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The ball held by Lord Julius this year was to be a masquerade, rumors had it, and the surrounding areas were buzzing with rumors. Lords and ladies from far lands, honored Knights, Mages and warriors were invited to come celebrate the birth of Lord Julius's second child, a daughter whom he had named Mary. Masks were being sold by nearly every vendor in the streets, merchants boasting of the best gowns to attend in; it was open to all this year, an uncommon event for any higher class family to do, but a welcome change it seemed. Perhaps the cruel lord was having a change of heart along with the birth of his daughter, as he had been singing quite a different song about taxes and the conditions of the serfs in the past few weeks, leading up to the big event.

Or perhaps, rumors of The Jester were beginning to get to the lord. The mysterious assassin who got into parties disguised, as clearly state in his name, in the clothing of a jester. The mysterious assassin taking out other Lords and Ladies in the area, public killings at their own events or even closed events. Rumor had it, the lord but a few miles south had been killed at his mother's funeral. He was supposedly a cruel man, taking money to kill whoever he pleased.

This year, there would be no court jester, and anyone resembling one would be receiving severe lashes, if not worse.

But Lord Julius would be damned if he stopped his party for some rumors of a clown playing dress-up, so the night of the ball the area was lit with colorful lanterns, beautiful women flocking the streets and men happily enjoying the ale that was so kindly provided for the event. Masks covered identities, some intricate and some hiding only the smallest of features. It was a night for debauchery and celebration, a moment to forget about the incoming summer harvest and to eat and drink to their content. It was a night where thieves could thrive stealing from the pockets of drunken men and women, and the more...uncommon races could blend in with human kind, to enjoy their pleasures or to perhaps observe their behaviors. And the main event would take place in the beautiful manor of Lord Julius, where he sat with his wife and two children, listening to the music and admiring all that they had.
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A young man stood on the ledge of the bridge leading to the manor, wearing a flowing cape in rich red, his cotton shirt pitch black as the night. His mask covered only the top half of his face, coming out into a sort of beak, mimicking the doctors one could see in Venice and Rome. Elaborate gold detailing framed the eyes, where his own gold ones looked out at the castle, admiring the sight. He stood in expensive leather boots, hardly a scuff on their dark surface besides for right at the toes; he had run to get to the top of the bridge, and jumped onto the ledge he currently stood on. He didn't seem to mind, however, much more focused on the light that came from the manor; it sparkled in his eyes, as he watched lanterns rise occasionally.
Youthful, proud, he jumped down from the railing and went through the crowd, nudging his way into the heavy mahogany doors. Music played, from quite a large group as well considering he could hear it from only the common room, and even oven the laughter and chatter of the lords and ladies and common citizens in the room. It was strange, the effects these masks had: no one knew who they were talking to, so their seemed to be a sense of being on an equal level with eachother, and a lavish level at that. Of course, some gowns were obviously more expensive, some masks more intricate than the next, but the only ones with attention on them appeared to be Lord Julius and his lady.

Romulus always hated these parties.

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((Open RP, feel free to jump right in, no need to ask. You can take on any position (besides for Lord Julius and his wife) or class, all species welcome. Things will get a little chaotic later. And sorry about the huge starter, just had a lot of details to cram in. JULIUS IS NOT A KING, HE IS A LORD. NOT A KING, REPEAT.))

The crisp air of the night outside the mansion bade the doctor to stay outside. He walked halfway across the bridge before deciding to take a different path, taking to the outer garden and the artisan's work undoubtedly on display there. It was not the most impressive that the doctor had seen but he still appreciated the groundskeeper's efforts, the sculptors rendition of historical and biblical figures which these foreign lords prized so dearly.

Salih took his time, strolling around out there for maybe ten minutes, for once actually tempted to remove that mask of his. Still, he did not trust the Italians and so kept it while finally approaching the manor's entrance. What he found inside was much less appealing to the bronze-masked man. The orchestra, the intentional elaboration of simple things like staircases and doorways, the people laughing and speaking amongst themselves amicably, as though the world was without troubles. The mask made keeping such spite to himself simple so he maintained the resolve to enter the main chamber.

