Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Official Masquerade Topic - Winter 2020

Cris blinked in surprise as the food and beverages literally seemed to fly off as of their own accord after the performer in a horse skull. Standing on tiptoes, she tried to follow with her eyes the retreat, outside into the winter-strewn woods.

"Is it a normal occurrence in this time of the year?..." she mused, talking to no one in particular.

"I doubt it is," Annette replied without much thought. The horse-skull had left, and she was starting to be quite annoyed with this fey masquerade where no one seemed to notice her.

Sarthelia grinned at the Dragoness' curiosity. She always enjoyed answering questions from others about her companion. "Xefry is a special case I suppose. I had saved his father who in turn entrusted him with me as his caretaker. Soon enough he'll grow larger than me. Until then he hitches a ride on my shoulder." She had a lilt of laughter in her voice as she spoke, Xefry seemingly pulling her closer to the Dragoness.

"Seems like Xefry is wanting your attention, would you be so kind?" Sarthelia held her arm out towards the Dragoness slowly, Xefry taking stance upon her palm and looking up at the Dragoness with interest and curiosity. Something behind the purple mask had the slightest aura of magic.

Cris wasn't expecting an answer, so when Annette spoke she turned to look at her curiously. "Ah, so you're not from here either?" Her eyes, concealed behind a screen of something that looked like blue glass behind the mask, took in the detail of Annette's own mask and costume. "I like the color combination, it works really well together", she stated.

Cackling almost maniaccaly, the horse skull performers dance around Annete. "It's the spirit of Mari Lwyd, it is it is!" one of the people under the sheet calls out. The tablecloth, food, and wine barrels form a dangeously swaying circle around Annette, following in the wake of Mari Lwyd's skull.

At that moment, the duchess emerges from the house again, and takes in the scene with some consternation. "Mari Lwyd again?" she sighs, and picks up her skirts and goes running across the yard toward the food-captive Annette. "Get! Get! Out of here, Lwyd! Leave her be! The rest of you, help me grab what victuals we can save before they go dancing off!"

So she was not invisible, after all. She had thought it a possibility - with all the strange events happening this evening, she felt as if she were walking in a dream.
But by the time her thought had taken form, the now named spirit of Mari Lwyd turned to her and she was assailed by a hurricane of foods. What could she do?
"How dare you waste all these dishes!" she found herself saying. "The crepes, the wines, even the fishes? Sordid spirit, chaotic skull, my stomach is not close to being full!"
As far as poetry went, it was a poor attempt. But the being had made the effort, and challenged them, had it not?

renia starts singing to the horse. "we need more lights to make things more bright. Feasting and eating are a lot of fun. But lighting the world is for everyone. coming from a place of snow and cold gets really old. " She looks at the horse skull. " how was that?" She asked sweetly.

"Ahhh!" crows Mari Lwyd, skull jaw flapping. "A challenger, it is so it is!"

The food and drink stop dancing in circles and instead begin to bounce in time, creating an almost ominous drumbeat out of the flop of fish on plates, the thud of cheeses, the slosh of wine, and the crumbling of crackers. The circle tightens ever so slightly as it drums, threatening Annette with... staining, at the very least.

"Lest you think me contradictory
I'll give yer one more chance
Give me defeat from the jaws of victory
Or away with all your food I'll prance!" flaps the horse skull at Annette and Renia.

Muttering to herself, the duchess snatches scones and teapots out of the edges of the circle, placing them back on the now table-clothless tables.

"How noble of you," the Dragoness responded to the explanation for Xefry's companionship. "The friendship of such magnificent creatures is a thing to be prized."

At the extended arm and the approach of the little dragonkin, she eagerly and welcomingly extended her own gloved hand, agreeing, "Of course! Kya, kya, nif'ari." The strange words were spoken to Xefry, a greeting in the favored tongue of her own draconic companions. Her skin seemed to tingle with the aura of magic her new companions carried, but she was used to the sensation by then.

The episode with the horse-skulled partygoer--Mari Lwyd, according to the Duchess who'd reemerged from the nearby stately house--did not escape the Dragoness' attention, especially when what was left of her drink went flying from her hand after the entourage of enchanted food and drinks. A girl--two girls?--appeared to challenge the horse-skulled spirit, and the Dragoness watched in interested amusement as the events unfolded.

