Finished [ClockHaven]＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ Clockwork Masquerade *̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[Elvario]

Victorique Sopheana

Spoiler: Full Image & Source

Alternate art generated from:
Victorique de Blois

Mentions: Moonberry

“It's only natural.” She'd reply to being thorough. She was an investigator, after all, although he didn't need to know the last bit.

She'd look across the pages, hoping that the 'camera' item would capture it all while at it. “So.. it's sourced from the Colidron's themselves? That would be most excellent.” She replied. Thankfully, she knew what to expect well enough to keep her distaste down. “After all, showing them I'd prefer their own products are sure to get me into their good graces. Yes. You've convinced me and made me rather happy with this. I'll take it.” She'd state, though leaving out the reason she was so happy. This was some incredibly convincing and damming evidence.

Yet it would also open the door to the heart of the enemy. If she had these wing-earrings on, they'd surely recognise and assume her to be a 'connoisseur' to the point they might even invite her over, rather than her having to try argue her way in. “Don't you think this is perfect for the party at the Colidron's?” She'd ask Pella, who'd need to actually foot the bill for this. She hoped Illya would forgive her. It was for a good cause, but it was still a bit distasteful no matter how she looked at it.

“It seems your thoroughness pays itself off plenty of times, in that case.” She'd 'compliment' Elias. Knowing it'd lead to his downfall soon enough. On that note. “Say, you don't happen to have more such options? These are rather tiny and easy to miss. I'd rather not have my shot at a great first impression go utterly unnoticed and as you might've seen, I myself might already go unnoticed.” She hated self-deprecating height jokes, but this too, was for a good cause.

 

[Moonberry]

Elias Varnham’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile, the kind worn by men who believed they understood the world better than those around them. He tapped a gloved finger lightly against the closed ledger, as if sealing an unspoken agreement.

“An excellent choice,” he murmured, reaching out to delicately return the earrings to their case. His movements were precise, methodical—like a jeweler handling precious artifacts, though the truth was far more grotesque.

Lady Pella let out a soft hum, her gaze flicking from the earrings to Victorique.

“Oh, it’s perfect,” she mused, her lips quirking in a sly smile as she tapped a gloved finger against her chin. “A subtle nod to appreciation, yet bold enough to ensure the right people take notice. It’ll have them talking.”

The weight of Illya’s silence on the tabletop was suffocating. She hadn’t moved, hadn’t spoken, one could feel her tension from across the room.

Elias, ever the attentive merchant, did not miss Victorique’s final request. His brows lifted ever so slightly, his interest piqued.

“Ah, a woman of ambition. I admire that.” He chuckled, stepping toward a different display case along the wall. With a flick of his wrist, he drew back the glass, revealing a necklace of woven silver—its chain delicate, but its pendant unmistakable.

It was another fae relic—this one a shard of something organic, preserved in resin, as if plucked from a living being and immortalized. The shape was too irregular, too raw to be an imitation.

“For those who wish to be recognized immediately,” Elias mused, lifting the piece so that the light refracted off its surface. “Nothing makes a statement quite like history, carried upon one’s own skin.”

Lady Pella’s expression barely shifted, but there was something in her hazel eyes—a flicker of something sharper, colder.

“Oh my,” she murmured, stepping closer with a measured, elegant curiosity. “That is certainly… distinct.”

Victorique barely had time to consider whether this piece was worth taking when the bell at the front of the boutique chimed.

Elias’s head turned slightly, his posture shifting just a fraction—so small, so practiced, that only someone paying close attention would catch it. The faintest pause in his breath. A flicker of something unreadable in his eyes.

The air in the shop changed.

A new presence had entered.

The rhythmic click of boots against polished wood carried toward them, each step measured, unhurried. A figure lingered just beyond the showroom, hidden from immediate view, but Victorique caught the subtle scent of damp wool and pipe smoke, the kind carried in the coat of a man accustomed to walking the rain-soaked streets of Widersia without hurry.

And then—a voice. Deep, smooth, with the effortless composure of someone who knew he was expected wherever he arrived.

