Turning toward the direction of Sigurd's voice, Gwenna's eyes widen a little before she turns to make her way toward him. When she's beside him, her brow furrows a little. "Can I help in some way? And thank you for bringing that. Is it ale," she wonders, though doesn't pause just yet to let him reply. "Whatever it is, surely everyone will be grateful. Princess Gwenna, by the way. I don't think we've met, though I've only been in the city a month or two."

Darren shouts from the Gate to Redrain Villa <RV>, "YEAH! BONFIRE! WHOOOOOOO!"

Bear, an giant dog, Phantom, the Great Grey Owl, Sir Tyrus, Redrain Knight arrive, following Darren.

Behtuk makes only one stop before attending the bonfire. Word reached him on the street somehow, probably through the pane-less windows rather than face to face. Behtuk stopped to get meat, because to him, that's the whole purpose of fire. He carries it on the spear over his shoulder, a fully dressed goose, already spitted.

Teiddwen the Otter, A fiery headed prodigal named Gwddfgwyn arrive, following Asger.

"Gwenna, huh? Thats a lovely name for a lovely princess." Sigurd's stance widens and he tucks the wheelbarrow near a table of beverages and turns it about...just so. Now its set. "Leave it sit for awhile, dearest princess. Or you'll have men up in arms over too much head." Now that his self-appointed task is finished, he'll turn his full gaze on Gwenna, and Behtuk too! "Ah! Good man! I've been desiresome of fowl."

Behtuk looks up the spear at his goose. He looks at Asger and with an overly deadpan voice says. "Only brought one."

Wylla's gait into Redrain Grounds is only a little uncertain. She's got her Archlector's robe on, although the clothes she wears past that are casual, and her hands are, as ever, splattered with paint. The short woman makes her way to the bonfire, offering a shy smile to the others. "I saw the notice. I -- uh -- I was a Halfshav. Am I welcome?" She hovers, gaze flicking between the others.

Asger strolls towards the bonfire, a grin pulling at his lips as he calls over to Behtuck "I can already tell you that one is too few my friend, far too few." trundling at the man's heal is a young seat otter who appears to be doing a fairly admirable job of balancing a little crown on her head, though when it falls off she stops to pick it up in her teeth to carry it along

Behtuk eyes the sea otter speculatively.

Gwenna offers a cheerful wave in Behtuk's direction. Shrugging up one shoulder a little and turning so her back is more visible, she grins at Sigurd. "Look at this spear Master Behtuk made for me. Isn't it darling?" Surely all weaponsmiths aspire to make 'darling' instruments of death. From the princess, though, it's surely a compliment. She gives a dip of her head to his other words. "You are too kind with your remarks. I'll be sure to instruct the staff to leave it be. My mother brewed, so I am rather familiar with how dreadful it can be if tapped too soon." Darren, Asger, and Wylla also are offered waves as she moves to settle at a seat near the fire. "You are more than welcome, of course!" This called cheerfully to Wylla. "Princess Gwenna," is said by way of introduction, it seems. "Aaaw...the crown!"

Darren busts out of the front of the Redrain Villa, the smell of smoke from a bonfire having filtered it's way to the upper floor of the house. "We're having a bonfire?!" he shouts to nobody in particular, his face lit up like a kid of christmas morning. He makes his way for the food and drink, finding himself a nice dark stout, the kind that light can't even penetrate. As he spots Gwenna playing hostess, Darren lifts his mug to her and shouts, "What's the occasion?"

Sigurd had turned and lifted a glass filled with whiskey and was enjoying his first drink of the eve immensely. A wave or three to each of the new arrivals, "Ho Darren, Highlord of the North. Terrible dice player, and all around great Prince." He almost toasts him, but Gwenna's strange shout catches his attention and he toasts it instead. "Princess Gwenna Redrain! TO THE CROWN!"

Tone of voice is more important, and understandable, to Behtuk than Arvani sometimes. So he doesn't object at all to Gwenna calling an implement of death 'darling'. On the other hand, he doens't react to much, his joke to Sigurd went over like a lead balloon because of just that probably. Still, he knows how to use a fire, so until there is a bank of coals, he simply stands like a soldier at attention, uncooked goose impaled upon his spear.

Wylla smiles at Gwenna. It's a shy, fluttery thing, and she holds her hands out in front of the fire for a moment, flicking her fingernails at a dry splotch of paint on the other hand. "Archlector Wylla of Jayus," she remarks to the other woman. "I love all the green you're wearing!"

Asger winks to Gwenna as he walks up to her "Aye, Teiddewn refuses to leave it be, I think it is probably her favorite thing ever. Even better then the super smooth stone she found at the bottom of the pool." reaching out with a distinct lack of comprehension for personal space he wraps an arm about Gwenna to give her a one armed hug "IT is good to see you again Gwenny." Since Wylla is right there and being interrupted he flashes the woman an easy going smile "The name is Asger."

Gwenna beams a bright smile toward Darren, one shoulder lifting in a half-shrug. "An excuse to get together, Your Grace, on a fine winter evening. We do not get enough chances to attempt such, these days, so..." The grin remains. "Surprise?" A bit of a laugh follows the words. "I hope you don't mind. I though we could all use it, besides. There should be plenty of whiskey as well as a keg! Did you see my spear from Master Behtuk?" Sigurd's toast catches her off-guard. "Son of a motherless bear, where did I put down my wine...ah well." Another laugh and shake of her head before she 'ohs' at Wylla. "An honor and welcome, Archlector. And thank you! I sketched them myself. I paint and sculpt a bit, though nothing of the scale of Arx's many accomplished artisans. Wine? Whiskey? There's water as well, if you prefer." Asger's remarks draw an even greater smile. "I'm so glad, truly I am. That's the first thing I've painted since coming to Arx. It is quite good to see you, too."

