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Castala Melaidhrin

Illusionist, performer and a professional liar, Castala's circus is in town. "A trickster, me? Surely you can't be serious ... I'm about as genuine as they come in this business."

0 · 530 views · located in Gonthar

a character in “The Multiverse”, originally authored by Script, as played by Disdain

Groups

Registered citizen of the Terran National Government

Description

Image
Image copyright of Riot Games.


Name: Castala Melaidhrin
Age: 23
Race: Human
Significant Relations: Silviana Melaidhrin

Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 123 lbs
Physical Description: A beautiful young woman, Castala was always the prettier of the two Melaidhrin sisters. Growing up, she has paid utmost attention to her appearance - her naturally blonde hair has been dyed purple, her face is kept blemish free (and if blemishes appear, they are concealed with magic), and her clothing is seldom ... practical. When performing, there's no such thing as half measures for Castala, and she dresses in the full regalia of top hat, flowing long coat and ... little else, with a leotard and stockings forming the majority of the rest of her outfit.

Personality: Coercive and more than familiar with the way peoples' heads tick, Castala is very easy to like - she makes it so. She plays to peoples' weaknesses to easily befriend them - flattery, humour, even opinions like politics or music - often involving lies so as to better achieve her goal. Of course, with those she genuinely befriends, there isn't so much of an act - but it is telling to her expertise with lying that even her real friends often can't tell who she's playing and who she isn't. Far from evil, Castala simply has less than upstanding morals, and has no qualms with lying in any form if she believes it will benefit the situation for either herself or others.

Skills and Talents:
  • Acrobatic and athletic from her physical exertions when performing, and her experience as an acrobat and dancer as well as illusionist.
  • Capable swordswoman but not very efficient - flashy and showmanlike.
  • A masterful liar, almost unreadable.
  • Cunning and difficult to fool - Castala can usually find a way out of any sticky situation, or a way to put someone else in one.

Abilities:

  • Illusion - Castala is a masterful illusionist and can produce incredibly convincing and difficult to penetrate illusions of impressive sizes. She can create these illusions universally (visible to all) or target individuals/groups so that they are the only ones who see them.
  • Conjuring - Castala can conjure an array of strange creatures and objects, notably including a nigh-on-indestructible Rabbit Ogre named Hopper. Other notable examples are weapons, controllable chains, and bombs.
  • Arcane Magic - A capable arcane mage in addition to her specialities, Castala has the average powers of a mage at her fingertips - including bolts of arcane energy and defensive barriers. These more general powers are weaker than her primary powers due to lack of specialisation and honing. However some tricks she has refined, including blinking (short ranged teleportation) and phasing.

Equipment:

  • Conjurer's Staff of Performance - a flashy and extravagant staff with hovering magical crystals composing its tip, this staff enhances all of Castala's abilities significantly when they are channelled through it. It also gives her access to arcane bolts that do not drain her mana reserves, instead the staff's internal energy.
  • Magician's Wand - a traditional white-tipped black rod, Castala's wand is a lower powered version of her staff, focusing her spells. It also contains a few flashy visual illusions that anyone with the right command words can call on.
  • Summoner's Deck of Cards - an elegant and visually impressive set of cards, each card holding a summonable creature that can be called on and controlled by someone with capability in summoning/conjuring magic. The 'value' of the card dictates its power. Summons:
    • Black Dragon of Clubs (drake-sized dragon creature)
    • Black Wraith of Spades (ethereal robed creature wielding shadowy corrupting powers)
    • Red Knight of Diamonds (armoured magical warrior construct wielding a sword and diamond shield)
    • Red Lady of Hearts (elegantly clad magical priestess construct capable of wielding protective and reflective shielding powers)
  • Magician's Hat of Holding - a top hat enchanted with holding, contains any equipment not on her person at a given point.
  • Side-Sword of Phasing - an enchanted, thin and lightweight sword that can be phased in and out to enable it to bypass parries and armour.

So begins...

Castala Melaidhrin's Story

Setting

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Character Portrait: Castala Melaidhrin
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#, as written by Script
Camp 92, Eastern Pavor continent, the Curiad Coast
New Pastor


"Castala, you have twenty minutes."

