RP:Halloween Horror Bash

Part of the Rest in Pieces: Vailkrin! Arc

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

This is a Necromancer's Guild RP.

Summary: Lady Larewen throws a huge party in honor of All Hallow's Eve, the likes of which has not been seen in Vailkrin for some time, as a way to try to spread peace and goodwill throughout the city. There's some... unexpected and unwanted visitors, however, that would seek to destroy whatever peace remains and somewhat succeeds in their endeavor.

Dark Arena, Vailkrin

The Vailkrin Arena, suffering from long disuse, has been converted into the perfect open-air ballroom in celebration of All Hallow's Eve. Night has fallen and hovering black candles with verdant flames cast an eerie glow on a low hanging fog. Undead servants bustle about, mingling with guests from Vailkrin's nobilitiy and those that do not reside within the City of the Dead. Two buffets have been set out, both sporting eerie fare to help set the mood. One is labled for the Undead, its punchbowl seemingly everfull of steaming blood. The other is labeled for the living, succulant and delicious smells of well seasoned food masked in designs commonly found on such a holiday. The punchbowl upon that table steams as well, but it is nothing more than a visual effect. The servants carry trays laden with treats for those present to imbibe or consume whilst a stage has been constructed at one end of the arena, and upon it stands Larewen, in all her ghastly glory. For this occassion, the banshee makes no attempt to hide her current state. Translucent and bearing the wounds that would have killed her, the deathsinger is watching over those present with an eerie, haunting smile lacing her lips. For this occasion, her appearance is quite acceptable, after all - even if unsettling. Music of an ethereal and haunting quality plays, its source a band of ghouls gathered behind where the banshee stands. Her hand lifts, and the notes of music fade away, leaving silence. When her mouth opens, her voice is projected magically over the crowd. "Good evening, Vailkrinians and visitors alike," she speaks, her voice disembodied and yet still bearing a resemblance to the silvery voice that is so familiar to many that know the necromancer. "I would like to welcome you all to Vailkrin's first true Halloween celebration in far too long. Our lovely City has all but fallen off the map to many." She extends her arms northward, indicating the empty palace, then southward, to the shops that line the streets. "Since the days of the Archmosian Empire, we have been quiet. With Kasyr, we saw peace. Now, we seek to be known once more. The Dead are not here to consume the living, but to live peacefully among you and that is why we've decided to hold this gathering tonight. To celebrate life, to celebrate death, and to celebrate those we have loved and lost. As you partake of the refreshments we have provided tonight, we ask only that you remember those that have left us and that you make merry for those who remain, whether they heart beats or not. Mingle among one another, know that there is no reason to fear us. The Vailkrin that exists today is not the thing of nightmares it once was; this Vailkrin is a place of learning, of fellowship between living and dead, a place where those whose hearts bend toward darkness can find comfort among like-minded souls, a place where the Dead share the same desires as those who still live: peace within Lithrydel, and lives of comfort and joy!" Punctuating her statement, the ghoulish band once more picks up their instroments, and though this tune still carries with it notes of melancholy, of remembrance, it has better rhythm by which to dance. Stairs leading up to the seating are opened for party-goers that need to rest their feet, and there servants also linger to bring refreshments. The banshee's lips remain curved upward, even as she steps down from the stage, letting the focus shift to the musicians, as it should.

Artia and Ava Marie Kerrigan appear from the entrance decorated from head to toe, both sparkling from added glitter and jewelry. Both wear masquerade mask. Artia a sparkling dark green, Ava an white with gold details glitter. Artia sporting a dark green corset, ivy vines stitches along the material. Attached to the corset is a sheer pastel green with more ivy looking to climb off the corset and down to the flowing skirt. Underneath is matching leggings, hair having ivy detailed hair pins leaving her hair down and flowing freely along the porcelain skin. Dressed up as a mother nature. Ava Marie being of age sixteen now due to the dark jar being opened. Has her black curls half up and half down like her mother's, the top half aiding in holding up a golden halo. Her dress of white silk bustling gown with a golden belt around her waist. Diamond studs sparkle along the dark curls, being of a five foot three compared to her mother five foot six clings to Artia side. Her mother looks to her with a smile, looking into Ava mismatched eyes of grey and one blue, whispering, “I love you Ava, relax. You are always safe.” Placing a kiss to the freckled cheek, pulling her on to find a spot to sit to see who else appears. Admiring her angel. When Larewen spike the two raised up, both bowing to Lady Larewen. Ava giddy yo see the lady she felt like a grandmother to her. Artia was a little off by Larewen predicament but none the less keeps a stern eye on Ava.

