The Marrowvine's Black Harvest Ball

You have been invited to a very exclusive costume party hosted by two of the most well known dark elves in Sol city. Rich, nobles who have their hands in many of Charon's social circles are known for throwing the best Black Harvest party every year. You have recently received an invitation inviting you to join the family at their mansion in Sol City, having left your mark on Charon and earning a spot in a different kind of circle.

As you arrive you notice the party has already started, a massive mansion with gardens, terraces and balconies spans out before you, filled with hundreds of people dressed in various kinds of costumes, from elegant, to practical and even comical. Drinks are consumed as butlers move about offering free snacks and things to eat for the guest. You continue towards the party, passing by lanterns and orbs of light freely floating through the air, giving the entire outside a soft glow.

The sounds of music and dancing escape out from the inside of the mansion, bright lights illuminating the interior as you see a massive, ornate ball room open up, with crowds of people both in and outside of the mansion enjoying their time. You spot the host, two Dark Elves, one in a pitch black dress and the other wearing a fine suit. They share laughter and joy with a group of nobles and notice that many of the people here hold very high positions of power in Charon.

You begin to wonder how you managed to get an invite here, how your name entered the minds of people such as these. However as the smell of food and the draw of the party pulls tighter, this thought quickly passes as you hurry in to join the festivities!

"Is this... really necessary?" Judgement and wear add subtlety to the overwhelming colours of the unseen angel's unheard voice.

"Yeh.
(Yes.)" No hesitation, yet barely a murmur.

It's almost difficult to even spot the minuscule quarterling mincing through the gates. Under the wide brim of her costume witch hat, her face is completely obscured, as are, for her, the faces of the crowd: an agreeable arrangement. She's wearing the same witch's costume from that Infernal game. It stinks of bad memories and 'cheap,' but she'd sooner stroll in wearing a burlap sack than spend a solar on this charade of an event. Besides, trying to find a decent costume? In *her* size? She'd have more luck with Mr. Game than any Sol City gimmick parlour.

"Right. I'm sure I don't need to inform you to remain alert? For you to suddenly receive an invitation like this is suspicious, don't you think?"

"Ejal pa. Ejal ou. Ak un's ah nelaid - ak Maa heth vienda - Maa besi tam awett.
(Highly suspicious. Highly alert. If it's a trap - if I have enemies - I need to know.)"

"Then why aren't you just marching in with your... whatever they're called? Golems?" The condescending, yet interrogational tone is all to familiar to Veliky by now.

"Man kama heth na mot sur bavienda aht nect?
(Do angels know the saying about flies and honey?)"

The archangel turns toward the great, decorated mansion. His tone becomes more understanding, more tolerant.

"'Thieves and gold,' we used to say. But yes, I'm familiar with the concept."

Raguel lets in a long breath of resignation. He doesn't need to breathe. He doesn't have such base, mortal functions. It's a statement.

"Well..." He exhales long and pointedly. "I suppose it's your prerogative. But I'm not going in with you. You're alone for it."

The demanding, oppressive presence fades. It's a weight off Veliky's little shoulders.

"Yes, alone. That's the idea."

But, just as she takes another step, a shrill, yet monotonous voice interrupts her.

"Mistress Veliky, correction: we are also present. You are not alone."

It comes from a tiny creature suddenly materializing beside her: a golem in the shape of a spider^[1]. Its normally silver hull has been painted black, and a tiny pair of feline ears is prosoma. And, well, to call it 'tiny' is only partly accurate. For a spider, it's massive - the size of a cat, and nearly as long as Veliky is tall - but it, like her, is practically unnoticeable in the crowd.

Veliky had nearly forgotten it was even there, making its reminder far from superfluous.

"Thank you, Stalker. Return to stealth mode."

With a high-pitched chirp, its body dematerializes again, and Veliky enters the Courtyard proper.

---

1. (Prismatic Spider) Stalker

The gala is abuzz; and the hum of party-goers fills the air in the gardens as participants mingle with one another.

A thin, silken blue cloak shimmers amongst the new entrants as they pass into the garden; his hood is cast up over long red hair, curled slightly as it falls past his shoulders. As he steps through the garden’s gates, Cantio lowers the hood, revealing delicate golden jewelry trailing from red horns, draping to a golden circlet settled neatly atop his head as he looks about at the party-goers.

This is certainly not his first party.