Castala Melaidhrin, famed magician and illusionist extraordinaire, looked up from the mirror she was sat before, carefully putting the finishing touches to her appearance. The dressing room she sat in was part of a the trailer that the show had traveled in (obviously, inside a spacecraft at some points) to reach New Pastor. The stool she sat on was adorned with a plush royal red cushion with golden embroidering, and the furnishings were all of good quality wood. The carpet was a dark crimson, and its furry material tickled between her toes when she walked. The desk had a bright lamp beside the mirror, and a wide variety of cosmetics - though of course, she had brought her own.

"Alright dear, I'll be ready in plenty of time." Castala smiled at the younger girl who stood in the doorway, dressed in a tight-fitting colourful costume - she was one of the show's acrobats... Leah, if she wasn't mistaken. The older woman turned back to the mirror, running her gilded brush carefully through her hair for a final time. Placing it down, she brought her hands up to pat at the heavily conditioned cascades of buoyant purple locks, reflecting the light just right as she adjusted them. A magician's first and most valuable tool was their image - and Castala was more than aware that her sex appeal got her as much of an audience as her magic did. And in her view, if you've got it, why not flaunt it?

Humming to herself, the illusionist slipped her long black boots up over her stockings, and slipped carefully into her corset-top, before pausing to glance at the door. "Tiel, sweetie, would you be a dear and come zip me up?"




Outside, the circus-tent that had been assembled earlier that day was filled with the cheers and cries of an entertained crowd, as the denizens of the camp and those from several camps around enjoyed the show of Castala's acrobats, animal trainers, and various other circus performers. There was a great deal of anticipation for the arrival of Castala herself - in the week or so that she had been on the planet, she had gained something of a reputation already. But there was no sense of dissatisfaction in the acts that were already performing - after all, this was an entertainment-starved community of refugees, not a demanding crowd of wealthy theater-goers.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Castala Melaidhrin
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#, as written by Script
Camp 92, Eastern Pavor continent, the Curiad Coast
New Pastor


The door to Castala's dressing room cracked open for a second time with an audible sigh - though obviously, not from the door itself. Castiel's expression as he made his way inside was one of impatience, and the blonde young man closed the door behind him with a tut. "You always leave it to the last minute, don't you?" he murmured as he made his way over to the older woman. "Some sort of dreadful aversion to clothes?"

Castala chuckled, adjusting her hair in the mirror as Castiel carefully zipped up the corset top behind her, "But of course, dear, why else would I wear so few of them?"

The youth rolled his eyes. He himself was dressed just as extravagantly - if rather more fully - as Castala, a long white, crimson and gold tailed coat the centerpiece of the outfit, and the blonde hair that fell to just below his shoulders was as carefully managed as hers was. "I'm the only reason you get anything done." he muttered, shaking his head.

Smiling, Castala rose from her stool and swept her own coat - a very traditional black and red piece, with extravagantly sweeping tails that were more reminiscent of a cape than a coat - from where it hung nearby, sliding it on. With the image almost completed, all that was left was for her to place her elegant top-hat upon her head, and she was ready. "If I were more organised, Tiel, then my lovely assistant would have no work to do!"

Castiel raised his eyebrow, "Well it's not as if you pay me, you know. I highly doubt most apprentices have to run about micro-managing their tutor's career whilst they prance about on stage making the local population of males' eyes spring out of their heads."

Another chuckle followed this, as Castala ruffled the boy's hair, "Jealous, dear? I'm not sure the outfit would work on you, you know..."

With an exasperated sigh, Castiel put his hands up, "You are impossible, I wash my hands of trying to reason with you. We have ten minutes before we're due on stage, so if you have anything you need to do, you'd best get it done. I'll be waiting outside."

And on that note, with only a fleeting backwards grin to show that there were no hard feelings, Castiel swept from the dressing room.

Setting

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Character Portrait: Castala Melaidhrin
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Camp 92, Eastern Pavor continent, the Curiad Coast
New Pastor


The great crimson dome of the circus tent swept above the surrounding shanty, drawing the grimy inhabitants towards it like ants to an anthill. Small plumes of smoke marred the sunset, mostly in the eastern part of towm, where the still molten scar from the Aschen's orbital bombardment cut deep into the concrete.

Khavel had considered taking the night off, spending the night in a mouldering apartment, far from the prying eyes of the militia, to tinker with his new arsenal of Aschen technology, but with the rumours of the sickness breaking out in camp, the Oriyak had no idea how long this “Castala” and her people would stick around, and as such, wanted to maximize his profits from this lucrative business.

