Crimson Justice!

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Announcement: Lahar shouts, "THE CRIMSON REVENGE is kicking off in 5 to 10! Please ping for a summon, or just head on down to A07! (ALso, what do you know! It's now today's +motd!) :D"

Astaren has arrived.

Aznara arrives to the shop, wearing one of the outfits she recently purchased here. She pointedly doesn't offer Sandy a greeting, although she does glance towards the woman, and instead moves to the side of the shop opposite the sales counter.

Just as Duin had been taken by the IRON TIDE, so has Alexandria been taken by a red one. Once-fans of the Crimson Pen's "mystery of mysteries" stand outside Sandy's doorway...and some inside. The picketing had begun immediately upon the last novel's publication and the Tribune's announcement--whereupon it was revealed that the treacherous Jyrana had poisoned her lover, only to run off with the innocent, flower-laden Dandy.

Among the crowd, are signs. Shirts. Each is emblazoned with fan art of the highest degree--Dandy fainting, in Mereth's manful embrace. Others depict Jyrana's demonic visage (complete with pointy horns), with "BETRAYER!" scrawled across in passionate cross-stitch.

It is a mess.

"Why are they even here? THIS IS FICTION," yells Sandy out hre window at them. "Idiots." Grumble grumble.


Astaren has reconnected.

As is usual, when Aznara goes places, Miriai the bodyguard golem is not far behind. He has a recent addition to his wardrobe though. If it could be called that. A sack is carried with the draw-rope slung over one shoulder so that it hangs down at his left side like a duffel bag. He doesn't really do much speaking, and stops near Aznara... ember-glowing eyes moving to scan the area. Social? Not very.

Lahar summons Selerik.

Selerik has arrived.

Mikilos sighs, and makes his way in from the plaza, trying very hard to be polite, but carefully moving aside a few of the more stubborn protesters as he heads in the door. "So... are they early, or am I late?" the wizard inquires, absently double checking a simple clockwork pocketwatch.

Ordinarily, a servant of Vardama wouldn't be here in an official capacity. However, this particular servant has overheard enough of the Crimson Pen's fans to know that this... This may be a good time to shadow the doorstep of the Crimson Moon.

At the moment, Silmeria wanders the aisles, searching through the black and sand-colored fabrics... but her eyes return to the picketers outside, a sort of worried watchfulness on her tanned face.

As the crowd's chanting and protesting ramps up, Aznara moves towards the door to step outside and into the crowd itself, looking up at the signs being hoisted, listening to the chants.

"DOWN WITH JYRANA!" chants one oruch, holding a sign. Beside him, his wife nods. She embraces their child, and places a kiss upon the darling's head.

"She didn't deserve Mereth!" one of the audience repeats, to nodding heads. Her friend adds: "But oh, he could take me ANY time..."

"Those ARMS..."

"I know EXACTLY what you mean!" The two women share a look for a moment, a look of sisterhood and understanding as they contemplate Ea's most perfect of manflesh, before turning to glare--at Sandy.

In fact, there are several people glaring at Sandy.

"Excuse me..." the voice is different, and somewhat timid. It belongs to a young gnome. He holds a sheaf of papers in his hand. "I believe I can help sort this a moment. Er, if someone could help me get to somewhere I could speak?"

Astaren has made his way through and glances around, "Oh such a rare chance to get to watch a public dispute, and with Shin kicker no less, err lady Sandial." Nodding to himself as he takes a place in the back and hopefully out of the the way to watch.

Lahar summons Raethon.

Oh.. and there she goes. Aznara into the crowds again. She always makes it so difficult. So.. Miriai begins moving. His bulk being pushed into the crowd as he does his best to remain near to Aznara without speaking if he can avoid it. After all, energy spent speaking is energy that could be used to defend his charge.

"I will do more than kick your bloody shin if you keep that up," says Sandy, growling at Raethon. She has her hand over her face. She is getting a MASSIE HEADACHE.

Raethon blinks at Sandy as he just got there. "Sandiel.....you have more on your plate than kicking me on the shins. How about we find out what's at the center of this first, hmm?"

"Lady Sandiel," Silmeria says, clearing her throat, "I think the mystery is about to be revealed?" Turning to the timid gnome, she adjusts her spectacles, smiling gently. "Shall I go get their attention then, Master Gnome?"

Astaren glances to Raethon, then to Sandy, then edges away. More then happy to let her think it was him who said shin-kicker and not him. Smiling as innocently as he can.