He steps quietly, glancing about as he folds his hands together behind his back; the dress beneath the long, thin cloak sways with his motion. It’s not necessarily a ball-gown; the skirts and layers aren’t thick or too poofy for his preference; and it has enough motion and freedom that it doesn’t feel too awkward to move about in.

Cinched by a crimson, golden embroidered corset, Cantio slips into the party in fluttering crimson and gold embroidered skirts; delicate, white laced sleeves drape loosely around his wrists bangled with thin, gold bracelets as he offers a passing smile to a small group of noble women huddled about the staircase. His mask, tonight, is a simple blue to match the cloak, with a series of feathers sporting from one side, and embroidered decoratively in a few places.

It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? A masquerade; a costume party; where you could be anyone but yourself? He comes alone to this party tonight, but he feels a bit like a princess all dressed up like this. He raises a hand to his lips, chuckling to himself as he moves past the women; raising his skirts as he steps cautiously up their marble. He looks past the people gathering, swarming, and flitting about the party. There's all types of people here; but there is one thing that they share...

They're all quite important people... aren't they?

Cantio blinks, turning his eyes quickly away from a glance that he garners from a man he recognizes from Sol City's upperclass. He brushes a lock of crimson hair behind an ear as he reaches the last step, and sways aside to allow the passerbys to slip by him. He ensures he's not blocking the door, and moves to lean his back against one of the marble columns; he idly fidgets with the silken blue drape of his cloak while he looks out, briefly observing the partygoers in the garden from the front balcony.

Sol City. Kamille never thought she'd be here so soon, once again. Part of her feared who might recognize her - was her former Master invited? Maybe Baram, her former fiancee? Or even Charles...?

Part of her yearned for that.

Her daydream was interrupted when the carriage stopped. It was easy enough to buy a ride for the night, with a little bit of gold and a well placed friendship, as always. Looking out, she smiled at the sight of the great manor, overflowing with music and people. It's been so long since she last attended a ball, she hoped she still knew how to dance. The Marrowvine's parties were legendary, and finally she'd be able to see it for herself. Maybe the invitation had something to do with her recent joining the Mage's Guild - if the night was spent wisely, she might have the chance to find out.

The Witch of Moonglade stepped out of the carriage, no longer covered in black. Tonight, her attire was more luxurious than ever, mostly of a rich, deep red. Her dress had, more or less, a mermaid fit - tight fitted at the waist and flowing away from her body from the hips down, the upper layers comprised of red laces and silks, the bottom ones in black. Roses and heart patterns were everywhere, as black, white and gold details decorated the sleeves and torso. Her black hair was elegantly braided, also decorated with strands of gold and heart shaped rubies that caught up the flickering lights of the floating orbs. A small, delicate crown finished the look of the Queen of Hearts.

Once she stepped out, she waited a moment until she heard another, heavier weight being lifted from the carriage, despite nothing being seen. Kamille felt Edgar's presence, even if he was invisible. Allan and Poe were elsewhere, carrying out other tasks for the moment, so she decided to bring Edgar along as a bodyguard of sorts.

She felt the chilly night wind play with her hair, despite not feeling the cold. A bright smile played with her lips as she looked up to the manor and the elegant partygoers. Mischief landed on her shoulder. The only thing she managed to attach to the damned bird was a white bowtie, with a heart in the center - because a black one wouldn't be visible among his black feathers.

She had the feeling this was going to be a night to remember.

The sound of clicking hooves on flagstone were drowned out by the clamor of the crowd around him making small talk. Asking about things like how their families were doing, their latest vacations, and other mundane topics. How drab.

The tall figure stood out above a vast majority of the crowd, at seven feet tall. Their skin had been painted red and they had fake ram's horns and black goat's ears attached to the sides of their head, whatever was attaching them must have been hidden in their reddish brown hair. He had a handsome face with a bit of facial hair on his chin, his mouth smiling warmly.

He also wore a black suit jacket with a white buttoned shirt and a stylish red tie to match the face paint. His hands were also painted red and had long, black, pointed nails glued on. His legs were covered in a very well made pair of black goat's legs with a long tail tipped with a large tuft of fur that matched their hair hanging down behind them and black cloven hooves to complete the demon costume.

He stopped for a moment to adjust his tie and then looked out over the crowd for any familiar or interesting faces. This ball seemed to be a promising place to find some possible future clients. He had been happy to receive the invitation, but not surprised. His reputation was well known even if his face wasn't. He just hoped this would be worth the trip.

