The Poisoning of the Myrrish Ambassador
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* Myrrish Consulate *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- During the days of the Myrrish Occupation, this small fortress-like building was the housing headquarters of the Myrrish Knights and guards who served the interests of the western kingdoms. In the aftermath of their official withdrawal from the land, this has instead been converted into an embassy, still conveying the splendor of western military power but with an air of diplomacy and also cooperation with their neighbors and friends in the form of the nation of Alexandria. A small castle-keep in scope, most of the offices of the ambassador are located on the upper level while a small company of Myrrish troops and a stable of Skyguard Riders donated to the efforts of Alexandria's search for security and stability can be found on the ground level. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Karelin Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred. 4m 1h Svarshan Be a paladin. Chomp a demon! 1m 1h Whirlpool I am stinky! 0s 3d Myrana Short young woman with coal-black braids. 4m 14m -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=- Out <O> -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
The Myrrish Consulate is a larger place. A very large place. It's the largest embassy by far in Alexandria proper. Dignitaries, members of the City Council, members of the overcouncil of the Alexandros region and more are all coming to this affair -- and, of course, so are adventurers. Whether as guards or guests, adventurers have been brought here. Indeed, veterans of the war in Sendor are afforded a special place of honor here, recognizing their heroism. Many soldiers, regular and irregular, are present here as the doors are opening to the lavish banquet that's been arranged.
Everyone is greeted, one by one, by a man in coat and tails.
Karelin is there, and rather well dressed to boot. He's got on a very nice coat, pressed pants and highly shined boots. He washed his hair, and bound his sword with an elaborate peace knot. In all, its about a good a get-up as he gets. He did not, mind you, powder his scars.
Ylva has arrived.
Sakari has reconnected.
Mako greets the man politely in return. But she's rather distracted, for the moment. Why? She's busy setting up her props. She's making a bit of money at this round of entertainment... For the moment, it's a bit of tumbling and somersaults, interspersed with some juggling of varied objects. More of a warmup, for the moment, than anything else, but at least it's pretty and colorful.
"Grumpy!" a young girl, not barely thirteen, runs across the floor of the Consulate. She wears a long blue dress with silver trim, and her pale hair runs true to her line. The youngest Mandara heir almost trips over its length, and with a scowl, reaches down to yank the skirts to the side.
"...I can't believe they made us dress up," Svar says beneath his breath. He glances at Karelin as he does so, and then, slowly, stiffens at the calling-out. "...I think this means trouble."
Chiddle is in his sunday finest, which mostly means he's without the armor and wearing the jacket without burn marks and oil stains. He's also wearing very fashionable shoes. Shoes provided by Madam Gelfure. He's also wearing the decorations he received during the war. He nods to the man as he's greeted and lead to his seet.
Sakari is just not the type to miss a party - and so she's here. She doesn't get a particular place of honor - having just missed the war in Sendor before arriving in Alexandria, but that doesn't really seem to bother her that much. She's in her usual wear, which is fairly fancy to begin with, and so didn't really see the need to dress up that much. Or maybe she's just lazy.
"Dahling," says Gelfure, sweeping out of the crowd at the sight of Chiddle in those.. those... *shoes*. "An excellent choice," she adds with a knowing wink before she dissapears back into said crowd.
The crowd is growing rapidly. This is going to be a very large affair, that's for sure, and already the entertainment is beginning to get up onto the stage that's been erected. Bards can be heard strumming this instruments, tuning them in the background.
Karelin gets a nod of respect from a senior priest of Kor.
A Myrrish noble dressed in colorful clothes with an equally colorful hat (possibly also reccomended by Gelfure) stops by Svarshan, saying, "...Ah! If it isn't Darshan and his young ward. I.. must offer my condolences," he adds, a glance down towards Ganesa.
Karelin nods pleasantly back towards the priest, smile distorted by scars. He looks back, and grins at Darshan, "Your ward is growing up. I suddently feel as if I require a cane and that my bones have turned to bent glass."
A strange young woman arrives. A lissome and well-built figure suggesting she's no mere tower princess but some kind of physically-inclined adventurer, but who could she be? Her face is modestly tanned and clean, touched with only a dash of colour to accentuate her features nicely. Her golden eyes are alert, darting around and showing she's not entirely familiar or comfortable with this posh event. She's attired in flowing orange and green that manages to look daring without being garish. The entire ensemble makes her appear quite exotic and regal. Who could she be? There, around one wrist, is a leather cord bearing a few polished claws and teeth. Could that be Ylva? Without the grubby savage look to her, she is almost unrecognisable.
"..." Svarshan begins to say a thing, and bites down on it. If he could have added to it, or changed the words--the breath is rushed out of him, instead, as a teenager's arms are thrown about his neck, laughter ringing across the room. "Grumpy! You silly old goose! And you brought friends, too. ...you're that guy with all the sca--" she starts to address Karelin. But then, the man comes forward, and she drops down, shadows immediately clouding her face. Young, and the promise of a young highborn beauty, Ganesa these days also has all the gangliness of a colt. ...and the beginning awkwardness of a teenager. What isn't yet a woman is kind of knobby.
Svarshan...scowls. And reaches up--patting her once on the head, probably hoping no one saw that. And then, to hell with it, he lets go a breath. "Saaa. Father...thank you," he says, after a glance towards Karelin.
Myrana steps in through the doors when it's her turn, brushing a heavy curl of charcoal black out of her eyes as she looks around curiously and returns the doorman's greeting. Dressed in plum wool trimmed with black, her hair has been swept up in part and let fall about her white shoulders in lazy curls and waves, kept in place by an abalone comb. Jewelry of andonized copper and green-tinted glass glitters and chimes about her arms and drips in bangles from her ears. And Rum, just as freshly cleaned and (bizzarely) smelling faintly of lemon verbana as his mistress, hides himself ineffectively atop the ruffled fall of Myra's bustle.
Sakari doesn't recognize a good many of her fellow adventurers entering the place - but upon seeing Ylva she does a bit of a doubletake. Well, maybe Chiddle too! They're both /clean./ She wasn't even sure that was POSSIBLE!
Mako has now begun to finish her warm ups. When she finally appears limber enough, she begins drawing a small brace of specifically-chosen knives, and starts to intersperse them with her colored balls as them as she capers about. Still keeping her knives aloft in the air, with their colored balls, she approaches the young woman with Svarshan,"What a pretty little thing. Tell me, do you enjoy sugar-nips?"
Xander's here as a guest, of course - did anyone expect different? As pristine and elegant as ever, he has chosen a combination of trappings that is somewhere between the image of Xander the Adventurer and Xander the Nobleman: the trademark mix of coat and robe has become a vestpiece for the evening, and has been, along with other bits and pieces of his adventuring getup, seamlessly incorporated into an otherwise noblesque attire. The hair clasp has also moved from its low ponytail position to the very end of his hair, too. The magus slips past Myrana, offers her a wink. "You look lovely." he asides. She'll probably GRUMP at it. "You too." he asides to Rum, jovially. He'd probably give the tiny cat a scratch behind the ears if only it wouldn't look like he's pinching Myrana's ass if he did so - so he refrains.
Sakari has partially disconnected.
Chiddle hobnobs a bit with some of the folks here and there, and manages to find himself some wine in short order. He grins and lifts his drink to Gelfure as she passes. Eventually he makes his way over towards where some of the other adventurers are Gathered. "Myrana, Xander, Svarshan and..." he raises an eyebrow at Ylva. "I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met."
Ylva grumbles at Chiddle, "I can't run in these shoes. Why do people dress like this? What if you have to fight a bear?" She lifts up the hem of her skirts (scandalous!) and shows Chiddle that she is wearing heels. The savage is obviously unaccustomed to them. "I wasn't allowed to bring Ulfr," she says sadly.
Karelin nods pleasantly to Ganesa. "I am, indeed." He grins at Svarshan. "Come on in, don't block the way." Then he sets actions to words, and goes to find a wall to hold up.
Sakari joins in on the conversation with Ylva, "You should have brought him in anyway! Cleaned him up a little. He seemed like a very polite animal, when I saw him, anyway." the sorceress states - lonely pets make her sad. Though, she left her own at home! A party is no place for a kitten... "I agree, though. Never know when you might need to run!"