"That is how I even sign official documents!" Darren tells Sigurd as he greets him. "You'd be shocked how many more people seem to invite me to the Golden Hart for a game of dice after that." As Gwenna explains the cause of the bonfire, Darren lifts his drink. "As good an excuse as any!" Darren decides, taking a drink and draining a good half of the mug. He lets out an ahh, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "A brilliant idea, Gwenna. I knew you would make an excellent voice." He grins, moving to find himself a seat.

Wylla blinks, wide-eyed, as Asger introduces himself. "I... um... hi. Hello!" she corrects herself. "Wine would be lovely, thank you." And she lapses into an awkward silence, glancing over the assembled Redrains. It's not that she doesn't belong; it's just that, socially, the short woman just isn't cut out for the whole 'small talk' deal, quite clearly. Her gaze shifts back to the fire, and she watches the embers spark. "I'd love to see your paintings, Princess Gwenna. I'm having a painting festival soon, if you'll come. All of you should come!" That, at least, is brightly enthusiastic all of a sudden.

Asger winks to Wylla "A pleasure to meet ya lass and you need whiskey before you can enjoy wine." smile turning back to Gwenna, he tells her "You're going to have to come over and see her in the water with it, she is a delight." Eyes scanning over the crowd he picks out various faces before his eyes settle on Darren and somehow the large mans smile grows even broader "Darren, my friend, my sometimes lover! It is good to see you again, we do not see each other nearly enough."

Behtuk keeps a fair distance from the bonfire. He wears heavy clothing outdoors already, so his only concession to the heat of the bonfire is pushing back his hood. His fine black hair is pulled into a ponytail.

"Ah, you credit me too much, Your Grace," Gwenna says to Darren and takes a seat at one of the benches. "For which I am grateful and hope to live up to. Things go as well as can be expected, I hope? It seemed a busy day in the city today." Wylla's words draw her attention back, and she askes one of the staff to bring wine. "Oh. I suppose bring two, since I have no idea where I sat mine down." A roll of her eyes at herself before she grins again to the Archlechtor. "I'd love to come to a painting festival! Are you collecting works? Will there be painting going on there?" While she was peppering poor Wylla with all those questions, two glasses of wine are delivered to them. Pausing to sip from her glass while the other is passed to the former Halfshav, the princess lets out a happy sigh at Asger's words. "I can hardly wait to visit and see her with the crown. I worry the paint may fade, but I'd rather that than she not like it. Besides, I need more lessons in the northern tongue." Espying Behtuk lingering a bit from the fire, she wonders, "Do you like sweets at all? There are some plum tarts that my mother was especially fond of in Farhaven."

Gwenna has joined the courtyard benches.

Behtuk nods his head and lumbers in the direction of the plum tarts indicated. He brought his own food, but it will be an hour before that is ready to eat. He sees no reason not to spoil his appetite, seeing as how that has never happened before.

Wylla smiles brightly at Gwenna, warming to the talk as well as the fire. She sips her wine very judiciously. "There will be painting going on there! I'll have paints and brushes. If you'd like to make an offering, that's of course more than welcome. And music! Lots of music!" She blinks at Asger, but shakes her head. "I don't really... do whiskey. But thank you for the offer. It's rather a lot to drink." Her hands flit at her robe, smoothing it out. "And I hope to have a music festival another time. Maybe a sculpture party too!"

Sigurd is confused now, if Gwenna doesn't have her drink, why did she toast? Ah well, he'll turn to track down Darren to harangue him over something or other. "Ah, Prince. I was wondering where in the mud wrestling tournament order you wished to be in? We can make sure you don't face Brogan first." Sigurd grins as even more and more people start showing up. Then he thumps the side of the keg. "Bring me a mallet! THE PALE MUST FLOW!"

Asger says in Northlands shav, "And you there by the fire, what's your name my friend?"

Leaving the Spirits and meaning to wander, Eilonwy pauses seeing a bonfire about. She wanders over sweeping her hair over her shoulder and looking about curiously.

Darren snorts at Asger, "Like you could handle me." Darren tells the Duke, smiling and settling near the bonfire. "You know, I feel like I sit a lot closer to these fires in Farhaven. So warm down here." Darren notes, before Sigurd gets his attention. "Mud wrestling tournament?" Darren asks, a single eyebrow arching. "When is /that/ happening?"

Behtuk pauses, one hand on his spear and one hand full of plum tart. He can't set it down, he can't put it in his mouth. He gestures toward his chest and answers Asger in an apologetic voice. "I am Behtuk."

"Mud wrestling. I intend on throwing a party at the Nightgold Estates. Many kegs, much whiskey. Mud-wrestling for the lads and lasses." Sigurd nods towards Darren, apparently very excited about the prospect. "I haven't decided when. Soon. Before the meetings and battles are too much to be torn away from. No masques. Only furs. For all."

Gwenna seems all the more enthused when Wylla describes the event in more detail. "I very much look forward to this event, Archlector, and any others you may hold. I would like to offer a painting, though my skill is rudimentary, at best, as I said. Sculptures I haven't tried, snowballs, in probably nearly a year now. Have you eaten? There is plenty of food. You mentioned Halfshav earlier, yes?" There's a curious tilt of her head as she listens to Darren, Asger, and Sigurd trade remarks. "Mud wrestling." More statement that query, really. Eilonwy's entrance is noticed and the princess offers a cheerful half-wave, half-come-in gesture in her direction.

Wylla:flinches a little at all the thumping and bellowing. She chews on her lip uncertainly. Her hands flicker again, as she goes back to flicking paint off them. "Yes. I -- I was born into Halfshav." Her robe draws up in a little shrug. "I've been Godsworn for a long time, though. Jayus has always called me. And a painting would be much appreciated, Princess Gwenna. Bless you for that." Mud wrestling earns a slightly skeptical look from the redhead.