Lanara arrives at the ball a few moments fashionably late, though her entrance is sure to bring quite a few stares as she dismounts a rather unique looking steed. Several attendee’s flee in horror as the elf slides from the back of a enormous white stallion, though to call it a ‘horse’ would be somewhat an insult, for the neck and head of the majestic steed is that of a fierce, great-white shark. The shark-stallion rolls his eyes to the back of his head as his mistress lovingly pats his magically moist nose, though the elf that still remains on his smooth back is given a heated glare. “Shh… It’s alright, dearling. I know you aren’t used to transporting anyone other than me, and in costume no less…” The beast doesn’t offer a response as Lana extends her arm and beckons for Talyara to take her hand and to dismount their sweet ride. Eventually, her sister summons the courage to slide from the shark-stallion’s back and the two women give each other a once over, making sure to settle any stray hairs and to smooth out any wrinkles on their costumes that may have occurred during their time on sharkback. The stallion angrily thrushes his head from side to side, hungrily eyeing any that pass his way, until Lana gives him a glare. Within seconds the shark-horse dissolves into a small puddle and fades from view, as the sisters link arms and enter the arena. Lanara looks beautiful as always, and is wearing a sleeveless, floor-length, glittering black, ball gown, with elegant, orange embroidery. Though, if one were to look closely at her dress they would note that the filigree embroidered symbols weren’t quite what one would expect at a Halloween Ball. To the left of the gown the symbols are images of the seven deadly sins: Gluttony, Lust, Sloth, Greed, Pride, Wrath, and Vanity. To the right of the gown the symbols are images of the seven contrary virtues: Humility, Kindness, Abstinence, Chastity, Patience, Liberality, and Diligence. The hem of the gown holds fine stitches of the phases of the moon. The gown fits the elf to perfection and is made of the finest fabric, likely a lofty purchase from the famous crustacean fashion designer, Kreekitaka. Lana walks with ease despite wearing three inch heels, and is donning a pumpkin-shaped locket around her slender neck, and a dainty tiara rests atop her head. Lustrous chestnut hair falls to the middle of her back, in loose waves, and her face bares just a hint of makeup, to accentuate her naturally fair features. If one were to look at the ensemble at length they would know that tonight she was dressed as ‘Queen Karma’ and long may she reign! As the duo enters the arena, Lana gently elbows her way through the crowd and makes her way to the hostess of the ball, Lady Larewen. A pointed stare is given to Talyara, before Lana drops into a curtsey before the vampiress, and lifts her chocolate hues to meet the woman’s gaze. “Thank you for hosting the ball this evening, Lady Larewen. I am Lanara Krawft; I don’t believe we’ve officially met. This is my sister Talyara, and I believe you two have a history of sorts, but that’s in the past. We feel so blessed to have been included in the festivities and want to wish you a Blessed Samhain.” The woman’s words seem sincere, and she rises from her curtsey, and glances around the room at the many beings, both the living and the undead, that had seemed to gather. “Oh dear… I feel at a loss without a date…”

Jesali was fashionably late to the party, and quietly entered during the speech Larewen gave. Never one for crowds, or people, she sidled off towards the buffet marked for Undead consumption and busied her gloved hands with a cup of the steaming drink. Her costume wasn't extravagant, and consisted merely of long, raven black wings that had been enchanted, by her own hands, to look as though the protruded from her bared shoulder blades. A black and beaked masquerade mask finished the 'costume' aspect, and the long, trailing black gown and matching gloves were just an added bonus. What exactly was she supposed to be? Who knows.

Having been told that she would be attending a Halloween Ball with next to no notice, Talyara was forced to improvise when it came to a costume, having to use items she had readily available. She needed something simple, but cute; her time in the woods inspiring her to dress as one of the critters she sees pass by on a regular basis. A pair of antler sheds were plucked from her alter and affixed onto a leather strap which the witch would tie around her head and adjust her unruly, wavy locks to hid it so it looked as though they were organically growing from her scalp. Various roots and powders were ground together to form a darker shade than her skin, Taly working to press it into the hallows of her cheeks as well as the hairline on her forehead. After adding a few while spots along her temple and cheeks, the empath slipped into some brown leggings, a cream top, and soft leather boots, she was ready to go. Lanara hadn’t given her any details other than the fact that there was a Halloween ball and that the sisters would be attending together. When Lanara finally does show, Talyara is unsure what to be more in awe of—the beautiful gown her sister dons or this incredible beast that is meant to carry them to the event. After several minutes of convincing on Lanara’s end, Talyara finally joins her sister, gripping her around the waist tightly and hiding her face between Lana’s shoulder blades. In fact, the empath doesn’t even lift her gaze until the pair are coming to a halt at the area. The witch’s face visibly pales even under her makeup and she gives her sister a pointed look. Still, she accepts the offered hand and slides from shark back before the pair link arms. Taly allows Lana to lead the way, through the crowd until they come upon their hostess. The witch isn’t as courteous as her sister, but settles on a slight bob of her head. “Larewen,” she says as means of a greeting. History indeed.

Brand and Khitti melt easily into the thick of the crowd. Like all the others, they do not appear to be themselves -- but they seem to have foregone costume entirely and instead decked themselves out in illusion. Today Brand’s blonde hair is turned to black, his appearance youthful, his face and garb the spitting image of a prince from one of Khitti’s fairy tales. As for the lady herself, well, she appears to have quite the fish tail, though she floats around the ballroom as gracefully as if she had legs. They’re under there somewhere, masked by the illusion. Brilliant red hair, a brighter crimson than her own, floats weightlessly around her shoulders. She, too, wears another’s face. And there is a third with them, a young child. They don’t appear to be in any obvious costume, but perhaps they are; they wear a bright green tunic and matching hat and clutch tightly to their bow as they make their way straight for the ‘undead’ side of the refreshment table.

Vailkrin's curse is more of a nuisance than anything else, and because of that the worst of the curses are easily forgotten among the dead. After all, ghosts typically haunt their nightmares anyway, though theirs are more of the living variety. Lady Larewen looks upon Ava in confusion, even as Artia reassures the youth. Last she'd seen Ava was when she brought Artia to House Dragana. Her mouth parts to offer a greeting, but before the words form Lanara is before her and, having last heart the elf dead, there's no hiding the surprise on the banshee's features. It is doubled at Talyara's appearance, for Larewen would expect Emrith to appear sooner than she might expect the witch. It takes her a moment to recover and a ghastly dip of her head follows before mismatched emerald and brown eyes settle on the more famililar of the sisters. Lanara's words are enough to dig at a wound that is still too fresh, even if unintentionally. "More that we share a common factor in our own respective histories, but we've met, yes." There is no malice in her voice, having disposed of that when Emrith assaulted their unexpected meeting at Shinnan's Glade. Instead, she offers a curtsey of her own, as revolting as it might be given the state of her appearance. "I am glad that you two could make it. Please, enjoy yourselves." Then, with a wink more toward Talyara, she offers almost uncharacteristically, "Mayhaps you will meet a better man here."

