Ray and Masquerade's RP (The Struggle)

[Masquerade]

The night was silent, save for the screams that had so swiftly traveled through the city air, but only for a brief second. As Masquerade continued to prepare the noble's cake, he tilted his head slightly to hear them. "Such a shame we live in a city such as this...," he spoke solemnly and took a deep breath, the sweet and fragrant aromas of the different kinds of bread in the bakery drifting lazily into his lungs.

Nothus flicked his tongue out in disgust. "Well, it seems the High Order will have even more bodies to contend with whenever they arrive on the bloody scene. We should be let off the hook. But, that's a second murder in one night. Should I go and check it out?" His hand reached for the handle of his lance and gripped it tightly. The adrenaline was already rushing through his veins like a mighty current--never faltering, but was that always a good thing?

In the end, Masquerade shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, friend," he replied, his voice enigmatic. "You've put yourself on the line one too many times for tonight. As a matter of fact, I think you should get some rest." He took out some ingredients to make some icing for the magnificent cake he was planning.

"You'll keep an eye on this poor sap, right?" Nothus asked, gesturing towards the man that had previously been beaten up and who was now snoozing peacefully in the hard, wooden chair. His wounds had all completely healed by now. The baker had worked his magic.

Masquerade nodded, but was too busy to say anything as he whipped some of the ingredients into a soft, fluffy cream.

"Very well, then. Good night." Nothus bowed to the baker and went to retire in the back room. Seems that the High Order isn't doing its job so efficiently after all.

The scene was one of horror. Four dead bodies, the cobblestone street covered in blood. A wounded dingo was on the ground with bolts in his back, from a crossbow, no doubt. And a single anthropomorphic wolf stood there, his fist covered in blood. Silent, but evident footsteps approached the scene. In the moonlight, a man appeared wearing a green traveler's cloak that was embroidered with gold. He wore light armor that was obviously supplied by the Knights of the High Order, but he had no weapon on him. He seemed so simple, yet so eloquent. The mystifying light of the moon reflected off of half moon spectacles, and shiny, light brown hair stood out the most upon his head. He had a disarming and strange smile upon his face, even though he had just appeared at a murder scene.

"My, oh my, what has happened here?" the man said calmly, his voice as tranquil as his countenance. "What crime has plagued these wretched streets? What wicked web of lies have thou been caught in? It matters not," he said theatrically. "This incident must be reported, you know. By my honor as the new leader of the High Order. But I may be willing to make an exception." He glowered down at the dingo, although he was addressing the smith. "My name is William Reschelle, and the High Order has been on the hunt for a horrid theif, by the name of The Dervish. And I believe I have just found him. My first night with the Order and I've already caught a wanted criminal. Oh well. Listen to me going on. Allow me to cut to the chase. I no naught of your relationship with this thief, but if you turn him over to me, I can let you go." Although he had no weapon, he appeared too confident in his position of this particular negotiation.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

OOC: Actually, Grundy picked him up and carried him back to the forge. XD

IC:

Grundy was only five meters away from his forge when a man in a green and gold embroidered cloak and light armor stepped out into the moonlight. The blacksmith listened to his introduction, and his statement silently and as patiently as he could before he set the Dingo down carefully, keeping him off his back by propping him against his leg so he could pantomime properly.

"Sir William Reschelle, I did not know that this man was The Dervish I've been hearing about all over town, and I did not know that he was a thief. All I know is that he came to my rescue when I was ambushed by a group of bandits who not only stole my money, but tried to claim my eyes as well. If you truly are of the High Order, I wish to assist you, and will not interfere with your duties. I will hand this man over to you, but please, allow me to treat his wounds first." Grundy explained clearly though gestures and eye-contact, his icy-blue eyes now back to their original amber coloring. "I do not aim to fool or outsmart you. I am much too stupid to do that. You may follow me into my humble workplace and help yourself to a drink if you want. After I treat him, you may take him with you." He added, and carefully picked the Dingo up again, slinging him over his shoulder. He waited for William to walk with him before continuing to limp toward his home.

