W1RES-0V3RH34D

[azzie-beastbinder]

It's happening again. I'm getting messages for proposals to my boss for the second time... At least we only have to deal with three suitor parties total.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Bit late, but

@dominic-planar-posting, a brief review:

Totally fine. Good body. Makes cute noises when he gets hit. Needs a more dedicated service top probably.

1/2. Basically no know-how, but I’ve got no real objections, might go for another few rounds sometime.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Gotta improve my score, it's been an honour, truly.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Library Watch

Dom had hidden himself with a copy of a Planar Common translation of 'Code-Dependency - Technomancer's Practical Guide'. The shelves surrounding him looked identical to lower floors - pale crème finishes, clean continuations of that panelling across the floor and enough quiet to keep him safe.

So far, Kamigawa represented a new challenge. Biilzie had obviously betrayed him, hence why he hadn't responded to the pile of 27 love-letters he personally quilled, perfumed and added in some illustrations of himself. 'Surely she loves me still. She couldn't resist someone so much more, refined. I mean, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't talk to people, I wouldn't be as glamourous, she's just, everything.' His mind returned back from daydream with the recognition of his real goal - to become perfect for her. This book has to reflect some improvements and new technique for automated thopters, that could capture every angle of another's emotions. It was obvious, at least in Dom's mind, that Biilzie only ignored him because he still needed to prove himself. He could find every last displeasure, and pluck them out of his life like tweezers, pulling and snapping every last one.

So long as this stayed with him, and him alone, everything would work out. Khae, the brutish Prismari girl, kept spying on him throughout their short interactions, yet he still dismissed her, just another nuisance to be pushed out of the way when the time came. Friends are like that, in love. Obstacles between your lover's undying dedication and your own.

He read on for hours, with his notebook next to him. It was another one of the exorbitantly expensive Quandrix official books, which as much as they sunk him into debt, were worth it. Proof he could provide for another person. Treat them like a princess.

He put the book back, satisfied with the information. Time to fully separate from the group, and check out the cute cafe. The maids looked far more appealing that whatever the sight-seeing trip was going to be.

[dominic-planar-posting]

The Quandrix halls had pine-like skirtings lying beneath the papered walls, the doorways each marked off with differing primes, factors or natural phenomena. Dom’s door had some scrawl of 0’s and 1’s, and a silvered handle. The room itself was eerily clean, the carpet fresh and fluffed-up despite being typical, cheap weavings, and the centre of this barren entry-room held the beast - a thopter, twitching as Dom pulls with its wires. He’s facing the other doorway, into his room, rather than the main entryway.

“You can make a person move like that with a little know-how and a good way to open their skull.” The Prince steps into the room, closing the door behind her, tail flicking in anticipation. He turns his head to her, a quick breath following his sudden smile. “You made it! And just like picking a guy’s brain, this thing has tons of memories on it! You did mean that metaphorically right?” “What kinda memories?” He steps closer, hooves silent against the carpet, squatting to get to the thopter’s eye level. “I’ve not gone through them, gotta presume some juicy stuff though. Think you’d be interested in getting at them though? The bits and pieces in here seem totally compatible with my communicator model, probably yours too.” “Maybe. Mine’s… Avishkari, at the moment. Might be the longest I’ve ever kept one. Sounds worth trying.” She shrugs, holding up his communicator, sitting back on the carpet.

Much of the footage is benign. The thopter flying around, the odd glance through a window, until a shot argument between two students happening on the Quandrix campus in a courtyard, but too far to catch any audio. The hairstyle of one of them looks oddly familiar. Whoever it was suddenly punches the other, the camera drawing closer. There’s a faint yelling of “who the fuck do you think you are you-“ before Dom looks directly at Biilzie, with an uneasy haste. “You should really check some other footage, that must be something really private.” “… no, no, now I’m invested.” Biilzie’s ears are spread wide as she holds the communicator where they can both see. “Don’t you want to know what happened?” “No, no not at all, I wouldn’t-“ the argument runs on past Dom’s words, the communicator echoing clearer. “I’ve seen what you’ve done, I know everything you’ve done for days. The rumours, the spiting of him. You’re not even good enough to say her name.” “… huh.” The Princess reaches to futz with the thopter’s intestines, and the footage zooms in just slightly. A punch. Another swing from the other person, and the footage shows a dribble of blood. Blood from Dom’s nose, the other classmate lashing back again as the chanting of ‘FIGHT!’ drowned out the audio of the two’s collapsing brawl, a crowd collapsing around the duo.