Mythayus would make his entrance. He would be donned in black suit with a white frilled shirt, a black cape would hang from his shoulders. A plain white quarter mask graced the right side of his face. He walked heel toe in his knee high black riding boots. His piercing blue eyes would survey the area. He wasn’t too familiar with the area. He had decided to come nonetheless. He had no qualms with the undead. He would offer Lady Larewen a bow, of his head, as he walked by. The knight would find a nice place to relax and people watch for the moment.

Irenic and Valrae enter donning large white sheets with holes poked into the front for eyes. Needless to say the newlyweds are the cutest and brokest pair of ghosts. The completely disguised pair made their way to the living side of the buffet and picked out food, but moaned and groaned like between Valrae’s chuckles and Irenic’s chuckles. They end up occupying a far off table in one of the more out of the way areas. The pair don’t seem to be actually talking too much for they don’t even need to due to their recent bond other than their rings, but those are currently covered in their respective white sheet costumes. They are a pair of totally spooky ghosts, ‘booOoo!’ And stuff. Their chairs scoot close together while they have quiet conversations about all the costumes. Valrae’s soft voice interrupting, “oh! Look at that one!” They agree, such good costumes.

There were people. -A lot- of people. Why was she suddenly so nervous? She’s not really been nervous around this many people before. Maybe it’s because the majority of the party-goers were undead. No, that’s not it. The feeling only grew as she spied the one named Larewen. Unbeknowst to Khitti, or ‘Red’ as she preferred to be called now, she always felt this way around the elder vampiress that was now a banshee. “So… that’s her?” A ghost. She was a ghost. Khitti occasionally had seen the ghosts that frequented the rocky part of shore near Cenril’s wharf, but certainly not this close. “S-should I go talk to her? Or…?” That long red hair, both illusion and real were pulled over her shoulder and carefully raked with her fingertips. Does she look okay? Is her hair fine? Her illusion’s holding? Onyx would probably take offense to that if they knew Khitti worried about the illusion going away. They were damn good at their illusioncraft and the redhead had only just found out about it earlier this week.

Talyara cannot help the slight smirk that curls on her lips at Larewen’s wink and subsequent statement. “From your lips to Goddess’s ears,” she says quietly so only her sister and the hostess could hear.

Larewen isn't a complete stranger to those fairytales, and thus the image of the mermaid and her prince strike a particularly sore chord within the necromancer. One that reminds her of the pain of loss that she just described to all that are present. Her gaze watches quietly, fixated upon the trio. Were she in possession of her body, the necromancer would be able to see beyond the illusion without casting a spell. A shame, really. Fortunately, Irenic and Valrae, guised beneath their absurd costumes plays a welcome relief, temporary though it is. She watches with amusement the pair before the Phantom of the Opera bows before her. She responds with another grisly curtsey, this one leaving her head hanging weirdly upon her neck. Uprighting it, she says, "Welcome," to the Knight. As he settles, her gaze again moves to the newlywed couple and the trio at the table for the dead. The others are, afterall, at recognized or enough visible to be recognized. Under the guise of snaring a steaming cup of blood, the banshee approaches the trio.

Larewen adds that somewhere in that, she chuckles at Talyara's words.

Lanara smiles warmly at Larewen, before the woman is whisked off to mingle with the other party-goers, and gently nudges her sister in the ribs. “Taly, be a ‘deer’ and go get us something to drink? I’m parched. Something about the autumn breeze caressing my face as we rode sharkback through the lands has left me so thirsty! But none of that gross blood wine, nonsense. I want the good stuff. Something that will give me a nice buzz, hm? And maybe Lady Larewen is right! Maybe you and I will meet a nice gentleman tonight. I just hope he’s the breathing kind, if you know what I mean… Hey, that went well between you two, right? She seems nice, actually!” Lana meets her sisters emerald gaze with sheer innocence, as she was in the other realm when all of the Emrith drama went down, and so her remarks are not meant with any sort of malice. Truth be told, the elf wasn’t exactly Emrith’s number one fan, either! Still, she changes the subject by nudging her sister again. “Please get me a drink, sister. While you do that I’m going to go and say hello to our old witch friend!” Without waiting for a response, Lana heads off in the other direction, and approaches the strawberry blonde with the teenage girl at her side. “Hello, Lady Artia. Blessed Samhain. It’s been a long time since we last spoke. How do you fare?”

Artia : Before Artia could voice to not go towards Larewen, Ava was taking off to go she Larewen. Quickly Artia strolled up to her using her chi vampire speed. The two of them greeting her, Ava speaking first. “What happened?” Artia quickly interrupted, “Not the place Ava dear, we will meet some other time.” Artia passes to look at her creator, smiling widely. “I would like to meet with you soon, of able to Madame Dragana.” The two female walked off, only to walk up to Lanara and her sister, in which Artia beamed. “Lanara, Talyara! It's so wonderful to see you two again. This is my daughter, Ava Marie Kerrigan. Soon, I really need to meet with you both I need help please. I will state why when we meet but for now..” She was interrupted by Ava excitedly, “Hello! It's so nice to meet you! This is my first ball!” Artia can't help to laugh and shake her head. Turning around only for her eyes to rest upon Mythayus, how long it had been since she seen him. Ava once again took off and hugged Mythayus tight, the once toddler had become found of the male. Artia strolled up to them and gave a chuckle as she knew myth might not know who hugged him. So she played along, “Oh, I see you brought a date Mythayus?” She bite her lower lip to try not to laugh, but Ava pulled away to look arms with her mother saying, “Hi myths.” They both looked to each other laughing as they new he would most likely be clueless.

Brand ’s words come as if he’s expected Khitti’s question before she asks it. “After, of course. Perhaps not with so many around. Though I s’pose if you’ve really got a burnin’ desire to do it now…” Brand peers through the mob and in the distance he spies Larewen, already mid-conversation with a few others. “...no, doesn’t look like now’s a good time. And she’ll likely be greetin’ guests all through the night, I’m afraid.” It’s already a leap of faith greater than Brand would have preferred to let Larewen in on the secret. No need to get reckless and risk that others might learn of Khitti’s continued existence.

