Skip to main content.

Riverside Feast

Word spreads through the underbelly of Arx of a 'Borough Feast' extended to the common populace from the Cullers. In true celebration, dinner manners, proper etiquette and other forms of refinement are requested to be left at home or at least exchanged for an evening of burning fires, foaming casks of ale, greasy meat on spits, darts and gambling, potentially blinding alcohols and other local 'fine' fare. It's asked to keep all fights non-lethal, especially if blades are brandished, and to bring a friend to fish out any drunken companions unlucky enough to fall into the Grey River.

In smaller circles, rumors filter about that a significant quantity of the money was spent bribing the Guard and Inquisition to ease off from the Boroughs for this evening, though who can say?


July 17, 2016, 6 p.m.

Hosted By



Freja(RIP) Morrighan Ravna Gareth(RIP) Hammar Tyrene Cain Arianwen Calandra Marcas Talen Audric(RIP)



Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge

Largesse Level


Comments and Log

"Why the Gods aren't you helping?" Acacia had ballsily grinned, or near-yelled at Cain, prior to the event starting, but it'd been one of those lazy kinds of yells, the kind that comes with not enough attention, but a thrown, thankfully empty, tankard with impeccable aim towards his head now that not quite everyone had been there. "You're not claiming anything out of the norm with it, are you?" With the tankard drawn to overflowing until rivulets of her own ale streak down the sides to splatter upon the dirt below, Acacia generously attempts to thrust it into Tyrene's hands, "Cheer up, Mother Hen. Something something chicks, something something. You want me to get Ravna to tell you a story? He's around here somewhere, you know."
Tyrene wrinkles her nose and gives Acacia a look. "I don't care what you fucking call me. I got a name, but if it's easier for folks to call me soemthing else, what the fuck do I care?" She doesn't seem to be actually upset or hostile, just... resting bitch attitude. She hrmphs. "If everyone calls you your name, what would me me calling your name stand out? That's the whole point of nicknames." She mutters and nods, motioning to some of her tavern rats to roll out barrels of pretty decent drink. "Plenty for everyone. Ordered extra of my favorite stock, just for you, girl." She narrows her eyes at Cain. "I'll drown you in a barrel, some name I haven't come up with either, since y'all are touchy about it too. I'll come up with something good, don't you worry though."
From the docks, Talen and Arianwen travel toward the riverside feast. With the woman looped arm-in-arm with the Sword of Lenosia, there's quite the contrast of colours. Monochrome hues of the Lycene man's light armoured garb provide a shadowy backdrop to the blues and greens of his companion's attire. Only the obscenely expensive purple gemstones so out of place in the Boroughs really provide a hint of life in Talen's appearance, Mirror Blade swinging at his hip in its sheathe. "I have had the opportunity to go to the Murder previously," says the sworn swordsman, "but I rarely come down this far toward the sea unless it's on business to escort family to and from the Velenosa vessels." This in the direction of Arianwen when said, it seems.
Freja arrives.


A howl comes out from around the flames, joined by another, and another, as three Greybacks have met - and all three carry Sticks, all three have big black floppy hats, and all three look drunk as fuck.

But only one has a cat clinging to his shoulder, and dice tattooed into his fingers with black ink. Only one of those three keeps the howl going long after his voice has become scratchy and uneven, and their Sticks clack together as the gourds splash whatever-the-fuck Greybacks drink. "Do you remember..." "When that fucking Blueback saw Pigface's axe and shit himself?" "YES! Then he slipped and fell backwards, and stabbed that Shav in the foot during negotiations?"