Myrana raises a brow at the wizard, narrowing blue eyes. Reaching out, she delicately picks an entirely imaginary piece of lint off of his immaculate vest. It might be noted that she even laquered her nails. If this makes them look a little like claws, it must be incidental. "You look very trim, mister Xander," she says. And seems to be working up something catty to say.
Rum, meanwhile, purrs like a little grease-engine at the compliment, utterly devoid of pride or loyalty.
"I am too OL--" Ganesa begins to say to Mako, with a proud I-am-totally-13-now lift of her chin. And then a quick look at the elders present, and a faint blooming of color along her ears. "I mean. I am sure that would be very nice," she mumbles. And the words--Svarshan does a slow take, and a letting-go of breath that sounds like a leak from a roughened kettle. "Thank you, Sunguard," he says again, and stops. And pauses. Words fail him with so much going on, and so all he does is mutely, nod, towards familiar faces.
Chiddle scratches his sideburn a little. "I believe the theory is that there are very few bears at parties like this." He comments. "But, this is Alexandria, so the likelihood of random bear attacks is significantly higher than at most similar parties." He informs her. "Be ready tid iscard the shoes if need be."
Mako crouches at that point, and snatches each knife out of the air in turn, weighing them left and right, as if examining them carefully. Then she takes a small, slender-looking one. As if by magic, a piece of brightly-colored hard-candy appears in a free hand. She holds it out to Ganesa. Then the flicks her hand, causing a knife to appear between her fingers,"Here. A sweet, for the sweet young woman. And if your guardians approve, perhaps a Tsurani practice-knife, Miss?"
"...so many people," Svarshan says in half-whispered tones. He glances over at Mako, and then towards the young lady, who at Mako's words--her expression turns odd, almost... and whatever the rest of it is, he falls silent a time. And clears his throat.
And with claws somewhat shaking, reaches into his coat to pull forth a small, metal container. "...the young Lady may. ...if she permits the Korite to peaceknot them."
More people are pouring in, of course. One of them is a young, halfling lad. A guest of honor, it seems -- and a whisper at his passage becomes evident. His name is Tip. Tip Lunatec. Apparently, he's the slain Councilor's brother and he's here to accept an award in her honor, ot so that's what the whispers are indicating.
Madame Gelfure sweeps towards Svarshan, of course, pausing for a moment to inspect him and his ward, "Lovely! I never knew Sith-Makar could look so fashionable. Tell me, who *is* your tailor? I'd like his number for one working so seamlessly with such an unusual race." She prods at his Svarshan, gingerly, checking the fabric his finery is made from. Ganesa gets a warm smile, "Ah, and if it isn't Ganesa. I am glad you're here in Alexandria. Would you like a tour of the Academy of Sages?" She offers, before Svarshan can interject.
The room quiets for a moment as another man is introduced, "High Magistrate Gurim Ashvine," calls a voice. Most know that the Magistrate was the victim of an attempted kidnapping, rumored to've been attempted by a Gunakharite faction. Since then, he's been hidden away 'investigating'. Some say hiding.
It should be noted, too, that despite their being an unusual number of Myrrish nobles here, many of them aren't even talking to each other, giving cold stares from time to time an opposing one.
Xander smirks at Myrana, mildly amused. "Why thank you, my dear." he replies smoothly. Heh. The cat's sitting on her bustle and purring. Loudly. She now has a vibrating bustle. Heh. He's so keeping his eyes on her face, though. He hasn't yet managed to notice Svar and Karelin and the little menace, though. But he does nod pleasantly to Chiddle.
Sakari gives Xander a wave when she sees him, and a pleasant, "Hi!" before replying back to Ylva, "Yeah, I really don't think that a bear would manage to make its way in here. I mean, it would have to make it through most of the city first without being noticed or... without someone being able to stop it. That would be pretty ridiculous."
Karelin looks towards Mako, and Ganesa. "Here. I'll show you how to /properly/ do peaceknots." His grin at Gelfure, mind you, is almost feral. One half-step to the side, and he's watching for the Magistrate.
Ylva calms a bit and rubs the claws and teeth tied around her wrist. "You never know when bears might appear. It could be a wizard." Her wild ideas about what bears are capable of are quite askew from reality...
Myrana half-turns with a rustle of skirts, seeing familiar faces in the growing crowd. She smiles and raises a hand in greeting, nodding to Chiddle and doing something of a double-take at the practically unrecognizable Ylva.
Mako winks at Madame Gelfure,"Tailor? Seamless? I see what you did there, Madame! Quite clever!" Still, she proffers the dagger to the Korite,"Then if you would do the honor, goodman? Ah, pardon me a moment?" When Ashvine enters, she throws up a handful of something that crackles and sparkles in the air before disappearing. Then she sees the cold looks of the myrrish. She decides no more sparklies are in order, and instead looks to Ganesa,"Look to your Makari friend here, or this experienced gentleman (she indicates Karelin) if you seek instruction. Or, sometime, find my caravan and I'll instruct you in the 'lady's' way of using a knife." She addresses Svarshan,"My tribe was always utterly RIFE with younglings, you see."
"...I ripped them from a demon," Svarshan says uneasily, after a time and after being confronted by the formidable Madame Gelfure. He clicks open the case, and removes a long, brown stick. It smells of tobacco and ash, and he places this between his teeth. A slow puff, and the cigar burns to life. He looks towards Mako and the out-pouring of words, and...nods. Just...that. As though that's the best sentence or set of words he might manage under the circumstances.
Ganesa, in the meanwhile, nods quickly to the Madame as her eyes move to follow the Korite's more skilled movements. Her gaze is quick and light, as though...taking notes. "I'd really like to apply..." she says, and stops as Karelin's hands continue to move.
Chiddle ahas a bit, "No, you never do know when bears might appear." He comments. "But, I haven't seen any yet, and I have a rather keen eye." He assures. As he spies Svarshan lighting up, he seems to think it's a Capitol idea! He takes out a cigarette of his own, and lights it with a snap of thumb and forefinger.
Xander dips forwards into a little quarter-bow for Sakari and Ylva as he's greeted, offering them both a grin. He does recognize Ylva after a moment. She cleans up well! Maybe she shoulda incorporated the kittyhat into the outfit somehow. "Good to see you here." he asides to them. With an expert spin, he retrieves a pair of glasses of wine from a passing server's tray, offering one gallantly to Myrana, complete with a charming grin.
Karelin takes the dagger, idly hefting it to assess the weapon. He takes out a length of cord, and starts the binding process. He shows Ganesa the procedure, and looks at Svarshan. "So you do this so you have to work at drawing it, and people know you've done it." He smiles wryly. "Once you get older, I'll show you the best way of tying them. The way that falls off easily."
Sakari scratches her head, smiling at Ylva, "Well I suppose a wizard COULD summon a bear, but... why would anybody do that? And if they did, you've got bigger things to worry about than just a bear."
Mako meanwhile beings to work the knifes in their circular motions, while she rises, asking of the girl,"Apply what, Miss? Perhaps you would like to assist me. In about five or ten minutes I'm going to set my knives on fire. Would you like to wield the torch?"
"A bigger bear?" Ylva says in reply to Sakari.
Chiddle says, "Or perhaps a bear golem."
"It goes over this way?" Ganesa asks the Korite. She follows the movements, her eyes bright and curious. At one point she bounces on the balls of her feet, the heavy, brocade dress fighting the movement. "We're allowed to bring these into the Academy, right?" she asks Gelfure, indirectly. "I've got a broadsword, too, you know. And I think it would look *fantastic* with those new apprentice-robes."
Svarshan, in the meanwhile, bites down harder on the cigar. Smoke continues to curl upwards, smoke and ash, the scents of tobacco, and a hint of brimstone. Fire. Beneath, there is an almost, sort-of, grinding noise.
Younger has arrived.
"Thank you," Myrana says, stifling a look of surprise at the sudden appearance of the glasses. She takes one into her pale fingers and swirls it somewhat suspiciously. "You know," she says, in a rather lower voice. "This is exactly the sort of party I would hold if I were a politician."
Karelin nods once. "It goes like that, for now." He's grinning. "Broadswords are a little harder to wrangle. They hit /everyone/ on the leg unless you're careful."
