He sat in the darkness and listened to the tick... tick... tick... of pick on stone. The secret of the Old Temple had either been breached or bypassed. Or perhaps had worn down with the passage of time. He didn't know what year it was, didn't know how long he had lain not-dead on the slab in his hidden place. He did know that only one thing could have awoken him from his rest: the Gods of Alexandria had returned.

The Overlords, if they still lived (or not-lived, as he himself did not-live), would not take this kindly. They would suffer no challengers to their stolen thrones, divine disapproval be damned. Once again there would be a turning-point, a time and place after witch the world would never be the same. Once again he would record it, in hopes that others might dare to remember that which should never have been forgotten.

TICK... TICK... TICK... The pick was louder now, digging closer. It would not be long before he walked beneath the sun and stars once more.

Perhaps he would even remember his name.

Aflia Cencin blinked away the glowing after-images from the teleport and stepped off of the circle. "well, that went much more smoothly than my last extra-dimensional trip."

Mul shrugged, "it was safe enough last time."

Aflia looked at Mul, then at her taloned feet, then back at Mul.

Mul roller her eyes, "it all worked out, didn't it?"

Aflia kept giving Mul the look.

Lady SiDabolo stepped between them, breaking up the staring contest, "peace, you two. It wouldn't do to burn down the place before they have a chance to throw us out."

Aflia flexes her wings slightly, "in that case, we should check in with Riben before heading out. Elci's is just down the street..."

Mul wandered the back racks as Aflia and Lady SiDabolo chatted with Elci. She had always worn robes of some sort. Heavy in her youth, lighter as a shaman, lighter still in the forests of Althiem. But this was to be a festival, and Mul wouldn't be attending as a shaman, so something fancy or festive was in order. Nothing overly flowing or fluttery, but also nothing restrictive either. She needed to be able to move freely if she wanted to dance or fight.

Mul passed over several dresses that went all the way from shoulder to floor; too much of a tripping hazard for her taste. Likewise she ignored anything that didn't come to her knees; she wasn't looking to appear overly inviting and have to tell some drunkard 'no' with her fists. Color was her next concern. With the green tint to her skin, many of the usual colors just wouldn't do. White would work, but that was more for marriages then parties, so Mul ignored anything in those tones. Likewise greens and other forest colors were out, as were many of the bright and vibrant shades. In the end Mul settled on looking for something in black.

Eventually Mul found a display of black dresses. They were clearly intended for high-class parties at some noble's estate, not a commoner's fair, but they looked durable enough to do well. One in particular caught her attention, and she lifted it down to examine it more closely. It covered her shoulders, but not her arms, leaving them free to move and displaying her scars for anyone to envy. It was close-fitting but not constrictive across the torso and abdomen before loosening out from the hips to the middle of her shins, letting her walk or run without fear of tripping. It wasn't deeply cut at the neck or back, nor split above the knee, so it wasn't overly provocative. It had no pockets, but a belt and some pouches would serve equally well.

Mul took a closer look at the fabric, trying to get a feel for its weight and toughness. Too light or weak and it would shred over the day, too heavy and it would be plastered to her body with sweat. Mul ran her fingers across the dress, thinking hard. It wasn't made of cotton or wool, but neither was it made of silk or linen. An experimental tug on one corner revealed just a bit of give, but no tearing or stretch marks. Mul nodded in satisfaction, then looked for either Lady SiDabolo or Aflia, to get a second opinion.

Lady SiDabolo found her first, "It's mageweave, but I don't see any runes, so it's not enchanted. Tough enough to serve a witch or sorceress in the field without tearing or undue damage, comfortable enough in all but the harshest climates, and good-looking enough to stand out in a crowd. Tell you what, I'm enchanting some of these pieces for Elci as a way of paying for our own purchases. I can put some runes on that for you if you want...?"

Mul nodded, "yes please. I'm not so good at weaving long-term spells."

