Known for having a profound love of stories, it may not be surprising to see Baldessare arriving a few minutes ahead of the appointed time to listen to the sharing of tales.

Baldessare has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove arrive, following Cesare.

12 House Velenosa Guards, Ibasia, the Velenosa Lady-in-Waiting, Ellani, the palm sized spider arrive, following Jaenelle.

Jaenelle arrives, following Titus.

3 First Legion Centurions, 3 Setarcan Royal Shields arrive, following Patrizio.

3 Seraceni Corsairs, 2 Ischian Mariner, Faizal, A Judgmental Bearded Vulture, Ciaphas arrive, following Avita.

6 Grayson House Guards, Wyla, a small wisp of an assistant arrive, following Keely.

Grandt, scarred and stoically-exasperated Captain of the Leary House Guard, 4 Leary House Guards, Keely arrive, following Fairen.

Zakhar has left the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

The night is still warm, there's torches lit here among the white pillars of the Remembrance Square casting a soft glow of gold while the millions of stars high above twinkle in cool silence. The moon is high, large and present. Those who are gathering to the event are gestured in a circle. Is it starting? It seems late.

That's when from out of the shadows a terribly gaunt yet muscled figure painted completely black except with unusual markings where far too pale flesh can be seen has symbols showing. It wears a loincloth of black leather and a remarkable mask over it's face. The mask is most unusual, for where the eyes are, you see each eye actually glow with a pale blue light of their own. It lights a large bonfire as the golden cinders reach up to the dark sky above.

The figure looks around the crowd in silence before it reaches into a small pouch at it's side, letting golden sand be flung to the floor before the crowd as the sand scatters with a slight muffled sound.


Gawain has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Harlen arrives, following Duarte.

Someone, amongst the Pravusi princes, has to be the late one to any given event. Artfully, Patrizio seems to be that one today as the night is settling in, following the light and scent of the torches to join the others in the square. A dip of his head to a few familiar faces before he's settling in to turn his attention to the figure that's emerged from the shadows, a turn of a smile on his lips at the artistry, before he's making himself comfortable to see what comes in the wake of the scattered sand.

Lucrezia watches on, leaning forward with rapacious interest at the strange figure.

Cosimo steps into the square in a very nonchalant way, which is quite typical of his timid demeanor. Not accompanied by any House Tessere guards, it is entirely possible that he could miss catching someone's attention if they were not specifically looking for him.

Drusila had arrived some time ago and lingered near to the back, toward the darkest part of the shadows until now when the gaunt figure makes an appearance, scattering sand at his feet. Intrigued, her amber eyes flash with curiosity and she takes her goblet of fine Setarcan wine more toward the front, settling in and giving way to the atmosphere that the performer begins to create. She seats herself at the edge of his 'stage', a few grains catching on her toes as the breeze spreads his sand close.

It's story time which seems enough of an excuse for Cadern to wander out into the square. Cadern finds a nice wall to provide support to and tugs out a notebook to watch with interest as gold dust is scattered by the masked figure.

"Oh I love a good yarn if for no other reason than I get to hear someone other than myself speak," Duarte unnecessarily informa everyone as he breezes in to immediately settle on a bench, or log, or whatever the arrangements are.


She has been waiting, patiently.
Avita is, by all accounts, a very patient woman.
Nearby to her is her husband, much larger, much more interested in the goings on of this place than the Marquessa, but they have both arrived and taken a seat. There is a smile on her lips, and she has settled herself on the floor, on a pillow she's likely had someone carry along behind her, her legs crossed and hew jewels catching the last bits of light as she watches the event begin. Her hand reaches out to lightly slap Ciaphas's leg with the backs of her fingers, a soft 'thwap' heard as it connects with his leathers. "He's learning." She stage whispers.

Cesare arrives quietly to Remembrance square, and finds a place to observe where he won't draw attention away from the Warmonger's presentation, though his attention is keen as he observes Titus's beautiful mask and painted body. An avid appreciator of both the theatrical and fine art, Cesare approves for numerous reasons. Spotting Lord Cosimo, however, he steps over to the young man's side to murmur something softly, perhaps trying to make the gentleman a bit more comfortable.

