Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Official Masquerade Topic - Winter 2020

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.

Looks like it only wants rhymes, Annette decided. Maybe it feeds on them? It would not be the weirdest thing she ever heard about a spirit. But what else could she say? The only other rhymes she knew were... riddles.
Now, that's an idea...
"You think yourself so wise, it seems,
let's put your mettle to the test.
Shall you come apart at the seams,
or continue in this rude jest?
A riddle to settle the score;
answer mine or fall to the floor!
Meet my challenge, oh Mari Lwyd,
Or forever forego our mead!"
She drew a breath, and spoke her riddle: "Never grazing, always hushed. Softest of wools that can't be touched."
Would the spirit bite, though? And would it be able to answer her riddle?

Ah, yes, she had wondered if the young dragon would be able to use such magiks as the dragons of her own mountains. A smile formed on the Dragoness' face below her mask, and with another nod in Xefry's direction she answered within her own mind, "The pleasure is mine, Little Sire. And yes, I am, but...it is a complicated tale, I'm afraid."

She looked up to glance at the woman, apparently unaware of their mental conversation; she glanced also at the battle of rhymes going on not far off, then returned her gaze to Xefry, saying silently, "I suppose, to put it simply, my soul is bonded with the spirit of a firedrake that gave his life in an attempt to save me. I am of dragonkind, while at the same time I am not. It is...a complicated place to be." A wry little smile graced her features once more, her eyes dropping for a moment in remembrance. That had been a long, long time ago, yet it still felt very near and painful.

Pushing the thoughts away, she questioned the young dragon, "Where do you hail from, Little Sire?"

"Ah--" says the front performer, and the horse skulls' jaw works silently up and down for a moment. The hindquarters appear to have sat down on the grass and are hiccuping. "Of that riddle, I'm sure you're proud, to trick an empty skull so loud, we are but a midnight dream, your answer might be cloud or steam!"

Annette winced.
"A cloud it was, you are clever. But would you care for another? Always hungry, ever fed. The flesh I lick will soon turn red."
She did not know that many riddles, though, so she dearly hoped someone in the crowd could give her more.

" I don't fear or hear you. You should fly into the sky. The wind grinned as you try to fly high into the sky. your stuck here in this year. Can you stay and play? Do you have to leave while you grieve at the loss? Don't be sad i wont be mad. " she sang as she started to enjoy the fun.

"Oh no, oh no, now not so fast! It's our turn and we'll make it last! If riddles it be, then riddles it be, and this time you'll be answering me!"

The midsection of the horse can be heard drunkenly muttering at the hind quarters to get up.

"What has legs but does not walk, what carries notes but does not talk? What makes some weep and others laugh, won't you tell me now on your party's behalf?"

"My life stems from a world foreign to this. I cannot sense the rivers of magic that flow through my world. This place feels like a pocket of one place that ended up within the space of another. I believe my companion called the world Sorenil at some point. My father was a proud dragon, one of the forest. His age has taken its toll and he has entrusted my friend to care for me. He once served to protect the forests from the intrusion of others, but now another who's scales our masks resemble now serves that role." he spoke slowly, a hint of kindness in his voice compared to his previous very formal tone. His tail wrapped loosely around the Dragoness' arm and his well of magic seemed to grow. Clearly drawing from the Dragoness but not taking from her. Sarthelia was enjoying the show, half tempted to join and throw her own words into the fray.

Ah. Oh, darn.
She had no idea.
Legs that did not walk? Notes carried, maybe a music instrument? Was there a music with legs, that could make people weep and cry? Beautiful music had that power, no matter what medium it used to be expressed. The only one she could think of was:
"A piano, keys black and white; in the silence, by day or night. It's the music, in laugh or tears, that brings my answer to your ears."
Please, she prayed, let that be all.
And she dearly hoped that a wrong answer would not have any more drastic consequences than dancing food...

"Sober we started and sober we'll be, but just for tonights revelry, we'll take a cup, a quaff and a brew and dig into finest oxen stew, our appetite cannot be filled, the depths of our thirst cannot be drilled, you'll see your casks grow light and empty, for your failure to riddle, our feast will be plenty. The answer was wine and wine we'll have, now your drinks will go down by halve!"

Several barrels that had been bouncing haphazardly around Annette vanish with a "pop." The front of the horse goes back to jigging, cackling gleefully.

"That seems a very noble cause indeed," she answered, feeling a surge of admiration for not only Xefry and his companion, but the young dragon's father as well. "Though I can't say I am familiar with the name Sorenil. My own realm--or, the realm I inhabit...last I knew, it was called Elkaddion."

She gave a slight bow of her head out of respect for her own companion dragons who were far off currently, explaining, "I and my friends are guardians of the mountains and the Dragon's Keep in our on world...we keep to our own, for our part, and keep the beasts of the deep underground from emerging." Unfortunately, the people who lived on the surface didn't realize this and thought the Dragoness and the Dragonswarm who harbored her wished only ill-will on the kingdom.

Well, she tried. Thankfully, it seemed the spirit was a gracious winner and did not intend to eat her soul or some other kind of unpleasantness.
She was still trapped in a vortex of foods and buffet ustensils, though.
"Oh Mari Lwyd, you bested me. And I am now at your mercy. Will you let me join the party? Tonight's a night to be merry."
And as she spoke those words, a nibbling question remained at the back of her mind.
... Could wine really have legs?