“I trust I’m not interrupting.”

Lady Pella’s smile did not waver, but Victorique felt the faintest shift in the way her fingers curled ever so slightly at her side.

Elias, ever composed, closed the necklace case with a quiet snap before turning toward the new arrival. When he spoke, his tone was the same effortless charm as before—but just a fraction too polished, too intentional.

“Ah,” he greeted, dipping his head ever so slightly. “A pleasure, as always. To what do we owe the honor, my lord?”

This was Illya’s chance.

The moment Elias turned, she moved.

Victorique would have felt it—a whisper of motion, a brush of air as the tiny figure darted low, gliding over the smooth surface of the desk in a blur of green and copper. Her delicate feet barely made a sound as she reached the edge, then launched herself forward with the silent precision of a creature built for slipping through the cracks of a world too large for her.

Her wings did not hum.

They didn’t dare.

She landed lightly against the hem of Victorique’s coat, scaling the fabric in quick, practiced movements, her grip as light as a passing breeze. Then, in one last push, she disappeared beneath the folds, pressing herself against the fabric’s inner lining, hidden once again.

The entire maneuver lasted only a breath—a moment so quick, so natural, that had Elias or the newcomer turned even a fraction sooner, it might have been seen.

But they hadn’t.

Now, Victorique had only seconds to react.

Elias’s posture, the measured cadence of his words, the way he had immediately turned away from the merchandise at the sound of this man’s arrival—it was all too smooth. Too careful.

This was not a customer.

This was someone Elias had been expecting.

Lady Pella turned just enough to glance toward Victorique, the motion so slight it was meant only for her to see.

What now?

Did they linger and watch, let the conversation unfold to uncover more?

Or did they leave, having secured enough to damn Coldiron already?

Victorique could feel Illya’s tiny hands clutching at her coat’s fabric, the tension rolling off her small frame.

The masquerade was waiting.

But was this one more thread to pull—or a trap waiting to be sprung?

---

Elvario

 

[Elvario]

Victorique Sopheana

Spoiler: Full Image & Source

Alternate art generated from:
Victorique de Blois

Mentions: Moonberry

It seemed she'd fooled Varnham. That was good. She'd been a tad nervous she might fail already, but so far so good.

Frankly, Victorique had no clue what was being shown next. She didn't manage to spot what was covered in resin, nor did she have any time to ask about it. Pella seemed to have spotted, but she couldn't exactly casually ask about it.

She'd hear the sounds, silently. My lord? A noble involved in this business? Even though Illya went back to hiding in her clothing, Victorique wondered how to proceed.

She debated stealing the ledger into her [Pocket Dimension] as there would be no easier way to gather it. Yet she worried. If Elias would panic, he might inform the Coldirons. That'd make it near-impossible to catch them as well.

Next, she debated to engage with the new customer. Or perhaps a supplier? Yet it sounded like it might, at most, be a middle-man? Or at worst, an actual noble that could get them deep into trouble before they wrapped up the investigation.

She sighed. She decided not to risk it. She had what she needed to get into the masquerade and to impress the Coldirons enough to make them put their guard down. With that, if she could get into the 'treasure room' during the masquerade, she would have more than enough evidence. She wasn't trying to roll up the whole network. She wasn't here to go against corrupt nobles. She was only here to help Illya clear her name and bring justice to Agnes. That was the main goal. Focussing on anything else that might put that goal at risk, solely for her own curiosity, was not acceptable right now.

“It seems you've another appointment.” She'd speak up. “As interesting as the other piece is, I believe it might be out of our budget. Although it's a good reason to return here another day. I'm assuming you'd not mind a new return customer?” She'd put her best smile up. Individually, they weren't lies. She's love to return here, mostly to see him arrested and to investigate everything else. She also assumed he wouldn't mind a return customer. It just wasn't going to be her.