What the mask didn't do, however, was hide the sort of person he was. Though many civilians didn't look at him twice some figures were disturbed by his presence; notably, veterans of wars, sell-swords and those worldly enough to recognize the design of his mask. Was it intentional that it resembled the masks worn by those from the far east? Was he legitimately from there, and if so, where exactly? One or two bold patrons approached, welcoming him to the ball and working out the courage to ask if he was Baltic, Greek or Middle Eastern. He simply chuckled and waved a hand, saying smoothly that it was of little consequence.

It did not convince most who asked but they found little else said by the doctor. He had different things on his mind than the guise he wore.

Romulus was blending well with the crowd; he seemed like any other reveler, besides for the dark color of his clothes, though he didn't seem to engage in much conversation. He didn't want his voice to be heard well, so when he spoke it was in Italian and brisk, short phrases or laughs. He had been going to get himself a drink (he would gladly partake of the wine offered) when the music changed, causing him to turn and watch the orchestra play for a moment.

Salih, however, caught his eye; he looked to the mysterious stranger and his mask, and knew something was up with this man. He hadn't seen him around in town the few days he had been there, and judging on the way the man looked, he knew a doctor would've been more noticeable. Had it not been for his intentions, he would've approached the man, made an attempt to speak to him, but he turned away and focused his attention on Lord Julius, who had stepped from his seat with his wife, to dance amongst the other revelers.

Ludvig watched From the shadows behind the lords seat. The Royal Alchemist was a devious man, but he got the job done. He had been hired by the Royal family many years ago, his exceptional skill at an Alchemist's table and knowledge of sciences made him quite valuable. He didn't like the idea of a party, but he decided himself a rare moment of comfort and relaxation.

Despite his striking appearance in the crowd of festively-dressed revelers, Salih did not seem as though he were doing anything shady just yet (aside from being there in the first place.) He watched the music shift and the dancers gather to the floor, content to head for drink instead of participate. Someone called, "Doktor!" to him and jogged over; a woman he'd never met before, who clearly hailed from the empire just north. It was evident in the style of cap she wore as well as the pale skin of her young, full face. She smiled at him amicably, clearly bold to approach such an ominous figure when she could have gone to someone more approachable.

"A dance, Mylord?" She asked, despite what others might think of it. Salih hummed a bit under that mask and, as if he belonged there all along, extended his hand with a small bend at his knees. She took it smoothly and with a similar posture before they straightened into a comfortable Pavane, to dance with the others. (It largely depends on the excitement of the music whether it'd stay that way or become a Galliard. Yes I only just looked this up.)

Some among the crowd clapped; whether it was genuine or not would be lost in the dance.

Romulus had made note of the man standing behind the chair, frowning; a personal assistant would make his job very difficult. However, when Salih and the woman began to dance, his face lit up and he watched with appreciation. Romulus made no move to join in, and whether or not he could dance was left as a mystery, though it was clear even this had the young man completely distracted.

He felt that, for a moment, he may have misjudged the stranger; but he knew how this sort of game worked. He had reason to be suspicious just on the mans strange appearance, and men like himself often had many skills to help themselves along. It was simply how living in this world worked.

((I had to go look it up haha, you learn something new every day!))

Salih wove through the crowd with his unlikely dance partner, catching the eyes of many while synchronizing their movements with the song and crowd. They both knew what they were doing, and so exchanged words easily while dancing though in tones too quiet for those around them to hear. A minute passed and the woman tried another bold move, a step or two more resembling a Galliard so that she might make more a spectacle of them both. And in that spectacle she reached up, something not conventional in the least, to hook her fingertips 'round the mask and tug up. But before it could be moved he drew back, matching her move with his own and tilting his head up, just out of the way of those prying fingers.