“… Dominic. Where did you say you found this?” “That- that doesn’t matter I didn’t do anything its just, one of those things you find around campus like it’s no big deal really.” He nervously laughs, as he shuffles away from Biilzie. “Makes sense. Can’t believe you got in a fight without telling me, I would’ve watched.” “No no, I would never really it’s embarrassing, that footage it mustn’t been seen by anyone okay? You and only you can see it.” “Please. Good fighters are hot. What was it about, anyways? Or… who, I suppose.” “It’s just… this guy in my courses. His name is Androus, and he’s been starting rumours about you. The usual type of thing. And-and, I couldn’t let him keep calling you a whore and dumb and some nepotism-student so I confronted him. It’s so stupid, I know.” “Was he really? Well, now I’m flattered, if you were fighting in my honor. I’ll have to look into this Androus guy at some point…” “You’re not disappointed at all? Thank you, it means a lot.” Cogs started turning in the back of his mind, the beginnings of some new idea. But that would have to wait. “You can keep the footage, but the wings of the actual thopter are back in order. Wanna blow it up?” “Oh, always!” The Prince grins, standing back up, pocketing the communicator.

Dom steps away, opening the large, tessellated glass doors up onto a smaller balcony area, and clips two of the wires together. “It should hopefully fly in a circle after it leaves here, mind if I take a video of it going down?” “You start recording, I’ll throw it. This is gonna be awesome.” Before the thopter gets too close, Biilzie reaches under the chassis and does… something, but Dom was too focused on getting a good angle to notice what happened. The shot travels from Biilzie’s face, down her arm, and out into the open sky, as the thopter sails away, like a paper airplane on too much hard liquor, it executes a strangely graceful pirouette before slamming into the ground and catching fire.

“Got it!” Followed by the distinct clicking of a communicator turning off. “Thanks for disposing of it. You still got any time left?” “No classes until morning, and I shouldn’t need to sleep for another day, at least. What did you have in mind?” “We could always talk, you could always spend the night here… I mean I’d walk you to yours too of course it’s nothing major.” “And what, exactly, did you have in mind for if I were to spend the night?” He shifts to stand beside his bedroom door, peeking in before closing the door again. “Depends if you’d break through wooden beams or not.” “I’m very good at it. Keep talking?” Dom mutters to himself, something about replacing the frame. “How do I say this, can we sleep together? And stay together the rest of the night? Maybe into the morning too. Please?” “Lead the way, Dom-Dom.” He opens the door, shivering slightly as his smile shifts, nervous again. His room is just wide enough to fit his double bed, with a dresser behind the other side of the door. Everything has the same veneer covering it, even the cool floorboards. “I can, lead if you’d want to. Or you can, that’d also be totally fine.” “Lead the way to the bed, Dom. I’ll take over from there.” He climbs onto the bed, the mattress sinking instantly, as he rolls onto his back. “Do whatever you’d like to me. Please, I need you.” “Oh, Dominic,” Biilzie smiles broadly, climbing up to straddle him. “That was the plan.”

Thank you @biilziebub-rakdos for writing Biilzie's parts!

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Dominic sat in the dressing room, glaring at the mirror. His hair was slicked-over with gel, holding its shape easily behind a pair of glasses so thick they could stop a charging Mage Tower all-star, the lenses, thankfully, having been removed to prevent him being practically blind. He had a tacky jumper on, argyles switching through the show between creme and autumn browns into the colour of shoe leather and 'blegh', with the sleeves removed to showcase a button-down the colour of aged paper. He retucked the front of his shirt into the pleated slacks, looking somewhat like an aged New Capennan film character, minus the newsboy hat. At least his later act costume changes had color, red and green assaulting eachother on plaid battlegrounds, a loosened tie and even—the pinnacle of fashion—some drops of fake blood to smear across his hand. Just got to hope it didn't end up real blood, his floral costar’s actor was... certainly gifted for the role. If it only it was Biilzie operating a puppet, and not some Witherbloom monstrosity.

