the ceremony, but she wouldn't miss it. Curiosity killed the cat, satisfaction made it regret a wealth of its life choices and all that jazz, but hey at least it was in the know. There was something to be said for suffering through the loud voices and sound of platters and cups knocking together. The sight of rubbing elbows and brown nosing and all sorts of... political and partying ilk were in rare form it looked like. Her eyes skimmed over it all and while she saw faces in attendance she not only knew, but was happy to see? She didn't interact. She moved on slipping through throngs on people and cutting past centers full of food, dancing, or gossip. Gwyn was here to hear and then she would be gone, back to her exploring, to her quests, to her hunts. Anything but this. She fought with herself before coming over how ridiculous her distaste with the whole concept of Astorea was. It was just a game right? What did it matter if they wanted to play king and castle instead of a game of house?

It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter to her.

But it did and they were powerful and so she was here. There were so many NPCs under the shadow of their spread wings and the canopies of the forest they had claimed as their own. Gwyn couldn't stomach turning her back without touching base enough to see what was coming. She'd never forgive herself if something happened because she had turned her back on a distasteful setup.

The huntress sighed harshly and forced herself to grab the first bottle of mead she could spot. She deserved a treat and something to take the edge of her nerves while she waited. The festivities were in full swing so she assumed that while she was late, she had not missed the ceremony itself. At her heels, her green anaconda followed with a lazy ripple of movement. It flowed like an emerald river over the smooth stone floors, looking as at home as it did everywhere. At least one of them wasn't bothered. It was probably for the better that the twenty-five foot snake looked more at home than her. Hopefully that would be an intimidating enough sight that she wouldn't have to suffer any of the nobles or their ilk with it in her presence. Gwyn had considered bringing her newfound hounds, but she doubted the twins were ready for the company of so many people. They would have looked lovely with one to either side of her in the nice leather collars she had bought for them, but she wasn't one for suffering to put on a show. She wouldn't make them either as nice of symmetry as they made. Plus, in her humble opinion, not one of the visiting nobles had a jewel among them prettier or deadlier than Nathair.

"Let's see where this goes, Nathair. Then we'll head out and let you do some night fishing. Sound good?" She asked over her shoulder to the massive tame. Gwyn received no answer but the undercurrent of wicked contentedness her tame so often radiated. Smug bastard. Nobles and merchants might fancy themselves clever as snakes, but the ranger didn't need to rely on a similie. For the time being, she found them a corner to claim as their own and set into her bottle to waste away the time.

 

Just as she was dropping by to maybe have a little chat with some people she recognized, there seemed to be a general shift in the atmosphere. It looked like more and more people were leaving the square outside to stream into the castle.

So, was it time for the actual ceremony to begin, then? Ash didn't want to be late... But she also didn't want to just leave without saying hi...

In the end, the potential mortification of arriving late to an official event won out. So reluctantly, Ash followed the crowd entering the castle and made her way to the throne room.

Zone Throne Room

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It was crowded. Ash supposed that was only to be expected, but the crush of people caught her off-guard. She recognized quite a lot of people with Falderen's crest on their clothes, so there were definitely some important people around. Diplomats, probably, or maybe even actual nobility. Or, put another way, people that Ash should definitely not be interacting with. It wasn't like she had much connection to this place aside from donating a bit of money and supplies; she even went up against the group of players that took over the castle in the first place.

So, keep to herself as much as possible. Hopefully not look so out of place so as to attract attention. And then maybe find King Astor himself to thank him for the notice? And ask if the bit about the land was really true or not, because wow that was a lot to offer someone who basically didn't do anything.

The isolation was a bit depressing, but even if she wanted to try and chat with people she knew, she wouldn't have been able to. She thought she caught a glimpse of some familiar faces, but even if she was certain they were who they thought they were, trying to push through the crowd of people would not only be uncomfortable, but practically impossible.

Resigned to her little uncomfortable corner in the crush of people, Ash waited for the ceremony proper to begin.