“We'll take the earrings then.” She'd nod to Pella in a 'please pay for them cause I sure can't' kind of manner. “Thank you for your time.” She'd politely nod to the man that'd just come in, as she'd try take in what she could about it. She'd only avoid using Appraisal, knowing that the skill could be sensed. She's have to rely on all her other senses to try commit a detailed picture of this man to her [Eidetic Memory].

Information Overload – Appraisal B, Darkvision F, Eidetic Memory, Heightened Sense [Hearing/Sight/Smell/Taste/Balance] B, Perception B, Investigation B, Insight B, Energised B – Character takes in any information their senses pick up on and analyses them instantly. - Grade Be - 3 Post Cooldown

Assuming that'd be it, she'd leave along with Pella after the latter paid up.

 

[Moonberry]

Elias’s expression remained effortlessly composed as he returned his attention to Victorique. If the nobleman's arrival had shifted the balance of the room, the shopkeeper did not show it. Instead, he moved with the same practiced grace, lifting the lacquered case containing the earrings and sliding it toward Pella with a deliberate touch.

“A pleasure doing business,” he murmured, as if the weight of the moment was nothing more than the exchange of fine jewelry.

Lady Pella let out a soft hum, fingers ghosting over the case before plucking it up.

“You do make it effortless, Elias,” she mused, drawing a few gold coins from her purse and setting them down with a quiet clink. “Perhaps I’ll start a collection.”

Elias offered the faintest of chuckles, dipping his head.

“Exquisite taste should always be cultivated.”

Yet even as he spoke, his presence was divided—one ear still attuned to the figure at the entrance. His body language never faltered, but there was a shift in the air. A quiet calculation taking place behind his poised expression.

The nobleman had not spoken again.

But he did not leave either.

His presence loomed—not intrusive, but deliberate. Watching. Assessing. Taking them in as if committing them to memory.

Lady Pella moved fluidly, but there was something different in her posture now—a subtle shift of weight, a slight tilt of her chin. She did not stiffen, nor did she acknowledge the noble directly, but she was aware of his presence.

Victorique would feel it too.

A quiet tension threading through the boutique, stretching thin as Elias lingered just a second too long on his final words. The nobleman did not act. Did not demand attention. But the sheer weight of his presence was as sharp as a blade yet to be drawn.

Then there was a knock, and the door to the front room opened again.

“My lady.”

Gerard’s voice was quiet, but precisely timed. He stepped quietly to stand just behind them now, patient but unmoving.

Lady Pella’s lips curled faintly at the edges. She tapped the lacquered case against her palm in idle amusement.

“Shall we, cousin?” she murmured, her tone as light as ever, yet leaving no room for hesitation.

Elias did not stop them.

Neither did the nobleman.

But as they turned, stepping toward the door, Victorique would feel it—the way his gaze followed them, steady and unblinking. As if he had just catalogued them in the same way one would catalogue a purchase.

And then, they crossed the threshold. The bell above the door chimed softly as the cool drizzle of Widersia’s streets met them once again, a sharp contrast to the warm opulence of the boutique. The damp air clung to the edges of their coats, carrying the scent of wet stone and flickering gas lamps.

Gerard, ever efficient, stepped ahead and opened the door to the waiting steam-mobile. The polished brass gleamed under the streetlights, steam hissing softly from beneath the carriage as the engine hummed in quiet readiness.

Lady Pella climbed in first, stretching herself out against the plush seats with a practiced ease.

Once everyone was inside, Gerard shut the door behind them with a quiet click. Taking his place in the drivers seat without any more adiue.

The city lurched into motion as the vehicle pulled away from the boutique, the rain-speckled streets of Clockhaven stretching before them. The rhythmic hiss of steam filled the silence, accompanied only by the faint clatter of wheels over cobblestone.

Lady Pella exhaled, tipping her head back against the seat. And then—finally—her easy smile faded.

She turned the lacquered box over in her hands, fingers drumming against the smooth surface.

Then she spoke.

“That was Lord Adrien Dufort.”

The name settled between them, heavier than the steam hissing outside.

She did not turn to face Victorique immediately, but when she did, her expression had changed.