Laughter. Howling.
"Well, then this shall be the first time you arrive for something other than business. For simple and unadulterated fun." Arianwen grins over at her escort to this party, starry eyes bright with jubilance and expression practically glowing with anticipation. As she overhears the conversations of familiar figures, she giggles and whispers something to Talen. More noticeably however, she lifts a hand in a cheerful wave towards Acacia, "Mistress Culler! Mind if we join in on the fun?"
Finding himself a tankard of his own, Cain gets ready to fill it. "Don't make me start telling you jokes," he says to Tyrene off Acacia's words to her. "Because they're horrible. And I mean, most of the time they will make you cry rather than make you laugh, which... well, yeah. Just keep it from getting to that point," he earnestly suggests to Tyrene. "Acacia tries to drown me often, it doesn't take. But, I suppose you might have an easier time with it," he muses. "Cain's fine as a name, mind you. But just Cain. I have no family but this girl," he thumbs over to Acacia, "who's actually not really family and her real family might not want to claim me as it is. Some call me Cain of the Boroughs, so I suppose that works too." He turns a curious eye to the new arrivals.
Marcas arrives.
(OOC) Arianwen forgot to hand that over, I think :P
"I'm pretty sure-- now correct me if I'm wrong here-- but I'm pretty sure the point is to /not/ stand out-- in all situations other than maybe this one, which is a blatant fucking testament to standing out in a good way, kinda." Tyrene's dour mood is a direct contrast to Acacia's more than lively one, the clap on her shoulder again almost enough to jostle aside the brew itself when the far louder howling comes from one of the numerous firepits and she's grinning that way. Roping a hand around the brew-traded woman's hand, she seeks to guide her over towards the fire itself, gesturing towards the trio of men with floppy-hats, "You met my Cousin Not-Cousin Ravna yet? He's a little fucking crazy, mind you-- but it's well worth the wait. I hope you don't take too close to your underclothes if you start betting with him though. Love the man to death."

Winking at Arianwen over her shoulder, she greets her with an open expression of warmth that lingers even when she pins a darker look upon Talen and finds herself bowing ever so slightly, "What a joy to see you here, love! Thank you for coming. You seen Hammar? Ham-fisted bastard made me buy out half the city on pastries. I was going to herd everyone to Ravna. Want to help?"

And then her gaze transcends towards Freja over the louder rabble, grinning then and inclining her head with the utmost respect. After a sparse minute, and across the distance, she gestures her hands out wide in acceptance to everyone and beckons the woman closer, if she wishes, announcing aside, "Twenty silver to the person who dunks Cain in brew before the night is out."
Morrighan arrives.
A tall woman in Northern furs and leathers arrives, her attire weather-worn and well loved given its upkeep. Freja has a winsome smile curling her lips as she makes her way into the revelry, an inquisitive brow arched as she catches the tail end of conversations here and there. Acacia gets a wink as they catch each other's attention over the crowd, but for now she asks, "Is there a time limit we must wait before dunking him?"
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Freja before departing.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Freja before departing.
"Probably seen him around, don't know if I met him proper at all." Tyrene looks skeptically at the people from the other districts, keeping an eye on them, committing them to memory. She wrinkles her nose a little bit, crossing her arms. "I'll send a boy to fetch something cheap for the dunking. Don't you dunk him in my good stuff."
(OOC) Morrighan will brb and pose upon return
Morrighan has left the game.

"ARRROOOO!" Coughsputtercough, splash.

One of the Greybacks tries to howl with a mouth still quite full of liquor, and the result is a fountain of spray that enters the flames and has them kicking high, and cheers, "What -the fuck- is this, Inktongue!?" Laughter from the other Greybacks has one nudging the other, "Ravna's been playin' with the Black'uns again, yeah?" The cat-shouldered man's cackle can be heard, "So, you know, I know, and the dice? We were like, two bras and a tit in when this BOULDERTOSSER comes in. The biggest, ugliest, blunt-nosed fucker you'd see --" "Pigface's brother?" "Haaaaa! No. Maybe? Probably. Could be! Younger though, and too pretty. Like way too fucking pretty, and polite. Also, I think, he may brush his teeth? Because, as I remember it, Pigface almost became Shitbreath."

"Ravna, get on with it! What did I just drink!?"