"Mud wrestling? In furs? That can't be good for the furs." Eilonwy offers and looks for a spot to sit, smiling at Gwenna in reply. She glances to Sigurd. "Could have wrestlers do some of the Mydas liquor for added brutality."

Asger rolls his eyes at Darren's teasing comment "Please ya ain't packin nothing I couldn't handle." though he can't help but let out a roar of laughter at this. The Duke raising a hand as he spots Eilonwy "Eilonwy it is good to see you again my friend, we should talk soon I have things I wish to discuss. Though for now we have a fire and free booze." The duke gesturing around them, adding something conersationally in, in the northern tongue before dipping his head back towards Behtuk "It is good to meet you Behtuk."

Behtuk crams plum tart in his mouth while no one is engaging him in conversation. It's not an eating as an excuse for a lull, it's a lull used as an excuse to eat. When done he looks around and takes another plum tart, while still chewing the first. He doesn't look the slightest bit guilty for indulging, just making sure that he's not taking any away from someone else. He nods to Asger and steps aside in case the other man wants a plum tart.

"You take the furs off before mud-wrestling, of course." Sigurd shakes his head off towards Eilonwy. Of course you taek them off, thats obvious. He acquires a mallet and thumps the tap in the keg with practiced easy care. Then opens it up to let some of the first run off before tucking a tankard under it. "Ale for all!"

Asger says in Northlands shav, "See I'm at least puttin' in a little effort to talk to the lasses tonight."

Darren ponders this for awhile, draining the rest of his beer and setting the mug down. "Somewhere towards the middle." Darren decides, "In the order. Let the big guys wear themselves out first, get a few drinks in them." Darren tells Sigurd as he just grins as Asger. He turns his eyes to Eilonwy, raising a hand in greeting, before finally looking at Gwenna and Wylla. "Did I hear something about painting?" Darren asks curiously of the two.

Wylla chirps to Darren readily, "Yes! A painting exhibit. I won't say a contest, and I've told others that, if anyone comes looking to critique, everyone has my permission, in my office, to dump wine on the critic's head." A shy little laugh follows the 'threat.' "Do you paint? Even if you don't, you're welcome! Please come! I hope we'll have lots of people. And music and wine."

Nodding her head a couple of times, Gwenna smiles fainting. "I have never felt a strong pull myself, Archlector Wylla, so I envy you that a bit. Have you always been drawn to painting," she wonders, a glance flicking to the woman's hands. "It was something I was taught, when I was a bit older, rather than always did, should that make sense? I just love colors. Experimenting with contrasts and such." Glancing at the tables, being all hostessy, her smile broadens as she sees the weaponsmith near the tarts. She offers him a nod and grin. "Let me know what you think, Master Behtuk. It is a favorite recipe that my mother hopes will catch on." Darren's words draw her attention back to him, more nods offered by the princess. "I may paint something to offer, but certainly plan on attending the festival, Your Grace. I am much better with brush than spear or dagger. Though I'd still not rest the family pride on as much," is quipped with a laugh.

"Sweets are rare in the North." Behtuk points out to Asger, much more verbal in his native tongue. "I like sweets."

Behtuk says in Northlands shav, "Sweets are rare in the North. I like Sweets."

"My lord." Eilonwy greets Asger and settles in. "Always happy to talk." She offers to the Crovane before dipping forward where she sits to Darren in greeting. She catches the conversation in northern shav and smiles crookedly. She starts considering drinks, stretching her toes out to the fire. "It is warmer here isn't it? Not that a little extra heat is a bad thing on a cool night." She comments idly.

Whistling a little northern tune as he wanders in the direction of the roaring fire, Brogan idly strolls into the grounds, and shouts out "Hah! At least it's not a Tavern, and /I/ didn't start this one!!" His eyes moving to Sigurd first, adding "Must be your fault this time..." He Large Northman moves towards his Nephew, a flask in his hand, and taking a long drink before he rumbles, "Talking about mud wrestling again?" He offers Behtuk a nod of greeting as he walks by, before returning his gaze to Sigurd, "What's the occasion? Or we just drinking and burning things because we Northerners?"

"Always," Wylla assures Gwenna. Her smile is easy when she's discussing painting, much more the topic of the woman's choice. "You are a lovely artist, I'm sure. And you needn't stake family pride on the matter -- just your own talent and calling to Jayus. He calls you, however good you are, I'm sure. And I'm sure you are excellent." Her eyes widen towards Brogan's shouting, and she winces, blinking a few times.

"The occasion? Isn't it enough that we're all here together." Sigurd reaches out and hands off the tankard of ale he just filled to Brogan, then slaps him on the shoulder before filling up another for himself and stepping out of the way for others to get to the keg if need be. "Its Gwenna's occasion. Ask her." He points across the clearing to Gwenna

"I don't have an artistic bone in my body." Darren says, "If I tried to paint something, I imagine at best you'd accuse me of heresy, at worst I'd shake your very faith, Archlector." Darren tells Wylla, though his tone indicates he's joking. "And I had no idea you were a painter, Gwenna. I'm having plans drawn up for a new library for Ann, perhaps we should include a few Princess Gwenna Redrain originals as decoration, once it is complete?" He inquires, grinning. Darren's eyes to Eilonwy, "It is warm. This city can't even get winters right." Darren notes, "I mean, come on - you can barely make a good snowball without it getting as much mud and rocks in it as actual snow."

Behtuk finishes a second tart and settles down with a stick near the bonfire to craft some sort of coal bed for roasting his own goose. Literally. He bought one before coming, though it's questionable how it will turn out on a non-cooking fire.