The Biilzie in question is, of course… lounging. Having a role with no WHAM and no costumes beyond stage blacks leaves one entirely free to spend this sort of liminal time occupied with absolutely nothing. In an absolute fit of boredom, the beloved Princess aims for amusement, and steps into the dressing room, walking up behind Dominic with a natural self-assuredness and the distinctive click of hooves on tile, prompting Dominic to turn around, his face shifting upwards.

“Hey, Biilzie! Been a couple hours since I last saw you. That feels way longer than it actually is, you ready for this?” He pulled at his collar, trying to keep it down despite its insistence on spiking upwards.

Biilzie makes a truly shocked and horrified face, pressing a finger insistently to his lips! They are, after all, both still, technically, supposed to be on vocal rest… not that even such an actor as Biilzie can maintain seriousness for long, letting out a snort, then a laugh. “For a role like this? Dom-dom, I was born ready.” He reaches over, adjusting the errant collar. It stays down this time.

Dominic stammers briefly, smiling as his eyes do their standard, panicking dance around his face. He nods out a few words as his face burns up. “Thank you, it’s uh, an honour starring with you and stuff and things. And stuff.”

“I know it is. I’m glad you’re my costar. And stuff. Tell me, are you one of those uptights who goes full ascete for show nights?”

“N-no, I shouldn’t be! What are you suggesting?” There’s a pulse of nerves, it shudders from his feet through his body, a bead of sweat forming above his brow as it climbs its way through him.

“I’m hosting after the performance.” The Prince leaves the invitation unsaid, just… watching Dominic’s response.

“Alone or, more people? I have something I wanna show you after if that’s okay.” Dominic is starting to get a glisten in his eyes, sparkles of hope, passion or both.

“Everyone’s invited, which means everyone will be busy if you want us to be alone.”

"If you wouldn't mind, there's some stuff I wanna say after. Oh, and break a leg, this performance should go perfect."

“I could, it’s got nothing to do with my performance!” Biilzie lets out a laugh, tail and wings flicking, distinctly pleased.

"Thanks Biilzie. Can't wait to hear you on-stage. How long do we have before we're going on?"

“Enough time for… look up for me?” One of Biilzie’s eyebrows is raised, gazing down on Dominic like some great, unfathomable beast… like a predator.

He does so, of course, snapping his head upwards. He had hopes for what Biilzie would do, but he kept his mouth shut, glancing between Biilzie and the ceiling, but hopes will, for now, be dashed.

Biilzie reaches forwards and applies just a little bit of blush, moving with surgical precision. “You’re uneven.”

"Huh. Yeah, thank you for catching it. First time having much on my face."

“A whole school dedicated to the arts, you’d think they could find someone half-decent for stage makeup. Now then, shall we?”

"Shall we... yes that's probably what we should be doing." Dominic has no idea what Biilzie is talking about, but presumed Biilzie knew. Hopefully.

In a motion far too casual, Biilzie pulls Dominic up to stand, already halfway turned to lead them out the door. Dominic, of course, follows along. There isn’t much time before the show itself, the clocks really had ran away from him.

As soon as the pair are out in the open hallway, Biilzie stops, turns, and pulls Dominic into a kiss that drags him back to that rehearsal weeks ago, pulling him just barely close enough not to mess up the makeup. Dominic kisses back. There's a muffled sound as their lips meet, as he tries to hold Biilzie for the moment, but the moment passes all too soon, and Biilzie eventually pulls away.

“They’ll be mad if we aren’t onstage in… ten seconds.”

"I'll see you during the interval. Doing my best for you!" Dominic dashes for the stage, trying to conceal the blush and heat on his face the best he can without smudging his makeup.