"Battlecaster huh? Good for you, I was never any good in a fight. How does an armor enchantment sound then?"

"I'd rather not wear this in battle. General health and well-being would be better I think, and perhaps something to keep it clean and intact."

"That I can do easily enough. Leave this with me and help Aflia, if you would. She was looking of a large rectangular piece of cloth for me, not a finished dress. I've an older style that I like, and Elci actually doesn't have it in stock, but I can remedy that with a quick spell and some sewing."

"Sure. And thank you."

Aflia Cencin was in a section of Elci's that a few weeks ago she would have never considered. The dresses all around her were deeply cut in the back, if not entirely backless, and many had deeply plunging necklines or were split all the way to the hip. The only reason she was considering them at all was the clearance her wings required. Little Bird would know how to modify a dress or a tunic for wings, but she wasn't here and Aflia was, so an open back was a practical necessity. Aflia would still need to make some small modifications anyway, for her tail. Likewise her reverse-jointed legs (common in tieflings) meant that she needed serious legroom. Doubly so now that she had semi-sharp claws instead of bulky, blunt hooves. A dress split to the hip would give her that room, but the combination of features made her want to blush. She had never worn something so revealing, so provocative, in public before.

Aflia paused to consider the dresses around her. Given the near-crimson tone of her skin, she had to pick something that wouldn't clash horribly. In the past she had gone with either browns or other dull tones, but if she was going to be provocative, she may as well go as all-out as she dared. Bright and light tones were not going to work, as they were either too close to her skin tone or clashed vilely with red in general, but perhaps something not quite so dull as in the past...

Aflia's gaze settled on a dress tucked away at the end of a row. From the shoulder and sleeve she could see, the silk dress was the color of heart's blood: a dark, saturated red unblemished by any hint of green or blue. Her skin and scales would show bright against that backdrop without clashing. Pulling it from the rack, Aflia noted that it wasn't split down the sides, but went not much further then her knees. The back swooped low enough to keep her wings free, but there was enough material to cover her lower back and allow her to make her customary cut-out for her tail. The front plunged deeply enough to teasingly show part of her breasts, but no so low or widely as to risk them coming free. The shoulder straps are likewise wide enough to do their job plus a bit extra, but not wide enough to cover the entire shoulder.

Aflia giggles as she considers her choice. It felt so naughty, and yet so right. With horns and claws and wings and scales on full display, no elf or silithid was likely to make a forward move. Aflia considers the changing room, where she could make her alterations, and plans two other stops on her way to it. The first is in the jewelry section, where Aflia is looking for something in silver. No gem settings, no gold, just silver to highlight her new silver scales. She selects a teardrop pendant on a fine silver chain and a pair of knotwork-carved silver rings, one for each hand. Lastly, she heads for the intimates section. No silithid or elf would dare make a move on her, but perhaps she could draw the attention of one man in particular.

A few minutes later Aflia emerged from the fitting room, satisfied with her selections and alterations. She caught sight of Mul, and waved her towards the little seamstress station near the fitting room. The blank cloths would be in that area, and they still had to find one for Lady SiDabolo while she worked.

Lady Ilelahne SiDabolo stood up from the work table and stretched hugely. Her enchanting work for Elci was complete, with two dozen each of dresses, shirts, and pants spelled for durability and cleanliness, and a few specialty items with a touch more. Two about-the-house outfits for Elci herself, with warmth and comfort added in. A third set of seamstress' clothes with the same plus puncture-resistant pockets for needles on the vest. Several sets of jewelry now had a bit of extra sparkle, and she had even added in a few flourishes here and there on a few other pieces that had caught her eye. The Pwafi had been re-enchanted for allure, with a minor glamour to make the spiderwebs seem to shift while one wasn't looking. A particularly daring dress would now hug the skin just tightly enough no not slip off by accident, without gripping so tight as to reveal all. A trio of summer floral designs would appear to bud and bloom over and over.

