The Grand Ball.

[Dulcie]

Indeed all things were temporary and it wasn't very long at all before one turn of their dance step spun Dulcie in just the right position to catch sight of Catch lunging for the masked man's neck. Her hazel eyes abandoned her poor dancing partner and were immediately sweeping over Lamai for some indication that perhaps she had been in distress before Catch attacked but seeing none she felt that she just -had- to intervene.

Sarcyn was right in his assumption that Dulcie would want to go and poke her nose in business that very likely wasn't hers to begin with, but she never was one for just sitting around and doing nothing when she thought she could help. As he had slowed and unentangled himself from her she gave him a quick, grateful look for his understanding before picking up her skirts in her hands and hurrying over in the general direction of all the trouble.

"Catch No!" She'd call to him as she started approaching in their direction. She wasn't so stupid as to get within arms reach of the addled man, but she certainly was close enough now that he could hear her, hoping in some odd way that she would be able to talk him out of whatever it was he seemed intent on doing.

[Thadius Dhrin]

So intent he had been on Lamai, both curious and hateful, he did not see the lumbering man approach. He did not realize the danger until it was far too late. Large hands would find their mark, snapping shut the route for both air and blood in one huge fist around his thin neck.

Jade gaze would roll toward the cause of the sudden obstruction, to see some sort of silverish fog that instantly reminded him of Ariane and her damnable silver armour.

Without thought, slender hands would reach to try and uncurl savage fingers from his throat. Manicured nails would claw at flesh that would see him dead. No sound came from him, the strong hands of Catch holding too close the flesh. He thought he saw something in the strange man's eyes, but he could not be sure as the blackness began to creep in from the edges of his vision.

[Altias_Bromn]

Zilliah would be greeted with the kiss and embrace he had expected. Altias simply found the man too tempting. A smile would blossom on the once governor's face, before he sought to draw the other man into the dance with him. If nothing else they could watch together the politics of Myrken unfold in a somewhat civilized setting.

Though true to form in Myrken, even as they crossed the threshold into the ball, Altias could see there was some very uncivilized behavior already in progress. He could see little but the large form of Catch, who seemed to have murder in his eyes. Surprisingly, Altias was immediately worried for him, not for whomever might be the target of his hostility.

Through the crowd he could not see the target, only people filing toward the scuffle. A look to Zilliah, as if gauging the situation, wondering if he too should approach.

[Pantha]

The fond kiss would be gratefully returned and he followed along at his Lord’s
command. He wasn’t particularly looking forward to such a busy gathering
but if Altias wished for his company, he would oblige.

His fears were made real the very second he stepped inside to see Catch strangling someone before the party had even gotten underway. He took hold of Altias’s arm, holding him back with an almost painfully tight grip. He tried then to make Catch dance just as he had made his beloved stuffed pony. He made clear to steer clear of the mad man’s mind, focusing every bit of his power into muscle, bone and sinew, trying his best to make them betray Catch into letting go of the fragile man before he could be killed, before either of them could be killed be those who were rushing to break up the fight.
He calls out to Catch, his voice surprisingly vicious and menacing. “Let him go! I will make you dance and flop around just like your doll if you don’t!”

[Drache]

The half-dragon glanced at the Bard, a quick look to suggest they would have to discuss this later. She was intending to fly to the capital, and she knew Des abhorred the idea of that kind of travel. She didn't relish the thought of walking all that way, and there was no horse that would suffer her as a rider, so if they decided to go together there would have to be an exploration of options and a compromise.

Rumbling pleasantly, she grinned at the Ambassador, considering all the while how it might appear if she was seen ferrying mail for someone like Christoph. "I'm sure we can make arrangementsss for a joint trip. We can dissscusss it later. I wouldn't be opposed." Her wings shifted with the faint jingling of gold jewelry. She already had someone in mind to look after her interests while she was away if Des decided to come with her.

