Prelyudiya tri; the Magician
Dresses swirled before him, an intricate dance; around and around, the men carefully leading each step to the dance. It was a sight to behold, the ball. This gilded hall, fit only for royalty. One might think that the intricate art work was too much, or the gold and silver leafing over stating. But here, it flowed nicely, showed off the abilities this proud race held. Upon entering one would see at the other end sat a throne, silver, nature inspired. It sat a few steps above the expansive dance floor. The wall behind it held doors on either end, for the king that occupied the throne to come and go from. But the interest did not lay with the man in the throne, rather the elf a step behind it, if this creature could really be called an elf.
Surely, it was a male, there was no mistaking that. He stood tall, like his fellow elves. But he maintained bulk, and towered over many of his own kind. To call him fat would be a mistake, for this seemingly cheerful man would kill you on the spot. Ashen blond hair, and a childlike smile, the Baron did not look like cold hearted killer. Even his eyes did not show the devious thoughts that continuously circulated.
Even as he stood a step behind the throne, his violet eyes picked out each person individually. While it merely appeared that he watched the dance the Baron plotted quickly in his head what it would be like if anyone made a move on his king, because no one was foolish enough to attack the baron.
Large gloved hands played with the ends of the scarf wrapped around his head. Though the court was warm, the ashen blond never removed the scarf; it was a reminder, a safety. And more importantly something for him to touch rather than his staff that leaned against the wall behind him. Nothing more than a hallowed out piece of metal, it was his favorite thing. It could break bone easily, of any creature, and he could use it to focus his abilities. It was perfect, simple and perfect.
The baron leaned forward, whispering something in his king's ear. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, the true deviousness showing, only for a second. As he resumed his upright position, the trace of the true horror the baron was had disappeared once again.
A crash followed by a scream, and another, beautiful gowns rushing in fear, fire eagerly eating the artwork. The Baron held his place watching with almost child-like glee as the ball turned into an ambush. Calmly, carefully, the king was led away. His pipe was in his hand, these attackers would learn better than to mess with his kingdom. Well, not that it was, not quite, but the king was old, the prince… the prince! The Baron shouted orders for the prince to be taken care of as he moved forward to dispel the intrusion.