Gwenna wiggles her fingers in greeting to Brogan as he joins the festivities. "Seemed like a nice night to just gather around a fire to eat and drink," she explains cheerfully. Turning back to Wylla, her smile broadens a bit. "Always, truly? Will you be offering works for the festival as well? As for being an artist, I am not very skilled, but I love doing it, so perhaps that shows in the work? I'm not sure. I think, maybe, it's the feel of art that I like best. Does that make sense?" Sipping her wine, she straightens up a little at Darren's words. "Truly? I would love to try something that might go in the new library! Something of Farhaven, something of Arx perhaps?" Already, it seems, the wheels are turning. Eventually she laughs, head nodding. "Making snowballs here is dreadful, and I hate saying unkind things about this city. Though sometimes, when the snow first covers the courtyard? You can get a bit lucky with them if you try before the sun has at it."

In one hand he happily accepts the mug from Sigurd, then Brogan tucks the flask away as he claps the other man on the shoulder, "My thanks, and good to see you. I've not met Gwenna yet, so I'll have to make a good impression.." As he moves in the direction indicated, his smile widens, and he offers a bow of his head to gathered crowd, "Well Met. Brogan Nightgold." He introduces himself, and gives a wink to Gwenna, "With drink involved most nights can be nice." Then, with a solemn look that is ruined by the twinkle in his eye, he nods slowly "Aye, dreadful lack of a good chill wind, and whitest snow. I'd have to agree, this is more mud-balls than snowballs."

"Not much cause to throw snowballs your highness." Eilonwy offers to Darren. She looks at Gwenna, listening to her quietly. "Painting night?" She shakes her head, noticing Behtuk and his goose with a chuckle.

Wylla beams a bright smile at Gwenna. "It makes a lot of sense! The feeling of art is the real pulse of it. Whatever you make, Jayus approves, so long as your heart and your creativity is in it." But the short Archlector pulls away from the fire, drawing in a breath. "Excuse me, Princess Gwenna. I... um... just a moment." And she's moving back into the darkness beyond the bonfire, taking a moment to recalibrate herself.

Behtuk may not be much of a cook, but he knows how to cook meat over an open fire. He uses his spear for just that, spinning it about the axis by propping it up on a spare log for even cooking. He watches the people around him with half his attention, it's better for him to just listen anyway.

Gwenna dips her head politely toward Brogan, smile tugging up both corners of her mouth. "A pleasure to meet you, my lord, and I will have to agree. I like a bit of wine by the fire as much as whiskey by the hearth. Either makes for a good eve." Lifting her glass in a half-toast sort of motion, she bobs her head a few times to Eilonwy. "Do you know or have met Archlector Wylla," she asks of Eilonwy. "Did I introduce myself properly, now that it is beyond late to do so. Dreadful of me. Princess Gwenna." Wylla's smile seems to keep the one Gwenna wears in place, her head nodding as the Redrain seems so prone to doing. "That's it, yes, and oh...of course, of course." The latter words as Wylla steps away. It's then that she notices Behtuk and the departed fowl. "Cooking your own goose?"

"No cause to throw snowballs?" Darren asks Eilonwy. "You need to live with a family like mine for a week, you'll wish you had more snowballs than in all of Farhaven." Darren decides, offering a grin to both her and then Gwenna before nodding his head to his cousin. "And yes, I think a painting of Farhaven or something for the library would be wonderful. I'm hoping to give the family another place for quiet meetings and to give Ann a place to dump all of her work. She takes up half the Red Study with her books."

Elizabetta, a lissome lady-in-waiting, 1 Grayson Guardsmen arrive, following Sabella.

Garibaldi, the Lycene swordbearer, Sabella, Emilia, Cambria arrive, following Theron.

Brogan returns the toast in kind, raising his mug, "A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.." an arched eyebrow sent after Wylla as she exits-stage-left for a moment, "uhm, and the Archlector as well..." Before he drinks, though, he adds "But as we're drinking, I'd much prefer to just go by Brogan..." His eyes move to Sigurd with a conspiratorial look, "...and don't listen to a word my Nephew says. Most of his stories of me are a bit tall on the fantasy, and vague on the facts."

Asger has simply been staring into the fire at this point, but at the mention of snow balls he says "Aye, if I had Anze as kin then I'd probably throw a snowball at him, but in the ever winter ya don't go playing in the snow. Can't waste the warmth on digging through the snow when ya don't have to." Asger looks between Darren and Eilonwy with a growing grin "But in this mild weather we can probably go topless and throw snowballs without any ill effect."

Behtuk nods to Gwenna when she speaks to him. "I like goose." He confesses without hesitation. He is careful not to burn said goose. "You like goose?" He asks at last of Gwenna.

"Mmmn. I have Duke Asger for a liege lord. I don't know that I need a family to visit to want inspiration for wanting to pummel people." Eilonwy smiles and gestures. "You see? Already I'd like to try these mud balls." She laughs a bit.

Laughing her agreement, Gwenna says to Darren, "Princess Ann is such an exceptional scholar. I sometimes marvel at how much she knows and yet still hopes to learn. She wields a book better than some wield a sword, I think. Still, I would be very honored to make something to hang in the new library, cousin, truly. Thank you for suggesting it. I may even try my hand at a small sculpture or two." She pauses to sip her wine and then smirks. "Book ends, you know." Theron's arrival is hard not to notice, there being a small contingent all told. "My Lord Theron, welcome! To you and your guests, of course. It is good to see you around one of our bonfires again, though I do not believe there will be contests this eve," is said with a chuckle. Eilonwy's remarks just make her laugh a little bit more. Her lips wrinkle at the weaponsmith's words next. "I do like goose, Master Behtuk, though with a bit of salt and faint honey glaze. Have you tried it like that?"

"Just salt." Behtuk says. "I like honey too." He says, still splitting his focus, but the simplicity of his comments is nothing unusual for him.