 

Amane stood at a corner in the throne room, a glass in hand — untouched — to give the impression to the casual passerby that she was enjoying herself. And not that she wasn't, per say: the celebrations outside the castle were cheering in their exuberance, and even though she failed to obtain an egg, she didn't regret coming. The throne room, however, was another matter. Teeming with nobles dressed in finery of various degrees, she was duly reminded of the dinner and charity parties that her father would often host and participate in. It was one thing to know how to conduct herself in such situations, and another entirely to enjoy them. If it weren't for the King's announcement, well, this wouldn't have been the first place she would have chosen to be in. The felis sighed, swirling the wine around in her glass, already mentally preparing herself for conversation on the off chance that anyone chose to approach her.

 

Zone Throne Room

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A handful of short moments passed in which the nobleman was absent from the throne room, his return noticeable due to the soft clink of his heavy golden jewelry. From the mask and shoulder mantle to the rings that decorated the fingers and toes of his odd chalk-pink tan skin to the illustrious finery of the silk that made up his heavy robes, everything was... possibly overly lavish. He bore it with dignity, not hauteur, and though it was impossible to see his face through the heavy mask the way he carried himself said that he was a man of principle as well as vast fortune.

Such was his reason for, upon re-entering the throne room, he noticed Amane standing in a corner with undrunk wine and looking very much pleasant... but perhaps wearing a facade of mirth rather than its true inspirations. He directed himself towards her and approached, bowing respectfully and gesturing at the wine in her hand.

Alligans

It is always a pity for something so good to go to waste, my lady...

His hand turned, the gesturing fingers turning to an opened palm which he extended towards her, the subtle laughter of his voice making evident what his hidden face could not: that he was delighted to meet her, and if he had been enjoying the party before, it wasn't until now that he had considered it a pleasure to be attending it. From the stance of his soft bowing and the way his hand was extended, it was clear he wished to dance, it it was not the wine he thought was going to waste.

Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Lord Pateo Alligans the Third, Earl of the great merchant city of Gild. The Lion of Light, and The Gift of Charity. To name but two of my earned titles... Might I trouble you, dear lady, for the honor of a dance? And the gift of your name.

@Amane Hirota

 

Zone Throne Room

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In the distance, tracing the winding road leading up to the castle, what appeared to be a young boy jogged, elbows bent and hands hanging on to the straps of his bag. This pouch, nearly the size of the boy himself, plopped up and down with each hasty step. Though the pace was hard to keep up, especially with such miniature legs, he kept his pupils fixed in the direction of the construct in front of him. Eyes on the prize, as they say, and the giddy, dimple digging smile did not fade from his face for a moment, even as he panted.

With such unrelenting dedication, it was not long before he stood at the foot of the giant. Although the structure was still under construction, it was quite a wonderful sight, and filled the little one with an inspirational fire that could sear through some of the toughest metals. The great architecture, the fascinating material compositions, and the sensational effort being put into such a creation all made up the anatomy of the growing castle, and this only mesmerized the fascinated boy even more. It was all not to dissimilar from the growth of a child in the eyes of the fiery little one.

Of course, the fascination did not fade at the entrance, the young one soon found himself jogging inside, head twisting around, allowing his eyes to run along the edges, and examine the patterns and pieces of things being placed here and there. It was so overwhelmingly intriguing, after all! Stopping briefly at this place and that, he would squat, or merely lean, as he was already so low, to examine tidbits of crafting materials. One of these items, an interesting scrap of stone from a brick, caught his eyes, and it was soon locked within his grasp, short, chubby fingers wrapped tightly around it, as the objected was stuffed into one of his short's many pockets.

Making his way along, he poked his head to many empty doorways, glancing around and interrupting a few of the party-goers. Mainly, these were dismissed as the antics of a child, but he had little concern for first impressions with nobility or the sort. Ultimately, he had not ventured all the way to the place to make friends, he had come to observe the magnificent and impressive construction project! It had been a long journey, but definitely one worthwhile! The giant castle, no doubt larger in the eyes of the childlike form, was a sight to behold!