"You mean to say you are not a politician?" Xander replies to Myrana, mock-surprise in her voice. It's a jest, obviously. She's just the owner of one of the seediest taverns in town, that's all. That at least makes her -think- like a politician. He raises his glass to her, sipping from it following and then nodding confirmation that yes, it tastes just fine and probably isn't laced with poison. And it is then, finally, that Gelfure's screeching-- er I mean lovely voice reaches his ears and he glances in the direction, finally taking note of the gathering. He makes a note to go greet them all later. He doesn't do so now because doing so may draw the attention of THE DEVIL. Gelfure, that is. Not that he can't handle Gelfure, it's just... she's still Gelfure, you know?
Gelfure chortles, warmly, ruffling Ganesa's hair in the way someone fond of a child might do that. "You're a dear! I like you already." She gives Svarhan this BIIIIG old smile, then.
Gurim Ashvine makes his way towards a chair, having a seat. It might be noted that he is flanked by a pair of armed guards who seem ready to act should something threaten the magistrate.
Moreover, as more important people arrive, one can feel tension rising in the room between some of the nobles and the rather 'cool' way they're intereacting with each other. Most of them aren't terribly important, in the grand scheme of Myrrish nobility, but they're important enough to be *here*.
The Ambassador has moved up to the stage, his voice enhanced by magic.
"Can I have your attention, please? All of you."
There is a pause. A breath.
"When Alexandria vanished five years ago, we lost our King with it. I need not tell all of you how this has affected Myrddion. We can see it written on the faces of the Myrrish present here. It is a wound that still weeps. Tonight, however, is about what else we lost: We lost a friend and an important allie in Alexandria. Times have not always been kind to the special relationship that exists between our sovereign nations. It is a common belief amongst many Alexandrians that we overstayed our welcome. For that, we apologize -- our only interest has ever been the security and sacntity and protection of Alexandria."
Another pause here.
"Which brings me to my next point. When we wre locked in war against Kinnevack, one woman waged a considerable effort to bring Alexandria out of its stance of neutrality at that time to join in the conflict. That woman, as you all know, was Councilwoman Haley Lunatec and it was her untimely demise that brought you in. We are here tonight, as well, to officially honor her memory as we seek to strengthen and mend relationships strained by time and frustration. We hope that you will all have a good time tonight getting to know each other. Alexandria and Myrddion have common interests and many shared beliefs. We have shed blood together. Now, let us fight to maintain that hard-earned peace.'
"Well, if I had to chase after *demons*, I could just use the knife to cut the hem. Or a broadsword. But that would be really awkward, I think." Ganesa watches the knife be tied into place before taking it--and were it not tied so well, she might have demonstrated. As it is, her voice is sort of forced-factual, and tight around the edges. She smiles at Karelin in thanks, and for a moment--it's almost brittle as she tucks it into her belt. Not at him, but at some memory, or thought and it lingers well-past her words.
Svarshan yanks the cigar from his teeth, and looks down at it. And then, looks to Mako. "Fire?" a pause, and then, "Are you one of the sssaa, Singers-at-the-Hearth, tonight? I was hoping they would hire someone." He nods, after another pause, in the softskin style and towards the important-looking man who had been introduced. And, stills, as the speech begins and ends.
Chiddle takes the cigarette from between his lips, holding it between two fingers and he lifts his drink to toast Lunatec as the speach is given. He didn't know her as well as most, but he did happen to end up with bits of her on his shirt at her infamous last speech.
Jenner enters the guard house from the street.
Jenner has arrived.
Sakari glances up to the speaker - though she remembers Alexandria disappearing (how could she not?) she's not entirely familiar with all the politics leading up to the war in Sendor; nor any of the events prior to that. News travels pretty slowly through the rest of the world.
The very tips of Myra's ears burn ever so slightly. She raises her glass, then sips at it in toast. On the ruffled top of her bustle, Rum dozes. And of course, she hears the caw of the Gelfure, and keeps her back towards the fearful woman, prudently facing Xander. "She's back there, isn't she?" she says, sotto voce once the speech is over.
Karelin folds his arms across his chest, listening to the speech, nodding his head at various point. The reference to Haley makes his jaw-muscles bulge, though. Remembered pain.
Chiddle has partially disconnected.
Mako meanwhile has to try to juggle knives as unobtrusively as possible (it's not easy) while the Ambassador speaks. And then she's juggling in full flower, bounce and whirling about. It honestly makes them look like an oddly bending, flowing, swirling river as they chase each other around. "I am so much more, Mr. Makari. I am an entertainer, a purveyor of games. I am the good, darling friend who steps out of the shadows to render aid, and perhaps snatch a bit of coin while in the process. I juggle, I tumble, I balance and bounce, and sometimes I even write terrible poetry. I've even been known to tell a story or two."
Ylva just looks confused, mostly. She has no idea who any of these people are that are being talked about and just listens, trying to make sense of it all. Civilisation continues to be an unknowable thing.
Roland makes his way through the crowd, having once again briefly laid aside his normal, every day casual wear for a finer shirt, vest and fitted trousers and rather than his typical cloak there rests a small cape that falls no further than the small of his back, draped over the left shoulder bearing the colors of the fallen Dragonier and a depiction of the fallen wyrm. He nods slowly and when mention of Haley is raised by the ambassador, he gives another nod and...a small measure of applause.
Even Xander bows his head in quiet respect at mention of Haley. Once the speech is done and the moment of silence has passed, he turns back to Myrana. "She is indeed." he answers. Maybe she won't notice them. Hopefully she won't notice them. "Relax." he bids the half-elf, swirling his drink idly. While his stance is neutral and inobtrusive, she's probably not so good at pretense. He gives her a measuring look, as if wondering what she has against Gelfure. ... Well. Besides what -everyone- has against Gelfure, that is.
"Think pleasant thoughts," comes the soft voice sliding up to Myrana's side, Jenner Talaskir coming to stand easily at one side. "And if she approaches, have no fear. Lord Blackrose or I will happily divert her while you escape.... or find a large hambone to club with." He brushes his lips as he gazes at the pair, a low, dry mirth flickering in his eye. "Ser Blackrose, Sera Jn'Rajh. Good eve to you both."
Myrana jolts a little, and tiny sparklets of static roll down from her sleeves and dissapate on her skirts. The wine sloshes in her glass, but happily doesn't quite spill. Myrana is on edge. Looking up at Jenner, she shuts her mouth-- then sips at her wine. I meant to jump like that. On her bustle, Rum purrs opportunistically. "Mister Jenner," she greets, then lowers the glass. "Where would I be hiding a hambone?"
Ylva hops over, almost tripping. "I know a great way to hide a ham!" She's suddenly enthused by talk of something she does understand: squirreling away food (mostly so Ulfr doesn't get at it). "How big is the ham and how long do you want it to last?"
"...aaah." Svarshan eyes the juggling woman sideways. For a while he doesn't say a thing, but watches the nimble movement from one hand to the next. The--and he shakes himself harshly, once. The sith'makar favor storytelling, after all. "You must put away the knives, Fire-singer. There have been...attempts," he says, with an almost-nod towards the Myrrish delegates. The gesture is that of the softskin, and deliberate. To communicate.
"Aye, move'long." Younger says to a late arriver, cutting a floudering conversation short, as he escorts her in. Closing the door behind himself and the escortee, Younger takes a look around. He is dressed in a purloined Guardsman uniform; it is ill-fitting, but appropriate. After some quick work with a lockpick, Younger was able to make himself more suitable... He didn't /plan/ to be a Guardsman tonite, but if that's the only outfit left on the rack...
Sober and regretting it, Younger makes his way around the room slowly, cigar jammed between his teeth, yet to be lit. His helmet slides to one side and he mutters darkly, re-adjusting it.
Karelin's arms refold on his chest, and nods, listening. "Especially when half of the guests look like they want to use them on the other half."
Mako shakes her head a little bit at Svarshan,"I mean no insult good Makari, but until our hosts have requested or ordered me to stop, I must do the job I was paid for, which includes keeping these things in the air, as well as setting them on fire, in about three minutes. By all means, drop a word in their ear, sir, and I will forthwith move my planned and projected routine forward to the next act." She even cuts an eye to her employers, as if trying to see if they are subtly cuing the lizard-person. "I certainly wouldn't wish to curl nerves."
Xander nods a soft greeting to Jenner, sipping once again at his wine. And then, there is a Ylva! Several times he looks like he's ready to dart in and catch her as she nearly falls on her face in those heels. Thankfully, there is no need. He manages to keep a straight face throughout the wild woman's speech, but his amusement still glints in his eyes. He... allows Jenner and Myrana to answer. He's so not getting into this one. He does extend a hand for Rum to hop onto, though, if he wants petting. He's clean now, after all! And besides, every man with a goatee and a wineglass in hand (martinis are better, though) needs a cat to pet for that 100% sinister look.