The cat meows in complaint to the Greyback's unchecked, unbalanced movements and inked fingers scritch her ears. "I have no fucking idea! Delicious though, yeah?!
Gareth arrives.
(OOC) Arianwen gasps! Disperse. Disperse! Inquisitor! :P
(OOC) Acacia says: I gotz this, yo.
"Unadulterated fun, you say. Well, that certainly has its place," is said with the soft, bassy approval Talen musters, his stride leading them toward the core of the party. While looking toward Acacia, the apparent hostess, the glance past himself toward Freja has the man's steely gaze roaming toward the Redrain noblewoman. "Ah," he murmurs then, not particularly quietly, to Arianwen. A subdued set of words are provided back before he raises his spare arm off his sword's hilt and toward Freja. "Acacia," is then thrown in greeting to the woman by the swordsman, his gaze only interrupted by the howling man across the way. There is a long, steady stare at the antics before he turns in search for some amount of alcohol. "Boroughs fare is no doubt a stable diet but I can't say I have gone out of my way to sample all of the items on a menu from one of the taverns."
(OOC) Gareth says: I have brought the leather and chains, lets get this party staarted.. CONFESS
(OOC) Ravna offers his ass first.
(OOC) Gareth says: I love your enthusasim
Arriving on his own, Marcas all covered in furs and leathers, most of which smell like they need to be washed as badly as he does. Tucking a thumb into his sword belt as he walks casually along. Sidestepping people so as not to get in their way. At least he looks like he made an attempt to comb back his hair but the wind has seen to it becoming a sloppy red-brown mess the same as his beard.
(OOC) Ravna says: Everyone does.
The mention of his name by Acacia causes Cain to grin in her direction. That is, until he realizes what she's wagering. "Wait what?" He says, that smile he has plastered to his face and so slowly becoming more of a grimace. "You whore, why would-" he starts, squinting, clenching his hands into fists. "Why you--" he continues, and mutters a few curses under his breath. "Do you even have the money to pay them?" He challenges Acacia, narrowing his eyes at her.

And those narrowed eyes see Freja and they narrow some more. And he stares, because why wouldn't he? And he stares a lot? And he steps over toward Acacia, poking her on the shoulder. "Hey, 'Cacia, there's a silk... right over there. Or did I start drinking early and I'm seeing things?" he points at Freja. "And... she wants to dunk me in brew too." He sighs dejectedly, rubbing his face, just as he hears Tyrene.

"What? Cheap booze?" Cain protests. "But, but." He slouches. "Fiiine. Fuck."
When Gareth steps in on this scene, it's very much an oddity all things considered. Making no attempts at disguising his features, nor his counteance, the scarred inquisitor ambles his way through the streets, more than content with the leers thrown his way.. amongst those who could be bothered to actually give the cripple the time of day. OF course an Inquisitor.. much less a mangled one doesn't exactly leave much to the imagination of his orgins or reputation.. but Gareth seems content with enroaching upon the festivities here all the same.
"Why would we waste good booze? It's not like it'll be drank after your gross ass has been in it. Don't be gross, Cain. Don't be gross." Tyrene shake sher head, frowning, looking over at the weirdness going on.
Arianwen shrugs a light shoulder towards Talen, "that's the spirit!" Soon enough, she chirps out as giggle Tyrene's way, "I'm glad I could make it, Ty." A shake of her head, "I saw Hammar yesterday. He was at the street feast. It's too bad you couldn't come! It was a blast, though not as many people donated themselves up for my special date auction as I had hoped. Thanks for letting us set up shop near your place. I'll figure a way to repay you the generosity." An arch of a brow, "heard everyone to Ravna? And here I'm thinking Ravna and his Greybacks herd towards us!" She approaches the group more closely and calls out to Ravna, "you're paying attention to little Rabbitsfoot, I hope?" Towards Cain, she states, "we -all- want to dunk you in brew! So that's certainly nothing new." Slipping from Talen's arm, she strides freely across the way. Arms outstretched, she happily gives Tyrene a warm hug of greeting, "it's been too long since we've spoken. How've you been? Did you hear I'm something of a courtesan now?"
"You don't have near enough business woman in you-- you charge them for the finest brew to dunk in, and then when they waste it and have it all gone, you charge them for the secondary batch. You have too much good in you, Mistress Tyrene-- far too much." With another fuller grin brandished for Freja after her words, she steps up and then inclines her head, gesturing between the two women, "The line might begin when we end up waiting to see what kind of ale she brings up. Have you met each other? Mistress Tyrene runs the Unkindness up in the Upper Boroughs-- And this is--" Acacia gives a pause, dark eyes revolving back towards Freja and holding there for a beat, "Perhaps you should introduce yourself? I'd hate to call anyone out-- And Cain, of course, the man to be dunked. Try to keep him out of the River, eh? Not everyone gets fished out.