Curious as ever, this promise of a tale foreign to him has lured Fairen down to the Pravus ward to hear it with an obviously excited look in his gray-blue eyes. Cloak swept over one shoulder, he's chatting quietly with Keely, who also came to listen. Who doesn't love a good story? Once they arrive, he gives Avita a quick smile and he and the princess head over to go take a seat under the tree, the Marquis producing a piece of paper from his wooden folio shortly afterwards.

The pale glowing eyes watch as it walks around the circle, looking right at you. From behind the mask the black figure speaks in a dead, stoic voice from decayed lungs as black long fingers with gold sandy dust sparkle with the light of the fire as if weaving a web. "We recognise those who came before us and on the lands we are on this evening and honour them, for their history is ours to guard and protect. And together, we step across the dunes of time, across the sands of the past and look back with our hearts to what once was and the stories are remembered. Of moments split apart but connected in spirit."

"In far off Eurus where the city of light stood resplendent in power a terrible silence which echoed across the world could be felt by all. Of one hundred thousand souls shattered and ripped at once as the Wheel rocked on it's axis and the great Queen's wrath rose in answer to the horror made by bringing horror back. When the dead rose and would not rest as they fought against all the living, and the living struck down would rise again with the dead to continue the wrath of the Queen. The Dance of Skulls had begun, the world began to drown in blood and there was no respite for the living or the dead."

Angelica enters quietly, dressed in a loose rumpled silk shirt and trousers that stop above the ankle, toes bare in sandals; a comfortable clothing for a warm summer's night. Despite her casual garments, a large sword is strapped to her back, the pommel peaking above her shoulder. Whiskey-hued eyes cast about the room as she takes in the attendants, recognizing a few but acknowledging no one as she looks for a place to settle in for what should be a good story.

Fairen has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Jaenelle has settled herself off to the side, sitting by herself for the moment as she watches the masked figure appear. There is a fondness on the woman's fire reflected features while she waits for the the host to set the stage and begin to speak. Her spider sits upon her head, looking very much as if she too is waiting for the story to begin, eyes watching the pale man.


While Ciaphas was physically here, it's obvious he was away in his own world for a bit, staring off into the void with a glazed look until he's given a small thwap - which coincidentally is just enough to rouse him back to some wakefulness. He blinks rapidly for a moment before Avita's stage whisper registers, and he looks up and over towards the Man in the Skull Mask.

His lips peel back in obvious, visible delight as he settles himself in more comfortably beside Avita.


Thea has ventured over early. She's quiet as makes her way in, quietly taking a seat. The Countess simply waits to listen.

Early enough to secure comfortable seating, Caprice obliges as the figure gestures the audience to circle. She is attentive both to the performer and those closest around her, the latter if for no other reason than to ensure they're not accidentally splapped by her feather fan.

Sweeping a hand delicately over her full skirts, Keely slips into a seat beside Fairen, her entourage gestured to remain back and out of the way. Her attentive, coffee-hued gaze settles upon the masked storyteller, a slight, inquisitive smile gracing her lips, and she sits in silence to enjoy the performance at hand.

Keely has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Patrizio has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Angelica has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

Cadern seems content to listen and watch a few glances over at the others ina ttendance. But then the narration turns to the talk of the Dance of Skulls and he looks over the crowd curious to gauge the reactions at the depiction of the cause of the storied... story.

The bonfire crackles as the masked figure throws from another pouch something at it, and the flames for a brief moment are alive with gold with hundreds of little flickers of white spark that shatter with a little popping sound. As if souls were shattered out of existence in a bright pop.

"A boy had lost all that he had, orphaned as his parents died trying to defend the mighty city against the unyielding dead and the mother told her only son one thing as the dead were battering the front gate of their home and entering from the windows and ceiling. Run. And so the boy fled for weeks and wandered aimlessly across the never-ending shifting sands until finally reached an emerald blue oasis in a sea of golden sand. He drank, giving thanks to the gods, to the spirits, to his mother and father and he wept as he fell asleep. And for many days, it repeated. He would sleep during the day and then wake at night, drink from the waters and weep. Each night he would dream, and as if the gods listened to his dreams, the stars would tell the stories he would dream about."

Avita will, along with Ciaphas, move as directed by the mysterious man in a mask. She does not interrupt. She does, however, make sure Ciaphas carries her cushion.

Ciaphas follows dutifully after Avita - as directed. Of course, the pillow is carried.

