[Open to All] A Merry Winter Festivus!

[Alyssa Snow]

It is Winter in Beinost, a beautiful city born in the controversy of a dark magic: Necromancy. Unlike the rest of the war-torn nation, Beinost still upholds the magnificent architecture of Eluriand prior to its ravaging. The entire city spans out into the ocean like a crescent moon upon shimmering waters. This time of year, traffic in and out of the ports is nigh existent, but there are still few who brave the ice crested oceans.

Instead, Bienost focuses its efforts on local business. Each year, their enchanters, alchemists, and mages contribute to decorations of various magnitudes. Luminous sparks and magefire cling to the trims of the buildings and span from light post to light post. Doors are trimmed in winter spruce, and various seasonal evergreens. Inns and pubs put trees indoors, kept alive by necromancy and decorated with various trinkets and treasures. Underneath, presents are placed for the children and adults alike, a place for secret admirers to give the admired a present. Warm drinks are served in abundance to stave the cold - hot cocoa, rum eggnog, hot toddies, and butter rum.

This time of year is a time of sharing. Meals are shared with strangers and those with abundance offer their surplus to those without. Whole pigs are roasted and seasoned, turkeys are stuffed and garnished, and all various cultures share exotic dishes of their homelands. Fires are kept stoked and warm, doors are kept open and inviting, and people are given reason to smile in the face of hardship and success alike.

Here, during this time of festivity, one specific establishment bustles with the members of the Tarot Hierarchy. A small Pub & Inn nestled just between a vast public park and the serene waters of the docks. A hard to miss joint for any adventurer, the Aces High welcomes any seeking a warm place to sleep or catch a home cooked bite. Ran by the infamous dwarf, Anvil, his portions be plenty and hospitality near endless.

Here, a touch of the Holiday Festivus blooms, and people are gathered together to value happiness, friendship, and fun.

Let the festivities begin!

[Cards of Fate]

"Oi Vinneh! Cook some more of that...What do you call it again." A large dwarf boomed out from behind the bar. "Pizla?"

"Pizza." Vince replied rising from behind the bar with a tray full of drinks. "And I told you that I need a much larger oven than that dinky ass thing you cook bread with." A scowl crossed his pale lips as he began to serve several rowdy customers. "When are you going to hire actual workers instead of begging me to help out every time there's a surge of customers."

"The moment ye stop comin boyo." Anvil replied as he poured several drinks, being careful to keep his long silver beard out of the cups. "And so far it seems like you haven't failed me yet!" The young man shot a glare at his current employer before scanning the filled bar. It seemed like everyone had been served for now, and the few actual staff members could take care of the rest.

"I'm going on break, holler really loud if you need me." he muttered leaping over the bar in a single bound.

"You bet I will Vin!" Anvil chuckled. "Although I might make a few people go deaf in the process." The scholar had already vanished into the crowd and slipped out the front door, leaving the dwarf's joke unheard. Snow had begun to fall gently, casting a serene mood upon the sleepy town of Beinost. It almost made the scholar forget that the entire place had been built by a necromancer fueled with thousands of damned souls.

Almost.

But that wasn't enough the dampen Vincent's mood. It was Christmas! Well, sorta. The people of Althanas seemed be to celebrating some form of the winter solstice or other various winter holidays, but it was Christmas for Vincent. The locals had even strung up lights and harvested some newly grown fir trees from the recently purged but not renamed red forest. Thus the young Emperor thought it to be his civic duty to bring christmas cheer to all he met this night, even if it meant swapping his usual purple robes for red.

[Alyssa Snow]

From the seat of a stool against the bar, Alyssa's legs kicked merrily back and forth. She wore leggings up to the thigh, red as cherries, and topped with tufts of white fur. Hugged around her chest and hips, she wore a snugly fit sweater of a similar color, loose at the sleeves, and trimmed around the collar, wrists, and thigh with winter rabbit pelt. With her slender, bare hands, she cradled her head and watched her old friend, Anvil, tend to his trade behind the counter. As he busied with drinks and fare, Alyssa tilted her head left to right and let her platinum blonde locks sway behind her. Nested at the gathering of her high pony tail, sat a charm of mistletoe, berries, and a small golden bell.