Her focus trickles back towards the fireside, towards Ravna and his men, those jokes, but her smile remains evident, clear and brilliant. "Ravna, you fucking lout! Come say hi to other people too other than just your reunion. Bring Rabbitsfoot too."

There's a general discord which simmers every where that Gareth walks, glares all too frequent, as well as those that wouldn't dare to match his gaze. It's a palpable sort of feeling which has the crowds uneasily parting around him, yet all the same, the festivities are large and encompassing and they enclose him behind once he passes on.
Freja glances down and retorts, "I see only furs and leather." She jerks a thumb in Acacia's direction. "She suggested the dunking, not me. I'm just tryin' to please the hostess is all." When Marcas appears, bathed for once, she gives him a curious glance. A pointed look is given to the dice and the spirits, certain temptation for any soldier. Talen is giving a thoughtful pause before she places a hand on the arm offered, greeting him, "Well, I did not mean to scutter your company away? You could have carried on as you were. I'm here for the drink and merriment."
Freja adds, after the player of caught up and saw Acacia's pose, "A pleasure! What is this I hear of you having too much good in you?" she asks of Tyrene, though a thankful look is given to Acacia as she introduces her.
"It's my death by drowning, I should be able to drown in good booze," Cain mutters back at Tyrene, frowning, his arms crossed over his chest and slouching like no other. He glances over at Arianwen and rubs his chin. "You too? And since when? And why dunk me?" He muses but whatever anger there might have been in his words and demeanor up to this point, and there wasn't any real anger at all, seems to be fully bleeding off the man by now. "You know, if I'm destined to be dunked in the brew, let me get really fucking drunk first.

It's only thanks to the crowd's reaction that Cain notices Gareth's approach. He narrows his eyes and steps over to Acacia, tugging at her or trying to. "Over there," he points out to her, before stepping away and boldly approaching Freja. "Acacia is always drying to dunk me somewhere, your ladyshipness," he explains and offers a flourishing bow. "I'm Cain of the Boroughs and I apologize for not knowing your name?"
Marcas catches Freja's glance and also looks to the dice and drinks. Looking around to the other faces. His gaze falls on Gareth and the crowd that tends to part for him. A faint sniff, scratching under his reddish beard before making his way over to get himself some sort of drink. Mindful to keep his sword angled so it doesn't get jostled or bumped in the crowd. A double take upon seeing Talen whom he watches for a few moments but doesn't seem to bother greeting, just muttering to himself beneath that bushy beard as he focuses more on getting himself a proper beverage.
"Ack!" Tyrene makes an odd noise as she's accosted, but she returns the hug fine enough. "How can you be soemthing of a courtesan? What does that mean, girl?" Arianwen gets an odd look. "You either is, or you ain't. That ain't something you can kinda half ass. How the fuck did you learn how to do all that court shit anyway? What are you going on about, girl? You enter one of those Courtesan schools? WHy you slumming down here then?" There's more concern than irritation in her questioning and she gives the girl a hard look.