Watcher has joined the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

A red-haired woman slips quietly in at the back of the crowd, and finds a spot to stand and listen.

"Oh how awful. Poor soul." Duarte laments.

"It was one night that a great spirit of the sky was making her way across the dunes that she saw the little boy at the oasis, and she swooped down, curious. For she saw the boy was close to death with starvation, and perhaps he too would then roam the world looking for the living to punish. The great phoenix perched by the oasis on a rock, and the boy looked at the great bird in wonderment, for he had never seen such beauty of nature. He then in innocence offered all that he could share, the stories of his dreams for he had nothing else to give this mighty one. The boy each night would tell a new story, and the bird would trade food to simply keep the child alive one more night and sing songs to the boy to send him to even more peaceful dreams so his heart might heal and become new the next day."

Again, the masked figure throws something into the bonfire and the flames have small sparks as a small tendril of purple blue smoke snakes upwards in a spiral like dreams.

"Night after night, week bled into weeks and months until a change happened that was unseen by all, even the great phoenix. She no longer looked at the boy as some mortal without care, she saw him transformed into what she would call her son. Within the heart of the great phoenix, a new fire started of care and devotion."

"And here there was a problem. For the first children did not care about the mortals who walked on the world, for where were they in the garden of dreams when sister Dream and Nightmare walked together? Where were these mortals when they were all handed crowns of power for their domains? Mortals are little things, things that die too easily and quickly. Mortals forget. The great phoenix thought long and hard, but the primordia could not look at him other than as her son. She saw that the dead were coming now across the dunes and she could not stand to see her son die. So one night, she took him in her talons and flew off to an ancient land where there were few dead to cause problem"


1 Iron Guardsmen, 3 Black Fleet Reavers, Moonsilver, the pale-feathered raven arrive, following Raven.

Lucrezia cocks her head as she listens to the story, her face usually so fierce transformed to wonder.

Drusila sits captivated. Propping herself up on one arm she continues to enjoy her wine and the show.

Not being unfamiliar with the tales of the Dance of Skulls, Jaenelle remains watching the masked man from her bench as he begins to speak. Suddenly there is recognition for this story, as if he had told her of it before. She smiles, though her palm lifts to press against her heart as the boy goes through unspeakable things, and yet still he gave what he could anyway.

Avita has heard this story, but even still listens with a vague smile on her face in appreciation of watching it be told so masterfully. Her arms cross, her head tilts and she observes this flashing of souls, a simple trick used to fantastic effect, a softly bobbed nod of her head issued in silent approval. Still, she does not interrupt.

Duarte covers his mouth. "Oh my Gods..."

Cadern makes small notes to himself, scratching against his notebook at perhaps particular words. Every performance must have a critic it seems but Cadern is smiling as he listens to the telling. He makes his notes and then looking up expectantly to the next part of the story. His head nodding along hand waving and gesturing clearly excited to hear the telling of the next part.

Studying the story as if it were speaking directly to him, Baldessare is riveted to the masked figure, hanging on its every word. His eyes match every moment, and his mouth hangs slightly open, although he says nothing.

Miraya arrives rather late to the whole affair, though she does so quietly, content to remain on the edge of the crowd. Finding an unobtrusive spot, she settles in to watch the rest of the performance, green eyes cast seekingly in the direction of everyone else's focus.

The black painted masked figure throws something into the fire, and a large bright red burst spurts upwards for a few seconds before fizzling away as the cinders continue ever upwards of gold to the cool stars above.

"In that far away place, the great bird set her son down on a nest of the softest grasses and brought him food such as fruits and other good things and the boy grew in strength and health each day that would pass. The other spirits gathered to the phoenix and some demanded in anger why she did what she did, for the first children of the gods had no need to be involved in the troubles of mortals that will soon die. The great phoenix cried a single tear, forming a perfect jewel that fell at her talons and explained that how could she see a son die when she could do something to prevent it. That she would give herself first in flame before letting his spark die. The other spirits listened to her argument, and many of them too were moved. They each went across the world to find the mortal they too were deeply connected with and in their own ways, brought them to safety in this land while the world began to drown further in blood. They brought the mortals that were their friends, those whom a mortal had the rare moment of touching an immortal unknowable heart. And the mortals lived with their spirits until both spirit and mortal became one, and a thousand different races of khati were made."