Lanara nods in response to Artia, vowing that she would seek out the witch at another time and not-so-festive place, to discuss whatever it was that the witch needed their assistance with, and finds her attention tugged to the mini-witch at Artia’s side. “Hello, Ava. It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Lanara, though everyone calls me Lana. I hope you enjoy your first ball! I only attended my first ball two years ago, it’s something I will never forget!” Lana’s smile falters slightly, though she doesn’t tell the excitable girl just ‘why’ she wouldn’t forget her first ball. It was a Yule Ball, if she remembered correctly, and Hildegarde had perished, Orikahn and Aira were arrested, Linn nearly died, and Desparrow danced amongst the carnage. A shake of her head is given as if to clear the memory, as the elf gives Ave a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, before she moves through the crowd to mingle some more.

Talyara crinkles her nose slightly at her sister as she makes a pun about her costume, the witch feel more self conscious about her thrown together attire having seen everyone else’s more extravagant garb. “Larewen and I spoke some time ago, just the two of us.” The empath leaves it at that before skirting around the crowd to find the refreshments, plucking up two goblets of some strong liquor and heading back to Queen Karma. She seems to be conversing with her fellow witch who earns a smile from Taly as well. “It’s good to see you again, Artia. And a pleasure to meet you, Ava,” she says before handing Lana her glass and taking a sip of her own. “Ball’s can be fun, if that’s your sort of thing. I’m Taly by the way,” she offers as means as an introduction.

Eirik loathed most types of parties; especially pertaining to those which required him to dress up, but a costume party where none might recognize him? Far too good to pass up. Unlike normal, Eirik came dressed up. Literally. That's a costume for the rough Lycan if any could say. A golden, long beaked masquerade mask, covered his familiar scarred and rough features. The foreigner's light brown hair is slicked back, whilst he smelled of vanilla and birch. A well fitted formal suit hugged his body whilst decorative shoes covered his calloused warrior's feat. Certainly, Eirik looked the part of a lord of some sorts. He even shaved off that beard he'd been rocking! In truth the only reason he chose to dress this way, is to hide his sort of infamy. It often preceded him; especially after killing Hanna in Larket. Yes, that was a rather hot topic among a few. Convinced that his well 'thought out' disguise would work, he entered the party - choosing wisely to say nothing. He certainly didn't look like himself, speaking would only give it away. Tonight, would be one of silence from the Northman. A night without names or introductions. Instead he found himself a place to call his own and watch with a mild enthusiasm. He needed to get out more.

As Brand was speaking, telling her how things should probably go down with this event, Larewen actually shows up. The ghost approached and Khitti’s eyes got all wide and it was as if she’d lost her voice like the mermaid whose costume she was wearing. She even poked at her throat a little. Work, damn you! Cue more hair raking and her mouth slightly hanging open, the woman still at a loss for words. “Hi” was finally squeaked out to the Dragana woman. “It’s, uh, a nice party.” Khitti looked around, trying to find something to compliment her on. “I… like... “ Floating candles. Nice ballroom. The food table. Pick something, woman. “The food! The food is good.” Okay, except you’ve not eaten any of it yet. And, you’re standing at the undead table. This is probably where Brand would facepalm.

Jesali snorted into her drink in a rather undignified fashion when Lanara had she thought Larewen seemed 'nice'. Humor aside, she moved to catch up to her ghostly mother-in-law, but once she recognized Larewen's attention was on a trio of strangers, Jess halted. Awkward as she was, she simply stood there, mentally berating herself while outwardly taking a simple sip of her drink. Seconds tick by before she mustered up enough energy, or courage, to saunter the rest of the way to Larewen and crew. "Larewen," Jesali murmured, her voice warmed with fondness, before turning to nod in greeting to the little Mermaid, Prince and archer.

Khitti also asks Larewen, when she finally remembers, "I--I mean we--would like to speak to you after the party is over. I-If that's alright with you." Yes, Khitti. You actually had a reason for being here, you know.

Lanara plucks the offered glass from her sisters hand and quickly takes a sip, a soft smile on her pretty face as the liquid semi-burns her throat. It had been a long time since she had expensive wine and the elf was appreciative of the beverage. Having left Taly with Ava, the elf meanders through the crowd, smiling apologetically to those she bumps into along the way. A slow, melancholic song begins to play and as ‘couples’ begin to sway along to the music, she feels utterly out of place. Rapidly, she takes a few sips of her wine and awkwardly sways from side to side, though she does happen to catch the gaze of Khitti and Brand, for a brief moment. Lana gives the handsome couple a curt nod and quickly diverts her gaze to look at the band on stage.

Talyara huffs as Lanara abandons her to go mingle, something the empath was never good at and not something she was particularly fond of at the moment. There were a lot of people here, and despite Taly having some control over her powers, she hadn’t been in a crowd this size in a long time and was beginning to get overwhelmed. Quickly, she politely leaves Ava and skirts the rest of the crowd, to walk along the perimeter and perch herself on a seat in some shadows.

Mythayus would in fact be clueless as to who was hugging him, but he would give a one armed hug in return. His smile grew as he caught sight of his itav. He’d look down to the teen and back to Artia, as she asked him the question. He give a shrug. “I collect strays?” He started to think something was up when she said his name and the teo looked to each other and laugh at the clueless man. He didn’t care though he was just happy to see Artia again. “How have you been Sia Itav?”

Irenic and Valrae give a couple of ghostly waves to Taly as she made her way into the shadows with them. They are giddy and happy with new excitement and - do witches know when other ones are around? Valrae has a keen sense about these things and she pulled Irenic towards the drinks to put some distance between them and the empath so she may get some room to breathe.