"Oh my, what a costume!" an older man called to him. The man was dressed in what looked to be a walrus costume. Or maybe hat was just his real mustache. His fangs were a little short for a walrus.

"The horns are so realistic."

"Thank you. I made them myself. They took quite a while." He replied to the old man, smiling and tapping one of the horns.

"Really! How impressive! Oh, and the hooves! Did you make those as well?"

"Why, yes, I did."

"Goodness! How ever did you make those? Wait, don't tell me. They're stilts, right? That would also explain the height."

"Oh my, how did you know? There's just no fooling you, is there? You're far too clever for me."

The two just laughed quietly together for a moment before he bid the walrus man farewell and continued moving deeper into the party. He moved surprisingly gracefully for someone on stilts. They did look very realistic. Some people even thought they might be real until he said they were just stilts.

The invitation to the Marrowvine’s Black Harvest Ball came as a surprise, and Zarius almost refused to attend out of suspicion of foul play. His family’s insistence, however, convinced him to take a chance to see what the event was all about.

Still, coming back to Sol City to yet another party was risky if anyone recognized him. He briefly wondered if the goofy violin playing bard would be there, but figured that he probably had his fill of such events after last time.

Out of caution, he opted to ask Caedes to accompany him. There was a chance they could run into some of their mutual allies or make some new powerful connections at the event to help with their individual goals. He doubted the reclusive assassin would go himself without some encouragement, so after some ribbing and teasing they both arrive on the grounds of the estate.

The charcoal-skinned tiefling is dressed to the nines in an elegant black satin coat with gold embroidery which falls just below the knees, knee-high tall black riding boots, and black dress pants. He wears the coat open at the front to reveal that his torso up to his neck and his hands are wrapped in white gauze. A costume was a requirement of the event, so he opted to revive the mummification inspired costume he was forced into during an unfortunate night with Veliky, but this time with pants just to be on the safe side.

His horns, which now have intricate patterns engraved into them, are also boasting a set of gold tapered caps that have some fine jewelry chains hanging off them and looping back to a gold choker-style necklace that is typical of finer jewelry traditionally worn by the nobility of Zeinav.

He looks about the gathering guests as they proceed past the pair. Glancing about there are a few faces he recognizes, which comes as a pleasant surprise. It would be good to check in with folks and see what they had been up to over the past few weeks. He also spotted some new folk including an imposing looking figure dressed to look like a demon. A bold choice in the city of the Sun.

Ok so admittedly this might have been a bad idea. Gladio thought as he got closet to the fancy gates in a less than fancy getup... He began remembering the list of events that led him here. It all started in one of his adventures that was going... well it was going, not very well but he's alive isn't he? While he was adventuring through Zeinav, he got attacked by bandits, apparently they thought that since they had the numbers advantage Gladio would just be scared and give them everything, obviously though they were wrong... after Dispatching two out of three, the last one in a desperate attempt to get rid of him, managed to cast fire bolt right before Gladio reached them, feeling a little singe Gladio dispatched the last bandit with his sword. Right afterwards he realized he was on fire... Running around he dropped to the ground to try and extinguish himself but the temperatures and lack of water or even humidity in the desert certainly wouldn't help him. That is until miraculously a bucket of water fell from the sky! Falling right on Gladio's head, extinguishing the evil cloak-consuming fire! he yelled a thanks towards a weird bird that had seemingly dropped the wooden bucket on his head, which now had a small bump... thinking about it logically, he probably could've removed the cloak and everything would've been fine... but you try to be logical while being on fire! It's not that easy you know!

As he checked the mysterious bucket for any sign of where it could've come from he saw tat engraved on the sides was an... Invitation? That's odd he's never been invited to anything before! at least not by a mysterious bucket, so now that his curiosity was fully piqued he began reading 'Greetings extinguished guest' Wow! They even knew I was on fire! how nice of them to send help! In the bucket message it explained that there was going to be a great ball, and that he was invited. all details of how to find the place where there together with a warning 'Costume is mandatory'

Right after that he headed to Sol city, he got a room at the inn and began preparing his costume. He bought some thin and light wood panels and cut them to resemble a broadsword's blade, he made a hole in the broadswords core where his face would be and two on the edges of the blade to stick his arms through, he then took some other pieces of light wood to make a sort of cross-guard. then he carefully painted the blade a silvery color and the cross-guard and core a golden color in a design quite similar to that of his own sword, going one step further he modified some pants he had by making leather straps go around them in a descending spiral creating a pattern similar to that of a sword's grip. lastly he repeated the design of the sword in smaller form, to make two vambraces and two greaves the only difference being the only holes this ones had were in point so that he could stick his hands and feet out.