"All becomes of one lonely phoenix touched by the innocent offering of an orphan boy's gift that he gave willingly."

The black painted figure throws one more pinch of something in the fire, and it bursts upwards with a glorious sending of white sparks that crackle.

"And now the story of what once was is passed to you, you are the guardians of it's memory and charged to pass it on. For memory only lives in the living, and we choose what will be forgotten or kept safe."


Watcher eventually stops squinting, but a vague frown remains, settled and comfortable on her features as if it simply belongs there anyway. She crosses her arms loosely over her chest.

Eztli, a small gila monster arrives, following Calla.


Raising a hand to momentarily shield his eyes from the sparks, Ciaphas sits there with his eyes shut for a second. The drop of his hand has his eyes opening, delight writ large on his features.


Cadern claps his hands brightly (and perhaps a little obnoxiously) as the fire sparks up and the story comes to it's end.

Perhaps it is just a trick of the light, the effects used by the storyteller. But there is a reflection of that light in Baldessare's eyes, as if moisture had accumulated within.

Calla is looking very guilty as she shows up late. Seeing a few familiar faces, she waves and plops down right behind Drusila, leaning in to whisper, "Sorry, I fell asleep at the shrine." She winces and, well. At least she was here to support the storyteller with loud applause.

Eira, 2 Bone Wardens arrive, following Volcica.

As the story comes to its close, Gawain offers up some brisk, cheerful applause from where he loiters beneath the large tree.

Caprice might have had some distraction at the beginning, low comments to fellow audience members longer than intended as the story began but by the end she's as wrapped in the tale as anyone else, delighting in the effects and joining in the applause as the performance concludes.

Cesare raises both hands to applaud warmly, calling a "Bravo!" for the striking form of storytelling with its theatrical effects, a perfect display of Saffron culture for the Arvani gathered here to appreciate, which they will doubtless not soon forget.

After a glance around, Keely lifts her hands to give a quiet round of applause following the end of the performance, a curious interest reflected in her dark gaze as it flits between the storyteller and the dancing, crackling fire.

Lucrezia applauds loudly for the story and chants, "More!"

Cosimo applauds softly at the conclusion of the dramatic telling.

Miraya joins the applause from the back, idly scanning over some of the assembled faces as she does so.

Volcica lurks near the edge of the square, watching the performance from a bit of a distance. There's a thoughtfulness to the cold Northerner, and while she claps with the rest of them? It's a bit distracted. Distant

Someone wearing A porcelain white sand phoenix skull mask with softly glowing eyes hears from the crowd them saying "More, more." The black figure looks at them, the mask tilting to the side very birdlike. "Do you wish one more story?" comes the dead whispered voice.

Drusila smiles brightly at Calla as she enters, sheltering her from the withering glares with a gentle pat to the shoulder. "It's alright. But you really did miss out. It was beautifully told and beautifully presented." She leans in to tell her about the story, describing all the popping of the lights and the sand. Until the black figure asks if they want more? "Oh yes, of course."

Thea lifts an eyebrow, subtle in her actions. "You mean there is--more?" Though she doesn't look upset about it.


The Marquessa of Ischia provides a soft clapping of her hands, a vague quirk of her lips in smiling as it comes to a close and the crowd begins to cheer. Avita allows for a soft chuckle to escape her lips at the result the Warmonger's tale has inspired in those around her. "His tales are fascinating things, are they not? I told you he would not disappoint," She offers to Ciaphas as she begins to walk away from the gathering that has gotten just a little too loud for her.
Or, perhaps, it's only so deafening because it isn't for her.
When he asks for one more story, she stops dead in her tracks, her lips pursing as she slowly turns her head to regard him. He has said the words that she cannot resist, and it's almost as if magic had anchored her feet to the ground in her retreat. Her back straightens, and she turns fully back to face them. "How delightful..." She muses, absently. More for herself than for others, really.

"I think it is heart breaking for all involved, and the feelings never ease anytime I hear you tell it," Jaenelle tells the masked host. "To know that there was such pain, that it felt like there was no hope through anger and desperation. And yet even when a solution was found for these people they often lost everything they knew anyway. Perhaps you can tell one that does not break our hearts?" Jaenelle teases with a softness as she looks towards Titus.