“Good.” Biilzie nods approval and keeps walking, just as casual as before the kiss.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

As is common in the immediate aftermath of a successful opening night—and this was a successful opening night—, the cast and crew Princess Biilziebub leads are truly buzzing with excitement. Everyone is presently divided, with one eye still reliving their own favorite parts, be that a highest note, lowest fall, or perfect plant puppetry, while the other looks ahead. Three more showings and they would be free, no more tech week, no more rehearsals, the overwhelming bittersweet of a show now over. And, in the more immediate future, the party.

Everyone already knows where it is. The Prince’s dorm has been a known party hotspot since orientation, when an errant pyrotechnic left the revels visible from the deepest reaches of the Detention Bog. Biilzie has since leaned into this reputation, hosting several hundred hours of party over the course of something like seven actual, distinct events.

Tonight is a rare occasion! For the event of the post-show celebration, the room has been cleared out. All the usual hedonists and revelers have been turned away, leaving this the quietest the room has been in almost anyone’s memory. This leaves everything strange about the room deeply obvious.

The first thing likely to be noticed is the sheer size. The dorm is easily three times the width and twice the height of any other freshman dorm, even if the thin, sweet-smelling purple haze suffusing the air makes it hard to make out exact dimensions. Fortunately, any post-show group will easily become far too distracted by the apparently fresh buffet table to question such base matters as architecture or the exact effects of that smoke that slowly filters out the open—is that a balcony?

Dominic had been one of the first through the door, dropping the usual coat for a diamond-within-a-diamond button-down shirt, and one of the spare pairs of slacks lightly pilfered from the show. His attempts at socialising with the rest of the cast kept failing, be it sentences running on, fading into uninterested back-channelling, continually hindered by his preoccupation with coasting between items on the buffet table and looking over at Biilzie. A deviled egg, a glance over, an interaction that fizzled out as soon as it began—it was like a new choreography, something passively being observed by an outsider without the usual song, the timings completely abstracted by the haze of other instruments. Or whatever that mist was, be it perfume, a hotbox, possibly both. Of all the days not to bring that Witherbloom testing kit… the chemistry at play in the air could’ve been fascinating.

Whatever. He had an actual plan with this party. ‘Gathering all the information’, as he’d bragged to his one friend.

Even with his troubles, conversation does seem to be getting just a little easier as the party runs, and gathering information even easier than that, the smoke and the energy loosening most tongues and a few articles of clothing. It isn’t long, however, before the Princess steps over to Dominic on his own accord, currently between kebabs from the buffet.

“You had wanted to talk with me, hadn’t you?”

Dominic looks up from the table, directly at Biilzie for the first time in a while. He’s fidgeting with something that looks almost like a copper coin. “Yes, I almost forgot about that. Do you mind having it be uh, private? It’s not something I want everyone knowing about.”

Without missing a beat, Biilzie shouts something about taking seven minutes with the star, to a reception of laughter and one or two cruder noises, then begins to guide Dominic through the crowd and into what seems to be a decidedly larger closet than first year dorms are supposed to have.

Dominic sighs out a thank you as he drifts through the crowd, following the Princess, closing the door behind them, the wooden slats clattering. “Sorry for getting you away from everyone, but have you ever thought about like, seeing anyone in particular? I know you’re not like, the monogamous type so if it’s multiple people I get it but- yeah?”

“Not particularly. I’ve been asked, but the idea has never really appealed to me, y’know?”

Dominic lets out a defeatist sound, somewhere between a whine and sigh. “Not anyone? Ever? I mean, you could always try it once right?”

The look in the Prince’s eye shifts a bit, looking very nearly predatory as she gazes at Dominic. “As I said, I haven’t really felt that particular urge. That said, are we only here to discuss a hypothetical romance?”

The beginnings of entitlement shift his face, the bitter facade of ‘defeat’ refusing to show itself yet. “Yeah. It’s kind of what made me wanna actually out for the show. I’ve always been able to act but, y’know, it would’ve been nice to actually impress you.”

Biilzie cocks his head just slightly, one ear flicking. It seems, quite possibly for the first time Dominic would’ve seen, that something has not gone to plan. “You have. You did a very good job in the show.”