She didn't miss Descant's look at her invitation to the Thessilanian, and she privately felt smug about it. But before they could continue their conversation, Drache glanced back out on the dance floor and chuffed. "Tcha! I'm afraid there is another matter that requires our attention. It was a pleasure meeting you, Ambasssador Chrissstoph, I do look forward to ssspeaking with you more."

Turning to Descant and gesturing out to the commotion with a wingtip, "Shall we?" Despite the politeness she was maintaining with almost regal bearing, she didn't wait to see if he was coming or even take his arm. She strode out to the gathering crowd, almost prowling, with her wings slightly raised. Most people were quick to step out of her way when she approached. She paused to take everything in.

[Dulcie]

Fred grinned at Genny and her comments abut having such a lovely date, and her equal liability to fall. It was a good thing that they were arm in arm because the pair seemed to balance each other out enough that they somehow managed to make their way into the ball together.

As Genny paused and pointed out Catch trying to strangle the man in the mask Fred would look over in their direction and all of the people that seemed to be joining them and frown. "Who is the man that he's trying to hurt?" She asked curiously, not recognizing him from the tavern or the town.

[Lamai]

It was the middle of a dance. There was the dance in time with the music, and then there was the psychological dance between two sides of a similar coin. Lamai had trusted that James would see Catch out; it never occurred to her that the madman might try to protect her.

Therefore, it was an abrupt sensation to have Thadius ripped out of her grasp so that Catch's larger frame could begin to cut off the air supply and blood supply from the man's body to his brain.

"Catch, no!" Not only was Thadius' hands scrabbling and clawing at Catch's, but Lamai's reached for his wrists. Her touch tended to be distracting to the man's addled mind.

James was moving as well, not to try to overpower Catch, but to intercept the sudden sword that had been drawn from a gold-clothed Companion. Lamai would never let him hear the end of it if one of Christoph's men hurt or killed the madman. He wasn't even sure if she knew they were there, yet. Catch had certainly distracted her.

"Catch, let the man go," James was enforcing, even as Lamai lowered to her knees in the main hall, trying to work those hands free. The woman was leaning close to the madman then. There was a little growl to her voice.

"Pull him back, damn you. This man is mine to kill, not yours."

[Vanidor]

The response from the Ambassador was stolen with a flick of fingers and a glance of eyes. The man in gold across the room had made some sort of furtive motion, and so Christoph would turn as Drache and Descant made to move away. Pallid eyes would narrow ever so slightly, observing the situation as best he could from this angle. Not a perfect view of the goings on, but he saw that Davien had certainly drawn his blade. But James was attempting to keep the veteran Companion aside.

Had he been in private, Christoph would have sighed. As he was not, his slippered feet shifted upon the ground and he started along in the wake of the Hosts. The other golden Companion had slid away from his post at the far wall to join him midway across the dance floor. By the time of his arrival to the scene, Davien would be standing aside, sword still in hand but at least it was angled towards the floor. He looked like a man wound tight and ready to leap at a single provocation.

Eyes once again surveyed the scuffle, noting the silver mask and slender form of the one being strangled. Almost amused by the brute strength of the one doing the strangling. And, as always, admiring the way his Lady Wife threw herself into these situations. Ah, but if only he had heard the words she had spoken before his arrival.

[Raven]

Descant would sketch a quick bow to the Baron, keeping a neutral expression upon his features before he turned about. Only when he'd put his back to the Ambassador and taken a few steps would he sigh, it appeared that fate was working against him once more. Hopefully it was only a minor temporary setback, he'd offer many fervent wishes to any diety that might be listening to that effect.

Unfortunately, Drache would already be stalking off and he'd have no choice but to follow along after in the wake of the dragoness. An action which would give him a strangely familiar sense of deja vu. There wasn't much urgency in his steps, however, rather hoping that everything would be sorted out long before he got there. It's not as if he could do much to halt any violence.