And so with a finalized costume and a mysterious guiding bucket he headed to the ball.

Fast forward to now he's having a mild anxiety attack as he has to cross the gates of the fanciest manor he's ever seen, to possibly be laughed at by the whole of Charon's nobility, who are dressed in far more common or fancier costumes... He hugged his bucket for reassurance as he cursed his creative impulse to not just buy a normal costume and instead make his own.

And so he stepped through the gates.

He didn’t receive an invite to the Marrowvine’s Black Harvest Ball.

If he did, he’d be greatly concerned… given he’s supposed to be dead to the world at large. Any letter addressed at his doorstep would be received in suspicion and skepticism. Rather, it was Zarius who had reached out to drag him along as a plus one with his invitation; something about safety in numbers, and making connections with individuals with more powerful positions than themselves.

It’s not a bad idea, although Caedes is a little less than pleased with the social event overall.

It’s not that he’s dreadfully antisocial— but dead men don’t dance—and if Zarius received an invite, there’s always a chance an old connection of the Crimson Hand… or even the head himself… could have received an invite. To be seen at a social event as big as this one feels risky; but Zarius makes good points, too. Connections to powerful people would be helpful in their individual plights; and, after too many ‘no’s, the Tiefling had started poking, prodding, and ribbing him to come along.

At some point during the taunting, he caved; ribbing him back out of mischievous spite; and begrudgingly agreeing to accompany him.

Eventually, the day of the ball comes around and he cannot avoid it.

They arrive together; and while Zarius is dressed to the nines in embroidered golds, Caedes is dressed to, hopefully, disappear. He steps in pace next to the tiefling; his usual outfit of monochrome grays has been traded in for a formal black undershirt, layered beneath a form-fitting vest embroidered with wisping patterns of crimson; and black pants, with a pair of knee-high black boots. A single, metal brooch highlights the loose collar of his undershirt and holds together his usual cloak to finish off the look.

Which, really, is less of a costume and more of just a formal outfit… But if anyone asks, the smile Caedes flashes them with canines far-too-sharp and elongated for the average individual will certainly play his outfit off into claiming ‘Vampire’.

Which is true, but that’s not really a costume, either.

Caedes looks out at the party goers, hands folded behind his back as he shadows Zarius. There are some new faces, some old faces; some costumes which are elegant, and some which are goofy; but most people here hold a certain air about them… the kind of air which nobles carry. An heir of haughtiness, regality, and importance...

He throws a mischievous look to the tiefling; Caedes takes a step closer, elbowing him teasingly. “So, if everyone here's so important… how in the world did you get sent an invite?”

Much like some of the other party goers, Gerhart was confused as to where or how or why this invitation got to him, but got to him it did. Unlike the others, he was still a bit to naïve to question it. He arrived at his first fancy party with a bright grin on his face. 

He opts for a jester's outfit of sorts as his costume. Bright purple cloth and puffy shoulders with accompanying pointy shoes, though he has chosen to skip the hat and face paint to avoid being a total annoyance to everyone. Gerhart makes his way through the crowd, waving and smiling to those he already knew and looking to make sure everyone was having some sort of fun.

    Vikram arrived fashionable on time. Punctuality was a virtue to those who took all oaths with a deathly seriouness. His outfit was jangly as ever, in fact his costume was little more than a silk sheet draped over his entire ensemble. It was a decision based partly on his distrust for random invitations to mansions, and heavily on his love for costume parties. Compromises were of course made. The eye holes in his sheet hung about 7 inches in front of his actual eyes due to the presence of his large turban. This made things slightly harder to see, and as such had him bumping into streetlamps and passerby on the way here. His ghastly lantern floated lazily beneath his chin, giving his outfit a very neat blueish glow.

    He passed his invitation to the doorman and entered the party. The raucousness of the affair reminded him of a busy Zeinav marketplace. He knew almost nobody here, so Vikram's first destination was the food table. Several silver servers sat sweets sourced from secluded settings. Glizzies glazed in garish grey gruels grew guttural groans. Multicolored macaroons managed magnificently meandered mouthwards. Explosive examples of eclairs evoked eager eating's, et cetera.