[Masquerade]

OOC: Whoops~! Sorry Ray ^^' I was kinda in a hurry so I didn't read the last couple of sentences--I'm such an idiot =3

IC:

Masquerade figured that Nothus must have been exhausted, for he could here his assistant baker snoring in the back room. The baker put down his bowl of icing and stretched. It had been a long time since he had worked this hard on something. Of course, this was no ordinary event, and it was certainly no ordinary cake. It had to be a dessert fit for a noble. Masquerade had only been a baker for about two years, and in that time, he was never requested of to bake such a magnificent cake. He had mostly spent that time building up his reputation for such an assignment. And now was his chance.

With a wave of his hand, he cast a small ice spell to cool the icing. Removing his baker's hat, he walked to the door of his modest bakery and opened it, the night air flooding the wooden shop. "I really need some customers. I'm pretty sure I can get some midnight snackers in here. I just need to advertise a bit." He smiled as the sweet fragrance of his baked goods drifted out into the night.

William nodded kindly and followed the smith. The atmosphere of the night seemed to change as the High Order knight walked alongside Grundy and the thief. A somewhat unsettling air replaced the tranquil warmth and the shadows appeared restless, hiding behind the scenes. Nevertheless, things remained the same as William strolled with the two anthros to the forge.

As the bloody scene was left behind, the bodies disappeared along with any evidence of a fight...

[Frisk E. Coyote]

The arctic wolf unlocked his heavy reinforced doors and nudged it open with his toe, the heat of the forge escaping and engulfing the man and two anthros. Grundy stepped inside, leaving the door open so William can follow.

The dingo stirred, and groaned. "Where am- Whoooo-wee! It sure is hot in here! Did I go to hell already? Man, it smells like sweat and metal! Kinda kinky if you ask... me..." He moaned, and lost consciousness again.

A low growl rumbled in Grundy's throat in compliance as he set the dingo on his bed, propping him on his front so the bolts stuck out of his back. He then turned to William and communicated with him. "I heard his name was Logan Gyre, but aside from that, nothing more." He gestured and portrayed through eye-contact, crossing the room and producing a medicine box from his walk-in closet. He normally used it to treat deep cuts and burns, but the contents were sufficient to deal with injuries caused by crossbow bolts as well. He just hoped they weren't poisoned. "Do you want to drink some mead, Sir William? Or just water?" He asked, ripping the dingo's shirt off, exposing the bolts.

"Mrmmm..." Zach moaned. "Noooo... you haven't paid for that service yet..." He groaned, and then chuckled. "Oh well... first time's free..." He mumbled, before succumbing to unconsciousness once more.

[Masquerade]

William shook his head slowly. "I wish not to bother you whilst you treat this devil," he spoke mockingly. His voice was very strange, a sort of indifference plagued it and it contained no anger, no sorrow, and false happiness. "Logan Gyre, eh? No wonder the others could not find him. However, I am quite surprised that the other High Order knights never thought of our Dervish to be using an alias. It is a good thing that I did though. I suppose that King Albert was correct in allowing me to take charge of things." He waved his hand daintly in the air, drawing strange symbols with his index finger.

"By the way, it has occured to me that you have not spoken a single word since our initial encounter on the streets just minutes ago," the knight said in a voice expressing extreme curiosity. "Can you not speak? You had better thank the gods that I am a master of all forms of communication, otherwise...well, I'll leave that to the imagination, in which I hope yours is not full of nightmares." He finished tracing a design in the air that kind of looked like a butterfly. Without much effort, William snapped his fingers and the symbol he had traced glowed bright yellow. In mere seconds, a whole swarm of butterflies with brilliant glowing wings were daintily hovering about the room.

Standing in his doorway, Masquerade thought long and hard about the night's events so far. "I guess it matters not," he muttered to himself. "Tomorrow will be my chance to assess the situation more thoroughly. I get to go to the noble's birthday party after all."

At that moment, horse hooves were heard, clipping and clopping down the cobblestone street. A low knight reigned in the mighty beast as he got closer to the bakery. "You are Masquerade, manager of this bakery, correct?" the knight addressed him.

Masquerade nodded.