Though hardly a soul in the room would stop her the young lady's subtlety was wanting. The doctor played along regardless, returning to a calmer stance and speaking softly once more.

The movement stunned Romulus, and he watched with interest as they went back to speaking. Young as he was, Romulus was a meddler, and if there was anything he liked more than his work, it was a good build. So he slid through the onlookers, to the orchestra, and whispered quietly with the director as the song neared it's end. With only a few moments of pause between pieces, suddenly the group was playing at an upbeat tempo, much faster than the last, and much more suitable for a Galliard. He weaved his way back through the crowd, wanting to be at the very front to watch the two dancing now. They were an interesting pair to him, a wonderful addition to the night. Romulus shortly thought of postponing his plans, but decided against that idea, and just went back to watching them gleefully adjust to the new piece.

((I just had someone message me to join this and I'm so excited things are going to get very good))

The Hanged Man stood on an open stairwell off to one side of the room, where he had a good view of the dancers and the crowd. He was armed to the teeth and clad in formal armor, with a small domino mask that did very little to hide his identity. Anyone familiar with this court would recognize him by his limping gait and weary demeanor--he was a knight in reluctant service of Lord Julius, a wanderer from an antique land, and a veteran of numerous wars. Most knew him by his grim title--the Hanged Man--or the moniker "Sir Crow." Though he had begun his service two decades ago, he seemed to have aged remarkably gracefully. He swept his gaze back and forth over the room, taking in the scene.

He was not the only knight in attendance, and so Julius had given him permission to enjoy himself, but he hadn't yet joined in other than nursing a few goblets of sweet wine. Perhaps the lord would demand he revel lest he sour the mood.

One of the young dancers watched her peer take the hand of a masked fellow in a long coat--seemingly spurred on by this, she glided up the steps to the Hanged Man and greeted him with a polite curtsy. "Would you take my hand for a turn, sir?" she asked, hiding her coquettish grin behind a folding fan.

He glanced at her for only half a second. "Nay, lady."

She scoffed. "You mean to brood in the shadows the entire evening?"

"Aye, lady, t'is likely."

Frowning, the woman turned to other potential partners. The music had sped up--rather abruptly--and the dancers hastened to follow, laughing and chattering amongst themselves. Crow shifted his weight off his left foot and continued his solemn vigil.

Though the duo may have been able to keep up with the song if they anticipated its shift the sudden nature of it caused a misstep. This was not uncommon in the crowd but whereas the young lady laughed, Salih was quiet and simply kept his focus on the dance.

Much like those around them the doctor maintained animation, hardly touching the ground with more than his toes as things got quicker. The processional dance was done, and while the lady was capable of taking a slightly calmer role her counterpart used such energy to skip and flourish around her, taking her hand and letting go for almost each shift he did. Still, she was not to be outshone entirely; she did her best to interpret his intended steps and go with them, despite her dress and the veil catching wind behind her cap.

She smiled broadly and danced well but kept up her antics, her style giving her ample opportunities to make attempts at unveiling him. Like a rogue he skillfully dodged most, but as time went on he had to step back or sideways to avoid her equally roguish hands. So they kept going, a playful cat and mouse all throughout the crowd.

While it appeared Romulus was being entertained by the show at hand (which he most certainly was), his golden eyes shifted along the room, taking in the appearances of the guards and knights around. With The Jester still at large, it didn't surprise him at all such precautions were taken against something (or someone) felling Lord Julius. Still, he would need to be careful with so many of them around. It was bound to get messy quick if he were too hasty.

When the piece finally came to an end, Lord Julius and his wife approached Salih, the older man praising him and his partners dancing skills, "Do you two dance together often? You looked very in sync, I didn't know our humble little gathering would catch the attention of such skilled dancers!" Humble. Right.

Romulus had gone back to get himself drink, happily helping himself to the wine available. He needed to relax, enjoy the party for a little while.