“Close friend to Agnes Coldiron. Has been for years. They call him the ‘Pillar of Ash’—one of those old-money nobles who has the ear of Parliament but never speaks in public. He doesn’t need to.”

She tapped her finger against the lacquered box, slower this time.

“His name doesn’t appear on anything, but everyone knows that if Coldiron needs something buried, he’s the one holding the shovel.”

The weight of the moment stretched between them.

Pella let the silence settle for a breath, then another, before tilting her head slightly, her hazel eyes flicking between Victorique and Illya, unseen beneath the coat.

“So.”

She smirked, but this time, the humor did not reach her eyes.

“Do you think we’ll be ready for the masquerade?”

---

Elvario

 

[Elvario]

Victorique Sopheana

Spoiler: Full Image & Source

Alternate art generated from:
Victorique de Blois

Mentions: Moonberry

It seemed that Victorique wasn't the only one to stare. The nobleman was staring right back at her. It was a tad uncomfortable. Especially as she didn't seem to get a read on him in the slightest, no matter how sharp her senses were or how strong her attempt to investigate him was.

“Indeed.” She'd reply to Pella. “Thanks again.” She'd give a short bow to Elias. She was glad to be out on the streets again. Although she kept up appearances a bit more.

She'd jump up to get in the car, climbing in and finding a place on the seats. Only when the doors were close and when they started driving did she breath out in a deep sigh. “Pfffffffff..... that was bloody tense.” She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I'm not used to undercover work like that.” Her first question was already on her lips. “Do you think we managed to capture a good image of that ledger with the recording device?”

The next question wasn't far behind the first one. “Were those yours?” She'd ask Illya. “If so, I'll admit it's rather odd to see it for real. Yet also somewhat poetic, no? The very results of crime that had you involved will be the key to exposing them.”

Come to think of it. “You had spare recording devices, right? I'll also need one for when I get into the room with the artefacts.” She was already thinking ahead.

As for the nobleman, she'd listen silent for a bit. “Perhaps we've got enough to implicate him in this matter. I honestly really wish I could've taken that ledger, but I didn't dare risk it.” She admitted.

“Ready? Not really. Yet let's go there anyway. We've got exactly what we need to get where we need to be. Act again, gather the evidence, perhaps even rescue any that might be left alive and around. Then get out of there and expose these bastards properly.” She'd repeat the plan, mentally preparing herself for it.

“After that I'll go buy the most expensive whiskey in the most expensive bar in all of Clockhaven, to go with the most expensive tobacco I can find.” She'd mumble. For a moment, she really hesitated. Then she let some honestly slip through. “As this... it hits different seeing it for real. What fucking bastard makes jewellery out of someone's wings? I'm not pretending I didn't know some folk were messed up, but this is beyond fucked. I felt like throwing up at one point...” She raged for a bit, before breathing in slowly and getting her composure back.

“A good enough reason to see this through until the end and to get this over with.” She'd reaffirm her commitment to the cause.

 

[Moonberry]

The rain drummed steadily against the roof of the steam-mobile, a rhythmic murmur beneath the weight of unspoken thoughts. The city blurred past in hazy streaks of light and shadow, warmth inside the carriage at odds with the cold pressing in from outside.

Pella listened as Victorique spoke, idly tapping the lacquered case in her lap. She said nothing at first, only withdrew a flask, swirling its contents before taking a slow sip.

“The recording device should have done its job,and we have at least one more to use at the Masquerade.” she finally said. “Elias is careful, but not careful enough to account for something he can’t see.”

Her gaze flicked toward Victorique’s coat when the halfling voiced her question toward the tiny pixie, who remained hidden.

The silence stretched before Illya spoke, her voice quieter than before.

“I don’t know.”

The words barely carried above the low hum of the engine, but their weight was unmistakable.

“I wanted to look, but...” A pause. Her wings shifted, trying to fold in on themselves. “I couldn’t.”

A shaky breath, then—

“It's been hard enough just...to talk about it. But to see a pair of wings that could have easily been mine....even if they weren't mine...someone suffered...”