“Is that not, enough for you? I can do like, so much more if that’s what’ll earn your hand, I mean it’s hardly an issue.” Dom’s posture shifts, he’s leaning forwards with a returning shiftiness, the look of a man ready to beg, and whine, and cry until his desire is coddled.

“Dominic,” this is easily the first time in a while that Biilzie has actually said his full name, “I think this might be a conversation that’s better for after the show.”

“B-“ there’s a huff as his voice drops out, as he shifts all the way back, “fine. It’ll wait. I’ve got work to get done anyway.” He opens the wardrobe door, storming out.

Biilzie just watches, mouth closed, brow furrowed. Not quite understanding what just happened. Whatever was in Dom’s hand is gone as he pushes through the crowd, the door slamming as he heads out into the hall. The odd voice trails off, stumbling over the sounds of the door, but the party rolls on after the brief hiccup. Biilziebub, eternally life of the party, rolls on with it, pushing whatever just happened far out of his mind.

[azzie-beastbinder]

Ghostmark had been nervous the entire time the play went on. One of the very minor actors had gotten sick last-minute, leaving the behind-the-scenes crew scrambling to fill the role. Ghostmark had wound up drawing the short straw and had to quickly learn the lines to cover. In her own eyes, she hadn't completely screwed up (though if you asked anyone else, they would have said she did a good job).

Now at the afterparty, she was staying near the edges of it all. It was quieter than most parties hosted by Biilziebub apparently were, but she still found it a little overwhelming. She had gone back to wearing darker colors to blend back in with the shadows after the show, but she was favoring a cozy dress instead of her usual borderline-armored attire. While she occasionally made quiet trips to the buffet table, she focused instead on the room and those coming and going. A Reckoner kept an eye on the area, after all. She hadn't heard whatever argument led to the star of the play storming out, so she just minded her own business and quietly filed away that change in dynamics.

After Dominic left, Ghostmark quietly excused herself to get a better look at the balcony. Mostly to see just how architecturally stable it actually was.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Structurally, it’s entirely sound. Architecturally, it doesn’t… make sense. It looks absolutely nothing like any similar structure on the building, the slopes and angles looking Ravnican, Rakdosi, if Ghostmark can recognize that. From a far enough vantage, it looks almost like an alien growth on the side of the dorm.

[dominic-planar-posting]

[Camera footage. It’s live footage from the corner of a Quandrix dormitory hallway.]

I’ve found out the security of this campus is awfully weak. I’ve seen no staff accounts and default student communicators don’t have access to here. I should report this, shouldn’t I? It’d be such a shame if any footage of anyone was posted here.

[azzie-beastbinder]

The history of ogres in Kamigawa is a nightmare to research, especially because everyone who isn't an ogre keeps using the formal name for their mages (o-bakemono) as a synonym for "ogre" itself. But with plenty of help and brain-numbing research, I have gotten somewhere with this introduction.

The ogres of Kamigawa are typically very tall due to the fact that they never stop physically growing and have no natural end of their lifespan. They also are proportionately wide, typically in the form of working muscle rather than the show muscle of bodybuilders on other planes. There are technically two variations, furry and...furless? Bald? I tried looking into why there's a difference, especially because, contrary to what one might think, the furless ogres tend to be the ones who live in the Sokenzan mountains (where ogres are reportedly from) and the Takenuma Swamp, while the furred ones are usually found in places like Towashi. This has been maddening to research.

It would, however, be a disservice to not talk about the o-bakemono, since that's the first thing that comes to mind for many Kamigawans when the topic of ogres, their cultural practices, and their history comes up. I have to stress that the information I could find and share is based on what other people know about it, because the actual details of being an o-bakemono are kept secret and only passed from mentor to student. But we do have a little information to work with.

Firstly, "o-bakemono" translates to "great changing one". This has been described to outsiders by o-bakemono themselves as being related not just to their own forms, but also to their role: they change things and are changed themselves. This is reportedly done primarily through blood oaths with oni, of which there are many examples, but also occasionally through the employment of yokai spirits (which are spirits who are technically not kami or oni yet also are, it's complicated) and through the usage of magics derived from the spirit realm without a kami or oni mediator. Given...so many factors, o-bakemono practices are both closed to outsiders and not well-studied or understood. It took me a full week just to get this much.