Atoli wore a simple but elegant forest green and cream-white dress that loosely tied in the front with lace and was patterned with a simple gold embroidery that trailed down and along the hem of the dress. A feathered shawl that tied around her neckline draped over her shoulders and led halfway down the back of her gown. Once the shawl ended it seemed as if a new pattern of feathers began over the dress, but were much larger and formed what looked to be a long bird’s tail that nearly touched the ground.

The young lady wore a hawk mask that concealed half her face; it too was covered with feathers and decorated with swirling gold embroidery; the shape framed her face nicely. The long sleeves that trailed down had seemed to be modified so that from just after the cuff it was cut down the length of her arm to allow space for what looked to be wing feathers.

((I’m probably going to have to draw this to describe it better))

She made her way across the marbled floors to the food concession tables, and though her feet were unable to be seen under the dress, the light clicking sound of nails against the smooth tiles might have been heard if someone with sharp ears were to notice above the sound of the festivities. Her green and yellow flecked eyes inspected the platters of food and promptly began piling her plate with various meats and pastries. Atoli drifted away and up some stairs to the second floor, preferring to eat on the balcony and watch the crowd from a vantage point.

These saps were sure to be ripe pickings; those who attended like this parties often are. Gallivanting around in their best finery like that. Her eyes glittered as she took note of the gaudiest dancers, catching glimpses of their jewelry sparkling under the chandelier’s bright lights. How silly this dancing was! It reminded her of the courting rituals that some animals did when trying to impress a mate.

The music shifted to a more upbeat pace now, and one pair of dancers caught her eye. A tall man with a full face mask that looked to be made of some kind of metal. It was a different style than all the other attendees and felt much more mysterious than the other costumes. It was probably half of the reason why the pair seemed to be forming a curious crowd around them, the other half was the quality of dancing; which Atoli did admit was a bit mesmerizing.

The lady quickly abandoned her platter on the railing and went back down to take advantage of the distracted onlookers. A subtle brush between the shoulders to one, small words of excuses as she bumped into another, and small sleight of hand tricks were all she needed to rob this docile crowd. She paid no mind to the guards and simply played the part as a guest; guiltless and enjoying the festivities and food.

((Omg I'm sorry this is so long, this will be the only time its like this, I swear!))

A young woman, a complete stranger in the eyes of nearly everybody in the ballroom, made her fashionably late entrance. With a gentle press of a gloved hand, the vast wooden door creaked open. Thus, revealing the Lady clad in an elaborate ballgown of lace and velvet. At top, it's base was nude color, matching her rosy pale skin tone quite nicely, while swirling patterns of crimson red lace trailed up her torso, chest, and down her arms. Past her accentuated waist flowed the rest of the gown, just brushing the tips of her heels, ruby red to match the lace further up. Inky tresses were made up in large, bouncy curls, framing the red-and-black skull-shaped mask that disguised her features. Only two cerulean orbs could be seen past the masquerade.

She weaved through the sea of attendees with little difficulty, a dainty hand pressing against one's lower back to get past them every once in a while. Her eyes never stopped scanning the crowd before her, although she otherwise appeared innocent and even a bit vulnerable. Or rather, that's how she hoped to appear. This woman, otherwise known as The Venus Flytrap, was a well-known anonymous hitman who would eliminate any target, excluding women and children, for a large sum of money. She had been summoned that night by Lord Julius himself to grant protection to him and his family-- as if the guards weren't enough.

Alas, since the woman could not go by her title, she'd have to stick with her own name: Seraphina.

Sera played her part as the naive young woman with skill and ease, as she's had years of practice of it. Still, it wasn't easy being in such a populous setting. As much as she enjoyed socializing with others, she felt just a tad overwhelmed at the sight of so many people. Before she did anything, she made way straight for the drinks, figuring she'd make time to relax for a short while before she had to join in on the festivities.

((Hope it's alright if I join a bit late!))