The Oriyak paused as they entered the wide space commandeered by the circus. His eyes flicked furtively around the packed square, hunting for the familiar uniforms of the militia, or the square jaws and thick shoulders of any hired muscle. Satisfied that he could enter the area unopposed, he strode forward, stuffing a fat, foul smelling cigar into the corner of his mouth, pulling down the peak of an Aschen Officer's cap to hide his frankly disgusting features.

He stole a glance over his shoulder, checking that the seven other Scatterans who had accompanied him through the shanty town were still at his back, hands clasping makeshift clubs or concealed under their greatcoats, resting on the grips of stolen firearms.

Khavel made a beeline for the cavernous entrance to the big top, hands tucked into the pockets of his greatcoat. Hunching his shoulders, he strode over to the nearest member of the circus staff, blowing out a cloud of foul smelling smoke as he addressed him.

“You there. Who in charge of this lightshow?” When he was done speaking, Khavel jammed the cigar back into his mouth, rocking back on his heels, staring down at the boy.

Castiel had been en-route to find an acrobat who had managed to disappear at exactly the wrong moment when Khavel entered the tent and accosted him. The blonde youth blinked, coughing slightly at the putrid fumes and taking a pointed step backwards. "Well, sir, as one might draw from the name of the show 'Castala's Illustrious Illusions', I would start by looking for 'Castala'."

A long pause followed, "But she isn't-"

Khavel fixed the youth with a smouldering glare, removing his hands from his pockets, which would appear to be the approximate size of the boy's head. “Don't get smart with me.” He interrupted, his voice deep, and laden with menace.

As he spoke, he pulled back the tails of his greatcoat, revealing the olive-drab body armour, and the frame of a live disruptor pistol hanging from his hip. “I have ticket and backstage pass.” Khavel grinned and tapped the grip of the pistol. “You get out of my way, and take me to boss-lady, or you end up missing face.”

Visibly paling, Castiel absorbed the presence of the deadly weapon at the oversized brute's hip, inwardly calculating just how easy it would be for the pistol to shoot him down regardless of which direction he fled in. "I- ah..." Think. Think. He was in a damned magic show, there must be something useful lying around here!

"Well, as it happens, I'm quite attached to my face," Castiel finally managed, "I'll ah, show you the way."

With that, he turned on his heel and made off for backstage once again.

Ignoring the bustle of the circus, Khavel followed close behind the boy, his eyes bouncing around the tent, watching for the tell tale signs of marksmen or armed security. One hand remained on the grip of his pistol, the other hanging loose at his side, ready to grab the boy by the throat, if anything untoward should happen.

He spat the chewed butt of the cigar from his lips, crushing it under his heel, a small smile flickering across his face. His cronies followed behind him, pushing and shoving their way through the crowd, their hands also resting on their concealed weapons.

Leading the group outside the back of the tent, Castiel paused by the door to Castala's trailer, turning to face Khavel, "If you'll give me a moment, I'll get her out. You don't mind waiting, do you? You've been so accomodating so far, after all ..."

It took a few seconds for Khavel to realize he'd been insulted, by which time, the boy had disappeared inside the trailer, and the Oriyak had to content himself with an indignant grunt as he directed his men to form a perimeter around the trailer.

Shrugging out of his greatcoat, Khavel pulled another cigar from the pocket of his overalls, wedging it between his yellowing teeth, inhaling a great gout of noxious fumes. If the little squirt kept him waiting much longer, he would crush his head like an egg.

"We have a problem."

Castiel closed the door of the trailer firmly behind himself as he walked in. Looking up from where she was rummaging around inside her hat, Castala raised an eyebrow. "Oh yes?"

The blonde boy gestured towards the door, "A bunch of local 'big men', with local 'big guns', and oversized 'big heads'. Apparently they want to speak to you. I translate that as wanting to either A, extort you, or B, violate you sexually. As far as I can tell that's the limit of their mental capacity."

The eyebrow remained raised as Castala listened, and she chuckled. "Well now, it's been a while since I've been flattered with an attempted rough-housing. It's just like old times, before I got famous."

Rising to her feet, Castala swept her long coat around and placed her top hat upon her head. Taking her jewelled staff from where it leaned on the dresser, she motioned towards the door. "Let's go confuse some thugs then, shall we?"