Internally, Brand is in panic mode. He’d hoped to do this more quietly. He’d hoped a thousand variables might be in a thousand different places other than where they are now. Khitti speaks, and oh, is there anyone who could be quite so awkward as she is? Surely they are discovered already. But there is nothing for it. He’ll simply have to brave the course that has been charted for them. “Larewen. Nice costume. Very realistic.” Of course he knows she’s a ghost for real; he’s being a smartass. He leans in closer to whisper his name amongst other things.

Brand whispered something to Larewen.

Artia smiled widely as Mythayus had spoken the pet name he gave her, "Ava here and I been good, we been wondering how busy Larket has made you recently." Without another word the two females hugged him tightly together. The trick was over, he got a trick and a treat for Halloween. Though Artia smelled someone familiar, and compared the heart beat to pick him out. Quickly she rushed to whisper in his ear, and Back to Mythayus and Ava she went. "What made you want to come to the ball?" She already figured she knew, but was curious to hear it.

Larewen watches Eirik's arrival quietly, noting his desire to remain by himself. She won't go out of her way to introduce herself. Besides the mermaid has spoken, awkwardly so. Having forgotten her current state, the banshee's translucent hand passes through the goblet she reaches for just as Red finally finds her voice. It's a welcome distraction to the deathsinger and instead she look to her curiously. After a few moments, her chin lifts in assent. "That can be arranged, certainly. I am typically found at the Hanging Corpse nowadays, what with my House being shut off for the time-being," she says. As warm a smile as a dead woman can manage is passed to the costumed woman before Jesali approaches and offers her greeting. Another pained remembrance of the dead, truly. Endrin has been gone for far too long, and yet here his wife stands before her. "Jes," the banshee greets, and reaches out to embrace the woman. Her touch is a cold brush of air. "It's good to see you out and about, my dear." Then comes a stead cadence of drumbeats - Larewen's signal for the planned event, the highlight of the ball. She presses her hand to Jesali's before she steps away from the quartet of guests and moves toward the stage once more. Ascending it, the music again dies out. "Tonight, in honor of the time and effort spend on your costumes, we will be hosting a costume contest. Traditionally, the act of dressing up for this day has several origins. Some guises are meant to honor our dearly departed in physical representation, whilst other beliefs say these costumes are meant to scare away and protect loved ones from darkness. I held this ball tonight as a mixture of these beliefs, as a welcome to all. Whether you celebrate Samhain, All Hallow's Eve, or Halloween, tonight is an important night for several of you." She emphasizes each holiday, gesturing to their respectful audiences. "At this time, those of you interested in participating in this contest, please, make your way to the stage."

Pilar was not in attendance at the ball. She was taking Larewen's threat to murder her VERY seriously. So instead, we're going to follow a mysterious gentleman. He was dressed in a nice black suit with an emerald green waistcoat visible from underneath his jacket. Matching emerald cuff-links decorated his wrists. He'd been there since the beginning, watching, waiting. Deep red eyes scanned the crowd, making notes of who was in attendance. And who was to be targeted. He lifted his skull-topped cane and tapped it upon the ground thrice. The earth beneath them began to rumble, and a long, low groan filled the air. Slowly, figures began to appear at the entrances and shamble into the arena. The groaning grew louder as the zombie horde closed in. At first, the crowd thought it was all fun and games, just a show for their entertainment. Then a zombie snagged a pixie from the air and bit her in half. The witnesses barely had time to process what just happened when they were set upon. Screams filled the air as zombies threw themselves at people, mostly the living. But eagle-eyed attendees might have noticed that some people were being left alone. A zombie shambled towards Khitti and Brand, then stopped and shambled off in a different direction. Another seemed VERY interested in how Ava's sweet adolescent flesh would taste, then it saw her mom and made haste in the opposite direction. Irenic was similarly avoided by the unusually choosy undead, though his companion was not so lucky. Jesali was ignored outright, along with Larewen, though the latter at least made sense; she was a ghost, with no delicious meat to nosh on. A man dressed as a frog screamed as zombies piled atop him, ripping his flesh from his bones. A woman in a princess outfit never had the chance to scream, as a zombie buried its teeth into her throat. All the while, the man in black and green watched, grinning.

Larewen adds in somewhere that a nod is offered to the princely man, too.

Mythayus smirked as he watched her run over to a friend, or at least he hoped was a friend. “What brought me here?” He gave a coy grin, “I’m looking at both reasons. I missed you. Larket is Larket. Always something to do.” He’d wrap his arms around both of the lovely women. Myth would look to Ava, “Your not a cub anymore, but you’re as beautiful as your mother.” He looked to Artia, “How have you been, sia itav?”

Khitti would nod at both Jesali and Lanara, as the two women briefly caught her attention amongst all her anxiety, and offered them a warm smile. Larewen would speak and then be off and Khitti would feel quite a bit better now that it was over. Should she go up on stage? Nah. That would put her further in danger, as Brand would likely say to her, so she was content to watching. Except… that zombie got rather close… and her metaphorical spider-senses started tingling. Okay, it was more like her necromancer senses. Her magic had recently re-manifested on a Warrior’s Guild quest and now it was definitely trying to tell her something. Things felt wrong. “Brand…” She tugged at his shirt, olive-green eyes ever fixed on the zombie that stopped not far away from her before shuffling off again elsewhere. There were more of them, everywhere, her magic screaming at her. “Brand, something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.” And then there was blood, as that other zombie tore into the princess, and Khitti could only stare.

Artia nudges Ava to go to the stage to join in on the Halloween costume contest, in which the female did so happily skipping along. Winking to Larewen, how she loved that female.

Eirik does not react to Artia's encroachment of his personal space. She had never respected his bubble. Of course, Eirik would help for the time being, but the moment he needed to leave, that would be it. No more baby-sitting duty. Just cause he's uncle Eirik, doesn't mean he shouldn't have a little fun. Artia receives a nod for a response but he says absolutely nothing.