Aznara pauses in her movement through the crowd, every so often, to make sure Miriai's keeping up with her. Making her way to the edge of the crowd, she climbs up atop a rain barrel that's been turned upside-down, and stands there to watch the goings-on.

Mikilos considers a few moments and peers out at the crowd. "You know, I'm not sure I'm properly caught up on the plot. Could someone be so kind as to summerize the main plot points for me?" The elf smiles sweetly. He's not evil, and has the magical Grey robes to prove it. This doesn't mean he can't cause problems.

And of course, Aznara is helped up onto the barrel by the strong arms of her bodyguard golem. Miriai merely does that and then positions himself to bet able to intercept anyone planning to cause harm to Aznara. Oh yes, his shield is out and readied. But not his weapon.

Astaren has partially disconnected.

Astaren leans over to Mikilos, "Oh all this, its a publicity stunt. Seems somebody here is a writer, and has written things, or not written things. I am not sure, seemed to campy for me to read, like a bad romance novel. Anyways, the lack of or thereof, is to get interest for the next piece that is to be sent out. Cause it will become a must have. We are here to see if the writer can hype is up properly, or have the mob burn down the building. I think."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- At a glance around A07: The Crimson Moon =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Astaren 3m 6'1" 179 Lb Human Male

A tall man wearing dark blue robes.

Aznara 6m 5'0" 126 Lb Shadow Elf Female

http://www.tenebraemush.net/images/b/b1/Aznara.jpg

Lahar 0s 7'4" 479 Lb Bumbly Blumby

A bumbly, four-legged beagle.

Mikilos 1m 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male

Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.

Miriai 1m 6'6" 302 Lb War Golem Male

Chain/Scale/Plate armored War Golem.

Myrana 11m 5'0" 110 Lb Half-Elf Female

Short young woman with coal-black braids.

Raethon 10m 4'8" 90 Lb Dawn Elf Male

Llyranesi male with dark hair

Sandy 1m 5'0" 136 Lb Llyranesi Female

Purple haired, plump elf. Presumably irritable.

Selerik 1m 6'0" 150 Lb Human Male

A tall and thin man dressed as an artist.

Silmeria 14s 5'8" 126 Lb Human Female

A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and breastplate.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Mikilos glances absently to Astaren. "No no, I mean the plot of the books. I'm ever so interested."

Mikilos says, "-Surely- there's a TRUE fan here who can tell me -all- about it?"

"Oh, hellooo!" the gnome says, with a little wave to Silmeria. "I've seen you in the Circles, I think?" he says. If she is willing, he'll gladly accept her help onto one of the crates. He's shortfolk, after all.

"You presented the most LOVELY fanfic, you know. Divine inspiration! Ahem! Now, I know everyone is upset! And, we have a right to be!" he says. He pauses here for a moment as he turns to address the crowd. "But, I have here with me, yes, right here, some of the Crimson Pen's greatest work. ...before she, or he! turned against us, of course, and did that...that DREADFUL thing to poor Dandy." He pauses. There is a general muttering. "Now..."

He shuffles the papers.

Oh, god. He's going to READ them.

"I would like to share these with you, today. As you know, to remind us where we came from, and what this dream USED to be." He looks around, and passes the papers to Miriai. "If you would, sir? You look a steady sort..." and to Mikilos, "And perhaps you could provide some magic, to liven the tale up a bit! Add to the scene, you know!"

Sandy just sits on the counter of her shop and puts her hand over her face.

Then her other hand.

This is a freaking nightmare.

Standing atop the barrel, Aznara waits, watches, listens. She hasn't been in Alexandria long enough to know about the novels, having read about them in the Tribune... and having also learned of this big publicity stunt by the author of the stories. She didn't mean to end up right next to the gnome with the papers with Miriai, but there they are, suddenly right where the focus of the crowd's attention is.

Myrana comes from work to see that her wife's shop is still being picketed. She frowns, and tugging off her gloves, she starts shouldering through the crowd, low-heeled boots crunching through the slush. "Excuse me! Exc- PARDON ME, sir could you just--" She grabs one of the signs and throws it so her path is clear again on her way to Sandy, fuming but so far containing it to the best of her ability. She's dressed fairly subtly, in a tailored, tailed walking coat of charcoal grey that parts in the back to allow the rose gathers of her bustled skirt to protrude fashionably, but despite this it'd be kind of hard to miss her progress. Because she keeps pushing people to get through. "Damnit! Sandy!"