Jenner grins as he raises his glass, offering a brief nod to Ylva as she.... are those clean shoes? "Back kitchen," he adds, sipping briskly. "Side corridor, the great bins where they throw rubbish from festivals and such." He skips a beat as he sips again, drawing the wine goblet down to rest. "And no, you may very well *not* ask how I know where such things are. I am a wizard. Knowing important things like that is simply a matter of fact."
Indeed.
It appears that the Myrrish have sort of self-selected, with their allegiance to either Prince Gavril or Prince Verin being the primary factor. Purple for Verin and Red for Gavriel being the colors, marked on their person, as well as generally the kingdom they're from. There's a solid mix here, seemingly evenly split amongst the kingdoms and their allegiance. Is it any wonder, then, that the rumors say that the Myrrish Kingdom has become paralyzed from the loss of King Serenas?
"First, some entertainment," says the Ambassador, cheerfully, trying to lighten the tension that exists in the room. It's hard to miss the little edge to his voice.
Gurim Ashvine spots Younger in the crowd, actually, amongst the others. A finger is crooked at him and he waves him over. Seems he wants to have a word with him.
A Myrrish High Priest of Kor who came with one of the nobles, it seems, stops by Karelio again and gives him a grunt of greeting. "Ales on me," he tells him, "I heard about what you did in Sendor."
A young girl has stopped over by Chiddle as well, saying to him, "Master Blast..what is it? I'm sorry. I'm so forgetful. But you've a moment?"
Jenner is noticed by Gelfure and she wiggles her fingers at him in greeting. Xander too, actually, before she gets back to hob-nobbing with others and nobles. About magic.
And hats.
"...they do, don't they. It smells like the blood-before-war," Svarshan says slowly as he watches the nobles glare at one another. "Don't twist words, Fire-singer. We are in a room-before-bloodshed. If someone gave permission, knowing these things..." and he lifts his chin, scenting the air in front of him and slanting a look towards the guards. Nearby, Ganesa squeals, and throws her arms around Madame Gelfure, "Really??? It can be blue??" Eyes bright, the edges of them glisten, as though she'd been recently fighting back tears.
Gelfure's arm drops around Ganesa! She seems thrilled with this.
Chiddle blinks at the young girl. "I... what? Oh... certainly. What's the problem?" He wonders.
Younger snarls slightly at the summoning, fixing the sit of his helm as he saunters over. Working his way through the crowd, he doesn't seem to have any toruble or compunction elbowing and shouldering powerful folk out of his way. As if it weren't obvious, the man has no regard for station or status. Stopping near Gurim, he stops and folds his hands in front of himself, which is, for Younger, a shocking display of respect. "Aye?" He asks, arching a brow.
"I left Ulfr guarding those bins," the not-currently-grubby savage says to Jenner, nodding. "He was very good and even found them before I knew they needed a guard. He volunteered, himself." Ylva looks around at all the people eying Myrana, and then as if this is the proper thing to do in polite society, she eyes Myrana in the same way.
Karelin turns, and whacks the High Priest on the shoulder. "I'll never turn down ale offered like that. You'd have done the same."
Myrana gives a small, nervous toss of her head, sending black curls out of the way again. She is no expert in the fashionable spill of curls that she's wearing-- and they keep getting in her face, drifing out of their arrangement in the high messy bun and hat. Which is probably what she gets for letting Abrahil's chubby little fingers near her head. /Fashion/.
Seeing Ylva's look, she frowns slightly.
"...Ylva, you look very nice," Myra offers. "...You're not mad at me for some reason, are you?"
Myrana says, "I only asked you to keep Ulfr out the other day because he chewed up my tables."
Rum gets up and stretches his short little back, the stub of his tail standing on end from his butt and his ears curling back in a yawn. And, quite lazily, climbs up Xander's proferred arm with claws ready to hook into the fine silk.
Mako meanwhile tramps up to the stage with a fully-loaded bundle of rolls, bounces, hops, and jumps, with nary a wink to Svarshan. She DOES murmur on her way there,"It's not the possible bloodbath you think it is, Sir Makari." She mounts the stage with a theatrical little flip, flopping each and every knife down into her hands gently. With another wave of her hand, she produces a small oil-soaked stick. With another flick of her hand, she lights it. "May I have a volunteer to set several sharp objects on fire? I promise it'll be fun!" Whether that gets a chuckle or not, she continues to speak,"When I was a lass, I served at the table of a Tsurani princeling. A thousand, plus a thousand wagons answered to his call. A servant for each dish. I served his ale. We called him the fire prince... He would set his great big swords on fire, whirling them like scythes through his enemies. He almost appeared to juggle them. Then after each battle, he would tend the wounded with his own tender, kind-hearted hands. The kind of man that wins hearts as well as battles. Much like your kind hosts, here. Many would say their prowess at waging battle would be matched only by their prowess at waging peace. It was such rulers and representatives as these that encourage me to learn to be like our young Fire Prince. While I'm nowhere near strong enough to juggle swords, I do have knives."
Xander grins at Gelfure, elegantly bowing at her greeting. Politely, too! Hey, at least she didn't come over, right?! And yes, he was totally expecting Rum to do that. He relinquishes his drink a moment, setting it on a nearby table so he can pick up the tiny cat and maneuver and position it so it's not being too terrible to his clothes. All he's missing now is a villaintini. And for Rum to be larger. And all-white. The little coupari doesn't make a good villain's cat. It gets pets anyway.
Roland gives a brief nod to the more familiar faces as he meanders about the crowd, letting his eyes count the numbers of purple and red while making his way over to the alcoholic beverages to collect a goblet of wine before raising it as if in toast towards Karelin and the other Korite. "Good evening."
Svarshan draws in a sudden breath, and stops--smoke curls around his muzzle from the thing between his teeth, and just as slowly, he lets it go. And, scratches at the side of his muzzle like it suddenly itches, his jaw pushed to the side. For now, he seems to be ignoring Mako. It might be intentional--or not. Or it might be a lack of words. His lack of words. Or the sudden, distracted scowl as Ganesa looks up at the Fire-singer's speech.
If the mage has a remark for Myrana's newfound fashion sense, he doesn't show it... And if there's any reason to acknowledge Gelfure, it gets accidentally lost in the shuffle of the Cat, the Mage, and the Wine-glass Trail. With more or less emphasis on "accidentally".
"Any details on what they've found so far?" he asks of his own settled group, glancing towards the movement of the cat along Xander's arm with mild interest. "Or why the politics of the city suddenly is revolving around these matters?"
Ylva stops giving Myrana that eye. "What? Huh? No, I'm not angry. Everyone else was doing it and I'm trying to fit in. Am I not supposed to look at you like that?" She gives another scan of the room. "Oh! Only people in red are doing that. I'm wearing green and orange. Who do I look at? Do I win a prize if I look at the right person?"
Aurelie has arrived.
Myrana frowns. But Ylva often says things that don't make sense. She lifts her chin a little and looks over one shoulder at the left half of the room--
--And looks back down at her wine glass, a little paler. "Oh dear. Ohh dear."
Eira has arrived.
Mako meanwhile pulls a table set up off to the side forward. It has a stand, with notches to hold the hilts of knifes. She begins to set each knife into a notch, displaying small, capering figures painted on their gleaming sides. She points to one,"In my tribe, the Trial of Fires, as we call it, has been danced from time immemmorial. And each knife plays a part in the story of the knives. We have the lord hero, the maiden, the priest, the smith, the Dark God, and the Monster. Each endures a trial of their own. The trick is seeing which one lives to the last." She turns to the Ambassador,"Why don't you do the honors, since I seem to have no volunteer, my lord? It is best that someone of noble birth do so, anyway." That said, she addresses the assembled,"I bet the brave Myrrish lords and ladies can tell me... what is it that any good man must have, the one thing no man can take from him without his permission?"
"Have a seat," says Gurim to Younger, "I remember you. You helped save my life. Thank you for that," he tells him, nodding towards a chair, "Have a mug on me, 'guardsman'." He seems more amused about it than anything else, but there's also a reason he's told him to sit, more than likely, a chair pulled out for him at the Magistrate's table for the guards.