She trailed off, gripping the lining of Victorique’s coat just a fraction tighter.

Pella exhaled slowly.

“That reaction’s more human than most would admit.”

The steam-mobile slowed, city streets giving way to the looming silhouette of Lady Pella’s townhouse. Gas lamps cast long shadows against rain-slicked pavement.

Gerard, ever efficient, brought the vehicle to a smooth stop and stepped out into the drizzle. A quiet thwump of an unfurled umbrella cut through the rain before he opened the carriage door.

“Shall we?” Pella murmured, stepping out first.

Inside, warmth met them with the scent of burning wood and aged parchment. The fire crackled in the sitting room, its glow stretching long across polished floors. A silver tray with a decanter and crystal glasses awaited them, Gerard already anticipating their arrival before taking his leave.

Pella remained standing by the fireplace, turning the lacquered case in her hands, fingers tracing idle patterns against its surface.

Then—finally—she spoke.

“Dufort was watching you too closely.”

The words cut through the warmth like a cold draft.

She set the case down on the mantelpiece, turning fully toward Victorique.

“Not openly, not enough to draw suspicion from anyone unaccustomed to his methods. But I saw it.” Her voice held an edge—concern, calculation, or both. “He’s a man who deals in details. He catalogs people like he does his merchandise.”

A pause. The fire crackled, but it did little to chase away the weight of her next words.

“He was memorizing you.”

She let that truth settle before exhaling, rolling her shoulders as if to rid herself of the thought.

“That means we need to be careful. If we attract too much attention tonight, he’ll connect the dots.”

Reaching for the crystal decanter, she poured a measure of amber liquid and slid the glass across the table toward Victorique.

“Drink, if you want it. You’ll need to be steady.”

She leaned back, fingers drumming against the rim of her own glass.

“Your outfit won’t be an issue,” she continued, as if running through a checklist. “I have younger cousins about your size, and their seamstress is used to last-minute alterations.” A wry smile flickered. “Considering how often they change their minds about fashion, she’ll be glad to adjust something for someone who actually intends to wear it.”

Her amusement faded just as quickly.

“The Coldirons will be looking for anyone out of place. We have to blend in.”

She finally sank into a chair, the easy grace of someone accustomed to high society’s masks.

“So we play the part. Just another evening of indulgence among the city’s elite. No prying eyes, no clever deductions.” Her gaze flicked toward Victorique, sharp yet measured. “And no unnecessary risks.”

She took a slow sip, letting the heat settle before setting the glass aside.

“The Coldirons don’t make mistakes when choosing their guests, and they don’t let just anyone near the silent auction. But we already have one foot in the door.” She tapped a single finger against the invitation resting on the table. “That means we have exactly one chance to do this right.”

Her gaze flicked between them, unreadable but weighted with the reality of what lay ahead.

“We walk in, we observe, we find what we need—” her fingers curled against the armrest, “—and we leave before they realize we were looking.”

She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing just a fraction.

“No matter what, we cannot afford to leave a trail.”

The fire crackled again, filling the silence that followed.

---

Elvario

 

[Elvario]

Victorique Sopheana

Spoiler: Full Image & Source

Alternate art generated from:
Victorique de Blois

Mentions: Moonberry

She'd nod, really hoping the recording devise would indeed have done its job. Other than being a professional that just wanted to see her job done, as a Fae, she did feel some personal vendetta against someone who'd use those of her kind like this.

Then again, as a socially awkward person with a tendency to be mean, snarky and in a bad mood, she wasn't entirely sure how to voice sympathy for Illya. Victorique listened to the reply, hearing the pixie having lost a fair bit of self-confidence and determination. “That's why we're going to put a stop to this.” That was all she could come up with in a reply. She really wasn't one for kind and comforting words.

Hopping out of the car and getting back into the house, she'd listen to Pella. “I guess I returned the favour.” She'd reply upon being told Dufort had been cataloguing her. She'd tried (at least) to gain as much information about him as she could, short of actually appraising him at least. “I'm not surprised though. I've worked with information brokers before.”