Ludvig wound his way through the crowd, he made his way to the wine, quickly pouring himself a glass. A small, thin cat slinked towards him, coming to rest on his shoulder. "Ah! Wherner, do not sneak up on me like zat!" Ludvig said, startled. The cat simply mewed in response, curling around his shoulders.

Ludvig wore a lavish black suit, embroidered with gold under a white over coat, the hems trimmed with gold. His normally crazy hair had been swept sideways. "Well, Wherner...I guess we just enjoy ourselves, Ja?"

"Mewmewmew..."

Realizing it was getting a bit crowded by the table (and crowded situations meant conversation would be imminent), Romulus swiftly turned on his heels, going back to blend in with the crowd and drinking the wine he had taken with him.

He made note of the strange feathered woman ducking between people, and opted to go in the opposite direction, lest something valuable of his be stolen. He couldn't risk anything messing up his job, and so he hung back close to the walls and put on his least friendly face, which was easy to do with his mask hiding half of it. He had to wait for the appropriate time to act, perhaps when the strange and rather ominous guard on the second floor wasn't playing attention.

Which appeared to be a rare occurrence.

There was a constant flow of people in the hall--people arriving, people leaving, people going to dance or drink. It was a lot to keep one's eyes on. The Hanged Man did the best he could, but there was only so much he could make himself care. The people of the court moved like marionettes, every line scripted ... they might as well have been artificer's playthings. It was the same as every other dance that the knight had attended--all save one. He recalled the taste of ginger mead and the Red Lord's laugh, how they danced like men stricken with madness, the sound of his blood racing in his ears as he brawled with the dead one. The dead one ... what was his name? It had been so long, the Hanged Man could no longer remember.

Perhaps it hadn't been so different--perhaps he just hadn't seen the forest for the trees. He sighed through his nose.

A small girl was bumping her way through the crowd. No, not a girl--a woman? It was unclear if he suspected her or if he was simply intrigued by her; either way he descended from his vantage point and waded through the onlookers towards her, favoring his left leg. Atoli would likely see him coming, but if he reached her, he did not call her out. Instead, he would offer his gauntleted hand, which seemed to be shaking slightly.

"May I have this dance, lady," he said gruffly. His sunken green eyes were empty, betraying naught.

Ludvig walked over to Romulus, sipping wine. "Hello, little man..." He said in his thick accent. He looked around the room, leaning against the wall. "Well, what brings you here?" The Alchemist was a tad tipsy, being unable to recognize Romulus.

Atoli had just finished casually slipping a necklace into a secret pocket of her dress before looking up; feeling eyes upon her. The little lady looked about for a moment, being shorter than most of the guests proved to be difficult to see past. It was then that her eyes locked onto a heavily armored man who was limping her way; their eyes met and she glanced away instinctively.

“Damn…just what I need…” Atoli thought sourly.

With a slight frown she sized him up as he neared, something about his appearance seemed familiar, she mused, “Perhaps he is a famous knight? Glad I haven’t ran into him on the streets at least.”

Her thoughts swiftly sorted through several options and her chance of success and failure. It was too late now to turn away without being suspicious especially since their eyes met, and she would rather not cause a stir until she had enough spoils for the night to fly off… but he was certainly someone she didn’t want to encounter if given the choice. As he approached the young lady had to bend her neck back to look him in the face.

She almost scoffed at the request, but she held it in due to the blank look in his eyes and his intimidating appearance. Instead she just shook her head lightly.

“You’d likely break my bones if you held my hand, or crush my feet if you make a misstep.”

A small smirk twitched at her lips but otherwise her face stayed neutral… or tried to. The young harpy rarely interacted with knights in this way. Often she jeered and cackled at them in swift passing as she flew off with her talons full of stolen merchandize.

She held her hand close at her waist as she had seen more noble ladies do, trying to at least look the part of an innocent maiden. Her wings fanned out from under the sleeves and to the front and sides of her, it nearly looked as though they were part of the costume.