Of course, Ciaphas deposits Avita's pillow for his wife to rest herself upon - this time the Eurusi plops himself down immediately, the lure of a new story obviously something he'll sit about for.


Angelica shifts in her seat, crossing her ankles, hands casually resting on the sheathed blade across her lap.

Raven paces along the peripheral, scanning the gathered faces and listening quietly with interest.

Jasper, an unflappable scoundrel, 2 Redrain Guards, 1 Redrain Veteran Guards arrive, following Deva.

Volcica says, "I would like one more," confirms Volcica when the offer is made. "I had not heard this one, familiar as I am with the Dance of Skulls." Quieter, that last bit. Almost more for herself, really. When Raven catches her eye, she dips a bit of a nod but her attention is largely on the masked figure."

Cesare's dark gaze turns toward the masked figure with interest as he intimates a second story. "My," he asides to Cosimo, who he has apparently taken under his proverbial wing for the evening. "We are spoiled. Another story! And such showmanship. I think I will have to see if I can convince Lord Titus to perform a storytelling for one of Whisper House's events. This is riveting, isn't it?"

Raven offers a fingerwave to Volcica and stops pacing, settling somewhere quietly to listen in a way that doesn't distract from the storyteller.

Fairen finishes his scribbling and puts down the pen, glancing over his glasses at the masked man. "Yes please! I would love to hear another story. I found that one quite thrilling in the telling." He spots Raven and gives her a quick nod in greeting.

Cosimo nods to Cesare, "It is one thing to read of such or similar accounts on the pages on a tome, but it is quite another to see them portrayed in such a dramatic fashion. To think, we will be blessed with an encore. What luck we have this evening."

The black figure moves out of the fire's glow and disappears. Not for long! Once more the figure steps back into the light and this time, the long black fingers set before the great bonfire a small totem. Again, it reaches into a pouch and throws golden sand across the white stone floor of the ground they're on as the sand scatters.

"To the farthest stretches of the Compact in the Saffron Chains that was shattered by the world breaker, beyond the Sea of Skulls, past the Valley of Flies stands the unbreachable Red City of Sangris with it's impenetrable walls of blood coloured stone. And further beyond that are the dark verdant jungles and wilderness of Caldera with it's mighty rings of mountains that are the Blades of the World. We walk back in through the mists of time."

The black figure throws from a pouch something to the fire, and there's a spark of red that's bright which pops as a cloud of smoke gently snakes from the bonfire to lay at the feet of those here. The stars above glitter in silent observation as the storyteller's golden dusted hands move to weave a web of story.

Calla chats quietly to Drusila between stories, idly braiding her hair but when the storyteller begins weaving a tale anew, she quiets and lends him her full attention.

Eira have been dismissed.

2 Bone Wardens have been dismissed.

Someone wearing A porcelain white sand phoenix skull mask with softly glowing eyes drops a pale bird totem of carved bone with bloodstone egg.

Deva slips into a spot near the back of the gathered crowd to hear the woven tales. Given the curious look on her face, it's clear is story in particular is a new one to her. She watches the show with a smile, chin lifting higher as she watches the smoke and showmanship.

Volcicas dark eyes flick to Deva, fingers lifting in a little wave before that bone totem is revealed. She can't help but move forward, weaving her way nearer the bonfire so she can get a better look. Something is murmured as the figure mentions the World Breaker. "..the Great Blood Spirii

Jaenelle notes the totem with a smile, again recognizing both the bird and the story that comes with. In fact, she might be holding her own version of that very same totem. Her eyes shift towards Volcicas though she does not speak as her attention moves forward once more.

Raven's eyebrows shoot up and she lifts herself up on tippy-toes to get a better look at that pretty, pretty shiny. Her mouth forms a small 'o' of appreciation.

"A great mountain with it's top ripped off by the greatest calamity that sleeps below and stands high in the jungles, and before that is a lake of deadly beauty, much like most things with Sangris. You would think the lake safe, as you see it's clear pale sapphire water to the depths but anything that touches it dies. A small island is in the middle, where the Wader made it's home and shared with all those who came to it it's bounty. Those seeking guidance would sit at the shore and contemplate. It's feathers were remarkable like the phoenix like fire which glistened and glowed with reds, yellows and oranges. And the peoples nearby were blessed, for they asked instead of took."