As for Pella's warning, Victorique debated her options. “Do you think he's show up at the masquerade as well, in that case?” That would certainly complicate some things. “We'd have to try avoid him, if so. I'm not sure how long our bluffs and excuses will hold up if we were to speak with him for too long.”

She'd smell the liquid, before indulging in it. She'd not go all out, but she didn't mind some fuel to help her get through the occasion. “Thanks.” She tapped the glass. “Not bad. I guess I'll get to the rest of it once all this is done.”

Upon hearing she'd be going in what might as well be kids clothing, Victorique was not amused. “For the sake of the mission...” She mumbled.

The next bit was more intriguing. “Or not.” She'd counter the need to blend in, pointing at the earrings they'd bought. “Someone trying to blend in is more suspicious than someone that doesn't mind standing out. If I'm clearly putting something on display to get the Colidron's attention, the chances are they won't suspect me as much. What investigator would shamelessly stand out? I'd like to take my chances in standing out enough for Agnes to be curious enough to come speak to me first.”

As for taking unnecessary risks, she stayed silent for a moment. “Very well, though I'll decide what's necessary or not when push comes to shove.” She could come up with one or two scenario's where she'd throw all ideas of safety right out the window. “I'm not planning on it, but let's make this clear just in case. The moment there's a commotion that might stem from me, you're free to leave. I'll be able to get out of any situation on my own if need-be. I'm a Lightfoot, after all.”

Only Pella's last remark made her wonder. “How come? We're about to bring them to court, no? I'd have to testify and bring about the evidence. So long as we do that quickly enough, leaving a trail shouldn't be an issue. Especially if we have enough damming evidence on them.”

 

[Moonberry]

The fire cast long shadows across the sitting room, the low light stretching and flickering as Pella leaned back into her chair. The weight of Victorique’s words settled between them, filling the space alongside the quiet crackling of the hearth and the distant patter of rain against the windowpanes.


Her fingers traced absently over the rim of her glass before she finally spoke.


“Oh, Dufort will be there.” The certainty in her tone left little room for doubt. “Not as a mere guest, either. He doesn’t just attend events like these—he ensures they run smoothly. He watches for anything out of place, handles complications before they become complications. If anything in that auction is particularly sensitive, he will be guarding it without ever looking like he’s guarding it.”


She tapped a finger lightly against the armrest.


“Avoiding him completely won’t be an option, but we don’t have to. We just need to make sure that whatever he sees, whatever he believes about us, is exactly what we want him to.”


A smirk flickered across her lips at Victorique’s counterpoint.


“You’re not wrong. Someone too carefully unnoticed is just as suspicious as someone demanding attention. If Agnes takes the bait and comes to you first, that works in our favor.” She raised a brow slightly. “Just don’t get too caught up in playing the part. If Dufort or anyone else sees past the performance, the next time they look at you will be with very different intentions.”


A beat of silence followed, stretching with the weight of what had to be done. Then, softly—


“I’m staying hidden.”


Illya’s voice was quiet but firm. She had remained tucked away in Victorique’s coat for the better part of the conversation, listening, absorbing. Now, she shifted slightly but did not emerge.


“They have no reason to know I exist. And if they do…” Her wings twitched under the fabric, the thought clearly unsettling. “Then we’ve already lost.”


A pause.


“I know how to move unseen. It’s what I was trained for. If there’s a way to slip through the cracks while you two play your part, I’ll find it.”


Pella studied her for a moment before nodding slightly, approval flickering in her expression.


“Good. That gives us more options.”


She took a slow sip from her drink, letting the warmth settle before setting the glass aside.


“As for the risks you take?” Her gaze sharpened slightly as she returned her attention to Victorique. “That’s your call, but if things go south, I don’t intend to walk out of there empty-handed. We won’t get another shot at this.”


She stood, moving toward the fireplace, her reflection shifting against the glass of the window as she looked out into the rain-darkened streets beyond.