"Ya' look awfully chipper there, li'l lady," Anvil mentioned as he ladled a steaming mix of thick, white drink into a mug.

Alyssa cocked her head with a full faced smile. "It's my first time celebrating the holiday season!"

While he finished garnishing the drink with a pinch of nutmeg, Anvil raised his thick and bushy brow.

"What'ya mean yer first time?" he inquired, shoving the mug sliding down the counter to an open palm and grateful smile.

"Never had anyone to celebrate with! Don't you remember last year? It was just you and me in a half built pub!"

Anvil scratched at his wiry beard and squinted his eyes. "Aye. A lot has changed since then."

Then, with a huff and a haw, Anvil snatched up another clean mug from his collection below and slammed it to the counter.

"Well Miss Snow, I reckon we get ya off right this year! Drink's on me fer the night!" Anvil bellowed as he ladled more of the previous concoction into the glass and topped it with a pinch of nutmeg. He slid it to her and she caught it with a slight slosh over the edge.

"What's this?" she asked, taking a whiff of the steam. The sweet, savory, and somewhat tangy aroma tickled her senses.

"That, m'lady, is Eggnog. Spiked with Rum from Etheria Port, of course." Anvil's old and chiseled features turned upward into a mischievous smile.

"Alcohol?!" Alyssa shot him a wide glance.

"Keeps th' blood warm in th' cold! Don't act like I haven't seen ya sippin' on that sissy Raiaeran wine over the years. Time to try somethin' a little different, aye? Go ahead, give 'er a sip!"

Alyssa pursed her lips to the rim and drew a sample from the frothing creme. It slid down smooth, and coated her tongue in its rich flavor. Only at the back of her throat, could she feel the subtle burn of the well aged rum. Instantly, she felt the warmth spread within.

"Anvil..." Her tone was serious and her gazed fixed on the glass. "This is dangerous!"

Before he could reply, Alyssa tilted it back for another drag. Anvil let a hearty laugh roll from his round stomach.

"Glad y'like it! Now..." Anvil reached over the counter and gripped her by the shoulders. "Get out there and mingle. Yer too young t'cling at the bar all night!" He then abruptly turned her around in her seat and gave her a firm shove into the fray.

Alyssa's boots struck against the hardwood floor. She staggered, but managed to catch her balance without spilling a drop of her eggnog. She snapped her head back to glare at him, the bell in her hair jingling. Anvil gestured to her as if shooing a beggar from a stand before one of the other patrons flagged him down for his services. Alyssa pouted her lips and turned to face the crowd of joyous faces.

She took a deep breath, and slowly wove her way between the tables and chairs. Her destination, the large leather seats beside the fireplace, just in front of the frosted glass windows facing the street.

[loves.blessing.]

OOC: This is after McKinley has grown into a more confident woman but still has a few shy tendency of the girl she once was.

The snow slowly drifted down from the sky, landing on her long fiery lashes or on her freckled cheeks that now harbored a pink tint from the winter wind lapping at them. The medium size dire wolf trotted next to her happily, McKinley was on her way to a pub to take shelter for the night. "Nymeria stay close I know you love the winter but if this slight flurry turns into a blizzard we will lose one another." The young dire wolf chuffed a sound in response causing the sound of laughter to fill the empty space around the girl. The wolfs coat that usually is mixed colors of grays, whites, blacks and browns now simply covered with snow making it hard to for any one to see her. The pub came into view as the smell of malt liquor and food perfumed the air causing the woman's stomach to growl.

Entering the pub she looked back for a moment seeing her dire wolf enter into the forest before their eyes met giving her dear friend a curt nod before going into the establishment all the way. Taking a moment for her piercing blue eyes to adjust to the light difference from being outside into the dim light tavern. The pub was crowded with people and music, drinks and food were being shared, laughter rang out along with conversation. Shutting the door behind her Kinley pushed through people excusing herself until she made her way to the bar. Taking off her royal blue cloak she pushed back the hood allowing her long fiery locks to fall in cascading waves down her back stopping just past her shoulder blades. Placing her cloak on the stool before she sat down she drummed her fingers on the wooden bar causing the man behind the bar to look at her. The large mountain of a man walked over to her, scratching his large scruffy beard his voice boomed as he spoke to her. "What can I get for you little lady?" Kinley offered him a small smile "Can I please have a plate of meat and potatoes and some hot cocoa with a shot or two of baileys in it along with whip topping and cinnamon on top." The male looked at her for a moment before nodding and walking away, her stomach growled with no patience as she waited for her order to come.