[catch]

There was nothing gentle or amusing about the man who strangled the no-face, the thing's wet, wild slappings of those hideous tongues drawing great welts along his skin, but he did not let go, and he squeezed only the harder for it. His hands were shredded by those manicured, perfect fingers, blood welling easily to the surface to run in rivers down his arms, dripping to the floor. And as soon as those wounds were made did they heal, snapping closed as sudden as volcanic chasms, refusing to let out any of the precious fluid than was needed. The silver that rolled from his mouth was no illusion of his, but as real as his blood, sweating through his pores and his mouth and dripping from his eyes. Like a bison with flies, Catch's great shoulders heaved under Zilliah's influence, and a single, thick tendril dove at the Cloud-haired man like a battering ram, flicking against the very barrel of his chest in a wild-horse kick of force. Dulcie, too, and anyone, everyone, who tried to stop this would find themselves with similar tendrils, not flailing madly but driving with a purpose, including those golden-clad warriors who were kept apart by James. Even James himself, who may find the blow falling between his shoulder-blades.

Whatever the Wolf had kept at bay, this is what it was. Whatever plucked at Catch, at the other madmen and widows of Myrken, every moment of every day, the watching and the bells, had teased this to the surface of his skin. He was not the sometimes-bumbling, sometimes-threatening, pet madman of the Dagger. There was simply nothing there, and a shaft of silver poured from his scar, shooting in a single, uninterrupted fan, pointed from his brow, a single, shafted lance of silver and power and light.

And the only thing that held him at bay was the touch of those cool, healing fingers, and with a near-audible snap, those tendrils of silver dove at Lamai, gorging themselves into her nostrils, her mouth, her eyes, suckling at the very core of her, and it was enough for Catch's fingers to loosen, to allow a modicum of air and blood for the Faceless, and from whatever he stole from the Sky Lady, it would pour again tenfold into Thadius.

[Pantha]

Zilliah was not as foolish as he sometimes looked. Had his dear Lord not been by his side he likely would have turned tail and left Catch to strangling and not tried to intervene. He had seen the wild wolf thing in Catch’s mind before and he would not have tried to brashly manipulate him without making sure his defenses were up first. His third eye saw the mist slamming toward him long before he even realized it was coming and instinctively he falls towards the floor, taking Altias down with him.

The violent rush of silver would slam into an invisible barrier around the two men, deflecting the danger away, not caring if this deflection would send the plume to harm someone else instead. He made no attempt to save anyone other than he and his lover from harm. Once the shock of it is over, he looked back over his shoulder to see the light pouring from Catch’s forehead and his jaw dropped in astonishment.

Oh why didn’t he listen to himself instead of letting his desire to please Altias get in the way? Too much danger. Too many people. The voices were screaming in his head in confusion and anger and horror and he would flee for the door, trying to drag his governor with him and it was clear his mind would not be changed, even if Altias would not go with him, he was leaving.

[Drache]

The observant half-dragon took everything in within the space of one breath. The madman finally exhibiting real threat in her presence, his fingers choking the life from the masked man while coils of some power jabbed menacingly towards various targets. The Healer who appeared to have tried stopping him now held in thrall. The gold-garbed men who had arrived with the Ambassador gripping their swords in their hands, one being held in check by Lamai's bodyguard. The people watching and the variety of expressions ranging from panic to confusion to horror to interest to grim determination.

No one seemed to know what to do, and Drache herself wasn't certain at all what was happening. But a stab of ire at her hard work going to waste over some squabble set her in motion, as well as a fear that such a confrontation might quickly spiral out of control in massively unnecessary devastation. It was this drive to act that set her apart from most dragonkin, happy as they were to stay holed up in their lairs and live for centuries just to say they did.

She turned briefly back to Des and unclapsed a wrist-sized golden band set with a single red stone from her tail. "Wear thisss," she instructed as she pushed it into his hand, her inhuman eyes full of concern for his safety. There were many things she didn't know about the human bard she was so fond of, but this wasn't the time for her to speculate about his possible hidden abilities. She'd be crushed if something happened to him that she could have prevented. She was having suspicions about Catch's true nature and felt that if he wasn't stopped soon things were going to turn out very badly.