The little totem that the black painted figure sits at the base of the bonfire is not red, it's white. The egg though it guards is red.

"A child of exceptional curiousity was born who always wanted to know what was beyond. They would explore the mountains and the jungles, down into the deep caverns and secret places. Their world they walked across and always desired more until they returned home and sitting on the shore, they stared at the island in the middle to gain understanding from the spirit. "There is one place I never have been." the child said, as within their heart grew with a gnawing hunger and they set their mind to try getting over those deadly waters. While they were exceptionally bright, they had no way to cross and the isle stared at them which only made their desire even more greater until it consumed them."


Cadern looks sad as he starts to get up dusting himself off. He seems quite intrigued by the story even as he slinks away.

Lucrezia looks on at the storyteller with hunger not unlike that described in the story.

Cosimo rubs his chin as he gazes between the storyteller, the totem, and the fire - contemplating the story and the challenge it presents.

Patrizio lingers where he is, the smile on his lips as he's listening to the tale being spun by the one with the mask, his jade eyes riveted while he's quietly now and again commenting to those closest to him, but in hushed whispers.

Drusila looks over to Thea, blinking in surprise, mostly. Her chest rises and falls with a flutter of her heart. All the more intrigued, she looks back to the storyteller with wider eyes.

The dark masked figure continues to speak in it's dead whisper as the fire crackles. "But the Wader was not one of selfishness, the spirit gave freely to those who would ask and was generous. The child's hunger gnawed at them until they simply asked the Wader "How might one cross to reach your isle?" And the Wader told them how one might do that and so the child created stilts of bone and made their way across the deadly lake to the isle. And there, they found something they had never seen before. A clutch of stone eggs that were brilliant red. The child, overcome with avarice, snatched up two of the eggs and made their way back to their home. The people were pleased, how could they not be? For the child had solved how to go where none had ever gone before and brought back a bounty that was priceless. Surely, the favour of the. Wader was with them!"

"But the child was not satisfied. Again, in their heart the maw of desire gnawed at them and they did the unthinkable. They cracked open one of the eggs to see what secrets were inside."

Something is thrown to the fire, and a loud CRACK is surprisingly heard.


Pen dropping onto the paper, Fairen seems struck with a longing gaze when the storyteller reaches that last part. That desire is one he knows well, but he refocuses shortly after.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Gawain before departing.

Duarte jumps!


At the crack, Ciaphas momentarily lurches on to a knee, then pauses. With hesitation, the Eurusi man settles himself back down, taking a moment to adjust his clothing to sitting comfortably once more.


Keely watches on, most enchanted by the fire and the various substances that are tossed within. That is, until the unexpected noise from the fire startles and causes her to jump noticeably, pulling in a soft but audible gasp, her eyes quite wide. A moment later she is blushing furiously, attempting to shrink into her seat with the look of someone who rather wishes to dissolve into it entirely.

Watcher listens quietly to the second story, perhaps more intently than the first. She jolts slightly at the sharp crack, and there's a faintly aggravated flicker of expression that crosses her face before settling again.

Ravens' gaze scans those gathered, her eyebrows lifting a bit as she fishes out a flask and almost drops it upon that startling crack.

Patrizio jumps, himself, when there's the sharp sound, jade eyes narrowing, but... aside from the drift of his hand naturally to the pommel of his sword, he relaxes after another moment.

Eira have been dismissed.

2 Bone Wardens have been dismissed.

Avita reaches a hand to idly pat Ciaphas's shoulder as he lurches onto his knee. Pat. Pat pat. She, of course, jumped at the sound, a quick silvery laugh escaping in the delight it inspires, but it dies out quickly. She's having a splended time.

Evidently that crack caught a good portion of the audience! Caprice is among them, startling at the sound, and allowing herself a self-conscious giggle as she glances around to see who might have noticed.

Drusila jolts too and then flutters in her seat with elation and excitement, her smile growing broader. She leans over to whisper something to Calla, gesturing with her hands and nodding excitedly.

Baldessare is not started by the crack, mostly because he was anticipating it based around the other moves of the storyteller. In fact, he braced himself silently just before it came. He is thoroughly engaged in the story, however, to the exclusion of anything else going on about him.