    Vikram caught himself before the drooling began, luckily nobody could see the expression on his face. He is not easily embarrassed, but this spread had the capability of making an oaf of him before the nobles of the courts. A discrete amount of food was snuck under his costume, a glizzy given to his lamp. The grease caused the blue flame to flare slightly. Looking around, he attempted to find someone to conversate with, perhaps as to the reason of his invitation.

Beist was a bit nervous as he walked through the crowd and into the party. He towered above pretty much everyone there and his costume made him even wider than usual. His entire torso was encased in a gigantic orange pumpkin, the upper half of his torso emerging from the top with a green and brown robe over his shoulders to look like a stem. He had pumpkin vines wrapped around his horns. The bottom of the pumpkin sat at his waist, his legs covered by more brown and green cloth robes. The front of the pumpkin was carved with a smiling face. At least the costume hid his second pair of arms, making him feel just a little less out of place.

"You look amazing! Much more powerful than the rest of these people. They should fear yo- stop, stop that!"

The little winged snake on his shoulders complained as he began petting its head with one finger. His tiny celestial friend had been painted green to look like another pumpkin vine on the beast man's costume. Bull, the tiny vampire bat, also hung lazily from one of Beist's horns. The bat had been dressed in a costume to resemble a pumpkin leaf. The two of them were adorable and Beist had been very happy with their costumes, though Pretzels had complained the entire time. He sadly had to leave Dora at home. The huge Griffon wouldn't have been allowed in.

He just sighed. He knew the serpent meant well, but his encouragement tended to just make Beist feel more like a giant monster. He wasn't surprised that they would value size and strength considering they used to be gigantic until they'd had to take refuge inside Beist thanks to their near death. Now the beast man had the Quetzalcoatl living inside him and a little spiritual manifestation of it on his shoulder telling him to embrace being a giant beast.

The crowd gave Beist a wide berth as he moved through it, looking for somewhere to sit. Maybe he'd stand out a little less if he was sitting.

Shaa loved a good Black Harvest party. The food ,drinks, music, food all ran right up the Minotaurs alley. The only issue was that the Black Harvest parties that he usually attended consisted more of bar maids and fist fights not debutants and chandeliers. The idea that he would receive an invitation from such a well known and respected house in Charon was almost unthinkable. Downright suspicious if you were of that kind of mind. But who was he to turn down such hospitality?

As Shaa entered the mansion, it was already full of music, food and guests. Everyone seemed to be having a really good time so he decided that he needed to give the party a chance. Despite the costumes, Shaa recognized several friends of his milling about so he felt the party wouldn’t be a total bust. As for Shaa’s own costume, he had manipulated some earth magic to grow a pumpkin on his head. After cutting out some eyes and a mouth, he was a Jack o lantern. He had learned a long time ago that trying to actually disguise himself as anything other than a coatrack was kind of a futile effort. So now he just made enough effort to be appreciated and called it good.

As Shaa continued to mingle, he became more and more impressed with the mansion’s trappings and decor. He thought it polite to say so to the hosts and to thank them for the invitation but they seemed preoccupied. He made a note to say something before he left. For now, he would focus on the green and fluffy pastries that seemed to be replenished without end.

The thunder of hooves across the cobblestone sounded, as a multitude of carriages and horses made their way towards the outer gates of the mansion. One in particular, was rather ornate and fearsome. A horse, veiled in sable drapery left flames in its wake, pulling behind it an iron carriage decorated with spires and skulls. Skeletal legs propelled it forward as its nostrils flared out green flames. A scarecrow held long reins and flicked them as he urged the Nightmare Steed along. The glass of the coach was frosted, though patterned like traditional lilies and a shadow loomed within.

Within, the Lord of Ghouls lamented arriving in Sol City. He despised it with all his blackened heart and no amount of wine and merriment would allow him to fully enjoy himself. He'd love to see it burn. The entirety of the city. 

Yet, his friendship with the many Dark Elf Lords and Ladies led him here. Those that dealt in the dark arcana. Strange rituals and cabalism beneath the moon.  

He watched as the mansion drew closer, the frosted windows turning it into a giant shadowy mass amongst dark green and stellar light. The dreadful coach eased as it met the wrought iron gate. Large spoked wheels grinding to a halt. By torchlight, the scarecrow dropped from his bench seat at the front of the carriage and pulled a lever, allowing a small set of steps to hit the stone beneath. Likewise, he opened the door, releasing the smells of funerary balms and roses into the chill night air. 