Cesran has arrived.

"What?!" Sandy yells to Myrana, "None of this is MY fault. IT's all that bloody Pen! Clearly, "she says to Myrana, "We nee to make stricter invitations to 'tea'."

Silmeria does indeed help the gnome onto the soapbox, stepping back as he begins to address the crowd... But then her pleasant expression slips, upon realizing that he's not, in fact, the Crimson Pen, but another ardent fan. A couple times, she opens her mouth to speak... but the poor gnome's kicked-puppy demenor in general *easily* guilts her into holding her silence. With a sigh, she scoots a bit to one side, then leans against the wall of the shop to listen. Oh, dear.

Having a sheaf of papers thrust into his empty right hand, Miriai takes a moment to turn his eyes down towards the papers, his eyes scanning over the words for a long moment. He doens't do much without deliberating thoughfully after all.

His eyes slide to Aznara as they do quite often, but they return to the papers. "I..." he begins before looking to Sandy. Then his ember-like eyes narrow and he looks back to the papers. "I have no desire to recite harmful words written for the sole purpose of upsetting a friend." His hand clenches tightly, crushing the papers before he just holds them up and asks, "My Lady, if you could perform a cantrip to ignite these?"

"I would very much advise against that," Silmeria speaks up from her place against the shop wall. "That would be *cruel.*"

Mikilos nods humbly, and considers a moment before grasping teh pendant around his neck and murmuring a few words. The screen that appears behind Miriai is obviously an illusion, hovering and slightly translucent, but visible to all. And the figures upon it as slightly blurry and out of focus, the details left to the viewer, save those specifically clarified in the reading. But the motions are smooth, and the colors vivid, if somewhat simple. A watercolor animation, rather than an HD movie.

Aznara shakes her head. "It would be just as improper to set fire to these papers", she replies to the golem at her side. "If you prefer to not read them, do not... but do not destroy them."

Mikilos says, "Besides, I'm told there's a line about any resembelance to figures living or dead is strictly coinsidental. It's a fictional character, not a dear friend.... well, I suppose a fictional character CAN be a dear friend, but let's not get into that just now."

Raethon quietly steps to the side, and closer to Silmeria. "Lady SIlmeria." he says before looking towards the Gnome. then a gravelly voice comes his staff. 'So this is not the Crimson Pen. "I don't know whether to be disappointed or overjoyed...."

"Oh! Well, perhaps someone else would care to recite it?" asks the gnome frantically. He looks around.

"THERE SHE IS! THE TRAITOR!" yells a llyranesi in the crowd. She's pointing right at Myrana, as she arrives. There is muttering!

"YES! She broke Jareth's heart!" comes a great, GREAT booming voice from the side!

"...isn't it Mereth?" asks someone from the crowd. Everyone is looking around. In the meantime, the gnome is desperately trying to recite the pages, himself:

"Shivering, they met met under the Highbridge, away from the eyes of all but the most wretched peasants - who, having no taste of love themselves, sat in ashamed awe of their forbidden love..." he says, in his warbeling voice.

In the immediate crowd, there are soft, gentle sighs. Forbidden love. Siiiiiigh... "His manful pectorals," one sighs.

And more glares at Myrana and Sandy.

"As My Lady says." states Miriai emotionlessly. He may not agree with her, but he won't say so publicly. But he ignores the jeers of others. He is not exactly someone who cares about the opinions of others. He is whom he is. He merely hands the papers to Aznara and turns to regard the rest of the area from a position of .. guardsmanship?

Mikilos's illusion -might- focus a little on distracting the crowd. Abstract flexing. Unspecific pectorals.

Astaren shakes his head slowly, "How.. tame." he offers with a heavy sigh, 'I was hoping for more... oh well. Nothing can beat a rune magical debate, though this place is not warded against the magics ones might typically employ in such heated... discussion."

Tarragon resumes her position next to Silmeria. >.>

As Silmeria scans the crowd, her eyes narrow, briefly, at a tall woman at the fringes of the mob. She stirs, perhaps to call attention to the woman, but is immediately sidetracked by the denunciation of a perfectly innocent person. Pushing off the wall, Silmeria moves to stand between the crowd and the entrance to the shop, blue eyes hard. "I understand you're upset," she says at a break on the gnome's reading, "but this *will* remain a peaceful gathering, or my Lady will have *something to say* to the person who brings violence here." Oh, she is in full Displeased Librarian mode, raking the crowd with her gaze. "Am. I. *Understood.*"

Aznara hands the pages to the gnome, so that he can recite what's written upon them himself.... then speaks in the Sildanyari language, casting a simple spell. When the gnome next speaks, his voice is amplified -- as if he's speaking through a bullhorn.