With a small nudge of his foot, the knight made the horse walk cautiously up to the baker. The knight reached into a burlap sack and pulled out a card of some sort. "You, sir, are formally invited to Madame Valentine's birthday tomorrow because you are doing her the great honor of making her cake. All the information is present in that invitation. Do not be late, unless you wish to enjoy the party outside the gates." He reached down and handed the card to Masquerade. Without waiting for a response, he snapped the reigns of the horse hard and galloped away without looking back.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

Grundy grit his fangs together as he fished some pliers and a razor-sharp dagger from his forge. His muteness was a subject he did not want pointed out to him. He was very self-conscious about the disability, mostly because to his people, one's voice was a very sacred part of one's spiritual identity. "Yes, it's true, I cannot talk. It has been this way for nineteen years." The blacksmith explained, kneeling beside his bunk. He watched the man produce a swarm of butterflies in mild wonder. "You are... a practitioner of magic?" He asked, turning to face Zack.

With the dagger, he cut the wounds open a little more and carefully removed the bolts with the pliers, making use of a blacksmith and craftsman's dexterity and precision. Zack had come to during the procedure, peering through his blurry eyes at Grundy as the wolf bandaged him up.

"You didn't have to do that y'know..." Zack murmured gingerly. "I have an awesome recovery rate."

"Had I not removed the bolts, you would've died." Grundy rolled his eyes, and got up. He winced, only now remembering the bolt on his the back of his upper inner thigh. He had one leg forward when it happened, and where it was brought him great pan and discomfort. Had it been any higher, he would've probably lost a testicle! Stepping up painfully onto his bed, he tried to treat himself, but found it hard to do so from his position. It was hard to cut himself when he couldn't see where or how big he had to open the wound. The bolts had hooks in them that prevented them from being yanked out without injuring oneself even more.

"Let me do that." Zack said suddenly, getting up. His back felt so much better now, and he had easily snatched the dagger out of Grundy's grasp.

"Hey-" Grundy furrowed his brows.

"Relax, lie down on your front. You saved my life didn't you? Lemme help you out so you owe me one again." The dingo stuck his tongue out.

Apprehensively, the wolf sighed and laid flat on his front on his bed, legs spread slightly.

The dingo got between the wolf's legs, and winked at William. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. I'm Logan Gyre, jack of all trades, master of one." He chuckled, and lifted the red loincloth that covered Grundy's backside, exposing his prominent, furry white balls and his firm, furry, lower buttcheeks. The bolt stuck out just underneath them, the fur around it stained with red.

Grundy said nothing. There was nothing sexual about this. He just wanted the bolt out.

Zack whistled. "It's in pretty deep." He said, and turned to face William. "And ain't that the cutest butt you ever did see?" He smirked. This statement caused Grundy to try and get up. "Woah- hey! No- don't move! Haha! I was only kidding!" The dingo apologized, and the wolf settled back down. The dingo made a few small incisions, and managed to get the bolt out without too much damage. It was however, a very messy job.

[Masquerade]

William chuckled dramatically, even going as far as to raise his hand wistfully to his mouth to laugh into it. "Well, you should not deign to be embarassed about having a cute butt, honest smith, but I will end the jest there at your sake. As for your question: no, I am no practioner of common magic. The magic I use is my own. I call it--Glyphography." To emphasize his point, he drew another symbol in the air with his finger that kind of looked like a small flame. And, of course, when he snapped his fingers, a miniscule fire appeared, hovering in midair. He whistled a jaunty tune and watched as the fire danced through the air, scorching the butterflies he had just created to ashes that fell beautifully to the floor. "I hope I answered your question." He smiled.

The fire flickered several times before a loud pop echoed throughout the forge as the flame vanished. William's gaze was still cheery, but he turned his attention to the thief. "Though I seriously doubt that Logan is your real name, I shall play along without the slightest indiscretion. I must say that you have rubbed me the right way, so to speak. I have chosen not to take you in. Pfft, I do not even care about those uptight knights and their so-called 'High Order'. However, the other twelve won't think the way I do, so I implore you to decrease your activities and not to aim at the civilians. The other High Order knights might not care, but I do."

William looked down at the floor solemnly, his once mocking face now a picture of despair. However, he fought through his sadness and produced two cards from a pocket sewn inside of his magnificent cloak. "Well, it seems I've found some friends." He smiled once again, but this time, it wasn't just for the theatrics. "My fiancé's birthday is tomorrow. She is a noble and it is sure to be a stupendous party. It would be great if you both could join me there. After the party, we're having a reception at King Albert's castle to celebrate our engagement. Of course, the only reason we get to go to the castle is because my fiancé is the king's niece. How lucky am I?" He laughed out loud, not even taking care to make it dramatic. "So, can I count on you two to be there? I know you both are injured, but it would make me very happy."

