The magical selection of tonight's Mymphomaniac!

"You know what they call my fans and followers, Miss Gypsy?" the burly clown asked her, continuing to hassle her instead of moving on to any of the less prickly women. "Mymphomaniacs!"

"... They do not," the sorceress scolded him, not believing that the man could have fans, let alone that they'd concede to being labeled by such an awful phrase.

"Oh, but they do!" the jester chuckled, ringing the bells on his three-pointed hat with an insufferable shake of his head. "And tonight, I'm offering one of you girls the lucky chance to be my magic assistant for this Night Parade! That's right: one of you gets to become a Mymphomaniac!!" He waved his hands side to side, urging them to cheer.

Palas did the opposite of cheering, looking as though she wanted to throttle him while her hands shook by her side. She was no longer dancing, just walking to keep pace with the throng. "Keep moving, clown. I am far less than uninterested," she told him off, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Now now! I wasn't asking for volunteers! On the contrary, I pick my Mymphomaniacs using this magic mask!" he pointed out, raising one hand and producing, seemingly from thin air, a wooden mask, carved with eye holes, a discreet hole beneath the diamond-shaped nose extension, and a big, open smile. From his own, bright white teeth showed in a huge grin. "You see, this mask is imbued with my Mympho magic! It can tell me who assembled among you is the perfect fit to be my assistant for the night!"

She heard the other girls around her beginning to giggle. Was it some kind of trick? Or... did they really want to be chosen by this muscle-bound clown, who may or may not be some famous knight? Were they all plants, designed to make her feel ridiculous. "How, pray tell, does your magic mask choose its victim?" she questioned, arching one eyebrow.

"Not victim, assistant!" he reminded her, dancing back and forth with surprisingly nimble legs despite his size and muscle. "It's very easy! I tell the mask who it should search for, then I sprinkle a bit of my Mympho magic dust! Whoever best fits that criteria is my assistant for the night!" he explained. "This isn't for me, you see... Mympho's magic brings joy to all! So if you're selected to be a Mymphomaniac, that means that the mask knows you're going to have a great time doing it!"

"Ah, then I needn't worry," Palas rolled her eyes. Whatever criteria was set, it didn't matter... there was no way the mask was going to choose her, because she could not be made to enjoy herself in this obnoxious parade, surrounded by dancing, muscular clowns.

"Do you wanna know who I'm going to ask it to search for?"

"No."

"I'm going to tell it to search for the most sexually repressed girl among all of you, of course! Whoever that is, she needs tonight more than anybody!" he suggested with a chuckle, while bringing out a bag of magic powder. It was only then that she noticed an amulet jingling against his thick neck... it was the winged shield of Dyna's knights. He really was a knight! She thought hard on that as he sprinkled some of the gold dust over the wooden mask, then lifted it into the air. The mask stood upright upon his palm and began to turn, as though it was actually being worn by a searching figure, trying to find the right person in the crowd.

Of course, much like Mympho himself, it ended up staring at Palas.

"What? Ha! It's rigged!" she scoffed indignantly, now letting her full anger show on her face. "Sexually repressed?! I'm the only person in this stinking city who didn't turn into a sex-crazed maniac tonight! Furthermore, I have a very healthy sex life... In private, where it belongs!" she complained loudly, so much so that some of the other girls had to strain not to listen to the conversation or otherwise perked up their ears to listen closer.

"Now now! You've been chosen!" Mympho reminded her, wagging one finger. "Come on, you don't want to let down everyone watching the parade, do you? The mask tells me it's not going to find a better assistant than you! Don't let everyone down or I'll be a sad clown~"

Palas considered for a moment grabbing the mask, snapping it in two, then leaving... but then she thought over his words. "Perhaps... I do want to let everyone down," she thought to herself with a sly smile, cupping one hand at her chin. If this perverse sexual parade continued, there was a chance the people would come to thank the knights all the more... The more the people leaned on them, the stronger the knights became, in her experience, due to new recruits, donations, all sorts of things. Furthermore, the church had a hand in this as well. If she was Mympho's assistant... Wouldn't that be the perfect spot from which to ruin the show? It could have some personal cost, but it would be a great service towards her demon lord.

Plus, on a personal level... She really wanted to see the unfathomably annoying Mympho cry his eyes out when his parade was ruined...!

"I'll accept your silly mask," she finally resolved, keeping the haughty sneer as she snatched the mask from him. The thing had a discreet string around the back, used to tie it around the head. It wouldn't be particularly comfortable, she noted, but it was breathable. Feeling ridiculous, she tied the mask onto her face... in the wood, she smelled a scent somewhat like kitchen spices. Was that all the powder had been? Spices? "What a crock!" she thought to herself.

"I can tell you're skeptical," Mympho chuckled, pressing both fists to his sculpted hips as he continued to skip along. "But pretty soon, you're going to be enjoying yourself! Mark my wooords~"

"And before the night is over, hopefully, you'll be lying face down in a ditch somewhere..." she amused herself privately, smiling behind her mask as she remembered the curved dagger hidden beneath her dress, looped into the garter on her thigh. She was finding herself very happy at the thought... Actually... She was finding herself feeling different overall. "It can't be... The oaf's mask and spices actually have some power?" she considered to herself, clicking her teeth in irritation.