House Mazetti, when they choose to make appearances, never walk into the scene alone. Theron has his cousin and Marquessa, Cambria, on one arm, and Princess Sabella Grayson on the other, Garibaldi trailing after him. Dame Emilia, the Templar, walks beside them, completing the ensemble. When Gwenna greets him after his rather noticeable entrance, there's the flash of a bright smile over to her. "Thank you, Yuor Highness. And that is alright! I kept my trophy from last time well polished."

"True!" Darren points at Eilonwy, "I should teach you how to embed rocks in your snowballs." He deadpans, before motioning to a servant to bring him another mug of ale - he has a good seat by the fire and doesn't want to give it up. Northlanders are ruthless about seat stealing.

Dust the rat arrives, delivering a message to Theron before departing.

Dust the rat arrives, delivering a message to Emilia before departing.

Sigurd moves across the clearing to follow after Brogan and settles his hand upon his shoulder companionably. "Brogan Nightgold, my uncle. Watch out for this guy, he enjoys fire too much." He reaches over and thumps his tankard against Brogan's companionably. "You're the favorite for mud-wrestling. We'll have you in the line-up first." He lifts the tankard to his mouth to chug at before smiling towards Gwenna. "I'm sure I'll see you again soon, affairs bring me here often."

Asger tells Eilonwy rather dismissively "I have no idea what you're talking about lass, all my subjects love and adore me. Can't imagine a single one would want to pummel me, or maybe stab me depending on what is at hand." Asger's lips pulling up in an amused grin as he states this "Or maybe it was most of them have the odd moment of wanting to beat me, I forget which it is."

Standing next to the group by the bonfire, Brogan lifts his cup to Theron, "Lord Theron! It's good to see you again..." his shaggy head bowing to Sabella, "and Your Highness as well. Whiskey or Mead or Beer tonight?" His eyes moving over the few he hasn't met yet. He does turn back to the talk on snowballs, and whispers to Darren loud enough for everyone to hear "Ice also works quite well if any can be found in this simmering land."

To Sigurd, Brogan raises his mug, "As long as your in there as well. I've already heard your tales of wearing only under-clothing..."

"Rocks?" Eilonwy considers. "I wonder if Duke Asger would notice." She glances over at her lord asking a question quietly before getting up to get herself a drink, glancing at the newcomers.

Eilonwy says in Northlands shav, "If I were throwing mud balls topless does that count as violence?"

The Marquessa of House Mazetti arrives with a polite, if frosty smile upon her face. Amongst the group of newcomers, Cambria does not appear to be engaging in group conversation. Instead, she listens attentively, a single brow arching as Brogan asks Theron which drink would be his preference.

Asger says in Northlands shav, "I'm going to say no, you could probably also put rocks in them and it'd be worth the spectacle."

The Archlector of Jayus still lingers by the fire, letting the conversation wash around her. One hand picks idly at a paint splotch again, and she blinks, pulling herself out of her thoughts. The new entrants make Wylla stare for a moment, before she clears her throat. It's ten kinds of awkward, and her quiet voice is a bit drowned out by all the chatter around her. "If -- if anyone wants to come to paint, you're welcome, besides Princess Gwenna. I'll have more paint and brushes. Please bring any works you like!" And then she's turning for the way out of the grounds, after casting a delicate smile towards the gathered Redrain crowd.

Sigurd drifts away from the main focus of attention and mingles with some of the lesser known Redrain nobilities and isn't seen again for the rest of the bonfire.

Eilonwy says in Northlands shav, "His Grace did suggest rocks in your case."

"Hello, Lord Brogan," Theron greets, genially, "I'll have... ale. Do you know my cousin, Marquessa Cambria Mazetti?" He's gesturing towards Cambria, that brow that arches prompting his expression to be frozen for a second. Oh, he knows his liegewoman well enough to hesitate right now. All the talk in some foreign language definitely does prompt him to frown deeply, though. "That, there, is the Archlector Wylla, of Jayus," he comments to the Marquessa, nodding in the Halfshav's direction.

Gwenna grins again to Theron, adding, "Please, come sit. There is plenty of food and drink for everyone and we are glad to share your company. I do not believe I've met all of you. I'm Princess Gwenna Redrain," she notes and waves over one of the staff to offer to take an order or such. Nodding to Sigurd, that ever-present smile remains. "Perhaps you can help me decide what to paint for the new library tomorrow? Or next time our paths cross." She then makes a point of giving her cousin Darren a shake of her head. "Rocks in snowballs, Your Grace? It's like cheating. A little." Asger's words, as well, seem to keep the princess amused. She gives Wylla a wave as the Archlector departs. "Thank you for coming! I quite look forward to the festival."

Behtuk is near the fire, roasting a whole goose on a spear, like the savage he was raised to be. Why waste a good fire?

Sabella smiles towards Brogan, offering him and the rest of the group a brief curtsy. She glances briefly at Cambria before she holds up a hand, shyly speaking up. "I'll take mead, if I may?"

"When the Southerners come to our bonfires, speak Arvani." Darren says to Asger and Eilonwy, "We must be sure our guests know they are welcome." He offers a smile, his eyes flickering to Gwenna. "And rocks ...well, you need a little something extra when your foe is especially thick headed." He can't help but look amused at his swipe at Asger, before offering a wave to the new arrivals.

Brogan, himself, moves to gather the asked for drinks with a nod of his head. After his quick trip he has the mugs in one large hand, he offers the mead to Sabella, "Your Highness." then offering the ale to Theron, "Theron." Then he's left with two mugs in his hand, "Ale or Meade?" He asks Cambria with a grin, then in a lower tone adds, "There's some fine Northern Whiskey as well."

Asger switches momentarily back into the more common tongue to mention to Darren "But I am being welcoming my friend, treating 'em like family we are and sharing our culture and our ways with them." he glances over at Eilonwy as if expecting her to back him up on this one before looking back to Darren "Besides, I think we both know my friend I'm just as likely to scare them off if they can understand what I'm saying as if they can't.