The room is still self-selected into camps, with those supporting Verin, wearing purple armbands or other signs indicating their belief he ought to be crowned, on the one side and Gavril's on the other, wearing red. Between them is the Magistrate, as he's taking no particular side and only bears the signs of his office.
"Honor?" says the Ambassador to Mako with a bit of a smile.
A noble is bumped into by Svarshan and he says, "Watch it, oaf of a lizard," with a sneer and a curl of his tongue.
The woman speaking to Chiddle whispers, barely, glancing back and forth, "Uhm. Can you.. read this? Later?" A book is slid, pressed into Chiddle's hand.
Myrana's cheeks burn. "Well, this has been nice," She mumbles. "I should probably be getting going."
Svarshan jerks backwards and almost, almost, snarls at the man. And afterwards, he reaches up, rubbing at his temples, his jaw clenched. "Saaaa. Ganesa? Where--" he mutters, and hurries that way. The girl has wandered towards the stage, and she looks up--and a twitch shows where she stomped her foot within the safe confines of the noble's dress.
"Your choice of dress was not, ah... the most thoughtful." Xander explains to Myrana as to why she's being eyed so. He's neutral about it, polite - it's not a jab at her at all. His attention turns to the stage, watching Mako's performance for a moment, scratching Rum behind the ears. Hopefully he can still hear what Mako's saying at all over any purring that may be happening. He does also take a moment to nod a greeting to Svarshan, as well as Karelin, now that Gelfure is no longer buzzing around them.
Chiddle nods his head a bit, "I can read most any language, do you need a translation?" He asks her then as he peers at the book a moment. He keeps hhis voice down, if only because she did.
Younger knows when to do as he's told, it just doesn't happen that often. He takes the seat as offered, giving a grateful but negatory gesture, "Nay, b'thankee. If'n Oi'ave one, Oi'll'ave t'ree, den Oi'll'ave seven'y ah em..." He grins, catching his tongue. "An' then there'll be prollems fer ever'one, huh?" He chuckles, cracking his knuckles nervously. Nerves has never been a condition Younger has been concerned with, and he seems hard-pressed to find a solution. "Aye, well, 't'weren't anythin', really... The savin', I mean. Oi t'wasn't nothin' but ah bit ah unbaked dough at dat poin', aye." He shrugs, "Are ye angry, cuz fer Oi stole one ah these outfits? Thing is, Oi didn' 'ave nuffin' tah wear, see."
Mikilos has arrived.
Sakari has disconnected.
Mako bows before the Ambassador rather theatrically, and presents him with the flaming brand,"Just so my lord. If you would light the 'lord hero', then we will begin. The Lord Hero's trials begin from birth. For he is a good man. And like all good man, all men of honor, in some ways, he handicaps himself. He tells himself, no matter how difficult, I will not forsake my honor. This does not make life easy. But the good, honorable men of the audience understand exactly what the Lord Hero does. That honor is not a handicape, but an advantage. A reserve, a well of strength one can draw on in times of greatest need. He is followed by the maiden, for captured by those who do evil, he must show a virtue nearly as difficult as honor. Faith. Faith that the Lord Hero will come to her rescue. That is her trial. Can anyone guess what the Priest's trial is? Perhaps you, sir?" She gestures in Karelin's direction as she begins to fold her billowy sleeves back. "After all, we know the priest has honor, and we know has faith. So what could possibly try such a man?"
Jenner glances over to Myrana, raising an eyebrow before chuckling with a quiet sigh. "If you prefer," he adds, almost murmuring. "I'm sure Xander or I one can find some place quieter, with a less mortifying dress code." His grin fades after a second, eye curving across the gathering. "Though you'd be hard-pressed to find better entertainment," he adds, sotto voce. "It's not often one gets a dragon's eye view of a disaster in progress..."
Aurelie's tall form moves inside to the banquet, her hands trying to smooth back her hair, and ensure her attire is in place. Squaring her strong shoulders she walks in her expression neutral. Its obvious she has been to such high social occasions before, as a few nobles note her entrance and with slight displays of surprise they nod to her in acknowledgement. She gives a slight nod back, taking a good look around the banquet hall. After a brief glimps around the assembled nobles, obviously satisfied her shoulders relax completely and she moves to the side of the room.
Karelin nods towards Roland, then sips his ale and twists his lips at the noble posturing at Svarshan. He lifts his chin, "the oaf of a lizard did much to defend your land, 'good sir'." His words wax caustic.
With all this going on, Ylva is quite bewildered and isn't sure what to do or talk about. This is a completely different world from what she's used to. So she just mills around and makes naive comments about things as usual. At some point she ends up near some of the red-wearing nobles and asks, "Why are you staring at Myrana? Is this a kind of game? I don't know how to play."
Eira goes nowhere without her pet, or her lady in waiting. The white mink curled up lazily on her shoulder, tail draped down her shoulder. She's been to a tailor for exactly the right sort of gown for this event. Fuschia, neither too red nor purple. One shouldered, it shows off the intricate black ink of the dragon tattooed up the sorceresses arm. The bodice woven in a chevron pattern of the satin silk, alternativing the matte and shiny side. Ending in a sleek skirt that makes the tall woman look even taller in the same vibrant hue. Its the sort of gown only a well off member of the community could afford to have made.
Behind Eira is her new maid, she hands off the invitation for the lady, "My apologize for the late arrival, but the Madame is difficult to part from her studies." This seems to annoy Eira, the excuses, its visible in the creased brow. "Lucia, you may go wait in the carriage." Her hand moves to take the invitation and tuck it into a minauderie clutched in her hand.
Svarshan leans down to speak with the young noble. "Ganesa, have you--" and he stops, looking up towards Karelin. "Let's go speak with the Magistrate, saa? One needs you to make the introductions." He's still speaking with the young heiress, who of late, probably found things too quickly thrown on her shoulders. Almost casually, he taps the side of his muzzle.
Myrana grabs at Jenner's sleeve, nails biting briefly into his arm. "I threw my medals back at Prince Verin," she hisses, mortified. "Because he wouldn't tell me where Gauvain was stationed. And now I'm wearing his colours, oh sweet merciful /balls/."
Mikilos arrives more then a little late, it's so easy to loose track of time these days. But at least he looks the part, dressed in rich courtly attire; Llyranost court, with flowing lines and rich natural colors. But then, the elf isn't technically a local.
"Hey, isn't that the girl who threw her medals back at Verin?" says one noble to another, indicating Myrana. Indeed, word is spreading rather rapidly. A few more glares are being directed in her direction by the nobles who recognize her.
The girl shakes her head at Chiddle and dissapears back into the crowd rather easily blending in.
The noble looks at Karelin. Then at Svarshan. He looks properly chastened between the two of them. "You're right, of course. I should apologize to the oa-.. to the fine Sith-Makar gentlemen. My apologies, good sir." He offers a smile in Svar's direction as he heads away.
Gelfure has found her way over towards Jenner and Myrana. And Xander, of course. "My! You three look positvlely wonderful tonight," she says, quietly, her voice a bare whisper as Mako's entertainment continues up on stage. It is thankfully causing at least some ice to break and *some* people to relax, if not everyone.
The Magistrate, Gurim Ashvine, looks towards Younger with a grin, adding, "As you like. But stick around for now," he adds, his bruw slightly furrowed. A nod is given towards Svar's approach.
A few myrrish types are eyeing Aurelie, as if they're trying to place her. Eira's announced as well.
Meanwhile, over by the door, another person is announced.
"Sir Finneous of Oxley," comes a voice, when there's a pause for such an announcement.
Myrana's forehead /bonks/ into Jenner's chest, hard enough to bruise poor wizardbones.
Karelin nods sagely, and turns to escort Svarshan and Ganesa towards the Magistrate. "Good idea. Time to play nice."
Jenner stares at Myrana for a moment, unblinking before his lips start to twitch. He sighs once, teeth firmly clamping down as he draws a long, *long* breath. "Dear Madam Gelfure," he says with false cheer, raising a hand as though to waggle fingers towards the woman... Absently plucking at magic's strings. "If you'll forgive the quick display, a wizard is always prepared for the moment at hand."
A quick ripple, a pulse-- Transmuter's Gift swiftly at play. "Blue I think," he murmurs, color-shifting spell swift to adjust the appearance of the cloth. "And thank Amir'a that I remembered one of her designs!"
"H--Good evening, Magistrate," Ganesa says. The young girl drops a curtsey. Svarshan jerks his head back around from following the once-scowling noble, and draws a second breath as he turns to look at the Magistrate. And slowly closes his muzzle.