When no one in the crowd seems willing to rebut her declaration, Silmeria turns a bright, beaming smile onto the gnome. "I'm ever so sorry, do continue."

Cesran comes in late after landing his carpet and rolling it up. It's secure on his back. "Why are we here again." His staff complains loudly as Cesran looks around, "Well gatherings in Alexandria tend to produce exciting events and most often times need help. That is why we are here to help." His staff snorts and rolls her eyes, "You just want to find out the ending to the story." Cesran shrugs, "There is that too."

Again, something Miriai doesn't agree with. His Lady is helping this gnome besmirch a friend. He doesn't understand why. But he doesn't have to understand. He merely needs to keep her safe and stand by. His eyes do however... slide towards Sandy. It's difficult to discern emotions on the face of a golem, but there -is- concern in his eyes for those who can see such things.

Tara clicks her tongue and watches the proceedings. "People shouldn't need to be cowed. If they had any sort of control." She says as her hair begins to come out of her braid.......and hands her the tie she used to keep it together....

Mikilos's illusion is having trouble keeping it's images with teh naritive... since there isn't a whole lot of good naration going on. But it tries. and really, taht's the best that can be done just now.

Abstract flexing. Blowing hair.

"Oh for goodness' sakes." Myrana elbows her way closer to the front door. "S...Sandy! COULD YOU MAYBE MEET ME HALF WAY?" She exclaims, getting stuck between some booing people. Crowds are the worst when you're short. "What is wrong with you people? That stuff is all fake!"

Meeting halfway, under a darkened bridge. Moonlight.

Aznara doesn't do a thing to stop Miriai from moving towards Sandy. She remains where she is, standing atop the overturned barrel, eyes scanning the crowd.

"IT'S ALL FAKE," says Sandy, loudly, as she marches towards Myrana, pushign thriugh people to grab her. There's someone out in the crowd she's eyeing, though, that ISN'T Myrana.

Aznara kneels for a moment, "Go and make sure she's unharmed. I will be fine, here", she says to Miriai, quietly, before standing upright. She remains where she is, standing atop the overturned barrel, eyes scanning the crowd.

"Oh! Er...thank you," the gnome whispers to Silmeria. He nods encouragingly at Mikilos, and raises the papers again. With some help--! he begins to read again, and THIS time, it carries over the crowd, illustrated by Mikilos' magic, and aided by certain, other magics:

"Mereth," Dandy whispered, "I think I'm being followed."

Mereth frowned manfully. "But by whom, my dulcet darling? Who would dare follow you into splendor but myself?"

"You know who," Dandy said, pressing an alabaster hand to her brow. "It is Jyrana! I see her at the market, I see her in the gardens, even in my mirror at night!"

"But why would you see her so many places? Your fiendishly clever magic-machines prevent you from being followed!"

"There is only one way to explain it," Dandy said wretchedly, pressing herself into Mereth's fulsome, muscular chest. "Her jealousy has pushed her past the boundaries of all mortal sense. She has become...psiometric!"

At the edge of the crowd, there's a stir.

A half-giant steps forward. Her shoulders are broad, her hair great and flaxen--it flows in the breeze. "It wasn't Dandy. It was me, whose innocense she stole," she says, hoarsly.

"He broke OURS," says the person next to her. They could be clones. All...

...all three of them. Half-giants.

Astaren holds a hand to his head, "People... actually write this way?"

Mikilos hesitates, glancing to his illusion, and back to the half-giants. "....those aren't mine." He offers quietly. Meanwhile, the illusion continues it's abstract illustration. Drama. Jealousy. Reveil. Tasteful innuendo.

Passion. Romance. Drama. Finger across throat means death. Metaphor.

As things begin to progress, Miriai wants to help Sandy. But his duty is more important to him than his personal desires. His duty is to keep Aznara from harm. His right hand clenches though as the story spills forth. And then... half-giants move into the crowd. Even more reason to hold his position. Wordlessly, he shifts position to be closer to Aznara, to provide cover should the need arise.