Cambria puts on something of a more approachable expression for Brogan, as well as Wylla, as Theron introduces her to them. "Lovely to make your acquaintance," she says. "It has been too long since I last paid a visit to this ward of the capital..." At Brogan's question, the Marquessa makes a faint, 'ah,' and then, "Mead, please and thank you."

Looking to Darren, Eilonwy bows a bit in acknowledgment. She looks at Asger. "Did you want a refill in Arvani?" She asks, thickening her accent. "Culture. Yes." She agrees belatedly, staring at Asger blankly and looking to Darren.

Emilia herself is largely quiet in the troop. Surely there is that tiny glimmer of wonder at this event, in her eyes, but for the most part, she doesn't reflect it. She seems rather professional, which might be odd. A reason for this, one might notice, is the fact that she is absolutely surrounded by nobility. Indeed- there are those tiny signs visible. Slight nervousness, not knowing where exactly to stand, and let's not even mention precedence! But instead of looking like a nervous wreck, she instead looks all professional. Like a lieutenant in a battle group.

"Pleasure to see you all again. Your Grace, it's been awhile since the drinking competition!" Theron flashes a grin over at Darren, before taking the ale from Brogan with a nod. He smiles in gratitude to the Nightgold man, looking over to Cambria and nodding when she decides to partake on mead. "We'll have a seat in a bit. It is a cold night, though, and I do appreciate the food, thank you," he mentions, to Gwenna, smile bright, still. "And of course, the Templar with us is Dame Emilia. She's a good acquaintance of mine, and we were in a patrol, earlier. I'm famished, so I think I have it on good authority that so is she."

Sabella takes the mug in her hands, and grins a bit sheepishly as she takes a drink. She makes a move to get closer to the warmth, smiling at the people around them. "It's rather beautiful here, and I don't think I've met most of you. I'm Princess Sabella Grayson, thank you for your hospitality."

Darren grunts at Asger, "Yes, but it is important people get to really know for themselves why you're an ass." Darren says, before turning his blue eyes to Theron. "Oh, don't remind me of that contest." Darren says, lifting a hand to his temples. "My head hurt for a week after that. The next morning, Marian got me up and made me go run some ridiculous Valardin obstacle course where you basically try and run through a bunch of things without vomiting." Darren says, closing his eyes at the memory of it. "Or maybe the vomiting part was the hangover."

Gwenna can not help but quip back to Darren, a wry smirk at the corner of her mouth, "You make that sound like there are so many thick headed people around for us to worry about." His recollection of the recent drinking contest makes her laugh briefly. Sipping her wine, the princess appears rather content at those gathered, both family and friends. "Did anyone attend the masked event? I was tempted to go, but finding someone to make a costume seemed nigh impossible." Again, she gives a small dip of her head. "It has gotten chilly, but hopefully the fire helps, Lord Theron. A pleasure to meet all of you. Truly, though, whatever any of you might like, food or drinnk, please do not hesitate. There are even some plum tarts that I believe everyone is sick of me mentioning, but it's my mother's recipe..." She trails off, as if that might explain it well enough.

Asger runs his tongue over his teeth as he thinks "My mother's tribe had a recipe for an alcohol brewed in the skull of the stag that has been lined with the mushrooms found on the biggest tree that rings a clearing. It can knock ya on your ass, show you the path of success through life and let ya talk to animals for a few days." walking over to the refreshment table he goes to grab one of the plum tarts "I should share it sometime."

"I ranked third on that one. Fluke, really. Princess Marian won." Theron grins at Darren, "That tower-- I always end so close to the first place, yet so far. Well, not in the Gauntlet. That physical torture they claim is exercise actually had Marian winning at such a difference in time that I'm pretty sure nobody's going to beat her standing record for a little while." He sips from his ale, then, before mentioning, "No bronze trophies for Gauntlet finalists, though. Shame, really." With a grin over at Asger and Eilonwy, he introduces himself, "Lord Theron Mazetti, the Sword of Ostria. And sometime duelist." To Gwenna, he mentions, "I will certainly try those plum tarts. That sounds delicious, right now. So I -- I hope you made more than a few, because I tend to eat ... a lot."

Pulling over another grouping of chairs, Brogan sets them out for the folks that just arrived so they're near the bonfire... and there might be a number of grumbling people complaining about missing seats somewhere on the other side of the bonfire. "Have a seat, relax...." He hands Camria the mead, and raises the other mug in his hand.. now double fisting ... "To new drinking friends." After he's had a drink, Brogan looks to Asger, "I'd take a run at that drink, as long as Mydas doesn't bring his Foolsbane Vodka around again..."

Behtuk's eyes track the passage of mead around the bonfire. He doesn't leave his spear and the goose he is cooking.

Cambria looks vaguely uncomfortable at all this talk of massive hangovers and obstacle courses and vomiting. She even briefly lifts a hand to her stomach, as though contemplating such misery and finding even the very thought entirely disagreeable. Even so, she gratefully accepts the mead when Brogan offers it to her, and takes a seat just as he invites! No doubt the Lycene appreciates the fire more than most. "To new drinking partners," she echoes, holding her mead aloft before taking that first sip.

"Did you know that vodka is great for getting tree sap out of your clothes?" Darren says, "I mean, use too much and your clothes come apart - but if you can use just the right amount..." Darren notes, before pushing himself up out of his seat. "Gwenna my dear, thank you so much for this evening." Darren says, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing. "A bonfire is always a welcome treat, but I think I should retire for the evening before someone starts a drinking contest and I am out of commission for two days." Darren jerks a thumb towards Asger, "Especially if he starts making us drink magic mushroom juice out of the skill of an animal." As Cambria raises a toast though, Darren grabs a glass of whiskey off a nearby tray. He can't have a guest's call for a toast go unanswered, "To new drinking partners!" he echos.