A plate was sat down in front of her along with her drink, placing a few coins down on the wooden table top she dug in. It had been a few months since a good meal filled her belly let alone a pleasant drink that wasn't cheap wine or water. A small moan left her lips as the explosion of butter and herbs filled her mouth. A large deep chuckle left the male that had served her, "looks like you haven't eaten well ina while there lady." Taking a swig of her drink, licking her lips as some of the whipped topping lingered she could feel her cheeks flush with color. "Not unless you count tough old rabbit meat or berries that grow wild in the forest.." Stuffing the rest of her food into her mouth the male took her plate and left her alone once more, sighing now that her stomach no longer ached she dipped her finger in the whipped topping before licking it off.

"Goddess I missed actual food and drink.."

[Siegfried]

The warm heat of the hearth lapped out into the foyer. Logs crackled and hissed as the flames consumed them and thick black smoke traveled up the stone chimney and out into the moonlit night. The faint aroma of pine bled from the fire and mixed with notes of roast pheasant, honeyed ham, and crisp pine. With his black, accented hair down to his mid back, Siegfried let out a pleasant sigh of comfort as the warmth permeated his bones.

On his forth seasonal Puniceusviscus Ale from the island nation of Eiskalt, the High Elven gentleman began to question whether the warmth stemmed from the fire or alcohol coursing through his veins. Regardless, his lips lifted into a peaceful smile.

"Been a while hasn't it father?" Sieg mumbled to a table occupied only by several empty mugs.

He lifted his glass as if to toast and gestured against a phantom companion. He slightly bowed his head and took another drag from his ale. In his formal Bladesinger attire, Siegfried sat alone and took pleasure in watching his fellow Raiaerans smile, laugh, and enjoy themselves. The Elven swordsman felt a pang of nostalgia.

Were his father still alive, he'd be proud to see the people celebrate for the first time in a very long while. With rumors of Pode's demise spreading across the nation, everyone felt more at ease. Even with the remnants of Xem'Zund's blight picking away at Eluriand's ruins, spirits were high.

In this, Siegfried found solace, peace, and pride.

"And to you, Illara." He gestured again a phantom toast. "May the path of the Pantheon bring you good fortune."

The Bladesinger took another swig, propped his elbows against the oak table, and basked in the spirit of the holidays, a smile warmly locked on his face.

[K-Zu-Ziro]

New York City's worst pizzeria lined its walls with filthy tapestries of leather and suede. The fabric in question dressed each greee-zeee driver while he or she leaned all slick on the loose ceramic and its grimy grout. Every pair of beady eyes waited, watching the order screen for three orders in the same neighbourhood to line up for a fat fucking tip triplet. There was a boy in one neighbourhood, he was just a ghost lost in that drunk's traffic dash. His dad tried to pull him out of the way, but instead he ended up watching the lights go out. That neighbourhood came up. And Leandro Boba, a São Paulo illegal, bounced off the load bearer and signed out all three orders. BILLS TO PAY. His insulating bag was stuffed like a Christmas stocking, to the brim, brim, brim! He bolted through the door to meet the boy's spectre in the rain slicked mirrors. A slice of tomato slid from the tarnished metal counter and slapped the floor below. After eagle eyeing for customers, the shift manager scooped up the floor "fruit" and put it back on the pie (as a centre piece, mockingly) and into the oven she went.