Black boots struck the steps as the torchlight caught a rather spectacular array of color. A large train of irredescent feathers trailed behind Bellighul; metallic blues, greens and subtle bronze shimmered as it mimicked a male peacock's tail fan. Gliding across the stone two meters behind him, the feathers gave way to short vest whose collar curled high. The vest lies above a matching set of brocade pants and tunic. Bronze buttons and trim lined the brilliant azure and verdant fabric, which puffed at the shoulders. His elbow length gloves embroidered with bronze and patterned to match the beautiful bird he resembled. His simple human-like mask alabaster with bronze lips and edged in blue about the eyes. His optics yet, ruby stared at the imposing mansion, which dwarfed even his expansive villa. 

His scarlet hair, well down his back was flipped backwards with a quick head movement. Like a spray of ignition, it rotated in a large arc in sharp contrast to his masquerade outfit. His gloved fingers combing the thick locks backwards still. His free hand crowned himself with a rather large cavelier hat matching his attire, several large peacock feathers adorning the band. Jacapo, his scarecrow, presented a large golden sceptre, an orb inlayed with sapphires and moonstones perched atop, its length allowed the Lord of Ghouls to use it as a walking stick as he carried on from the coach. 

"Try to enjoy yourself master..." The scarecrow nodded as he mounted the coach. The horse bellowed an infernal sound as Bellighul replied. "Perhaps, I am sure the festivities would make for a distraction from this...cesspool of a city, I can smell Solarites everywhere." He muttered making his way forward. The clang of his sceptre in rhythm with his debonaire stride.
 
The Necromancer made his way through the luxurious gardens slowly, making sure to be seen. His arrogance, if anything, remained a means of identifying him. No other Necromancer had the gall to demand such attention, let alone mingle amongst the nobility as he did. Presents of the finest wine and perfumes had been sent far before he arrived, hoping to please the upper echelons of society with lavish gifts. He had never attended the Black Harvest Ball, thus, he intended to make charming impressions. 

He watched as strange lanterns hovered and swayed magically, roasted fowl and exotic meats filled the air as cheer and laughter assailed his ears. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was in for a spectacular time. 

Unbeknownst to the Lord of Ghouls, another figure also emerged from the carriage just before the door was closed behind him by his scarecrow servant. A tiny, invisible creature walked directly across the lavish train of feathers and fabric behind him and made its way in the darkness of the night, just outside of the light of floating lanterns and spheres, into the party.

Hylltywyll had hitched a ride with Bellighul when he'd found out that he'd be going on a long trip all the way to Sol City. The temptation to destroy the villa while he was gone had been great, but his curiosity with such an event was greater. And he could always just destroy the villa while its master was present. In fact, it would be more fun that way.

He had heard that costumes were mandatory, so he dressed as the most hideous creature he could think of. Bellighul himself. The Fairy made his way across the outskirts of the party in one of the Lord of Ghoul's shortest bathrobes, which trailed on the ground behind him. It was black, soft, and velvety with gold embroidery, undoubtedly expensive.

Hylltywyll would be difficult to spot in the crowd even if he hadn't been in the shadows. From his low position, he could see through the forest of legs that was the party. He spotted a familiar, equally short figure. However, he had priorities. His first was to raid the buffet. His second was to cause some mischief. And his third and final priority tonight was to pickpocket some of these snooty nobles and rich merchants. He stole quite a lot from Bellighul, but he wanted to diversify his portfolio.

This night would certainly be fun.

Upon getting an invitation, Heian started preparing the costume immediately. He had something in mind, both literally and figuratively, and how it will turn out... he could always say he dressed like that purposely.

When the time had come, he mounted Cerber and rode to where the invitation led him. The place was huge, with a giant mansion surrounded by huge gardens, with other guests roaming everywhere. ore than a dozen lokked at the newcomer.
He dressed as Wood, painting his left side of face red and wearing red gloves, with fake claws attached. On his head he put a fedora, matching his maroon suit, with a fake horn attached to it, very similar to the real one. Sadly, he didn't manage to forge a lense that could mimic his right eye, so they remained unchanged, one glowing yellow, with a red, thin pupil and one green, human.

He aimed at right wing of gardens, spotting a familiar face hier and there. There were a lot of important people around, most dressed like for a bureau meeting, maybe he could use this party somehow? He pushed the thought aside. For now staying away from politics was the best move.
He sat on a bench by the fountain with a glass of vine in his hand.