"Sounds like poison." Eilonwy murmurs and gets a mug full of ale to cradle to her chest as Asger goes to get a tart. "Would have gotten you food, Lord. I'm up anyway." She tells him and looks to Theron at the introduction. "Eilonwy Thunderoak, I talk for Blackwood and serve this tall lout-with minimal wrestling." She nods her head to Asger.

Asger grins over at Theron "A pleasure to meet you, my friend the name's Asger Crovane, Duke of Stormwall, wrestler of sharks, slayer of centipedes, drinker of brews, handsomest man in the everwinter, and as my advisor has pointed out to me, I should probably add eligible bachelor on there...." hiking his thumb at Eilonwy he explains "Apparently I need heirs before I start risking my life in battle again." As Darren announces his intent to leave, Asger snorts and claps him on the shoulder "I will just have to save some of the stag's head brew for later then when you can drink it with us."

When the others make a toast and drink, the Grayson Princess follows suit, her brows lifting at the taste of the mead. "This is rather good." Sabella murmurs, settling into a seat by the fire, her blue eyes watching each face as she listens to the conversations.

Gwenna's eyes widen a little and then she chuckles at the Duke of Crovane. "That sounds like a very detailed recipe, Asger, and one I'm not sure I could do justice. Though I always did wish to have the ability to speak to animals, so..." She gives him a grin, which is then turned to Theron. "There is plenty of food, my lord. I have spent half my life learning how to properly direct a household that includes feeding Northmen. The greatest lesson I learned, in that regard, is that twenty eat like a hundred and usually about that many will show up anyhow. So, truly, there is plenty for all." Brogan's remarks make her wrinkle her lips a moment. "I have heard much about this vodka, but never tried it. Honestly? I am nearly afraid to. I think I'll stick with the double-yous -- wine and whiskey," is quipped with amusement. "And the occasional mead or ale." She, too, raises her glass in toast and then nods to Darren. "Of course, Your Grace. Thank you for coming, as I know how pressing things are currently. It's good to give the mind a bit of a rest, though."

Behtuk licks his lips at the toast. He pulls his goose out of the fire and tests it's wing. With a grunt he snaps the wing off and tucks into it with his teeth. Good enough, is his clear expression. Then he looks around for Sigurd to offer him first bite. Not find him, he crosses to Darren and Gwenna and holds the spear out, short hafted.

Claiming a seat for himself, then, Theron nods his thanks to Brogan, before raising his tankard to Darren, and then Gwenna, nodding his thanks to the Redrain Princess. "Good to know that I eat like a Northman, then, because that's about what you can expect from me," he winks as if cluing her in on a secret, before nodding in agreement to Sabella. "They have fine brewers, my heart. I am of the mind they should add brandy to their stores for the truly cold winters, though. Or would it be summers?" He looks to Cambria for help with this, before he mentions to Asger, after his litany of titles, "Plenty of eligible ladies in the city, my Lord. May Limerance guide you to the right one."

Theron also adds, to Eilowny, "Pleasure to meet you, Mistress Thunderoak! Minimal wrestling? Intriguing!"

As Darren gets up to leave, the large Northman bows his head to him, "Your Grace. Perhaps next time we can take you out for some drinking when I take my niece, Lydia out? I promise to get you both back so that you can attend to the duties needed..." There's a grin that spreads on his bearded face, "..even if it is /just/ in time."

Asger says in Northlands shav, "I don't think the lad picked up that I was joking about the titles."

Bear, an giant dog, Phantom, the Great Grey Owl, Sir Tyrus, Redrain Knight leave, following Darren.

"It is a tragedy, but our lieges are very stubborn and sometimes must be wrangled into things like finding good matches before they jaunt off to die in battle." Eilonwy explains to Theron as she wanders back to her seat with a look at Asger. She shakes her head and leans over to quietly answer.

"Brandy is acceptable all times of year," Cambria says in reply to Theron. "Though I should think your brother's current project would make for a fine winter drink." She takes another sip from her mead, eyes glancing between those gathered round the fire. "Just treat it as the political item it is," Cambria offers on marriage. "It greatly simplifies matters. When one adds in emotion, well," she shrugs apathetically.

Eilonwy says in Northlands shav, "Nay, I think not. You want Limerance warming your bed like the south?"

"Ah, Master Behtuk," Gwenna says to the weaponsmith. "The goose looks delightful. I can tear a bit off to try?" That seems to be the offer, but the princess has been schooled never to assume, likely. While she awaits the answer, her gaze again goes to Theron and another chuckle escapes her lips. "Brandy, my lord? I would actually love to add such to our stores. My mother brewed a bit in Farhaven as a hobby. I never quite managed the hang of it myself." One shoulder lifts in a half-shrug at that before glancing between Asger and Eilonwy, settling on the latter. "Our Duke of Crovane? Stubborn? I hardly believe it." The wryness indicates otherwise, though not unkindly. "More truly, I keep meaning to ask His Grace if Redrain have someone who arranges such things, as the other great houses seem to do." Cambria's words clearly pique Gwenna's interest. "A winter drink? We do love our winters. May I inquire about it further? I don't wish to tread on trade secrets, of course."

Sabella looks uncomfortable as she gazes into her mug, setting it aside so she can hold her hands out to the bonfire for warmth. Her eyes move from one person to another as they speak, especially when she doesn't understand.

Behtuk offers Gwenna his belt knife, if she prefers a more civilized way of serving hunks of flambe'd fowl. "There is ... mead?" He asks hopefully, though his expression is of someone who cares not what one drinks.

Brogan whistles to himself as the talk about marriages is bandied about, and he tosses Asger a shrug as he had been down the road of political marriage once before. He sets one of his empty mugs down, and nods to Behtuk pointing towards a section of the table where the meads where hidden before as he offers the Smith a wink. Returning to the conversation, Brogan adds, "Well, it might be nice to have the chance to get more than just a political alliance if you're going to spend your life with another person." he offers with a shrug of one shoulder.