The loud noise that interrupts the quiet story is jolting. There's a loud moan of exquisite pain and suffering heard, of terrible torment and anguish as if the bird is expressing what the horrible act did.

"And at that very moment, change came. The feathers of beauty of the once benevolent Wader bleached to the same white colour of hair as the curious child and all the Calderan cranes around the lake became exceptionally dangerous and aggressive. What to do? The people asked their leaders as storms flashed above and the wind blew hard. The people knew that a terrible wrong had been made, and their pride at the cleverness of the child made them also responsible. The people gathered up the fragments of fire that was from the first cracked egg, took the last egg and the white haired child and brought them to the nest of the great Wader. And while after time passed, the Wader forgave, she has never given her wisdom or blessings freely ever since."

"Even the kindest of creatures have their limits, and we all pay the price for the act of one."

The black figure wearing the mask picks up the totem of the Wader and holds it up so they all can see as it walks along the circle for them all to have a moment to gaze at it. The soft glowing blue eyes of the mask though are fading away, and the birdlike looks and tilts of the figure as it looks at the listeners of the story as it says "You have heard the story, it lives in you. Consequences from even isolated actions can have drastic results on many others. May you grow in strength so that tomorrow you are not the same as you are tonight."

And with that, the black painted figure steps out of the glow of the bonfire and moves into the darkness.

The audience is left to enjoy the soft crackling of the bonfire as the cool stars witness and watch high above with their own untold stories.

Someone wearing A porcelain white sand phoenix skull mask with softly glowing eyes takes a pale bird totem of carved bone with bloodstone egg.

Fairen seems mostly undisturbed by the crack, blinking a few times and glancing around warily. Likely due to years of sudden explosions and crashes living with Elloise.

Even with the storyteller withdrawing into the darker area beyond the bonfire, Gawain applauds cheerfully as the tale draws to a close.

Baldessare nods slowly to himself, setting back into his seat, as the story concludes. He reaches up to rub absently at his chin as his mind works over some of the details of the tales.

Caprice joins in with the applause once more, though there's a more thoughtful expression overtaking her features this time.

Keely lifts both hands to sound another quiet round of applause, her intense gaze focused intently on the dark into which the storyteller has vanished. She is left looking somewhat awestruck, and turns a glance around the rest of those gathered after a time as if to see their own reactions.

Patrizio rises fully to his feet, applauding the one who's been regaling the audience with such tales this evening.

Cosimo applauds once more at the conclusion of this second story.

Watcher joins in on the applause, restrained as hers might be.


With a glance behind himself to Avita after the conclusion, Ciaphas brings his palms together to join the applause. Letting it linger for a few moments, the Eurusi then rises and awaits Avita's next move.


Raven applauds also, but first she drains her flask to free up her hands for the clapping, Priorities: this one has them.

Lucrezia peels her lips back from her teeth, hissing as the story comes to a close. Full on, unashamed disapproval of the moral of the story. She stalks off into the night, presumably after unmoral activities.

Volcica is overheard praising Titus.

Drusila exchanges words with Calla as she applauds and rises, suddenly slinking off ahead of the crowd with a wide smile.

Ciaphas is overheard praising Titus: A fantastic series of tales. Such storytelling and skill at oration are only a credit to the man.

Drusila has left the a large tree casting the perfect amount of shade.

3 First Legion Centurions, Boss, a cocky gila monster, Mojo, a stubborn gila monster leave, following Drusila.

3 First Legion Centurions, Boss, a cocky gila monster, Mojo, a stubborn gila monster arrive, following Drusila.

3 First Legion Centurions, Boss, a cocky gila monster, Mojo, a stubborn gila monster leave, following Drusila.


"I should have to speak with the Warmonger about something, when he is free." Avita states aloud, speaking quietly to Ciaphas even as he's standing to his feet. There's a clear appreciation in her expression as her hands lift and she joins in on the applause, a genuine warmth to her toothy smiling that is not commonly seen. "I admit, I am -consumed- with my curiosity of the Saffron since meeting him, and I've many questions to ask ... but so little time to ask it." She heaves a sigh, one hand moving to settle into the crook of Ciaphas's nearest arm.
She doesn't approach him yet, mind you, he's a bit busy. "Shall we depart? I don't want to bother him just yet."

Dolente, a mourning dove, Dolce, a collared dove leave, following Cesare.