Mux Drik always dreamt of this world while K-Zu-Ziro went through periods of irregular hibernation. The eight foot insectoid monstrosity could sleep for months at a time after sucking enough Butter of Hosto; a vile concoction of blood, shit, saliva and rendered fat. All Ziro's prey had supposedly possessed a heaven's soul. No better place to prey on the soulful than the stomping grounds of the known world's better soul eaters. Mux was a brain and a mind taken prisoner by an organism so far detached from mammalian sensibility that the only thing keeping the disembodied notion of his own self sane were the dreams of an alien world. A place more real than his current reality, more real than the real he felt when he was a free human diplomat representing Corone's awful excuse for a decision making assembly.

Dreams were like sways and throws, the kind of drowning swell none of us would know through surviving. A New York City subway train rattled him around the world to wake up in Cork City, Co. Cork. One night. It was snowing there like it was snowing in the (real) (fake) other world. "An old woman told me to do it!" an English accent said to one of his three English friends. They had Irish friends too, but it just so happened that four English boys made friends working together in Ireland. There was no prejudice. Of course not. One of them often boasted about his Irish great grandparents. "Cool, dude." replied the second English boy. The first English boy was talking about socks pulled over his skinny Nikes. Since the Cork City government failed to salt the pavements properly, it was especially difficult to walk the streets at night after work. An elderly Irish lady had advised the first English boy to put socks over his shoes to avoid slipping on the way to work that morning. It worked like a charm. The third English boy smirked and said, "Well you look stupid." to the laughing approval from England No. 4.

Mux didn't know it, but each of these boys proved analogous to the patrons of consequence at the Aces High! One was a redheaded boy with a wolf tattoo--the gender was off, but it was McKinley's other world stand in. Another's father was one of the relatively few fatalities in the Falklands--Mr. Siegfried maybe? Number two's joy was interaction--had to be Alyssa! While the last boy held his cards close to his chest--Vincent Cain, pun intended. Life is but a dream! Mr. Drik dreamt!!!

The soil pipe, plumber speak for the shit chute, poured out into a broader sewer arched with glazed bricks and dated with the year of construction. The matte black terror slept in this tunnel. It was under the Beinost drinking hole above, spindly limbs were coiled tight and snug while it regenerated through the Butter of Hosto. When K-Zu-Ziro was ready to wake up, it was going to wake up hungry.

[The Mongrel]

I removed my green contacts within minutes of arriving in Benoist, formerly Anebrelith. For one thing, Hrive in Raiaera is not a joke, and the brutal sea winds threatened to freeze the thin glass circles to my eyes. For another, my own name and face served me better in my native land than any alias could. It was a bizarre twist I never could have predicted, and while walking openly felt strange and unnatural, it also felt good.

Snowflakes danced in the air like tiny shards of glitter, gleaming in dozens of different colors as they passed gorgeous or gaudy displays of light. The crisp, clean scents of evergreen cuttings and the warm, homey smell of wood smoke mingled with the aromas of roasted meat, pastries, and other dishes from around the world. Winter fest had come to Benoist. It was a tradition I'd never been part of before, but I had to stop on my way to Melenahil anyway. A hot drink, a warm meal, and a crackling fire surrounded by well-wishing strangers would be a nice change from recent events.

I selected a lively establishment to settle in, one that wasn't too crowded with elves, one that wasn't too packed to accommodate another few people, one that was brightly lit against winter's dark. The noise of the guests washed over me as soon as I crossed the tavern's threshold. It was a warm sound, friendly, full of cheer. I recognized a tipsy blonde in some plush seating at the window, but decided not to disturb her. I was from a dark moment in her life, and didn't want to mar a bright one.

As I turned to continue to the bar, I caught sight of a familiar head. I knew the black streaked with blue, and it caught me like an arrow to the lung. Kahliel... My Lord Stepfather. The monster that had scared me far more than anything Pode had thrown at me. No. He's dead. It's Siegfried. Damn, he looks just like his father from behind. Drunk off his tits, too, as Cata used to say.

I decided not to disturb him, either. A few days of awkward family time was enough for several years, and my brother and I had already had those days. Besides, I had a new scar going from my right nostril almost to my ear, and I didn't want questions about it. Better to let him drink his holiday cheer, and not coax out the mother hen in him. If I was quiet, maybe I'd go unnoticed or unrecognized. I did slip quietly past him on my way to place an order and carefully put an acorn on top of his head. He'd be confused, and I'd be amused.