Generally speaking, ogres tend to build communities at the edges of the Jukai Forest and in Towashi's Undercity, while solo ogres will set up homes in the Takenuma Swamp or in the Sokenzan Mountains. (That's not to say you won't find ogre communities in the latter two places, just that you have to hike farther and be luckier to find them.)

Alongside their o-bakemono, there's a strong martial tradition in blunt weapons. While combat traditions are typically only respected if they're sword-related in Kamigawa, ogres have come up with specific techniques for clubs, mauls, and other such weapons. And they're good with them, generally speaking. Physical prowess ranks high alongside magical prowess among ogre communities.

Like humans (which we will cover later), ogre names are pretty standard and aren't translated into planar common as combined words like kitsune and nezumi names are. They also tend to be gender-neutral even by Kamigawan names and rarely change. Family, clan, or surnames are not typically used by ogres unless they're raised by someone who does. Epithets are more common and typically portray how the ogre sees themself, which is caught on by those who interact with them. These epithets are the things that change the most in an ogre's life.

Other than that... It was hard enough to get to this point, so I'll definitely circle back to this later when I learn more, just like I would or do with every other species in Kamigawa.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

Ob Nixilis, a brief review:

He’s fine. That’s basically it. As much as I do enjoy a big man, he was deeply unexciting and then just fell asleep after. At least it made taking his stuff easy.

2/5, fine if you’re bored and in the area.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Can anyone get a review?

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I nod, almost absentmindedly, and nudge Dominic gently to the front of the target, making sure my voice doesn’t stop or slow as I guide him into the straps. “Maybe a bit, or just an adjustment, what do you think? How would you style it, just a little bit shorter? Oh, and have you ever considered an ear piercing?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He runs along with every word, every thought. A sidesweep could be fun, maybe a helix piercing but he hadn’t really considered it, maybe curl his hair and use shave the sides, maybe-

Click.

“Do most haircuts here involve these sorts of restraint? I can stand or sit still by myself.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Oh, this is all very important. That’s Hans, your barber,” I gesture to Hans, a tall, broad man with no shirt and a large number of knives. He waves. “And you just tell him exactly what you want.”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He turns to Hans. “Awful chilly isn’t it? Uh… short back and sides?” He tries to turn the rest of his body back to Biilzie, but it’s locked in place. “This is normal right? RIGHT?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Do not move. I always hit where I want hit, don’t put nose where I want hit!” Hans laughs like an earthquake, beaming as Klaus approaches, grabbing the edge of the target wheel. I take the opportunity to take a step back.

[dominic-planar-posting]

“BIILZIE! IS THIS NORMAL?” Dom’s full body is pushing against the wheel, his face draining of colour as it runs with sweat, the rolling waves meeting his unfortunate grimace as he stares at Klaus.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I wink and Klaus giggles. “Don’t worry, just don’t move too much. Alright?” Before Dominic can actually respond, Klaus has begun to spin the wheel, taking a few goes to get it to a really dizzying speed. For whatever cold comfort it can provide, Hans is stuffing the blindfold into his pocket as he readies a knife.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom closes his eyes and braces for impact. This is it, this is the end, this entire carnival was a terrible idea why would he EVER want to see you if this is her idea of a casual event?

He’s half-conscious when the spinning ends, the motion sickness combined with Han’s constant near-misses of his face were more than enough to pass-out mid-spin.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

He’ll… probably wake back up to the roar of the crowd, his arms gently puppeted by Klaus, walking him around and having him exaggeratedly thank Hans for the haircut. Tiny as it is, the needle is still about halfway through his earlobe. I look distinctly pleased.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I nod, almost absentmindedly, and nudge Dominic gently to the front of the target, making sure my voice doesn’t stop or slow as I guide him into the straps. “Maybe a bit, or just an adjustment, what do you think? How would you style it, just a little bit shorter? Oh, and have you ever considered an ear piercing?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He runs along with every word, every thought. A sidesweep could be fun, maybe a helix piercing but he hadn’t really considered it, maybe curl his hair and use shave the sides, maybe-

Click.