Barging into the Throne Room, he looked around. It seemed that even the internal of the castle had been pampered with luxuries, as there were tables and people and lovely decorations! Giant cat men and guys in dark armor! People with tails, and even some noble in a mask! The company complimented the scene splendidly. The runt was not much of an interior designer, as much as a craftsman, but he did appreciate solid decor. There was no doubt about it, the place was lovely!

Seemingly lacking much courtesy, the young chap meandered his way over towards the table of foods. He was not the type to snack, but his journey had been an arduous one, and he had conducted much physical exertion. He had grown quite the appetite. Scarfing up a few pieces of cheeses and crackers from the presentable tabletops, the boy soon found himself stuffing his mouth full of them, his chubby cheeks packed with the delicious munchies. It was not until he realized that he was in the presence of someone much more renown that these efforts slowed, and he froze a moment in his chewing.

"Hehehe..." He chuckled eyes wide and facing towards the one who appeared kingly, then glancing around the room, his eyes came upon the one wearing the mask, Alligans. Chewing away at the copious food still in his mouth, crumbs lie scattered across his chin, the boy waved at the stranger, smiling so furiously that his eyes could not be opened. Most definitely, he was innocent as could be!

 

Astor sat atop the throne as an invisible barrier kept people away from him. His mental focus was compromised from whatever sick he picked up in the game, making it difficult for him to operate at his usual sharpness. And so, the King was alone in his little world, enjoying the wine attendants keep on filling his cup. He knew he shouldn’t be drinking in such a condition, but he felt so far removed from the party that he needed a red thread to keep himself connected. As distracted as he was, Astor did feel the gaze of his subjects. Their eyes were hungry, tracking every movement he made. Each and every one of his audience desire something from him, whether or not it was riches, fame, recognition, or other things. There was only one reason for any of them to be here: ambition.

Leaning over to an attendant, Astor whispered into the girl’s ear, asking her to bring Cessia inside. The guests have waited long enough for the ceremony and he was not going to keep them waiting. After he sent the attendant away, a familiar yet illusive Felis strutted through the throne room and presented herself in front of the King. It was @Ilusa Nakhalee , who was adorned in something very formal, which was unlike the practical garb she often wears. Seeing her display of greeting brought Astor much joy. The blonde smiled with his eyes as he leaned his cheek deeper into his fist, which was propped up on the arm of his solid throne. Although he didn’t cough, his uncharacteristically flustered face and snorting showed that he was suffering from virtual ailment that not even magic can dispel.

“Lady Ilusa, you look most pleasing tonight. As much as I would like to sample your beauty tonight, don’t come any closer lest you want to catch this nasty ailment,” Astor spoke with a voice two octave lower than normal. Earlier, it was Cessia who incessantly pushed to have him take care of the ceremony quickly. Despite his attempt to resist at first, the pressure of carrying an entire nation on his back eventually won and got him to endure the sick and being here, at this very moment.

When the attendant came back with Cessia, she walked up directly to Astor, bowing her head politely to Ilusa before she turned and addressed the King. “Your grace, it’s time for the ceremony. Shall I take care of the proceedings for you?”

Astor nodded.

“Very well, Lady Ilusa, will you vacate this space and join the other Lords and Ladies for now? We’ll start in a few minutes,” Cessia spoke with her light voice, which softened her words quite a bit. Afterwards, she whispered into the ears of the attendants who hurriedly ran over to the rest of her squad and began to coordinate the event.

 

So far so good, while regrettably having no abilities of a rouge, Stampede wasn’t going to stop no matter how stupid of an attempt he thinks it is. His past experience of base raiding has finally paid off and no matter the months had passed, he has still what it takes but for just this moment that he hopes his luck doesn’t run out. He looked left and right and waited out a couple of seconds before walking the hallways, reducing as much presence as he can by taking slow breathes and avoiding weak floors that would produce noises when stepped on.