Annette turned toward the white-masked woman who had answered her mumbled thought.
"Alone I cannot find the words! They fly away, like flitting birds! Lend me your help, come to the fray! Together we can all keep it at bay!"
She rounded back on the three-voiced spirit. She did not know where this burst of confidence came from, but she was going to use it for all it was worth.

As Cris reached over to help the Duchess's effort to keep the food from running off, and grabbed a bowl full of what seemed to be appetizers - shrimps, by the scent - her eyes followed Linnette and Mari Lwyd in their poetic competition. She barely refrained a chuckle as she imagined what he would have done - likely stepped into the circle with a haiku he made on the spot, his eyes full of confidence and defiance...
"Erratic winter
A little, wild horse dances
whilst watching the food" she mouthed, but still quietly, her eyes amused behind the mask.

What an odd form of poetry, Annette thought as she heard the quiet words. She glanced around, looking for more people to help them. Maybe the spirit needed not only poetry, but orders as well? Inspiration struck her, and she tried one last rhyme:
"You petty thief, prince of mischief, this masquerade is not your fief. Back to your glades, back to the leaf! Leave and spare us such petty grief!"

" you prance and yet you cant dance. i can enter a trance while i dance in this stance. you hop until you drop. If I don't win it not a sin." she sang. she shrugged. " i tried."

"A horse, a cow, a sheep, a barn, all of these can be found on a farm, but which of those four things so dreary belong twice daily in a dairy?" sings the first performer, working the string that flaps the horse skull's jaw. As it does so, a hand appears from under the sheet, and one of the other three people must be getting thirsty as the hand that belongs to the "butt" of the horse snatches a full amphora of wine from the bouncing circle, secreting it under the sheet.

"A cow, a cow, her liquor so white, a cream when whipped, makes such a delight, topping your cakes, your buns, your scones, give us a taste or run off our bones!" sings the front performer. Barely a few seconds later, the entire amphora falls back onto the grass, rolling away empty. The back of the "horse" appears to be swaying very noticeably now, perhaps giving up in the face of so many rhymes flung its way.

"Give us a bowl, give us a cup, rhyme with us or give it all up!" squawks the front performer, even as the movement of the sheet seems to imply the second performer attempting to hold the third one up from drunken collapse.

"Of course, he is my most treasured friend." Sarthelia said with a smile. Xefry seated himself upon the Dragoness' hand and a gentle wave of magic seemed to wash over her arm and to her neck. A voice, childish in its intonations but wise in its voice spoke directly to the Dragoness' mind. "It is quite the pleasure to meet you Miss. While my companion does not know, I can tell you are among those related to my father, the dragons." Sarthelia was occupied with the spectacle of the poetry duel, the words of Xefry not heard by her mind.

The eyes behind the fox-like mask smirked. This was the sort of mind challenge that Cris enjoyed the most.
"First happy nighttime
An optic, precious cup spills
at the perfect dance" she murmured before turning at lightning speed to grab a cup of hydromel mid-flight.

" I have pride and i have not lied. i promise I wont bite tonight. a horse like you eats hay if i may say. you may wise.. but your not the prize. The night is bright tonight. " renia replied as she watched the horse thing. she hoped she did ok.

"We three fools are the Mari Lywd, your words alone can keep us from food. Ow, stop pushing gents! Why not relent, just give us a cheer, fill our wassail bowls with beer!"

But more rhymes are flung the way of Mari Lwyd, and even as the second performer stoops to hold up the third, their hand happens to brush against a bouncing tankard of beer -- and they can't help themselves but grab hold of it, taking a great pull. The midsection of the horse begins to stagger back and forth.

"Open your pantry doors tonight, bring out your best food to bite, our paltry rhymes are the spirit of winter, show us the works of your finest vintner!" brays the first performer, and by the movement, it's clear that at the same time he is reaching back to slap at his two friends. "Oh now that's tidy! Keep it together! It's only been like a few rhymes!" he hisses at them.

The duchess pauses in her efforts to rescue food from the dancing circle, looking on in amused amazement. It isn't just the horse that's swaying now, it's the entire circle of bouncing food that's wobbling and stumbling.