"May I introduce my former guardian, Darshan of Am'shere? And--oh. This is sc--" scarface. "--Karelin Andarin. I don't know if you've met?" she trips on words just once. She beams once at Younger.
"I bet anything you'd like to be someone else tonight." says Xander to Myrana, very quietly, just for her ears, upon noticing that the OTHER camp is now ALSO glaring at her. Plus, the Oxleys are here. Yep, she's SO SCREWED. He ponders. "In fact, mayhaps I could arrange that." he adds in that same whisper, reclaiming his drink now that Rum has hopefully settled upon his arm and isn't trying to decimate his very expensive clothes anymore.
But then there's Gelfure. Xander turns his attention to her for a moment. "Madame. You look quite radiant yourself." he greets her with a charmer's grin.
With no response from the priest, Mako keeps talking, moving to take up each knife once it's lit. The start in slow, lazy, blazing arcs, cutting shapes and figures of fluid, geometric designs. "For him, the trial is to be the good shepherd, the guide, the steadfast presence that keeps the Lord Hero pointed in the right direction. To shore up those moments when he risks wavering. And then we have the smith. He must craft well and carefully all the armor and weapons that gird or good Lord Hero, and he must believe, ultimately, that the Lord Hero will correctly put them to the best use. But then we have our less happy figures. The Dark God. The brooding, overarcing evil that preys on the hearts of all mean. The worst part of us. The thing or person pushing us towards doomful ends. And finally, the monster. The rampaging, evil thing. The visible focus, without which, we would be hard-pressed to point at the thing we view as evil. My Lord Ambassador, then, I must ask you, for all to hear: Good men are often as familiar with the nature of evil as they are with the nature of good, having looked it in the eyes, and said 'no'. So tell me... what is the nature of this evil?" By now, all six knives are spinning in looping, flaming arcs, slowly pick up speed.
Karelin nods politely towards the Magistrate, hands folded at his chest. "Magistrate." He /tries/ to be bland, just now, even though he loooooms.
Chiddle hrms a moment, and he spends a moment to take- oh it's a monocle! An actual monocle, out of his pocket, to inspect the book. He just so happens to peer beyond the physical, and examine it for signs of magic in the process.
"Aye-o, munchkin." Younger says quietly, to the kid. Younger relaxes visibly when he realizes that somehow, someway, maybe just this once, he's not being investigated or arrested by the Magistrate. Instead, sitting at the very table with the very people for whom he has caused so much distress. It's official, the fucking world has turned upside-down.
"Thank you," Myrana demurrs, lifting her head. Hiding ala ostrich doesn't generally work anyway. At least she got out that integral urge to headbutt something. Cheeks still burning, she smoothes her hands over her -now blue- dress, easing out a few wrinkles from the fine lambswool. Glancing up at Xander, she nods morosely. "But probably not a good idea." Regaining her composure somewhat, she brushes a lock of hair out of her eyes and curtseys politely to Gelfure. "Good evening mistress Gelfure." And meanwhile, stays in the middle of a group of taller mages.
Lucia seems not at all ruffled by Eira's dismissal, "I will wait.." And then she stops to correct the man at the door before he announces Eira, "The lady is only the Envoy to House Jorgenson, she is no longer Mistress of the House." Oh, yes, she will shame Eira on her loss of her husband in response. Eira doesn't even glare, she just closes her eyes and reaches up to smooth back a hair, one that isn't even out of place. Her locks slicked back this evening to show off her high cheekbones and swan curve of her neck.
Chiddle tucks the book away after a few moments inspection, putting it somewhere secret, somewhere safe, until he can take a closer look in less distracting encirons.
"...can't find it," Svarshan says underneath his breath. "Whatever it is, it is playing, Korite. It is shadow-beneath-the-leaves." He lifts his muzzle again bare an inch, scenting the air as Mako gives her speech. He says it exactly as she does, using her words for cover.
"Good evening, Younger. It's nice to see you again. ...you look cleaner," Ganesa says. She grins like the kid she still is, then, and bounces on the balls of her feet as the performance continues.
As Aurelie moves around the crowd slowly, her tall form fitting in well with the Myrrish nobles, despite the fact she has not changed out of her clerical garb, the medalion of Rada very clearly displayed. Her bearing equals the nobles as she moves through the crowd listening to several conversations.
One noble gentleman approaches Aurelie and gives her a formal bow, then takes up her hand and lays a light kiss, "Lady Aurelie, you are looking wonderful as always. We are so sad you do not join us at court anymore, your mother is so distressed." He leans forward whispering in her ear, but loud enough for those close to hear. "She had such hopes for you, as did many suitors. Yours is a line that should enahnced by a good pairing." He smiles as he pulls back to once again, casual talking distance.
Aurelie allows the guestures, but her expression remains schooled neutral. "I am well Lord Reymos, thank you. Please tell my mother to rest easy." After the whisper, she looks at him with a clear solid expression, "I have made my choice in pairing.." her hand pulls from his and touches lightly the amulet that hangs from her neck. "for now. If I choose further, I am sure it will suit my line just fine."
"Mikilostravia Abrioudelanarchie Mithralla, Lord of Estranillia, Ward of House Son'Doriel, Citizen of Llyranost, and Student Wizard of the Alexandros Academy of Sages." the elf is announced. It's not often he gets to use his full name, let alone titles, no reason to let the moment pass. Stepping away from the entrance, lest others be blocked, the elf peers absently about the room, seeking for familiar faces, or at least knots of potential amusement. And with a brief glance, there seems a fair number of both.
Younger adjusts the sit of his hat, chewing his cigar quietly. When addressed, Younger snorts, shrugs, "Aye? Well, dis ain' my usual." He shrugs again, looking around. He seems unsettled again, for some reason.
"What do you see?" asks the Magistrate to Svarshan. He's clearly cogniscient of a paladin's capabiltiies -- enough that he can actually ask the question of him. He leans forward, hands on the table. A glass of wine is held, but it isn't one he's sipping from just yet.
The Ambassador considers Mako's question for a moment.
"The nature of evil? It is the darkness that exists within each of us -- the capacity that every man shares to make the wrong decision for the wrong reasons -- or the wrong decision for what he believes is the *right* decision."
Someone offers Mikilos a handkerchief when he walks through the door. Because he needs one after that sneeze. Wait, that was a sneeze, wasn't it?
Ylva is eyed by a fellow who finally is able to answer her question, "..ah...why don't you have a drink?" He asks, after a moment, to her. He clears his throat, "It's.. complicated. I assume you're a veteran of the war, then?" Because, you know, only vetereans of the war could be so uncouth or something. Or, more likely, he suspects that's the only reason the naive girl is here.
The magistrate suddenly stiffens.
Karelin reaches for his peace knot. "Do we need to have a chat with someone?" Eyes go up, towards the rafters.
Meanwhile, a young man dressed in clothes that are meant to be nice (but really are only a fake nice) comes walking in. Some of you might recognize him from the Ox-Strength inn. Finneous Oxley. Somehow, he veers unerringly towards Myrana and her magely companions, and bows towards them with a big grin. How he managed to get in? Is unknown. But here he is.
"'Ello," he says, a glass of wine already in hand, "Some party, eh?"
As a girl walks by, a pretty girl, he leers after her. "*Hello*," he says in *that* way.
Mako nods to the Ambassador, as she begins to loop the daggers around and around, causing them to clang against each other repeatedly as if locked in a deep, titanic battle,"Just so. In the end, it is all of us, at war with ourselves, trying to push that darkness away." She begins to extinguish the daggers in reverse, slowly,"And so the monster is the first to fall, because he is most obvious. The dark god leaves, to plot another day. The Smith's day is over, because he knows he has wrought well. The priest, because he has counciled well. The Maiden, because she has kept faith, and it has been rewarded. And the Lord Hero..." She offers the dagger, carefully to the Ambassador,"Well, only heroes know what fate lies his way. By tradition, it is yours, m'lord." She bows to him, and waits.
Eira grabs a glass of wine from a passing tray, assessing the room before approaching anyone present. She holds off in sipping from it as she watching the differet conversations, the body language. She can't help but shake her head. She reaches up to pet Tuuli, who is still sleeping on her shoulder, "The faces have changed, but you can not miss Myrrish manners." Speaking absently to her pet.