But such things didn’t go that way as a door to an unfinished room suddenly opened right in front of him as two guards came out from the doors. The hooded thief stopped frozen in his tracks in hopes to inanimate himself as an object. Now he’s starting to regret not taking the rouge masteries. As soon as the guards turn to discover the thief, all three of them would now begin the chase. The guards ran after the hooded thief and to their surprise he was quite fast, but little by little these two guards were slowly catching up to him. Soon one of the guards stopped and took another hallway while one remained on pursuit. Who knew these guards were smart enough as to try and split up, causing one of them to appear right down the hallway in front of Stampede while the other was close behind.

He’s got nowhere to run as both ends of the hallway were covered so here’s his options: To surrender peacefully, get kicked out and shammed by player population and gain the title “Stampede: The Noob of dormant?”

Or will he escape that fate and succeed in what he aims to do?

As it would seem that the guards might have finally gotten the hooded thief, the mysterious infiltrator jumped out towards the balcony. The guards would follow and stop where he jumped, scanning to see where he could have landed safely.

“He could have landed by the thick shrubs below, he won’t get far. Run down and alert ground security and make sure you do it in a way that won’t spook the guests, Lady Cecillia doesn't want this ceremony ruined.” As one stayed by the balcony and watches for any movement, the other rushes down to do as he was told.

As if I’m leaving this place empty handed….

Stampede found himself underneath the balcony and managed to find such little footing for him to allow him to stay beneath it. However he has to move before the guards arrived at that shrub and look up to discover him. It was a close call, rather he cut in too close for his own good as he slowly and quietly climbs up the nearest open window, making it in time before ground security finally arrives. He was inside a finished room that was stuffed with materials and furniture that there was hardly any space for him to move. It was better this than falling off from the second floor into a shrub that couldn’t support his bodyweight.

He’ll have to wait for the guard by the balcony to leave first. In less than 5 minutes he did and went elsewhere, probably to finish his patrol while looking out the windows on where the hooded thief would have gone. Inside the storage room, he manages to find a locked jewelry box. He shaked it first to see if it has any contents. Surprisingly it had some weight and he can feel that there’s definitely something inside it.

If only he was a rogue, he could have unlocked it here and see what’s inside it. Perhaps he will find another to unlock it once he gets out of here. Surely a jewelry box isn't enough for the thief, the loot that he should find must be worth the effort to infiltrate this place. Stampede opened the door inward, looking left and right, then closing the door again and taking a deep breath before exiting the room completely. To where will he go to next?

 

For all her musings, Amane didn't expect a noble to actually approach her, the jewelry on his figure clinking softly as he made his way across the room. Odd, since she wasn't anyone special here, certainly no one that warranted being specifically approached. She made sure to bow slightly lower than the noble did, and to hold it for a while longer, as befitting her lower rank. At least, she assumed he was a noble; she doubted a person of the common class could afford to purchase as much gold as he wore.

At his words a small smile slipped unbidden onto her lips, and the felis dipped her head in thanks. Try as she might to rein in any embarrassment, her tail twitched a little, flicking once before curling in. "You flatter me, Your Lordship," she said. "I am Amane Hirota, a light mage in service to King Astor." As she spoke, she reached out a hand to place within his, hailing for a server with the one holding her glass. Placing it on their tray, she turned back towards Alligans, giving an apologetic smile. "My apologies. Nay, rather, it is my honour to accept. I fear though, that while I am versed in the dances of my homeland, the ones of Falderen or its nearby kingdoms are unfamiliar to me. I may not be the most suitable partner." For one such as yourself went unsaid, but implied nonetheless, Amane caught between wanting to be polite, and yet not wanting to portray herself as paying insincere lip salve. The formal words, too, tripped over her tongue like a foreign language.

If Alligans were to lead her onto the dance floor, she would follow along, falling into whichever dancing position fit best, or one that she was guided to. "I have not the opportunity to travel beyond Astorea and Falderen. If I may ask, how is Gild like?" She continued.

OOC: @Snide