Castiel folded his arms, "You'd best know what you're doing," he murmured, stepping aside to let the magician through.

"When don't I?" Castala teased as she walked past and swung the door open.

"I won't answer that!" was the muffled call after her as as she descended the steps.

Khavel was leaning against the outside of the trailer when Castala descended the steps, the fat cigar clenched between his teeth. He had discarded the greatcoat, revealing the suit of military-grade body armour, and the disruptor pistol on his hip.

He grinned lecherously as the magician stepped past him, his piggy eyes running up and down her body. “Hello pretty lady...” He muttered to himself, before mentally yanking himself back onto the task in hand, hunching his shoulders and setting his face in a moody scowl.

“I have proposition for you, Cas-tah-lah.” The Oriyak stumbled over the unfamiliar name, his eyes wandering from the magician's face, dropping down slightly, the scowl reversing into a slightly slack-jawed grin.

His thugs were equally enamoured, only a few remained to watch their surroundings, the rest turning around to stare at Castala.

"Is that so?" Castala inquired as she alighted from the steps, adjusting her hat and meeting Khavel's eyes with little more than idle amusement, "Well then, do go on, love. I'm due on stage in five."

At the top of the steps, Castiel lurked nervously, hoping to hell that Castala knew what she was doing.

Flexing his brawny arms, Khavel managed to scowl again, slipping the disruptor pistol from its holster, casually aiming it at Castala. “I am insurance salesman. I offer you, and your pretty lightshot protection from fire, water, earthquake and death.”

The rest of his cronies closed a tight semi-circle around the trailer, producing long-barrelled disruptor rifles. Khavel continued, blowing a cloud of noxious smoke in the magician's direction. “I want 10,000 UCON cays payment.”

Castala seemed to muse over this offer for several moments, before lifting a single finger, "Well, it would be rather a task to arrange for ten-thousand separate individuals to say 'kay' to you, but if you only want a rather repetitive individual, I'm sure I could arrange that ..."

The magician paused as if in realisation, "Oh, you mean the currency? No no no, you've got that all wrong - I came to this planet to get paid, not the other way around, sweetie." Brushing her purple hair back, she winked, "Was that all? Because I really am running short on time..."

The brutish Oriyak towered above the magician as he stepped forward, jabbing the muzzle of the pistol towards her side. “Maybe you no hear me correctly. Ten grand. Or you end up in the sewers.”

Castiel would find himself staring down a man of similar size to Khavel approaching him, a pistol in his hands. Khavel looked down at Castala, and then up at Castiel. “If you can no pay now, we take boy, and you get him back when we get ten grand.”

"Tsk tsk tsk..." Castala shook her head, "Now now boys, you shouldn't talk so tough when you've already made the biggest gaffe you could've."

The magician twirled around on her toes, "Never lose sight of an illusionist, or let her be the one to engage contact."

With that said, both Castiel and Castala herself evaporated into nothingness - the projected illusions vanishing completely. A highly amused laugh echoed down from some distance away, as Castala waved down to the Oriyaks from the top of a temporary scaffold set up to one side of the circus tent. "Another piece of advice I'll give you for free!" she called down, her voice perfectly audible despite the distance, and yet giving across no impression of shouting, "Never lose track of a magician's hat!"

Khavel roared like a wounded animal, raising his pistol and blasting a pair of scorching plumes of energy in Castala's direction. Having vented rage and frustration sufficiently, he turned to the closest Scatteran, who had dropped his rifle, to produce a bag full of molotov cocktails.

Grinning like a small boy presented with a Christmas present, Khavel lit the first bottle with the glowing tip of his cigar, before pitching it into the interior of Castala's trailer. Another two blazing missiles arced up towards the crimson fabric of the big top, accompanied by the Oriyak's raucous bellows.

“Fuck you, pretty lady!” He yelled in the direction of the scaffold, as his men continued to hurl the firebombs at the tent.

Perfectly on cue, the lone top-hat sitting on the bottom step of the trailer trembled, and with an alarming grunt, a large white paw pushed free of the top. In a display that was as horrifying as it was comical, an enormous fifteen foot tall abomination - the fluffiness and large floppy ears upon it suggesting that it may have once been a rabbit - emerged fully into the night, and roared.