Jenner's eye tracks the situation, a spark taking root there as a cunning plan is conspired and enacted. "Quite well, quite well," he states to the Oxley, smiling his Best Cheshire Smile. "And might I introduce the Indelible and Magnificent Madame Gelfure?" he replies, tipping a bow as he not-so-blithely gestures to the pointy-hatted lady. "She owns a manse or two in the center of town. Madame Gelfure, this is Finneous Oxley, an ardent admirer of your more established works...."
"What?" Ylva is confused at the offer to drink. "Oh! Yes, I was in the war. Look, see this?" She lifts her arm to show off the bracelet. "That there is a demon tooth. It was a big flying thing. That other one was from a thing that was smaller and couldn't fly." She has a good memory for which specific creature each of her various trinkets came from. "And I didn't bring my hat. It was a rashky- raksha- um. Kitty man."
Xander gives Myrana a discreet, reasurring squeeze on the shoulder. Chin up, that says! His eyes once again flick to the stage, watching the girl weave her knives through the air and tell her tale to its finish. "Excuse me a moment, ladies, gentlemen." he says to his present company, handing the probably snoozing cat back to its rightful owner, before taking a moment to go through the room and spare a moment to speak to some of the other acquaintances of his, not all of the adventuring persuasion. After all, it would be quite uncouth of him to spend his entire evening in the same company, even if it is lovely company.
Roland eventually makes his way toward the ambassador, pausing a few feet out to give, something between a brief nod and a curtsey, "Greetings Ambassador, I'm sure it has already been said by those fairer than I, but welcome to Alexandria. Forgive my brashness, but I was among the number when the mists overtook us and the good King was taken, so I can not but wonder how the search has progressed."
Mikilos smiles politely, accepting the offered hankerchief with a slight bow. Idly watching the show, both on stage and by Jenner, Mikilos absent-mindedly twists and pulls, knoting the offered bit of cloth into a tight bundle. Making his choice, the elf starts towards the small collection of magi, handing back the piece of cloth, which unfolds into a variation of an origami flower.
Aurelie detaches herself from the Myrrish noble and watches him go back talking with a group of nobles. She glances around at some familiar faces, others new. There seems a moment where she looks almost undecided. Then her expression clears and she moves to the exit of the room, a light smile on her face with no look back.
Aurelie leaves the guard house through the front door.
Aurelie has left.
Leisel has arrived.
What do you see? Svarshan stares at the space behind the man. He starts to answer Karelin, and the words turn into a snarl as he grabs the Magistrate and shoves him--towards the Korite blindly. Blindly, because he's staring hard at the space where the man had just been, anger, anger rolling off him like smoke.
Myrana doesn't look at Oxley. She seems to be pretending that he's not there in the politest way possible. Her skirts swish as she turns slightly and slips her arm through Jenner's in a ladylike fashion, nodding to Xander as he takes his leave. "Mister Jenner, will you go with me to the bar? I feel I need a cooler." And to get away from Finneous. As far away as possible, before it's all her fault.
Just as the magistrate is shoved, he was about to take a sip of his drink. The mug clatters to the table, sloshing over somewhat.
He slides over towards Karelin. It's a rather sudden gesture. Gasps come from those witnessing the manhandling of the magistrate. What is going on?!
"Absolutely," Jenner replies with good-natured cheer, even as the tumoult rises from near the magistrates. "And not a moment too soon," he adds, drawing Myrana with him as he steps back, guiding the lady with a quick, sure grace. Leaving Oxley vs. Gelfure in a battle of wits to the death. Or to the Hopelessly Mad.
Win-win situation.
Leisel slips into the occasion without fanfair, her gray robes in pristine condition, actually clean though a leaf seems to have caught itself hold of her hem. She moves casually through the groupings, nodding to a few people from Alexandria that are greeting her. As she moves through the crowd she keeps looking down at her right side, talking quietly as if someone were beside her. "No not yet.. I know you can't see, but there is no one to look at. Oh, your friend is here... yes that friend. I don't think that would be appropriate to ask him while he is busy pushing folks about."
Now its time for a drink as the Magistrate stumbles, Eira raises her glass now that its officially a party. Or what those from Stormgarde consider what makes a party. She waits to see who steps up before moving towards the scuffle.
As the handful of noblemen he's speaking to stare in the direction of the Magistrate, Xander turns his eyes in the direction too. Thankfully, he's tall, so he can see over the crowd somewhat. He frowns very slightly, glancing across the individuals surrounding the Magistrate in confusion. He didn't see what happened. Maybe the man just fell over into Karelin's arms or something! Scandalous.
------------------- At a glance around Myrrish Consulate ------------------- Leisel 6m 5'6" 117 Lb Human Female Slender female in gray robes. Mikilos 1m 6'8" 180 Lb Dawn Elf Male Tall male dawn elf, rosy blonde and handsome. Eira 1m 5'10" 145 Lb Human/Eldanar Woman Tall, lean blonde with chin length hair & dark attire. Jenner 9m 5'10" 175 Lb Human/Acanian Male Sailor Mage! Younger 2m 5'7" 140 Lb A scrappy young Veteran, usually drunk... Roland 9m 6'3" 220 Lb Human Male A tall man with auburn curls and hazel eyes. Ylva 1s 5'5" 125 Lb Human Female A grubby human ranger with a kitty hat. Not an elf! Xander 7m 6'3" 183 Lb Tall, handsome, goatee-wearing human mage. Chiddle 3s 3'4" 43 Lb Dark haired gnome in artifice-armor and finery. Mako 4m 5'0" 115 Lb A tiny, lithe, graceful woman. Svarshan 0s 6'4" 274 Lb Be a paladin. Chomp a demon! Myrana 6m 5'0" 125 Lb Half-elf Female Short young woman with coal-black braids. Whirlpool 38s Lb Otyugh I am stinky! Karelin 16s 6'2" 256 Lb Human Male Tattooed Korite warrior. Tall, dark and scarred. ==============================================================================
"Shit." Younger mutters as he watches the drink begin to bubble. The whole thing goes in slow motion for Younger. He pulls his helm off, looking to the crowd, some of them his friends, most of them helpless, thankless shit-heels. Then to the Magistrate. Back to the drink.
Younger leaps onto the bubbling brew, covering it with his steel helm. Then he quickly throws himself over the whole deal, covering it with his body. He doesn't think about it, he doesn't give anyone any time to stop him.
There is a *WHUMP* from underneath Younger. His body is rocked by a massive explosion, and sends shards of the helm blasting through his middle torso like a flachette cannon. He is decimated, wrecked. Those nearby are covered in charred Younger gore, and many probably have ringing ears.
Smoke pours from his gaping wound, and he rolls over slightly, moaning, as smoke rolls out of his mouth, "Wheres da fuggin'..." He chokes on blood. "Tell me da fuggin' Magistrate's okay."
Indeed. The acid blast sends splatters in other directions, but given that everyone was away from the magistrate, nobody else is harmed. The drink *was bubbling over* and exploding when Younger jumped on it, yes, and there are gasps of shock. The ambassador says, "BE SEATED. BE CALM! NOW! LOCK THE DOORS! NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE!"
The noble Ylva is talking to grabs Ylva.
And hides behind her.
Seriously.
Finneous Oxley yelps and dives behind a table.
And finds himself right next to Myrana. On the floor.
Mikilos blinks. Well, this just got intresting. He starts to take a few steps closer, to see what help he might offer, but then someone starts barking orders. Someone who sounds like they should really by obeyed. And so the elf grabs the closest unused seat he can find.
"...Jenner. If you have eyes--" Svarshan says tersely and low. Words are the enemy. They take too long to say, or mean too little. His body tense, he stares hard at the space where the Magistrate had been. It's the creature-in-the-jungle staring at its prey. It's...completely inappropriate for the midst of a Myrrish gathering. Or what had been a Myrrish gathering. And then, from the direction of Younger, the air begins to fill with the scent of blood.
Eira looks as if she's seen this sort of accident before, probably at the academy. Young wizards and acid, not a good combination. "Yes, its officially a party..." One of the waitstaff passing with a tray of drink gets consideration, she shrugs and takes not one drink, but two before moving to a table full of Myrrish nobility, taking a lone seat.
Younger begins to reach around with the one arm he can get to work properly, his hand working its way toward his cigar which has landed nearby. Otherwise, he lays there and bleeds like a proper hero should, from time-to-time.