Lanara is thankful when the drum beat quickens and Larewen takes the stage once more, as it took away the awkwardness of dancing by herself to a slow ballad. Loser, much? Anyways, Lana quickly regains her composure, straightens her shoulders, and literally marches right up to the stage. She didn’t have a date, her sister is nowhere to be found at the moment, and it was a high holiday for those that practiced the craft. So with all of those things in mind, plus the cost of her ballgown, which would literally take months to pay off, she enters the costume contest. A smile graces her lips as she stands between the others that are keen on entering the contest and she looks to her left and right, as though eyeing her competition. Not that many could compete with her, she literally was Queen Karma, and though she looked devastatingly beautiful, she also had an intimidating look in her dark eyes, and she, above most, knew the effects of karma. Crossing her fingers and toes, she waits expectantly to hear the winner of the contest. The crimson-eyed gentleman, and the zombie attacks are to the elf’s back, and the music is rather loud so it dulls out the screaming. Lana, literally, stands oblivious before the stage, hopeful of winning a prize.

Irenic is dragged, again, by Valrae to the stage for the costume contest and they wait for their turn in the queue. She won the contest last year, maybe she’s a lucky charm, but they are just here to have fun and take part in festivities even though they know their costumes are simple, cliche and in retrospect probably a little disrespectful to the host. The pair make a show across the stage in slow gliding movement and haunting moans of souls in unrest. When they depart they were chuckling softly to each other. Apparently Halloween balls are kinda their thing seeing as that’s the first public date they had a year back. After showing off their oh-so-simple costumes they made their way back to their table with drinks and snacks.

From the stage, the banshee has a damned good view of what is befalling the ball. Even as others make their toward the stage, the piercing howl of the dying pixie's last breath adds to the air an eerie quality. The squelch of the princess's carotid is almost audible as ghoulish teeth dig into flesh. Anger darkens Larewen's features, her gaze desperately seeking threads of magic it can no longer see. Nonetheless, with observation the woman finds the source of the invasion: a man whose glowing red eyes peer out beneath his hat. House Dragana's colors adorn his form, but she cannot see his face clearly enough to recognize whether he is actually one of hers gone rogue or not. For the Houses in attendence, it is enough. Clearly Larewen is once more up to some no-good nefarious deed. The bones of the frog crunch under the gnashing teeth, even as vampires and sentient ghouls alike are suddenly calling upon their magic and drawing hidden weapons. They were prepared for this, expectant of such large scale betrayal. Larewen's voice rings out over them all, her words directed toward the living. "Get... out of here!" It's not the best choice of words, it's borderline panic and lord it's not how she wanted things to go. The smooth ground of the arena, once packed dirt and stone, are quickly becoming thick and squishy beneath the bloodletting. The banshee floats off the stage, making her way directly toward the man himself, the puppetmaster that has brought this hell upon the banshee's attempt at bringing Vailkrin back to the minds of many.

Talyara doesn’t even bother entering the contest because, let’s be honest, there’s no way she even stands a chance next to most of the people here. No, she stays where she sits, hoping that her sister wins for she was the most beautiful here (although, she might be biased). Talyara doesn’t see the man enter, doesn’t even consider the zombies as the meander inside for this witch thinks they are simply attendants in costume. Still, the screams of the attacked are enough to shake the empath, enough to cause her goblet to go crashing to the floor and Taly nearly following. Yeah, death can be overwhelming for someone with gifts like Taly.

Jesali allowed Larewen the brief embrace, and returned it half-halfheartedly; she wasn't one for touching in the past years, but she made exceptions for very few, Larewen ranking high that small list. "Keep an eye out. Your granddaughter is likely to show up. She wasn't at all pleased that I left her behind." Sure enough, a girl of seven or eight could be seen skirting the area, dressed in cliche witch's garb; stripped stockings, black frock, flimsy pointed hat and riding a broom of the mundane variety; she galloped about on it and out of careful view of Jesali. When the start of the costume contest began, Jess moved back toward the refreshment table to enjoy the show rather than be a part of it. However, her attention deviated to the zombie horde and a smirk stretched across her lips before the realization that this was not meant to be a show and a look of horror over came her features the moment a familiar voice called out for Mommy. Immediately, Jesali was moving, hindered more so by the awkwardness of her wings and the length of her gown, rather than the weight of it, and she stumbled occasionally in her mad dash across the ballroom to rescue her child from the gnashing jaws of a pair zombies.

Brand has of course also noticed the zombies crowding the arena, though his reaction is less fear and more fatigue and frustration. “Every damn time,” he mutters, leading Khitti away from the food table. Another zombie crosses paths with them and each continues to ignore the other. Brand is still grumbling as he drags Khitti to the entrance. “Can’t go to one gorram party without bein’ beset by one manner of death or another.” The child follows behind them, loosing arrows from their bow all the while. They strike down one zombie when its teeth are inches from a lady’s wrist, and another just as it is about to tackle a masked man, but it’s far too little against so many foes. And while Brand is helping, lobbing the occasional dagger of ice or ball of flame from his free hand, it seems he intends to leave the people to their fate once he’s reached the exit.

Lanara frowns as Larewen’s face goes shifts into one of despair and as the warning is screamed throughout the arena, only now does the elf realize that something has gone awry. “But… Who won the contest?” She states, the mixture of knowing and not knowing simultaneously that something bad either had happened or is about to happen. Confusion masks the brunette’s face as Larewen floats off of the stage, into the audience of screaming party-goers, and up to a man with a cane. Lana spins on her heel and her eyes widen at the horror that had built up behind her in the short amount of time that she was stage side, awaiting the contest results. Zombies were sprouting like wildflower, rising up from thin air and attacking the living, like they were sent here on a mission to murder as many as possible. Those that weren’t bitten or being attacked, were trampling a few that sadly had face planted on the ground. The music had stopped, and now only screams filled the arena, and the entire area is now coated in a gooey crimson gore. Lana looks this way and that, trying to see where the nearest exit would be, when a much more important thought enters her buzzed mind. Talyara! “Sister! Sister, where are you?!” Panic fills the elf as she hurriedly runs around the room, scanning the perimeter first, and only when she trips over a dead body and lands in a puddle of blood does she spy her sibling. “Taly! There you are!”