Selerik is in the crowd, watching this like a tourist. He has some candied flying pig bacon in a sack which he dips in for every so often. Munch munch, munch munch. He doesn't seem to care a lick for the story, but the people?! They're fascinating.

Munch is not here. He's not the bookish sort.

Myrana grabs Sandy's hand once she's close enough and quickly links her arm through her wife's. "We have to move cities," she says. "There are too many perverts in this one."

Even her naturally upbeat attitude and every social grace she possesses, *cannot* keep Silmeria's face from contorting, ever so slightly, at the mauling that the poor, earnest fanfic author has visited upon Tradespeak. But then, come the half-giant sisters, and all priorities are given an *immediate* reshuffling. "Good afternoon," she calls, lifting a hand in greeting to the trio. "You're all fans of the stories too, then?"

When the half-giants arrive, Aznara glances down to see Miriai still next to her... and nods, glad for the golem's presence. Otherwise, she remains silent... although the arrival of the Towering Triplets has, for the moment, distracted her from her crowd-watching.

Cesran moves towards the back of the crowd to see what's going on. He leans against his staff to watch the illusion going on right now. So interesting.

"There are perverts everywhere," says Sandy forlornly, all mourning, to MYrana.

She is very sad about this.

Tarragon stays behind Silmeria, but not too far behind....somewhere about.....10 feet. "Strange that they show up...now of all times."

"Who are those three jerks?" Myra asks Sandy, spotting the three giantborn. In a crowd like this, its sort of like being blind; she can't see much past the people looming over her and Sandy in the immediate area, but those three giantborn are tall enough that she's catching glimpses of them. And that Gnome! She sets her sights on the magnified gentleman, and her blue eyes narrow. TARGET SIGHTED! Tugging on Sandy's arm, she changes trajectories! OH THEY'RE COMIN FOR YOU, MISTER SOAPBOX!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- At a glance around A07: The Crimson Moon =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Astaren 13s 6'1" 179 Lb Human Male

A tall man wearing dark blue robes.

Aznara 36s 5'0" 126 Lb Shadow Elf Female

http://www.tenebraemush.net/images/b/b1/Aznara.jpg

Cesran 9m 6'1" 185 Lb Human Male

A tall dark-skinned man

Lahar 0s 7'4" 479 Lb Bumbly Blumby

A bumbly, four-legged beagle.

Mikilos 2m 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male

Tall male dawn elf, rosey blonde and handsome.

Miriai 1m 6'6" 302 Lb War Golem Male

Chain/Scale/Plate armored War Golem.

Myrana 6m 5'0" 110 Lb Half-Elf Female

Short young woman with coal-black braids.

Sandy 2m 5'0" 136 Lb Llyranesi Female

Purple haired, plump elf. Presumably irritable.

Selerik 2m 6'0" 150 Lb Human Male

A tall and thin man dressed as an artist.

Silmeria 3m 5'8" 126 Lb Human Female

A sweet-looking blond human in a long black dress and breastplate.

Tarragon 8m 6'0" 170 Lb Human Female

Tall, red haired Tsuran woman

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Mikilos is not, for the record, a half-giant. He is rather tall, and does have long flowing hair that glistens in the sunlight. Or the moonlight. It just generally glistens. And those eyes, deep, soulful, with worlds of wonder glimmering in their depths... and.... and.... and i know i was going somewhere with this.... um... oh, right. Tall, not half-giant. Just to be clear.

"He broke my heart," the first half-giant says, simply. She looks accusingly at Myrana.

"He broke OURS," says the one next to her, who must be her sister.

All three of them look accusingly at Myrana. The crowd notices, and some of them begin to shift, and look as well. When they see who it is, some of them half-heartedly lift their signs. They look a little confused about all of this.

"WE...that is, we all wrote. We all contributed, because there was nothing left to do once he left our tribe."

"He slaughtered the evil clan leader, in Bludgun. Twice! Him and all of his council! We all wanted to marry him, after that. I mean, who wouldn't?" One of them tosses her head, pushing her hair to the side.

"But...he never knew we were there. He was too busy staring at--at HER." MORE glares at Myrana. The HUSSY!

Everything is her fault. EVERYTHING. And, they really do seem this tragic. Somehow. For his part, the gnome has the papers gripped in his hands. He's trying to sneak past Silmeria and the golem. Sneakily. NO ONE NOTICE MEEEEE.