"Have fuuuun!" came Castala's voice as she disappeared into the tent with a cackle. The rabbit sniffed, and launched itself forwards straight towards Khavel.

As the monstrosity emerged from the hat, Khavel almost fell onto the muddy ground as his torso was wracked with laughter. He hadn't had this much fun in years. Regaining his composure, he braced his pistol in both hands, and emptied the rest of the microfusion cell at the rabbits face.

Khavel's men had moved away from the now blazing trailer, and had begun to distribute the firebombs into other parts of the circus, along with the occasional blast of gunfire as they put down anyone who tried to resist.

As the pistol was emptied at the lunging rabbit, the plasma seared straight into its face with rather potent results. The outcome was rather than viciously clawing at Khavel, the monstrosity instead impacted with him in a full body tackle as its head disintegrated, its momentum carrying it to slump rather inconveniently on top of the Oriyak.

Around the circus, even as Castala had retreated, the majority of the other trailers had simply faded into the background - those few that were already in the thugs' line of sight remained, but the rest of the 'trailers' that were being torched were in reality little more than piles of filth, or walls. The performers were already evacuating the area as gunfire started to go off - having been warned by a rather distraught Castiel whilst Castala bought them a few minutes.

"Now let's get this dealt with..." Castala murmured within the large circus tent as the fire started to land upon it. She stretched up with one hand to grab hold of a zip-line down from the scaffold - normally an entrance for the acrobats. As panic started to grip the crowd below, the magician calmly slid down the wire, holding her staff aloft and amplifying her voice as she shouted to the crowd.

"Many apologies, ladies and gentlemen, but due to an unfortunate incident with a large man and a molotov, tonight's performance is going to be delayed by a few minutes whilst we deal with this problem. If you'd all like to move in a calm and orderly panicked mob towards the nearest exit, avoiding the gun-toting maniacs that may or may not be in the area, that would be great."

Of course, the words 'calm and orderly' seemed to be lost somewhere in translation, as the occupants of the tent started to mob out of it, screaming and flailing for all they were worth. Castala sighed, glancing around at the burning tent as she landed in the centre of the ring, "Well it's a good job I didn't bring my good tent to this plague-hole, now isn't it?"

Folding her arms, the magician stood calmly in the ring as the crowd began to dissipate. After a moment, she reconsidered, taking a few steps to the right and slipping into invisibility, leaving a fake-Castala standing in the same spot. It wouldn't do to be sniped down while she wasn't looking.

By now, Castiel should be several miles away, complaining to the proper authority and carrying the box full of money, so this was really only a matter of time and compensation grants. Castala glanced down at her watch, before realising that it was invisible, and lowering her arm again.

Khavel sat upon the roof of a shack, a bottle of vodka in one hand, his last cigar between his lips, as the big top blazed in the distance. It was burning better than he had expected. The group of mobsters had escaped in the crowd of Scatterans that had bolted like frightened geese, disappearing into the warren of streets that surrounded the circus.

After a brief sojourn across town, the group had ducked into their nearest safe house, to spend the night in relative comfort, away from the prying eyes of the militia. Khavel took a long slug from the vodka, and grinned broadly. That was two nights in a row he'd come away empty handed, but it didn't really bother him. At least he got to set fire to a big tent, and kill a giant rabbit.

The final death toll from their escapade was uncertain. His companions had managed to gun down three of the circus performers, but Khavel hadn't seen anyone get hurt in the blaze. The Oriyak shrugged to himself and pulled the greatcoat around his massive frame against the night chill. Once again, his thoughts turned to the rumours of the sickness reaching the camp. He shivered and pushed the thought from his mind.

Some time later, the tent little more than a ragged ruin, Castala stood engaged in something of a talk with a number of government officials. The illusionist provided them with a picture-perfect image of Khavel and his associates, and made a point of suggesting that she would be very pleased if they stopped being a problem. And after all, when one is in a good mood, one feels a lot more generous, don't they? And everybody loves generosity.

"What now?" On the steps of their new commandeered trailer - some of the other performers having been shifted to a more cramped share - Castiel frowned at his tutor, "I don't like this place. There are too many violent brutes, and too much plague. We can make plenty of money in safer atmospheres, back home."

Castala tutted, tapping Castiel on the forehead. "Ah ah, Tiel my dear, no talk like that. Brutes or no brutes, filth or no filth, you're forgetting the number one rule."