When I got to the bar and was acknowledged by the dwarven bartender, I took half a second to reconsider my order. "Hot spiced rum and a plate of...whatever those are." I motioned to some savory pastries. "And a room for the night."

He gave me my order, I gave him some coin, and I retreated to a cozy corner, content to watch others enjoy the festivities.

[realize.real.lies]

It was night time and yet I couldn't find myself sleeping, slumber escaped me more than not these days, pacing back and forth in my small cozy room at the tavern I knew that staying up here wasn't going to do any good for me. I, Karina Jo Tayler am missing my home place, yes you heard me right place I am from Earth shipped here by my wonderful father but that is another time for another story. Flopping down on the mattress I couldn't help but wondering should I go join the party down stairs or should I stay up here and try to sleep like I have been for the past three hours. "That's it I am gonna take my ass down those stairs and get a drink," murmuring gently to myself I made my way to the bath room area. Running a hand through my long chocolate brown curls that end just at the end of my shoulders I look in the mirror, my cheek bones are sharp and angled my piercing green gem for eyes are a little dull and lifeless. Pursing my lips slightly as I took that trait from my mother, full and plump always tinted crimson.

Pulling on my black skinny jeans, I wiggled a little to get them over my thighs and round butt. My white tank top clung to my waist as I start to tighten my black corset that stops just under my plump breast and toning my already hour glass shaped form. Taking my crimson red jacket that also hugged my form I walked over to my bed sat down and laced up my black heeled boots that stopped just mid shin. Strapping my holster around my left thigh I made my way down the stairs as my nose was invaded with the smell of the holidays, pine trees, spiced rum, eggnog, holiday roast and much more. Shuffling through the crowd I made my way to the back of the tavern sitting down glancing out the window. The snow flakes were large and drifted down from the sky landing on the ground, a small smile graced my lips as a waitress came over to my table asking what I wanted. "Um spiked apple cider please."

After I received my drink I smelled it smiling slightly, the smell of apple, cinnamon and rum taking a timid sip a shiver ran down my spine. Sighing softly I turned my attention back to the peaceful scenery outside instead of all the ruckus that was going on around me.

[Rayleigh]

The carriage rolled to a slow halt, the snow groaning beneath the weight of the wooden wheels.

"Looks like a pretty fancy party." Louise's feminine voice called out, mingling with the dull roar that leaked from the bustling bar. Her long, lanky figure, made bulky by layers of heavy clothes, rocked atop the driver's bench as the carriage moved beneath her. The vehicle's sole occupant was crawling, panicked, toward the window.

"What? Really?" Rayleigh Aston pressed her freckled cheek against the small windowpane, attempting to peer through the fog-stained glass. Her jade eyes narrowed as she squinted, but all that she could make out was mere flashes of light and color.

"Aye. At least from where I'm sitting." The older of the two women made no attempt to hide her amusement as she continued, "why don't you come out here and see for yourself?"

Ignoring her friend's invitation, the mechanic muttered through a worried frown, "do you think that I should have worn a dress?"

A pause, and then, "do you even own a dress?" Her question was met with silence, which was all the answer that the coachdriver needed. Her smirk blossomed into a full-fledged grin, chapped lips cracking against the frigid air. "Then that was a stupid question, wasn't it?"

When Rayleigh finally spoke, it was in the smallest voice she could muster. "I'm having second thoughts."

The blonde snorted, a thin plume of smoke rising from her nostrils. "I don't know if you can call them 'second thoughts,' Ray. I don't think you've ever been totally sold on the idea."

"I haven't," she whined back.

Louise rolled her eyes. "Why don't you put on your big girl breeches and get out of my carriage? The horses are getting cold." In actuality, her bay team, comprised of a mare and a gelding, enjoyed the break; they rested lazily, absently chewing at the bits that crossed their large mouths. Louise was the one getting cold.

The carriage's ornate door opened with an ugly creak. Louise turned in her seat just in time to see Rayleigh poke her head out. "Come with me?" the girl asked pitifully.