“Do most haircuts here involve these sorts of restraint? I can stand or sit still by myself.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Oh, this is all very important. That’s Hans, your barber,” I gesture to Hans, a tall, broad man with no shirt and a large number of knives. He waves. “And you just tell him exactly what you want.”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He turns to Hans. “Awful chilly isn’t it? Uh… short back and sides?” He tries to turn the rest of his body back to Biilzie, but it’s locked in place. “This is normal right? RIGHT?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Do not move. I always hit where I want hit, don’t put nose where I want hit!” Hans laughs like an earthquake, beaming as Klaus approaches, grabbing the edge of the target wheel. I take the opportunity to take a step back.

[dominic-planar-posting]

“BIILZIE! IS THIS NORMAL?” Dom’s full body is pushing against the wheel, his face draining of colour as it runs with sweat, the rolling waves meeting his unfortunate grimace as he stares at Klaus.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I wink and Klaus giggles. “Don’t worry, just don’t move too much. Alright?” Before Dominic can actually respond, Klaus has begun to spin the wheel, taking a few goes to get it to a really dizzying speed. For whatever cold comfort it can provide, Hans is stuffing the blindfold into his pocket as he readies a knife.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom closes his eyes and braces for impact. This is it, this is the end, this entire carnival was a terrible idea why would he EVER want to see you if this is her idea of a casual event?

He’s half-conscious when the spinning ends, the motion sickness combined with Han’s constant near-misses of his face were more than enough to pass-out mid-spin.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I nod, almost absentmindedly, and nudge Dominic gently to the front of the target, making sure my voice doesn’t stop or slow as I guide him into the straps. “Maybe a bit, or just an adjustment, what do you think? How would you style it, just a little bit shorter? Oh, and have you ever considered an ear piercing?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He runs along with every word, every thought. A sidesweep could be fun, maybe a helix piercing but he hadn’t really considered it, maybe curl his hair and use shave the sides, maybe-

Click.

“Do most haircuts here involve these sorts of restraint? I can stand or sit still by myself.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Oh, this is all very important. That’s Hans, your barber,” I gesture to Hans, a tall, broad man with no shirt and a large number of knives. He waves. “And you just tell him exactly what you want.”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He turns to Hans. “Awful chilly isn’t it? Uh… short back and sides?” He tries to turn the rest of his body back to Biilzie, but it’s locked in place. “This is normal right? RIGHT?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Do not move. I always hit where I want hit, don’t put nose where I want hit!” Hans laughs like an earthquake, beaming as Klaus approaches, grabbing the edge of the target wheel. I take the opportunity to take a step back.

[dominic-planar-posting]

“BIILZIE! IS THIS NORMAL?” Dom’s full body is pushing against the wheel, his face draining of colour as it runs with sweat, the rolling waves meeting his unfortunate grimace as he stares at Klaus.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I nod, almost absentmindedly, and nudge Dominic gently to the front of the target, making sure my voice doesn’t stop or slow as I guide him into the straps. “Maybe a bit, or just an adjustment, what do you think? How would you style it, just a little bit shorter? Oh, and have you ever considered an ear piercing?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He runs along with every word, every thought. A sidesweep could be fun, maybe a helix piercing but he hadn’t really considered it, maybe curl his hair and use shave the sides, maybe-

Click.

“Do most haircuts here involve these sorts of restraint? I can stand or sit still by myself.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Oh, this is all very important. That’s Hans, your barber,” I gesture to Hans, a tall, broad man with no shirt and a large number of knives. He waves. “And you just tell him exactly what you want.”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He turns to Hans. “Awful chilly isn’t it? Uh… short back and sides?” He tries to turn the rest of his body back to Biilzie, but it’s locked in place. “This is normal right? RIGHT?”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I nod, almost absentmindedly, and nudge Dominic gently to the front of the target, making sure my voice doesn’t stop or slow as I guide him into the straps. “Maybe a bit, or just an adjustment, what do you think? How would you style it, just a little bit shorter? Oh, and have you ever considered an ear piercing?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He runs along with every word, every thought. A sidesweep could be fun, maybe a helix piercing but he hadn’t really considered it, maybe curl his hair and use shave the sides, maybe-

Click.