Asger says in Northlands shav, "Fuck no, first off I'm pretty sure Limerance has better shit to do then warm my bed and second she's not exactly my type."

Asger responds rather dryly to Eilonwy in that same language they've been bandying about all night before speaking up in the more common tongue "Yeah yeah....I got it, there are many men who can fight on the field of battle but only one who can provide an heir for my line." Asger seems distinctly unhappy as he speaks these words and sets about shoving a bite of the plum tart into his mouth, chewing and talking at the same time as he responds to Gwenna "Aye lass, Stubborn is the family trait and I exemplify it better then any of my other kin." swallowing he says with a toothy grin "It's a blessing and a curse."

Snorting, Eilonwy sits back. "The Duke is sweetness and thoughtful actions incarnate." She agrees with Gwenna and looks to Asger amused. "You know who doesn't need to worry about lines or marriages? Common folk, maybe you should join a tribe?" she teases and drinks her ale. "It's certainly nice to fuck as I please and not worry about dying childless."

"Yes, his project would actually work well... and I think he needs to look at Second Wall, a little, also," Theron muses to Cambria, before looking over to Brogan as he chips in on the topic of political marriages. He looks to Sabella, briefly, and reaches for her hand after murmuring a few words. "Political expediency only goes so far, really, cousin. It works in most cases, sure, but that's out of duty. I can't see it becoming particularly fortunate in the long run."

"That comes later," Cambria says to Brogan. "If one can establish a mature, working relationship in the field of politics and leadership of a House, then the possibility for mutual affection, friendship, and perhaps even love grows." She shakes her head, the way a longsuffering mother might towards her particularly wilful children.

Gwenna looks rather relieved at the offer of the knife. "Thank you, Master Behtuk." She does, indeed, somewhat delicately carve off a bit of the flame-roasted fowl for herself, returning the borrowed knife when she's done. Blowing on it to cool it a bit, she pops the piece into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. Considering the taste a minute or so, she smiles. "We shall have to have that at the next dinner. As for mead..." She gives an agreeing nod to Brogan's words. Asger's make her laugh once again, and Eilonwy's make her do so out loud. "Ah, it is a redeeming quality, my lord." Finishing her wine, it seems Gwenna may be next on the departure list. "I fear I should also review a few things of duty and then crawl into my bed. Lord Theron, Marquessa Cambria, I am truly interest in speaking again about your brandy or winter drink, should that be acceptable with you both. Princess Sabella, it was lovely to meet you." She stands and gives a dip of her head. "Redrain, thank you all. I love bonfires with you all so much."

Once Gwenna has a bit of fowl, Behtuk begins making the rounds, offering each person without something to eat a chance to carve a bit of bird for themselves. Somewhere, he finds an unattended mug and gets it filled with mead. That will go great with two plum tarts. Asger is first up once Behtuk is properly liquified.

Behtuk says in Northlands shav, "For a lord of the North."

Asger sighs and tells Eilonwy "Well I would just run off and join my mothers but then that would leave my people directionless...and the tribe sort of folded when that damned Ysbail caused all you to bend knee." With a shake of his head he looks over to Gwenna "It was good to see you again my friend, perhaps we'll be able to meet again soon for one of the lessons?"

"I certainly hope so..." Is all Brogan says in response to Cambria about the process for building a strong political marriage. He finishes off his mug, moving over to place it on the table near the food, and moves back to the small group "Unfortunately I've got another engagement this evening. It's been good to see old friends, and make new ones tonight." With a wave of his hand, he adds, "Stay Warm tonight, and safe travels. I hope to see you all again soon."

Theron looks definitely more sober in expression after a brief exchange of murmurs with Sabella, the topic of marriage washing over him like cold sea water. His lips twitch downwards briefly and he drinks the last of his beer before nodding once to Brogan. "Nice to see you today, my Lord. Until next time at the training center."

Cambria smiles, again, politely, and raises her mead to those who were preparing to depart. "Again," she says. "It was a pleasure to meet you all."

"Yes, please Asger," Gwenna tells the Duke and adds a few bobs of her head. "I do not wish to go to Stormwall without at least a bit of the language under my belt. Also, your people need you. Besides, someone has to be the rogue, devil-may-care duke around here," she can't seem but help to add. A wave is offered to Brogan as well as her steps lead her back to the innards of the villa.

Sabella can't finish her mead, but she makes a valiant effort before she gets to her feet. She briefly nods at something Theron says before she speaks up. "It seems as if things are winding down, so I shall take my leave as well." She nods to the new faces and smiles at her friends. "I hope you all have a warm and satisfying evening." Her guard and lady-in-waiting fall into step with her as she steps away from the bonfire and into the darkness.

Asger offers Behtuk a warm smile, responding to the man in the northern tongue.

Asger says in Northlands shav, "Thank you my friend, it is good to see another man of the north who knows her true tongue."

"Speak Arvani," Theron states at Asger, perhaps unreasonably sharply.

Elizabetta, a lissome lady-in-waiting, 1 Grayson Guardsmen leave, following Sabella.

"There is no you all. My tribe's dead." Eilonwy notes dryly and crinkles her eyes. "Guess you're stuck-we'll have to find you that lass." she tells Asger and looks at Gwenna with puppy eyes. "I have to watch his Duke-ship here?" She wonders and drapes a hand over her forehead dramatically.

Behtuk inclines his head to Asger, then offers Theron his goose on a spear. "Goose?" He asks in Arvani. Like a sharp-pointed rotund waiter.

Gwenna can't help but chuckle at Eilonwy, though covers her mouth with a hand to stifle it. "We should see about having him give you a raise. A big one." Then for real, she's off!