Myrana stops dead and stares at the giantborn siblings. "Wh... what are you talking about?!" She exclaims. "I didn't seduce anybody! Ask my wife!"

Astaren pauses a moment as he listens, "You know,it would be a more epic tale if the wife was the one who actually did tell."

Mikilos blinks. Blinks again. Visibally flinches. Adjusting his hairclip, the wizard disappears. The dottering old gnome where he used to be is strictly coincidence, and in no way connected. Despite wearing the same worried look.

Sandy alos staring at them.

"...Myrana does not have a seductive bone in her body and THEY ARE FICTIONAL. THEY ARE NOT US." She is pained. SO PAINED.

Tarragon says, "Is there a way, Mrs. Angry-puss can seduce anyone? Except the angriest person in the world? But she can't seduce herself....can she?"

Aznara drops down off her barrel to cut off the gnome from his escape. "The papers, please", she says to him, sweetly, holding out one hand to him.

"I do have bones though," Myrana tells Sandy under her breath.

Cesran pipes up, "There is a tall-manly man right over there working the illusions. He has those deep soulful eyes full of worlds of wonder glimmering in their depths." He says pointing over to Mikilos. His staff shakes her head, "You have been reading too many trashy romance novels."

Mikilos-turned-gnome is not at all an eligible bachelor. No. Please no.

Mikilos-turned-gnome gets enough of this back home from his many many aunts. It's part of why he lives half a world away.

"Oh, this is starting to go sideways so hard it's going to leave a hole in somebody's wall," Silmeria mutters, removing her spectacles for a moment, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Taking a deep breath, she waves for Mikilos to finish his illusions, nudges the badly-sneaking gnome in the direction of the shop, and steps up onto the newly-vacated sandbox. On purpose. With a smile on her face. "So, you three are the Crimson Pen, then?" The wash of cynicism and snark behind her is answered with a quick, frious frown, smoothes away by the time she turns back to the half-giantesses. "I must say, your work has simply *crushed* all of Alexandria, ladies. Whatever troubles you may have, first think on this: You three are *the* best-loved authors by every lady with a moment to read in this city, and not a few men."

"Skeletons are important to the function of the body." Myrana adds, sotto voce, and then raises her voice again: "I don't know who you ladies are talking about, but I'm very sorry that you think I wrecked your lovelife!" She shouts.

Aznara moved. As such, so does Miriai. He thumps his feet moving behind her. When she holds her hand out to the Gnome, he looms.. LOOOOMS over them both trying to add.. weight? Yes weight to her request for the papers.

Selerik spots Mikilos over in the crowd, gravitating towards him with bag of candied flying pig jerky in hand. "Oh, hey there. This is pretty fun, but I've got an idea." He slips something into Mikilos' hand, whispering in his ear.

"Oh he's..."

"...kind of wrinkly, isn't he?"

ANd he doesn't have that manful, manliness that Jareth has," one of the giantesses says. They all sigh. In fact, a number of the crowd sighs.

There is more glaring at "Jyrana." A few mutterings.

"You deflowered the innocent Dandy!" one of them calls out!

But, some of them are starting to pay attention to Silmeria. "Really? Do you think he's noticed us?" one of the giantesses asks.

"Maybe you could introduce us?" They all look suddenly shy. There are blushes all around.

"Without HER." Myrana. Of course. Everything is her fault.

Myrana sputters inarticulately.

Mikilos is currently using his Form of Gnome Hat. And trying very very hard not to be noticed. Of all the times to not have a Teleport ready. Three love lorn bachloretts, and him a wealthy single male adventurer with his own busniess and mansion.

Myrana looks like she's having a coronary. She grips Sandy's shoulders and buries her face in one of them, making a sound of mortified disbelief mostly audible to dogs and elves.

Cesran hmms, "Oh it's Jareth you are looking for. I just saw him. He's at the Arena practicing. He's probably all sweaty and had to take his shirt off. You three should bring him a towel and maybe some water to cool down with.' He offers and looks at Myrana with a you owe me one look.

Myrana doesn't owe Cesran anything because she is melting down like a manareactor into Sandy's shirt with a sound like 'rrhhhhhhrrighghhhhhhhiiiiiii'

"Lady Myrana is quite happily--" Silmeria pauses, looking over her shoulder at the purple-faced Myrana. "--well, married, at least. I've spoken to Master Jareth a couple times, and I *might* be able to arrange a meeting, but, honestly! Lady Myrana and Lady Sandiel have their own lives now, they've nothing to *do* with what hurt you so! Also... you're all artists of renown, now! Look at all these people, they *love* your work! Surely that's sweet enough to overcome the bitter?