Masquerade pocketed his invitation and walked back into the bakery, shutting the wooden door behind him. "Well, Madame Valentine, this is sure to be a great birthday. I mean, you've already got a fantastic cake made by the best baker in Archaea. What more could you ask for?" The now jovial baker went back behind his wooden counter and began to ice each individual layer of the cake with such patience and ease that is difficult to find in anyone else.

[Frisk E. Coyote]

"Glyph-o-graphy..." Grundy had a little trouble portraying the new word through gestures and eye contact alone, having to resort to enunciating it silently. "Very impressive, Sir William. It must've been quite a feat to develop such a unique brand of magic, but don't take the words of an easily impressed smith for it... I'm afraid it won't vouch for much." He chuckled silently to himself.

"That's amazing, sir!" Zack chuckled, being quite fond of magic. "Ah, but you're right. Logan Gyre is not my birth name, but my chosen street-name. Yes, I'm sort of a whore, and to hear that I've rubbed you the right way brings me happiness! I'll rub you any time sir!" He laughed at his own pun. "That's very considerate of you to decide not to take me in. I'm in your debt. I will stop targeting upper-class civilians and limit myself to crime-lords and drug-dealers. Is this fair?" He asked.

"That's wonderful, congratulations!" Smithson smiled at William widely. Weddings were quite a big deal where he came from. "Its an honor have been invited on such a joyous occasion... but I'm afraid I do not have any suitable garments to be worn on the day! Surely your fiancee would question a barbaric smith in a loincloth?" He chuckled, embarrassed a little.

"Aw I'll lend you some clothes big guy! After all, I work for nobles too!" Zack thumped the smith's shoulder playfully. "Its really rare that I'd make friends, let alone after they've found out who I am. I promise you we'll be there sir, we wouldn't want to leave you hanging! I gotta show Big-White here how to behave around the upper class!" He laughed.

Meanwhile, a horse-drawn carriage stopped by in front of Masquerade's bakery. The driver stepped down and opened the doors, and a noble stepped out. He was a dingo with serene blue eyes and a sickly disposition. He had always been sick, even after numerous treatments and doctors. He was just happy that it wasn't fatal or contagious.

"Lord Krauzer, is this a good idea?" The driver asked the noble.

"I'm fine, I'm fine..." Alexander Krauser laughed weakly. "It will only take a few minutes Bronson... please wait here." He bowed his head briefly, and walked up to the bakery, coughing into his paw lightly. "Hello Masquerade. Are you open tonight or are you just airing out?" He asked the baker cheerily.

[Masquerade]

William's eyes were aglow now. "Yes, Mr. Gyre, that would be most fantastic! Plus, you know those crime lords and such make tons of coin, so the rewards will be great!" He laughed sort of nervously, his heartbeat increasing slightly with anxiety. He turned his attention to the smith. "As for clothes, the attire is optional. I mean, you have to wear something, but you can wear whatever you like. My fiancé and I would be most pleased if you just dressed naturally. It's only a birthday party, after all. No need to be so formal, right? And from what I can tell from your excellent manners, you'll be able to fit in just fine."

William laid the invitations down on a nearby table. "Make sure you bring these with you tomorrow. Since they don't have directions, just meet me in the town square and I'll escort you to the estate via my private coach. Oh! And I wouldn't recommend you eat anything before going, because the chef has went insane and cooked up a wonderful feast for such a simplistic party. There are sure to be many morsels." He smiled and turned to face the door. His face grew gravely serious, but was unseen to his new anthro friends. "The other 12 High Order knights will NOT be at the birthday party, but they will be present at the reception. All of them. So, I pray you do not do anything suspicious in their presence lest you wish to leave the castle in a burlap sack on your way to the cemetary."

At this point, he looked back at the two and winked. "But I'm sure that won't be a problem," he added and smiled. "I bid you my leave, friends. A good night to you, not that the moon won't soon be giving way to new light."

Masquerade was delicately icing beautiful roses on the edges of the different layers, connecting them with delicate vines made of the very same icing. It was difficult to determine whether the cake was food or art. A simple three-layer cake, but with such eloquent designs. The baker most certainly put his heart into his work.