The magician adjusted her hat dramatically, "The show must go on!"

There was a pause, and Castiel ran his hand through his hair with a groan, and a vague muttering of "You are such a bloody poser..."

Co-written by XavierDantius32 and Script

The setting changes from New Pastor to Twisted Path

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#, as written by Script
The Kodak Theater in Los Angeles, host to some of the world's finest performances - from Broadway shows to the Oscars - was abuzz on this frosty winter's evening. The seats were lined with the finely-dressed masses murmuring amongst themselves about the latest sensation on the entertainment scene.

Simply named, the show "Castala" had but a single star - its namesake. A magician who had first risen to fame as a member of the US Cirque du Soleil, her act had quickly become so popular that she was able to split away from the group and go solo. Critics were astounded by the tricks she could perform seemingly effortlessly, fellow magicians were baffled as to how she did them, and the general public were awed by the sheer amount of pretty lights she could employ.

Backstage, ten minutes before the performance, Castala Melaidhrin sat peacefully in her dressing room, clad in her full performing outfit of blacks and reds, and with her fitted top-hat sat beside her. She could hear the audience from here, and her mouth curled upwards in a little smile. She could almost taste the anticipation.

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"You're on in five, Castala!"

The small voice caused Castala to turn in her seat, catching a parting glimpse of blonde locks disappearing from the closing door. The magician smiled - Castiel (or Daniel, when it wasn't necessary for their names to be catchy and alliterative) was her apprentice and, for the few portions of her show that required it, her stand-in 'lovely assistant'. The poor boy took far better to management than to performance, but she had to hand it to him, he was willing to put up with a lot for the magical expertise she could pass on to him. He was a bright spark, and the fact that he was so efficient at making the shows run like clockwork was a blessing in minimising the number of 'show-biz' types she had to let in on the secret of her act.

Rising from her chair, Castala took her top-hat in hand and made her way towards the door. The noise of the crowd was amplified a dozen times when she stepped out to be greeted by Castiel's smile. "Ready?" he inquired, glancing down at his watch.

"As ever, dear," she replied, ruffling the shorter boy's hair. "I'll make my way up to the platform, and go on cue."

Castiel nodded, already turning away to hastily get everyone into their positions, but paused. "Aren't you worried about .."

"No," Castala interrupted, "As it happens, I'm not."

A hesitant silence followed, before the boy nodded. "Alright then. Good luck out there."

Castala chuckled. "Since when have I ever needed luck, Tiel sweetie?"

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Sighing, Castala turned to face the man who addressed her with obvious impatience. "I could hazard a guess, Mr ..." the illusionist scanned the ID "... Lieffers. Something to do with a foolish old man with too much bravado for his boots."

A lock of purple hair was flicked haphazardly behind her ear, "Well, out with it then, what does the SCD want with me? I can't tarry long, it takes time to climb those stairs you know, and I can't keep my fans waiting..."

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"My my, not too close, Agent - a girl in this sort of outfit's gotta have boundaries." Castala chuckled, "And you really do underestimate me, my dear. No harm will come to my audience so long as I have the stage, you have my assurances."

Castala chuckled, "I believe it was your realm that invented the phrase, after all - the show must go on."

With that, Castala turned and walked away.

Or to be more accurate, from Shad's perspective, five of her did. And those five turned into ten. And those ten each managed to find ten different routes away from the conversation to walk - from back to the dressing room, to towards the stage, even back to the exit.

Castiel shrugged, smiling at Shad, "Well, that went about as well as you could have expected." he said.

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Castiel nodded, "Technically my real name's Daniel, but I've sort of taken to the new name. Seems a lot less ordinary, you know?"

Whilst Castiel talked happily with Shad, Castala was making her way along the metal walkway over the stage and to the extravagant mechanical contraption that was attached to it. Whilst it would have been easy to create an illusion of her dramatic entrance, Castala was of the view that nothing could really compete with the feeling of descending onto the stage in the hook of a crescent moon.

The lights dimmed, and Castala took her seat, wreathing herself in an illusory outfit of green and red - festive and furry as any Mrs. Clause. A sparkling of light descended from the top of the stage, and the band launched into a fittingly festive rendition of 'Ave Maria'.