She glanced at the Ambassador, doubting that he was going to stand by while his lady wife was assaulted.

Her scales suddenly seemed to melt in the light of all the candles as she turned back towards the floor. A shining fiery glow surrounded her and it was as though she had been cast from a mirror-like red metal with only a faint suggestion of a pattern where her scales had been, solid gold in her wing membranes, white steel of her fangs. Her adornments disappeared except for the slinky dress. The protective spell turned her eyes a gleaming pupil-less red and she prowled towards the grappling trio, wings flared and arcing high, tail swishing. Tendrils of silver aimed at her might find themselves withered and burned desiccatingly in retaliation by her own power. She braced herself for the first touch.

"Catch!" she called loudly on approach, her voice a loud rumbling snarl that sent a plume of dark smoke towards the ceiling. "Come away from that man and ssstop harming your friends!" She put as much imperiousness into the command as she could, which was quite a lot, but she was no true dragon oozing an aura of Dragonfear. Whether the man Catch choked the life from deserved to die or not was little of her concern, but the power breaking free of his human-like shell didn't seem like to stop with just one death.

[Tolleson]

Her height alone had allowed her to see the incident over the crowd. The man himself was unfamiliar but the golden clad guards, the Ambassador, Lady Lamai ... and James were entirely another story. To Fred she would only manage, "I-I'm not ...sure," then recognition of those near the madman caused all the color to drain from her face.

Gasping suddenly as she saw James had ventured to block the onslaught of weapon wielding guards; while guests, servants, and the miscellaneous townsfolk who weren't running to intervene, stampeded out of the way.
Knocked back she released her arm from Winifred's to keep from taking her down as well. Tumbling backwards then shoved forward, somehow she managed to find herself away from where she'd been standing and on the floor.

Nearer now to the incident, avoiding aimless footfall and panic she crawled until she was at the feet of a golden guard. Bewildered, Genny would try to stand and gain her bearings, inelegantly stepping on her own dress on the way up. Now near several of the golden guards, the transforming Drache and Descant paces away, she looked for Fred.

"Winifred," she called in a whispered panic, eyes searching frantically were halted, captured by Drache's magnificence and the disheartening sight of Catch.

[Raven]

Descant would have barely caught up with the dragon-lady when she'd be spinning around and thrusting something at him. "What?" Would be about the extent of what he'd get out before Drache was off again. The band would get a wary look, obviously it was magic, he liked to think he knew Drache well enough that she wouldn't actively try to do him harm so he'd slip it about his arm as requested. If the bard was anything more than what he said, he certainly wasn't going out of his way to assist anyone, even himself.

Drache's departing form would be watched for a moment, worry alight in his hazel eyes for a moment and then he'd stop and take in his surroundings. So many faces, Genny's would immediately stand out. Looking as panicked as she did. This, at least, was something he could assist with and he'd move to do that, heading towards Genny in the press of people and offering steadying hands to the redhead.

"Genny!"

[Lamai]

Thrall was probably the wrong word for what the healer was suffering. If a word had to be chosen, 'rape' was probably a better description. Either way, even James had dropped to his knees. The flaying of that tendril had sent him on the way down, but that hadn't caused the hands pressed to the side of his head as if his brain was trying to worm its way out of his ears.

What Lamai was suffering was even worse.

Reality shifted in and out. Part of her was very aware of the energy being siphoned from her mind into Thadius, using it to undo the damage that Catch had caused. Part of her could see the twisted madman, and she could hear the chaos around her, though nothing specific.

The other part of her saw what was, and even her mind didn't want to believe it.

Stop. Ithurts. stopStopSTOPSTOP

There was no chance that her grip would loosen until those silver tendrils let her free. If James' rocking was any indication, however, the healer's enjoyment of the Ball could very well be short-lived.