Munch hesitates at the Arena, wondering why his Battle Sense is tingeling.

Selerik settles down next to his gnomishly hatted neighbor, continuing to snack on the bag of bacon stuff. A glance, a tilted head, and a shrug. "Oh well." Still entertaining.

Receiving the papers from the gnome, Aznara proceeds to stand and ignore him... to let him escape, if he wishes. Moving towards Myrana and Sandy, she offers them the writing she's confiscated. "Yours to do with as you wish", she says as she offers over the story to them.

Mikilos's illusion screen fuzzes with random static.

Following on Aznara's heels, Miriai sooo badly wants to say he told you so... o o O O (I suggested burning them. But noooo...) But outwardly, he does his best to remain emotionless and wary. However when Aznara offers the pages to Sandy and Myrana... his right hand reaches for Sandy's unoccupied shoulder and rests gently there. For just a moment, before falling once more.

"and setting people on fire is wruh-wruh-wroongggg berrherr whyyy won't Svar let me do anythiiiiingggg" Myrana is venting muffledly into Sandy.

"...His shirt is off?" blurts one of the half-giants. No matter how compelling Cesran's words are, the image does enough. Siiiigh.

Some conversation begins to take place--a very focused conversation, among the three sisters.

"We'd like you to introduce us," one of them finally says. She looks directly at Silmeria. There is some general nodding.

"Rewrite the ending!" someone in the crowd calls out. This gets taken up by a few voices. Everyone SHOULD remember why they're here, right?

The gnome--he's nearly frozen in place, he is. He looks flustered as Aznara and Miriai go by, handing the papers to Sandy and Myrana. When Mikilos' illusion fizzles, he flinches.

Sandy puts her arms around Myrana. Awkwrdly. She's not good at this whole 'comforting' ting. She pats her on the back awkwardly and accidentally manages to undo her braid.

Aznara, with Sandy and Myrana not taking the story from her, rolls the papers up then gestures for Miriai to turn about, so that she can put them into the pack on the golem's back. She seems to be intending to keep the story for herself.

"I'll see what I can do," Silmeria says, with all the gravity of an oath. "It may take some time... and in the meanwhile, perhaps you could meet your fans properly! I'm sure they'd *love* to tell the great Crimson Pen how your stories have touched their... ........ ..............hearts," she finishes, weakly.

Mikilos's illusion wavers a moment... Dany and Jyrana, embraced, in moonlight, hair blowing free. Image pan, the Arena, zoom toward the door, though them, inside. Shirtless. Flexing. Sweaty. Shower of rose petals, for some reason.

He has orders now, so Miriai turns and lifts his arm from the bag. He even lifts the flap and holds it open for Aznara. He did his part, did what he could. Now he has his duty to keep him sane. In a city of insanity, that is all that he can hope for.

Selerik looks at the Gnome Mikilos deadpan as he starts shimmering, the illusion doing its thing. He waits until it calms down, then holds out his hand for the object he'd shared. Maaaybe he thought they were a different gnome? Racist.

Into the bag go the papers Aznara took from the gnome, and she puts her hands on her hips, glancing over towards the women about whom the parody was written.

Mikilos-the-gnome hands back the object. Has his own methods anyway. And a signature book to get 'The Crimson Pen' added. Three times, apparently.

One of the giantesses looks over at the crowd. "After she introduces us, we'll rewrite the ending!"

The crowd bursts into applause, inbetween stares at Mikilos' magnificient illusion.

"Rewrite it like that!" the gnome says, speaking up from his terror.

The giantesses are still glaring at Myrana. The HUSSY.

And well, you've all won.

Sort of.

Mikilos considers a few moments, and shimers back to his usual self. "Just glad Svarshan isn't here. Would have ended with half the crowd wed to the other half. At random."

Selerik tucks the item away. He does offer some of the fancy candied bacon, at least. "Sometimes it is more interesting to see how things develop." He looks around. "I'm working on translating some things into spider. Wonder what they'll think of the Crimson Pen."

Mikilos says, "....please don't. The LAST thing we need is spider fangirls. Fangirl spiders? Neither one."

Selerik just smiles at Mikilos. He does not seem detered.