Mythayus watched the girl skip-off to enjoy the costume contest. He turned his attention to Artia. He’d wait patiently as she paid her affections to Larewen. Then give her a playful kiss on the cheek. His contentness was short lived as zombies started to, well crash the bash. He’d use his signature Lightening Step, to grab Ava and Artia, and getting out of the area, transforming into his dragon form to get them to safety. Leaving the area following Artia’s instruction.

Irenic curses under his breath and says to Valrae, “not this year.” He was referring to her victorious win last time and quickly flung his sheet from himself revealing brilliantly gleaming metal wings expertly crafted and implanted by Alvina. Making an effort not to even look Larewen’s way, but hopes the chaos was enough cover to get himself and Valrae out of here without notice. His arms securely wrap around Valrae under the cover of her own ghostly costume and he takes off for the exit before flying on out upon those metal appendages.

“B-Brand, wait. We can’t go. We have to help them,” Khitti said as she pulled away from him, though she didn’t stray far from the currently raven-haired Catalian. “W-what was the thing you showed me? For my fire. I-I can help. I can do this.” They’d talked about this, though. She wasn’t supposed to use her magic until they spoke to Larewen, until she could get properly retrained. “Brand, please.” She gave him that look, the look that was pretty much a puppy-dog eyed stare, those big olive-green eyes peering up at him, pleading silently to get him to allow her to help the guests. “Please.” It wasn’t safe at all, but neither was just leaving to let the dead run around and kill people. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t right.

The cry of "Mommy!" amongst the crowd, in a familiar, shrill little voice, derails the angry apparition. Jesali's warning echoes in her maining, and before the banshee can reach the man who has wreaked havoc on her ball, she is spinning around in desperate search of her grand-daughter; that girl is all that is left of her son, and she'd be damned thrice over before allowing harm to befall the child. Thus she's reaching the girl just as her mother stumbles into sight and, drawing upon the magic in the candles above, materializes enough to raise the little witch from the ground and toss her into her mother's arms. "Go, take as many with you as you can. Whatever foul magic has raised these ones cannot penetrate the Hanging Corpse's wards," she hisses before she's once more turning, moving through blood and dead bodies to retrace her steps back to the man. Already, the princess whose throat was gouged is rising from the dead, and more are following suit. Those that find their way to the entrance are freed from the carnage and Larewen is doing her best to take control of some of those being raised. The tables are upturned, blood and brains and wine and whiskey and cake scattering on bloodied mud. The candles fall from the sky, plunging the arena into darkness as she recalls what little magic she'd spent to lift then and an arcing bolt of dark, violet sparks shoots in the direction of the man responsible for this. Whether it's strong enough to cause any damage is questionable: most of it is already expended bringing the newly risen dead under control. They turn upon their attackers, healthy teeth breaking brittle flesh.

Talyara had tumbled from her seat, somewhere along the way and she blinked rapidly. She was breathless, her mind was literally swirling with death, fear, anger—all permeate through Talyara’s lithe form as she pulls herself up to a shaky stand, turning towards the stage only to find Lara missing. Her own panic begins to permeate everyone else’s feelings until she ears that melodic voice and turns to find her sister face planted on the floor. Taly only has time to react now, trusting on her own instincts to dash to Lanara, reaching her quickly and pulling the elder sister to a stand. Quickly, the empath mutters a spell under her breath and the pair, once again linked by their arms, are encased in a protective bubble of sorts. It’s not apparent to the naked eye, although the two would appear distorted to anyone who looked their way. It wouldn’t completely protect them from magical or zombie attacks alike, but it would certainly act as a barrier that would hopefully get them to the exit in one piece. “We have to leave,” she tells Lanara, already tugging her towards the exit.

Eirik nearly slapped his forehead. Last time he joined Larewen and Artia, it was the night she was turned. Now, it's another night of the undead. Such theatrics. Whilst Eirik did not have any weapons to help, he was able to do other things. Physically deter any member of the attacking party from Ava? From the other innocents? Yup. Some poor wretch standing nearby with a cane, loses it; Backed by the authority of Eiriks large frame. This man, had balanced most of his weight upon the thing. Before even realizing it, he seemed to float. Then gravity kicked in and taught him the errors of his way. The makeshift weapon is now used, like a club to deter any assault on himself and Ava. Battering a random soundly across the face. Teeth, spittle and moans fly from the mouth of the creature, hopefully it was an enemy. Who really knew? When Eirik turns to see Ava, and realizes someone else is helping them, he shrugs. Instead he continues to carve his own path through the Zeds, being led by his mighty - cane…. Though that changes too as things begin to fall under their hostess's control. Eirik had enough of this party, and left it anyway. Perhaps next time things would go without such a ruckus? Just like his entrance, the cane is tossed to the floor and Eirik exits without a word.

The red-eyed gentleman watched as his horde tore through the guests. The shock of it all seemed to take them off guard, but eventually, some of the guests started to fight back. A fireball incinerated one zombie, another was stabbed through the eye. The man looked to the banshee floating his way, and decided that was his cue to leave. A fanged grin would be the last Larewen anyone there saw of him, as he turned into a cloud of smoke and floated up, up, up and out of the arena, the lightning passing through his incorporeal form. Left without a master, the horde just continued to do what it was raised to do, but with so many guests fighting back, it wasn't long before the zombies were no more. Their corpses littered the arena, rotting clothes soaked in blood both old and fresh.