“Bringing them to court isn’t the concern,” she murmured. “The Coldirons are powerful, but power is just leverage. Leverage can be broken, if applied correctly.” She turned slightly, regarding Victorique with a thoughtful expression. “But if they suspect they’re being cornered before the case is built, they will make things disappear. Witnesses. Evidence. People.”


She let that truth settle between them before finally exhaling, rolling her shoulders back as if shaking off a lingering weight.


“We don’t just need proof, Victorique. We need enough that they can’t squirm out of it, and we need it all at once. No warning, no time to counter. No trail leading back to us before it’s too late.”


The fire crackled behind her, the weight of their plan solidifying.


“We find the study. We find the records. If there are any live specimens, we figure out how to get them out without getting caught. And when the auction begins, we make sure that by the time the night is over, the Coldirons don’t just have questions to answer.”


She picked up the invitation from the table, running a thumb over the wax seal.


“They have no idea what’s coming.”


The masquerade awaited.


End of Part One.

Spoiler: Grader Information

These are only suggestions. Please wait until a Grader Mod confirms which rewards will be granted upon the RP's actual grading.

Narrators Involved MoonBerry


Narrator Standing C


Summary of the Roleplay Victorique is hired by Lady Pella. To help find evidence of the Coldiron families dealings in Fae Poaching. In order to clear Illyas name. Part 2 of working off the wanted title.



Goal Achievement ] Yes, some evidence was gathered using the recording device. And the Earrings themselves are evidence as well. More Evidence will be gathered in Part 3 of the wanted roleplays. (Part 2 of Masquerade)


Criminal Acts Perpetrated NONE! We're On the side of Justice here!


Lore to Establish Perhaps that the Coldirons, a low ranked noble family in Widersia is heading a Fae Poaching black market in the shadows.


Partial Participants N/A


Partial Participant Invaders N/A


Full-Time Participants(List all full-time participants.)

• Character name. Victorique
• RPer name. Elvario
• Link to character sheet. https://www.rpnation.com/threads/characters.521140/post-11519172
• Character name. Illya
• RPer name, Moonberry
• Link to character sheet. https://www.rpnation.com/threads/characters.521140/post-11845917

Characters with Point Boosters N/A



Recommended Titles (Suggest titles for characters based on their actions or outcomes within the roleplay.)

• Character name. Victorique
• Title: [Title] - [Undercover Agent] – Granted to those who have successfully infiltrated high-risk environments without revealing their true identity. This title marks mastery of deception, adaptability, and covert operations.

Assets/Titles Roleplayed For (List any assets or titles that were roleplayed for, along with justifications for each.)
N/A

Characters with [Wanted] or Criminal Titles (Provide a list of characters who already possess the [Wanted] title or any criminal titles.).

• Character name. Illya Mellondew
• Wanted by Agnes Coldiron

Hunters' Involvement (Indicate whether any characters with the [Wanted] title had their hunters appear or play a part in the roleplay.).
Sort of. The point of the roleplay is to take part in a masquerade hosted by the Coldirons. And to get evidence on them to clear Illyas name.

Downtime (List characters using Downtime, such as those using Buddy skills, Masterwork skills, Complex Assets, increasing existing Assets, etc.)
Victorique uses downtime
Transactions Performed (Note any transactions that occurred during the roleplay, such as, weapon exchanges, asset transfers.)

N/A

Relevant Mentions: Skill
Relevant Post: Post

Rules Utilized (Specify the level of rules used in the roleplay.)
Some rules? Except I missed when Victorique tried to use a skill....
Character Sheet Oddities (Mention any noticeable oddities or inconsistencies in character sheets related to their purchases. Note: There's no need for a full evaluation; simply highlight any unusual findings during your review.)

• Name - Oddity

Aftermath and Potential Lore Updates (Describe any potential aftermath or consequences based on the events of the roleplay. Suggest any updates that might be needed for the lore.)

Nothing yet really.

Narrator Bonuses (Recommend any bonuses you'd like to award to narrators based on their performance.)


Additional Notes (Include any other observations or points you'd like feedback on or that require further commentary.)