“Do most haircuts here involve these sorts of restraint? I can stand or sit still by myself.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“It’s probably either the fried honeycomb—Gavony has the sweetest honey in the multiverse—or the cotton candy. Before we do that, though… how would you feel about a haircut?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

He begins ruffling with his hair, pulling out a little pocket mirror as he adjusts it. “Too long for your taste? I totally agree it’d be way better how you want it.” There’s an unnaturally hopeful pace to his speech, like every word is slipping over eachother to be heard.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“We aren’t allowed to start violence. Part of a whole thing with the cathars, it really is putting a damper on things. Have you gotten food?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Explains why nobody’s successfully hit anyone yet. And yeah, managed to find a couple things. But I’m just thinking about what your favourite here would be. Yknow, it’d be pretty awesome to get it together maybe?”

The sound of the wheel’s straps loosening and the metal clattering against wood rolls through his awkward pause.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”

[biilziebub-rakdos]

The Cirque Ziebub sits like an engorged vampire attached to the body of Breathold, bursting with all the sounds of a carnival. People have come from everywhere to be here, trekking miles across the mountains or simply hopping an omenpath. The big top, sitting at the center of the festivities, is a riot of noise and color, an announcement of everything that can be found here.

But the big top is only one stage, and the rest of the theatre holds mysteries and joys too numerous to count.

Tracing out from the center is a spiderweb of tents, carts, and booths, stretching both into the surrounding wilds and into the heart of Breathold itself, with entertainment, diversion, or simply food held in every structure and most of the gaps between. Lady Shoshana reading the fortunes of those who desire to know, Hans shaving heads from fifty paces, Brognik carrying a pair of dark iron cauldrons full of laughing children, Elga reaching down from her stilts and granting the occasional moment of flight to those stuck below her, the smell of frying food competing with the candles set to the air by a few of our resident witches.

Perhaps most visually striking is the Wheel, a great glowing eye gazing out across all of Stensia, drawing those brave enough to experience the blend of Ravnican and Kamigawan technology up above the Cirque, above Breathold, nearly high enough to see over the Geier Reach. From that high up, Innistrad is a thing of beauty, with town and Cirque fading to a glimmering jewel on the great hide of the plane.

For each entertainment experienced, each fortune told, each game won, each snack eaten, there is a price. But, the Ringmaster is kind and generous. The Cirque accepts all standardized currencies, precious metals, and sentimental attachments at fair conversion rates.

[dominic-planar-posting]

Dom was sneaking around the fairground, dodging eye contact as he wandered around the park. He had the common sense not to set up any relays, send out any thopters, or gather any info that way on Innistrad, he already had enough people giving him shifty looks. His goal was to keep Biilzie's attention on him, to perceive him enjoying her work on the festival. This was going to be a long weekend, every direction gave him another reason to leave. Especially that wheel, the mere sight of such a device that outshone anything he'd ever make made his blood boil.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

I cock my head slightly as I see who I think is Dominic, though I am behind him, and I really don’t see why he would be… huddled behind one of Hans’s larger targets, apparently? Interested, I step closer, staying behind him, now entirely sure that, yes, this is Dominic. Strange. I cross my arms and wait for him to turn.

[dominic-planar-posting]

He swivels around, getting up slightly from his crouched position.

“Biilzie! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, just got a little distracted back here. You look different, love what you’ve done with your everything.” He’s approaching Biilzie slowly.

[biilziebub-rakdos]

“Thank you, I did my best to work within Innistradi fashion… can’t say I agree with all of their tastes, but I do like the mask.” I wink, only visible as one of the lights in the deer’s eye sockets momentarily going out. “What were you doing back there?”

[dominic-planar-posting]

“Nothing shady, promise. You can check. Just kept hearing the thuds of the sharp stuff and thought I’d be hit if I moved from that spot. Thanks for fishing me out.”