Ilelahne grinned as she watched Mul head off to the fitting room to try on her new dress. In addition to the requested health, well-being, durability, and cleanliness, Lady SiDabolo had added in ever-fitting and anti-wrinkle. Aflia was scurrying about returning the enchanted items to a special rack, her own dairing dress similarly enchanted, and Elci was perched atop a tall stool to watch Lady SiDabolo as she got ready to make her own dresses.

“You mentioned the 'peplos' style, but I've never heard of it. Where'd you come up with that?"

Lady SiDabolo shook her head and eyed the small stack of cloths large enough for her needs. "it’s actually quite an old style, not common since before the Seminal War. The simplest form was to take a large enough cloth, rectangular in shape, and fold the top third or so down, fold it in half the long way, with the folded down part on the outside, and then secure it with a brooch at the shoulder and belt at the waist. Simple enough, and it looks like a skirt and blouse in the bargain."

"No stitching at all?"

"Mmn, it depended. The farm-girls would wear a shorter one, and they'd often patch and patch until the cloth was more patch then original as scrapes and falls took their toll. The rich would get fancy with stitchery and embellishments, but I always favored a good border pattern and strong colors. Plus I cheated shamelessly with enchantments of course."

"Huh, that actually sounds quite reasonable. Cheap too, for the simpler designs. I wonder why it went out of style?"

"As people figured out how to stitch properly without magic, blouses and skirts became more common. They also don't rely on one clasp or brooch to keep your entire body covered, which is a plus. They also take larger cloths for us 'big' people, which were harder to make back then. Hence the repeated patching among the farmers: it was cheaper than buying a whole new piece of cloth."

"So you're going to make one for yourself then?"

Lady SiDabolo flipped through the cloths available to her, "two I think, if that's no too much. One for reading and whatnot, one for a midsummer fair. The cream for reading, and the purple for the fair." She pulled out the cream cloth and considered it. With a wave of her hand she aligned the weave and reinforced the edges. A careful consideration of the length gave her the place to make the first fold: the cream would come to her knees and have a waist-length 'blouse'. Another hand-wave set the crease and reinforced the folded edge. Lady SiDabolo called up a sewing kit, from which she pulled two large spools of golden-yellow thread. One she set aside for the other dress, the other she threaded onto a needle and sent it flickering in and out of the cream cloth with the speed of thought. In moments a simple meander pattern had been stitched in at the neck, 'blouse' hem and knee-hem of the cloth. She folded it in half lengthwise and called in a simple gilded brooch and yellow belt to pair with it.

With the casual dress done (and the rust knocked off her sewing skills), Lady SiDabolo pulled out the purple cloth for the dress she would wear to the midsummer fair. She frowned, not quite satisfied with the color, and used magic to add just a touch more red. "There is the Tyrian red I remember so well. It used to be fabulously expensive, but it's impossible to find nowadays."

"Royal red? I know of a source or two, but I could buy a hundred bolts of lesser colors for the cost of one dress' worth of royal red. Tyrian red, you called it?"

"Yes, though I suspect Tyrian did not survive the collapse after the Seminal war, and their secrets went with them. I'd wager Royal red isn't quite this hue, though it is close. Less purple, more red. 'Third-grade' I think the Tyrians would have called the hue, but it was a close match and more readily and cheaply available." Lady SiDabolo frowned, then made the first fold for an ankle-length dress with a mid-chest 'blouse'. The other spool of golden thread was quickly put to use, this time with a much more complex knotwork pattern invoking the sea. The second fold was made, and Lady SiDabolo pulled out a gold seashell brooch and a woven silver-gold chain belt and matching necklace.

"There, that should do. I'll add the usual enchantments once I get home, given that it's become fairly late. Is there any other work you need done miss Elci, or is our bill paid?"

"That's everything Ilelahne. Do come back if you need anymore clothing, whether you are paying in coin or spell. Either is fine by me!"