"Out!" Muttering a string of cuss words, the mousy woman climbed gracelessly from cab. As she did so, Louise's blue eyes scanned over her friend's attire. "I know that you're worried about running into the Tarot people again," she commented suddenly, "and you have every reason to be. Vincent will probably be mad that you stole his ugly sweater."

Rayleigh's cheeks warmed against the night's chill. "Why don't you get down here and say that to my face?" she countered, jabbing an accusing finger in her friend's direction.

"Because I don't think I can stoop down that far." With a cackle and a wave of her gloved hand, Louise cued her horses into a trot. The thudding of their hooves on the icy cobblestone drowned out the death threats that Rayleigh fired after their driver.

Balling her hands into fists, Rayleigh felt the long sleeves of the ill-fitting sweater slip past them, dangling comically at her sides. The thick wool rubbed painfully against her bare skin as she took her first steps toward the bar, it's hem covering her leggings nearly to her knees; there were only inches of black, stretchy fabric revealed between the end of the sweater and the beginning of her brown boots. "It's not ugly," she muttered, most unconvincingly.

The sights, sounds, and scents of the party overwhelmed her as she tugged open the heavy door and descended on the small bar. Immediately, her gaze swept the room, and she silently took note of where the Tarot members resided. Having recently left the group, Rayleigh was anxious to see how they would respond to her making an appearance. The majority of them, she quickly noted, were assembled near the bar. This was incentive enough for her to b-line for the furthest table.

That table, she quickly realized, was already occupied. I don't recognize him, she thought to herself. Maybe he won't tell anyone that I'm here. Willing herself to shrink even smaller, Ray scurried toward the table where Siegfried Alfheim resided.

"Mind if I join you?" She plastered a wide grin across her face as she added, "you're alone. I'm alone too. Might as well sit together, so people don't know how alone we are, huh?" Immediately, her face contorted into a mortified expression. "That came out a lot harsher than I had anticipated."

[Izvilvin]

One of his eyes cracked open, peering into the corner of the room. He'd tied his cloak over the blinds of the sole window, its black cloth doing a better job than them of blocking out the sun, the moon, and the frequently flashing or strobe-like celebrations of the citizens outside.

Izvilvin was in Beinost on business, business which had concluded the previous day after two sleepless sojourns through the forest. As a result, he'd been exhausted and quickly checked in at the Aces High. The warrior hadn't had time to learn of the celebration and its inspiration.

Now he sat up, awakened by clamor from outside of his door. Someone had stormed down the hall, followed by frustrated yells and another pair of stomping boots - a lover's spat, most likely, or someone eager to give a lecture and not allowing escape. He could hear a variety of conversations downstairs, now, people meeting one another for the first time, regular patrons gathering together to talk about their families, and too many others for him to keep track of them all. Some thought his keen ears elegant, but they were an awful pain at times.

He stood and began to dress, pulling a forest green shirt, long-sleeved, over his taught and compact torso. Armor came next, the old breastplate of Tarry Wheeler sliding comfortably over his head. Then his sword belt, Icicle and Mjolnir dangling from just above his hips; then his sai. Then his knives. Then his kukris.

Without his cloak, Izvilvin looked equipped to wage war against the country by his lonesome. That alone would bring stares, and that wasn't considering his heritage - the warrior had experienced little love from the land of Raiaera over the years.

He pulled the item from the window, unwrapping it and shaking out the collected dust from the top. It covered up his weapons, and with the hood down, the elegant article made him look a little more belonging among the citizenry. Less like a violent mercenary, more like a dark elf noble of Ettermire.

He left the room and locked the door behind him, tucking the key into an inside breast pocket. To his right, he spotted someone heading away from her own room. He watched her do so, and continued to watch as she left the room area. When she disappeared from sight, he spent a moment watching the space she'd last occupied.

Izvilvin shook himself out of spell.

Keeping as low a profile as possible, he descended the stairs and entered the tavern area. He slid up to the bar and into a stool with one elegant motion, and turned his back to the inner section.

When the dwarf approached him, he quickly tapped on an empty mead mug sitting on the bar in front of him, then tossed up a single finger.