He put his decorating bag down and dabbed the sweat from his brow with a cool towel. Taking a deep breath, for he sometimes forgot to breathe when he was icing, he bowed. "I have been long at work, sir noble, and thus I have decided to leave the bakery open for one set of four-and-twenty hours. After all, tomorrow, I fear that my modest little shop shall be closed. An important birthday is taking place! Well, look who I am talking to. Most surely you will be present?" Masquerade laughed deliriously. "By the gods, I am afraid I have been at my task for much too long! What damage would it do to my reputation if the baker fell asleep right in the middle of the king's niece's birthday? Why, I would never receive business again." He looked over the cake he was so close to finishing and then back at the noble.

"I must apologize. I fear my manners have left to be with the shadows on this dark night," Masquerade spoke calmly and bowed again. "What brings you to this little bakery tonight? My services are able to be taken advantage of by anyone."

[Frisk E. Coyote]

"Very well then, I really do hope no one minds a half-dressed savage sampling some of your chef's cuisine." Grundy laughed silently, though he felt a little anxious about it as well. He had never been invited to a party before. "Perhaps I can compensate with my best behavior if that's the case. I will meet you in the town square then, my new friend." He bowed his head briefly as a sign of courtesy.

"Me too. Food tastes best when it's free!" Zack chided in cheerfully. "Woah, gee, no problem sir. I'll behave myself when the time comes, I swear!"

"Farewell and goodnight, Sir Reschelle. Good fortune to you and your future wife." Grundy bid their new comrade goodbye. "Till we meet again, in daylight."

"Well, thanks again for helping me out, big guy." The dingo said, stretching a little before wincing as the pain from his wounds hit him like a frying pan. "I gotta get back to the-"

"You will do no such thing." The white wolf interrupted him. "You are injured, and there may be more bandits or killers out there. I can't allow you to leave."

"Aw man, but I can't stay here! Where'll I sleep?" Zach groaned. He was rather tired, and wanted nothing more than to sleep on a warm, comfy bed right now.

"Does mine not suffice?"

"...Fine, where will you sleep?"

"I can't sleep right now, I have to finish a client's commission." The wolf said, limping back out into his forge, where he picked up a hammer and a chisel as well as some varnish.

Zack sighed and laid back against the wolf's bed, folding his arms behind his head. It was warm in the room, quite toasty. The bed wasn't as comfortable as the one in his room back at the inn, but he didn't care about that right now, it felt so nice to be lying down. The bed smelled like the wolf too, it wasn't a bad scent, it was quite welcoming even. It made the bed seem like it welcomed him. He was accustomed to sleeping in others' beds, but this was the first time a bed made him feel so welcome or at home. It was a conundrum! Perking an ear up, he could hear the smith tinkering with what ever it was he was working on, making last minute carvings or decorations to something he couldn't see, only hear. It didn't sound heavy or even metal for that matter. It then occurred to him... the furnace was on, and the room was starting to get rather humid from the heat in the forge.

The dingo pulled his pants down his ankles and kicked them off, feeling a lot better as he tossed the blanket off him. He hoped the smith didn't mind him sleeping in the nude. He was so sleepy that even the sound of Grunder chiseling grooves and woodcarvings didn't ward off the dark, peaceful clutches of slumber. Before he knew it, he was sleeping soundly on his new friend's bed.

[Masquerade's Bakery]

Alexander smiled at the baker weakly and chuckled at himself. "Oh I was just on my way to the smith's hoping to collect my commission earlier than scheduled. I have an important recital for lady Valentine's birthday tomorrow, and one more after that, so I have to make sure that I can familiarize myself with the new instrument." The dingo explained, before covering his muzzle with a handkerchief and coughing into it weakly. He looked up at Masquerade and smiled apologetically, the shadows underneath his eyes did not make it look any less sincere or cheery.

"However, it isn't every day your bakery's open at this hour, is it? I simply love the pastries my servants purchase in your bakery, and couldn't help but stop by." Lord Krauzer explained, chuckling at his own love for sweet things. He was glad he was allowed to eat them, at least his sickness did not affect that. "Have you anything for sale this fine night? I'd like to bring something back for me and my servants to indulge in, and like me, they absolutely love your pastries."