Emerging from the bright light, Castala descended into the view of the audience, seemingly unsupported upon a glittering moon-and-star seat, the cables supporting it concealed by her magic. A glittering light-show danced around her and around the stage, intensifying and dimming in time with the music. A decorative jewelled staff was held daintily at Castala's side, and she waved it theatrically forwards to send waves of light flashing into the audience, gracefully looping around far beyond the capabilities of any spotlights to sighs of awe from the magically uninformed masses.

The lights receded into the stage, only for the wood and curtains to fade in their entirety, replaced by a dazzling white scene of Christmas imagery, a park-like area with a single victorian street-lamp illuminating the white snow coating upon the grass and benches.

Castala alighted from her perch as applause rang around the audience, 'floating' slowly down to the ground, descending smoothly into a bow. The music crescendoed as it ended, and for a brief moment a peaceful silence hung over the idyllic scene.

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And then Castala raised her arms in a dramatic motion, dispelling her Christmas outfit for her more traditional black and red, as a burst of faux fireworks shot from the ground around her. "Merry Christmas, Los Angeles!" the magician's voice echoed around the room, "And welcome to the most magical night of your year!"

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A roar of cheering echoed around the theater, and Castala soaked it in with a smile, raising a single hand to bring it to a stop. "Thank you, thank you," she called out, "It's wonderful to be here tonight. In the Kodak of all places! To think that only a year ago I was new to performing in front of any audience larger than a bar."

This was a lie. Castala had never really performed in any bars, but nobody knew that.

"Given the time of year, as you may have already noticed, this show is based around a Christmas theme!" Castala turned to survey the snow-covered pine-tree that stood to her right, "I think that we could do with some updated decor, though. You just can't get the staff these days."

Grinning, Castala lifted her staff, and waving it around, sent a spiral of light winding around the tree. The light shifted in the air and on the greenery to shape itself into tinsel, baubles, and all manner of super-sized tree decorations, complete with as fancy a display of fairy lights as you could have asked for.

Below the tree, in showers of magical confetti, picturesque gift-boxes neatly wrapped with bows appeared to complete the scene, to a round of applause from the audience.

Castala turned with a frown, "Hold up, everyone, don't applaud yet!" she called, "I'm most certainly missing something!"

It was clear that Castala was no stranger to pantomime theatrics, as a brief exchange of call-and-response with the audience, eventually leading them to the consensus that the missing element was the angel on the top of the tree.

"Seems like I might have to call in a helping hand here, ladies and gentlemen, so can I have a warm round of applause for my first assistant, a Mr. S Clause!"

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A booming 'ho ho ho' resonated across the room at this, and from the side of the stage burst a jingling and glittering projection of the picture-perfect Santa and sleigh, complete with reindeer. Applause burst out as the illusion rode out from the stage and circled over the audience, gasps and cheers followed by cries of surprise as the image swung by so close they might have touched it if they stood on tip-toe.

The sleigh circled around to over the stage, and from its cabin a single gift was tossed, spiralling down to hover sedately just over Castala's head. "Thanks for the hand, Red!" she called, waving to the image as it rode off the far side of the stage.

The magician turned to bow at the round of applause, before gesturing cheerfully over her shoulder at the floating box. "Seems like this one ought to be opened early, ladies and gents, what do you say?"

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If ever anyone were to invent a 'showboat' then most certainly the prototype would be christened 'Castala', as the magician twirled her staff around the box to emphasise the definite lack of contact or apparently link between it and the stage. "Let's see what we have here then..." she murmured (though the entire room would hear her, making the murmur somewhat pointless), tapping the box with one hand and pulling the bow.

The lid of the box burst upwards, and an explosion of heavenly light radiated outwards with a musical accompaniment of harps and piano. The light slowly faded to reveal the angelically garbed form of Castala's reluctant stage-companion, Castiel...

...and the malevolent looking demon holding him by the throat.

Silence hung so thick in the air of the theater that you could almost taste the tension, Castala's follow-up line caught in her throat as she attempted to rapidly process the situation.

The show must go on.

"What's this?" Castala's now booming voice echoed from the stage, "Some creature, some grinch, come to steal our Christmas cheer - cheesy I know, ladies and gentlemen, but do bear with me, I have no doubt you'll appreciate the follow-up."

