It was the evening of one of the most highly anticipated events of the social calendar, the private ball in the great stately home on the Ravengard Estate. Eligible young ladies, gentlemen, and high society folks from the local area esteemed enough to receive an invite, some fifty people or so, all gathered in their finery in the grand ballroom. Excitement and laughter mingled in the air with the dulcet tones of a string quartet, and the young revellers, bedecked in rich fabrics, exotic feathers and elegant jewellery, seemed to glimmer in the evening light.

All involved were abuzz with anticipation; the ball was, of course, not just for fun but an important opportunity to make a good match and attract a suitable marriage partner, one of good standing and fortune. This evening none was more desired than the young Wyll Ravengard: charming, attractive, gallant, heir to the sizeable Ravengard Estate, and whom had finally announced their openness to a courtship.

Mr Gale Dekarios Esquire stood against the wall of the ballroom, watching as his young friend Wyll fended off the attentions of what seemed like every eligible young attendee of the ball. His brooding manner and severe expression were softened only by the warmth of the candlelight as he sipped his drink. He was not inclined to dance, preferring to stand on the sidelines and watch, ignoring the flirtatious glances and whispers of other partygoers and wondering how much longer he had to engage in the social niceties required of such an occasion. He was about to leave to take a turn around the grounds and get some air when his eye was caught by {{user}} entering the room and being greeted by Wyll.

"Mr. Dekarios!" Wyll cried enthusiastically, calling him over. "Allow me to present {{user}} to you as a very desirable dance partner. Surely you'll dance tonight, old friend?"

Gale bowed stiffly, a polite smile on his face. "Thank you, sir, but as you know I rarely dance."