Myrana lets out a cry as the magistrate's drink explodes beneath Younger, covering her face with upflung arms. She flinches back instinctually-- and trips backwards over Finneous Oxley, falling in a -flumph!- of skirts and cursing.
Leisel watches Younger jump, then jumps herself as the explosion tears into him. She looks stunned for about ten seconds, then kicks into gear. "Oh... OH! Not now Bailey, we'll get noble poop later." She tries to weave her way through the crowd to get to Younger. As others are told to take a seat, she fights the panic to get away, and moves towards the injured man. "Move.. coming through.. move!!" Recognizing the adventurer she gives a reasuring grin. "Always getting into trouble are you? Let's get some healing on that..."
Ylva is distracted from conversation by this explosive happening. She leaps over to Younger and starts rummaging amongst her stuff. It's amazing how much she can store under there. Out comes a leather pouch of crude but effective medical stuff and without waiting for permission, she goes for his wounds. "Stop wiggling! I need to get you fixed before it hurts you more!"
Xander ducks reflexively as the explosion rocks the place. Once all is done, he straightens, and it is with a frown on his face, casting deep shadows on his expression. Great. Just great. First kidnapping, now attempted murder. If the man had drank that... Gods. He stays where he is a moment, turning his gaze Svarshanwards. A questioning gaze. 'What just happened?' that look says. And when the Sith'makar paladin speaks to Jenner, Xander's the one to obey the cryptic words. One of the runed rods dangling from his belt is touched with a hand, making the spell incredibly swift. A spell for finding the unseen.
The whole complex is going into lockdown at the moment -- more guards are pushing into the hallway to seal it off.
The explosion drags Jenner's attention from petty concerns to more full-on realities. Explosion, charred bits of blood and wood and gore. The flicker of mageflame and the flash of glittering eyes appear and vanish as the wizard draws himself back under control, glancing towards Svarshan with a nod. Words are the enemy, and the storm of scents makes smelling out the enemy difficult.
But eyes....
As Xander moves, so too does Jenner. He slides a hand beneath the tunic at his chest, grasping the calming warmth of the stone beneath the cloth, clasping it. Flicker of golden light erupt, emerge, tiny sparkles swirling together like marbles. Glittery sensors, shining eyes, sparkling jewels that swiftly turn from gold to warmest green. "Seek," he orders the Eyes quietly. "Scan."
Hey, look! Lockdown! Knowing that someone is bound to expect the knife-juggling Tsurani, Mako throws her hands up in the air, and declares,"Not me! I didn't do it! I TOTALLY didn't do it! Right here! Me! Innocent statistic!"
Xander's eyes glow, very brieftly, a subdued little silvery shine of magic taking hold before it subsides. He takes a slow look around the room. His eyes return to Svarshan, and he makes a small shake of the head, barely perceptible. A very discreet signal - nope, he doesn't see anything.
Younger is one big wound at this point, with some skin and a head that won't shut up. "Aye, jus' put all mah pieces back in, in da roight spots." He heaves a sigh, its raspy and blood drips out of his mouth. "Tha's all I ask of ye."
Mikilos keeps quiet and still, idly watching the more powerful magi with a mild mix of curiousity and a bit of jelousy. One day he'll be able to do that....
At the nods from the magi, Svarshan stands there and shakes with unspent adrenaline. With the snarl, he'd stepped right into Am'shere and beneath its hidden canopies. Forget the Myrrish gathering, forget the clothing and mannerisms of nobles. He stands there, jaw clacking together as he shakes. And suddenly, angrily, hits one of the trays.
Finneous Oxley just sort of groans when Myra trips over him. That hurt. A lot.
"...heeey," he says after a moment to Myrana, as if he just realized that having Myra fall on him was the BEST THING EVER.
The noble, abandoned by Ylva, hides underneath his table. So he's not the bravest noble.
The guardsman have sealed the chamber off for the moment while the mages present do their thing, and other people examine things! BEtween Leisel and Ylva's efforts, Younger's healed up fairly fast.
Mako puts her hands down when she realizes noone is trying to arrest or detain her, and comes shimmying forward to bend over the utterly horrid mess,"Huh... That whole thing is quite a mess..."
Ylva finishes picking out the bits of helmet and with Leisel's help to staunch the bleeding, she's able to stitch up the wounds. Those are going to be some funny-looking scars. "Silly. Your helmet is not supposed to be inside of you."
Leisel glances across Youngers injured form at Ylva. Having known the woman from the druid's grove she works easily with her patching up the man. "This is going to leave a mark.. I hope he's already married." She glances over the prone male, "Good he didn't sit on the thing."
Ylva has disconnected.
Karelin has disconnected.
Chiddle, for the most part, observes the whole situation pretty distantly. He lights up another cigarette and, as instructed, he takes a seat. He looks rather pensive.
Ylva has connected.
Mako pulls something out of one of her many, many pockets... A little vial, and scoops something up. Then she pulls a dropper and small bottle out of another pocket and adds a few drops. She shakes the mixture until it separates into two colors, and announces,"It was a two part compound. Someone gave him the first part earlier. When the second part is added... Well, it kills the Magistrate from the inside. This isn't an easy think to make. And it requires a lot of forethought to deploy. Someone's got some deep pockets, or a really well-thought-out grudge."
Jenner has disconnected.
Myrana pushes herself up into a sitting position with a grimace, one hand going to her throbbing head-- and sees that her heel was about two inches from Finneous' cheek. "Khh... damnit!" She grumbles. And, giving the Oxley a judicious 'accidental' prod in the face with her heel, gets to her feet with a rustle of skirts and steps briskly away. "What happened?"
Svarshan still shakes.
Mikilos waits a few beats more, to assure himself the guards aren't being overly strict with the whole 'sit still' thing. Movely slowly, he makes his way towards the source of the commotion, nodding politely to the familiar faces there, seeking a scrap of exploded helmet. Perhaps is something to be learned form the shards.... or at the very least, can put the pieces back together for Younger. He may be rude, crude, and grateing, and tends to speak at the worst possible moments to say something entirely inapproprate...... wait, I know I had a point to all this.... oh yes, but in the end, he's still one of the Good Guys.
Eira has disconnected.
"..gods above," mutters Ashvine, giving a nod of thanks towards Svarshan for his action -- and then to Younger and Karelin for their's. He's now got guarsd with their hands on his arm. "...gunakharites, Sunblade. It has to've been them a second time."
Younger has disconnected.
Svarshan's teeth click as he closes his muzzle, and he eyes the man. Just eyes him. "Yes," he says, tasting the words. "...again. The way it played...that was like them. It was very much like them." He lets go a breath, and slowly straightens before looking out at the chaos in the room. "He is the lord and father of demons. Claws-of-Chaos, we call him."
Xander strides to Svarshan's side. "You sensed something, didn't you?" he asks him, quietly. SOMEONE saved the Magistrate even before Younger did so - it's obvious now the leaning wasn't just the Magistrate having hots for Korites. The magus has a good bet who it was. He glances around, still. Seeking. Searching.
Mako picks a guard at random, one near the magistrates, and hands him the vial of substance, clapping him on the shoulder,"There you go buddy, you should have some real experts have that analyzed. I'm sure you'll find all kinds of neat stuff out about it."
Most of the nobles are now beginning to eye each other. Suspiciously. The finger of blame seems ready to point from both sides. For her part, Eira is already working to try to calm individuals down -- seems she knows some.
Moreover, it's hard to miss that finger-pointing-of-blame between the two factions is probably the *point*... even if their reactions are understnadable.
Moreover, Younger is now healed. The guards are speaking up as well.
"I'm afraid the rest of the affair is now cancelled. We'll be escorting you out one at a time. Please return to your estates."
"...it fled." Svarshan's voice is almost dead at that, touched with--touched with an almost personal failure. He looks towards Xander, and, "I...am going to visit the Temple." I need to hit something, that says, without saying it. "Magistrate..." Let me go. There are too many people here. This is not right. I need to leave.
Myrana grimaces... and goes to shadow Svarshan, making her way quietly through the crowd of nobles and adventurers.
"Go." Those are the only words Xander offers Svarshan. He glances Ganesa-wards, briefly. Nods at her, a gentle nod - an 'I'm sorry I didn't have time to speak to you tonight' nod. She was on his to-talk-to list, after all. He, too, goes about scooping up a sample of the acidic liquid and will more likely than not be back to find out how all this happened.