Castala swung her staff about, jumping backwards away from the demon and thrusting it outwards, "Cue music!" she called, and - though below, the dumbfounded conductor who was quite certain that this wasn't in the script, had no idea whatsoever what he was meant to be conducting - from all around the hall a dramatic onslaught of strings and synths worthy of any Hollywood blockbuster erupted. The serene Christmas scene darkened to be replaced with dramatic effect lighting, with clouds and storms brewing in the background.

"You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch," Castala hissed without amplification, so that the audience could not hear, "But I'd advise you to put my angel down before I shove holiday cheer so far up your asshole you'll be choking on it."

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As the box that had contained Castiel and the creature dissolved into nothingness, Castala was already working her magic on the demon itself - smoothly and almost undetectably making it fit more into the scene, look more like a traditional 'grinch' character. This had to be believable for the audience. She wasn't going to let some pompous demonologist crash her show.

The demon seemed unfettered by its cosmetic makeover, stepping down from the invisible platform from which Castiel had entered the box, and moving towards Castala with the boy still held off of the ground by his throat. Castiel - not in a position to do much - flicked his eyes back and forth between Castala and the creature, praying that his tutor really knew what she was doing for once.

Castala took a sweeping step to the side and backwards, bringing her staff around to gracefully sweep past the creature once, twice ... before with a whip-like lash, she swung it forwards, chains of gold bursting from its tip to crack at the being, twining around its leg and torso.

Chains were not what the audience saw, however, no - instead a stream of tinsel flew from Castala's staff, much to their amusement, even as the magician swept forwards, ducking under a swipe of the creature's claw to snap the chains taut and jerk it off of its feet, forcing it to release its grip on Castiel, who dropped to the floor with a gasp.

The creature turned in midair to land, cat-like, on all fours, hissing at Castala as she turned once more to face it. Seeing Castiel turn and flee - with at least the presence of mind to animate his illusory wings in a flustered manner as he did so - the illusionist now focused on a plan to get rid of this interruption without breaking the act.

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Castala's eyes shot to Shad, just out of sight to the side of the stage, begrudgingly acknowledging his assistance. No doubt his 'friends' wouldn't be far behind, and she had to deal with this before the whole brigade stormed onto stage and ruined everything.

Not that it seemed that there was much to salvage - Castala knew that the negators wouldn't allow the audience to remember this if it went any further to pot. Ah well, she'd made her money.

Waving her hand outwards at the snarling creature, Castala conjured a flurry of glittering snow around it, the faux-blizzard disguising the true illusory assault she unleashed upon it. Confusing bursts of pain and disorienting light clouded its senses, making it unable to discern between what hurt was real and what was false, leaving it flailing in confusion and agony.

But, of course, Liesha was right. There was never just one. Like insects emerging from a hive, the creatures began to crawl from the recesses of the large pine-tree on the stage - one of the few props that was real.

Sighing, Castala shook her head, "And that's the end of act one, ladies and gentlemen, we'll be right back after this brief interlude."

And with that, the curtain fell. Or at least the audience thought it had. The glamour that swept down to obscure their view of the stage fell into place smoothly, and Castala narrowed her eyes, "This is going to look terrible in the papers tomorrow." she growled.

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"Yeah, it's not like I do 'nice tricks' for a living or anything," Castala commented dryly, "As it happens though, clearing out swarms of clawed things isn't my speciality, I figure that's where you people come in."

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"Oh, I told him we should see other people," The illusionist shrug, "He tried the whole 'put the magic hat on and look half your age' trick, but naturally I saw through that. Eventually. He didn't take the break-up well." She lowered her voice, "A bit of a drama queen, if you know the type."

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"Great. I hate reunions." Castala sighed, "I left him off my Christmas card list for a reason."

The illusionist turned to face where Liesha had gestured, folding her arms and preparing a spell or two as a precaution.

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"Aheh. Let's just say I don't do diplomatic breakups."

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"Sometimes it's hard to tell with men." Castala commented, "But neat trick, nonetheless. It's certainly his style. Both the ribbons, and the hiding behind monsters made of them."

The illusionist smirked, quite confident that the man in question would be listening in, and hoping that she could draw him out to defend himself.

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Bringing her hand over the end of her staff, Castala gathered energy into her palm before launching an orb of power at the nearest creature, sending ribbons flying as Liesha unleashed her own attack. "I pity the poor things, must be quite a blow to find yourself lower on the food-chain than this guy."