Woman, don’t you frakking know you -died- last time we fought a horde of zombies?! But no, of course she doesn’t. Khitti isn’t plagued by that particular memory, just as she’s been spared so many others. Brand sighs, turns around, takes her hands in his. “I don’t doubt you, but trust me, Vailkrin can handle itself. It’s seen far worse. No one here is worth your life.” That should be the end of it. He pulls forward again, if she does not stand her ground.

Lanara finds herself tightly wrapped up in her sister’s embrace, in a magical barrier, and being rushed to the door. A look over her shoulder is given to Larewen, who at the moment is defending the arena to the best of her ability. “I… I wish I could help. Taly, we have to help… If only I had my magic back…” Tears fill the elf’s eyes as she sees a small boy’s head being ripped off, and the blood spurts wildly from his neck, causing her to bury her face in her younger sister’s shoulder. “We have to work on getting my powers back. So many are going to die here tonight, and if we weren’t so defenseless, we could have made a difference.” A single tear trickles down her cheek as the siblings exit the arena, leaving the hellish night behind them, though they hope for the best on those that remain to fight the attack of the zombie’s.

Khitti did indeed stand her ground. “Brand. -No-.” Here was Khitti in all her stubborn glory, a frown alighting her pale features. No, she didn’t know. She didn’t know what happened, how she died. Were she still the same woman as before, if she still had her memories, she wouldn’t have left even then. “I’m not leaving. You can frakking go if you want, but I’m not.” Her tone was stern, much moreso than it had been at all as of late. She turned away, watched as chaos ensued, as Larewen demanded everyone leave. The redheaded mermaid looked down at her hands, trying to remember the somatic components to the fire spell. How did it go? Did she even need it? What else had he told her? Just feel the fire. Focus on it. Gods, she didn’t have time for this. It was making her angry. She needed to do this. She needed to prove to Brand that she didn’t need him to protect her all the time.

Jesali welcomed the sense of relief that flooded through her the moment she spotted Larewen near her child; the banshee's protectiveness nearly outweighed her own. From within her skirts, two hilt-less daggers escape without aid of hands or fingers, and directed by thought alone, slice cleaning through the neck of each zombie that threatened the wellbeing of her child. Spines completely severed, the creatures dropped lifeless once more, before moving to incapacitate another who had grown interested by the temptation of warm flesh and blood. Jess had easily caught her crying child, and held her securely to her chest as she moved through the arena, stopping long enough to kill an enemy or help those still 'alive' with the zombies they battled. "We can't leave Gran'ma, we can't leave her!" Was a constant echo in her ear as her child fought to stay, while also fighting to cling closer to her parent. After realizing that fewer and fewer of the undead were capable of there horrible onslaught, Jesali slowed, the pant that escaped her pale lips one born from fear and not exertion. She lingered near the exit of the arena, directing any and all who cared to listen to the Hanging Corpse tavern.

Brand turns to watch as Khitti writhes out of his grasp. Internally he is cursing, loud and long. She is as stubborn as ever. After a moment’s hesitation he presses himself to her backside, placing his fingers over the backs of hers, guiding her hands into the proper movements to create her shadowflame. If she won’t leave, it is better to help her than to abandon her. The child, meanwhile, has vanished back into the horde, though Brand catches sight of them or their arrows every so often.

A banshee's shriek rips itself free of Larewen's incorporeal mouth, echoing around the arena in the wake of the fiend's disappearance. The other Houses, as the last of the zombies die, turn toward the Lady of House Dragana with a scowl, and she meets their gazes, unsure of what to do. She wasn't able to identify their attack, not before he vanished and the damage was done. By this time, Jesali had caught her daughter, Artia and Ava were gone, the others were in the process of escaping, and the mermaid was being stubborn. The banshee turned her backs on the nobles of Vailkrin, even as Lady Colette sneered at her. "Why are we not surprised?" the head of House Nasar coos to the necromancer. Larewen's gaze settles on Brand, her words taking on the cold authority more common for her behavior. "Drag her away, if you must. I want no more harm to those present," she whispers sharply, magic carrying her voice to his ear even as Lady Colette reaches out to try and snare the banshee's shoulder. Though her hand passes through, Larewen turns to face the woman. "Because this is not my doing," she growls coldly. Behind Colette, the Lord of House Trintus clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "You're no better than House Ginavi, Dragana," he remarks coolly, and to this Larewen releases her hold on the remaining undead, allowing them to return to the floor in a heaping pile of bloodied flesh. She makes no attempt to clean up the remnants of the festivities, instead following suit in heading toward the tavern.

Khitti blinked a few times as Brand stayed and even helped her with her magic. The flame was finally lit, that dark purple and black magic flaring to life finally. “Thank you.” He’d get a kiss and then she’d head off to help deal with what’s left of the undead horde. It’d probably strike Larewen as odd, if she saw that flame, as it charred the zombies and left them as smoldering ash. Who other than Khitti wielded the black tides so strongly? Maybe this was someone new? But no. Even the fighting seemed reminiscent of the former vampiress. The way she dodged and threw the fireballs. It was as if the past came alive to haunt the banshee woman. The more she used her magic, the more muscle memory kicked in, though she was quick to tire now. Without her vampirism, Khitti had many limitations and she didn’t quite know how to pace herself just yet. When the undead had been cleared, or left to rot by their creator, Khitti turned to watch the exchange between Larewen and the other woman, that purple flame still lit just in case.

Larewen does not take the bait offered by the other elders, instead approaching Khitti and Brand. A hand is placed on the woman's shoulder, or the attempt to do so is made, before the banshee moves past them. "Come. What's done is done, but those who came to my celebration will be avenged," the necromancer says quietly. She moves away then, toward the tavern.