In the regions surrounding the capitol, it is customary to invite one or more special guests to every party or celebration. These guests are called "watchers", "vigils", "sentinels" and other less widespread titles depending on local customs. These watchers are often treated to the best food and privileged places in any entertainment provided, but their sobriety is sacrosanct and anyone caught trying to give them alcohol, even accidentally, will usually be beaten quite thoroughly.

For only when all possible witnesses are already inebriated will a muse of wine decide to appear.

A muse always shows itself quite benign at first, simply content to helpfully refill any empty cups it comes across, and gently weaving through the crowd to do so. Revelers drinking the muse's wine will find themselves invigorated and their thirst renewed no matter how tired or intoxicated they were previously. Thus the appearance of a muse tends to quickly revive the festivities, infusing widespread energy and joy to all present.

As the liveliness of the party increases, so too does the muse's own, and it will begin dancing and moving with greater grace and celerity, actively seeking cups to refill.

Once all guests have drunk the muse's nectar, the darker nature of the being reveals itself. Guests will quickly lose themselves to the drink, obsessively following the muse around to fill their cups or simply lapping the constant stream of trickling wine it leaves behind. The fervor of both the muse and the drinkers continues to increase at this point, many guests drinking themselves to death during that phase. Luckier ones will simply fall unconscious and thus avoid the final step of a muse's visit.

Eventually, on a whim, the muse's dance will culminate in a wild and rapid spin; her legs drumming a vigorous beat as she turns and turns in place. The flow of her tears grows into gushing torrents, spraying vast quantities of wine in every direction. Revelers, hypnotized by the drink, will begin swarming the muse, mouths agape to catch the precious liquid. This swarming inevitably leads them to throw themselves bodily into the muse's rapidly swinging arms.

It is unknown what makes a muse decide the direction in which to spin, but that choice carries a great deal of consequence for the guests. Should she spin counterclockwise, the guests will mercifully only be beaten unconscious by backhanded strikes of her fourteen left arms. Bones might break, and bruises will flourish, but most will survive. If she spins clockwise, however, the hapless victims will be shredded to ribbons by her claws, their throats ripped and their skin rent from their bones. What few survivors remain will awaken the next day in a pool of torn bodies, blood, and wine.

Survivors of the more lethal events will often become tormented artists, creating disturbing and worrisome pieces for the rest of their lives and warning everyone that the drink was not worth its price.

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Decided to take a break from yinglets to do a piece in my lineless style. It's not really furry in any way (unless you count the digitigrade legs) so I'm not sure it belongs here, but I figure I might as well have at least one sample of this style on here. If anyone complains I'll just say i was drunk from all the wine.