Tyrene stares at Acacia and she just blinks. "You... you just don't -waste good booze like that, girl.-" She looks as if that is an unforgivable sin. "You just... -don't-. Good gods and fishes, woman." She looks at Freja and nods. "Good t'meetcha. I ain't got no idea what she's on about. I'm a mean bitch, mosta the time." She looks at Cain. "No one's drownin' no one in even cheap beer. You quitcher bitchin' and accept that yer the entertainment tonight. That's what you do, ain't it? Entertainin' shit?"
Gareth for his part will respond almost pleased with the stares, his leering and cold gaze meeting anyone who might be brave enough to look at him. Almost as if daring the lower classes to come at the Grayson Prince, and the Inquisitor. His confidence might be inspiring, were it not primarily bravado. Of course were he to try and slink his way around the area.. well that might get another reaction and one much more immeaditly violent. At least now though, Gareth is unassailed for the time being.

It is then that he'll notice Freja no doubt being accosted by Acacia and Cain in turn, his gaze staring, studying the pair from afar, less concerned with their 'victim' of socalization and more that there presence is here at all. Stepping forward then towards them, he'll state aloud, "How convinent and fortunate it is to see both of you again. Why, this is suprising.. Miss Acacia.." Gareth offers aloud, lips twisting into frown. "And you.." Gareth will state then, giving a cold, overly long gaze to Cain.
Morrighan has entered the game.
It would seem on this fine summer evening many have gathered at the riverside, reveling in games of chance, free food and drink offered by gracious hosts. Muted footsteps make their way down the bank towards the source of revelry, bringing a presence gradually out of the shadows and into sight. At first perhaps a flicker of red or gold from the way the firelight plays off the colors in Morrighan's hair, or by the glint of a jeweled pommel peeking out from her boots, or even by the glass beads that dangle off her satchel, all provide some heralding of her arrival. Her eyes sweep over the numerous faces, spying only that are familiar. The redhead procures herself a generous serving of liquor before making her way over in Ravna's direction, offering an amicable, "Evenin' trouble. Any poor bastards lost all o' their shite tae you yet?"
When one arm is departed from and the other is taken, Talen doesn't seem much phased by the loss; a fair trade. With his gunmetal gaze wandering to watch how Arianwen interacts so easily amongst the denizens of the Boroughs, he answers Freja. "You didn't, I'm pretty sure Mistress Arianwen is a veritable celebrity around here," he says without going into details for why he might believe so. As he selects one of the drinks, pouring out what will no doubt prove to be a rough liquor of some kind, Talen sniffs and and then sips it before indicating the same. "Would you like one, then, since you're to stay? I doubt we'll have servants attend you but I'll stand in as attendant if it pleases. My family would consider flaying me if I did not see to your comforts, were you left wanting."

It's then that the man's eyes alight upon Marcus and the glare he receives is responded to with an easy, non-chalant raise of his cup in silent salutation. "Captain Marcas."
"Leave off it, your Highness," Acacia bluntly tells Gareth, though she's having an issue keeping that straight and solemn demeanor as she's attempting not to laugh at Tyrene's own words. "But you know what? Your timing is perfect-- so let me make this point. Try not to fry anyone before I get to it, yeah? It's bad for the festive atmosphere. There's kegs if you want to drink-- no dunking Cain though. Others have claimed that right already, no? But there's plenty of honey-cakes." After a reassuring look is passed towards Cain, she claps Tyrene upon the shoulder, checks a look towards Ravna and several of the others who seem to have some sort of attentive note for her, before she pads towards the kegs themselves. Reaching down with no remorse when she tries to jostle Marcus for access to that keg, despite there being many, she says, "Scuse me for a moment. I need to make an announcement and toasts are always good for that, yeah? You want someone to gamble with though?" Taking the cue from Talen, she adds, "Captain? Mgh." A little finger is waggled towards Ravna, before she relates, "He's got quite the hand."
Calandra arrives.

"By fuck-all, it's a Hood. Alright mates, place your bet: Two says someone socks him in the mouth with the nearest brick, five says he throws some young girl in the fire for blasphemy." One says to the Others, and the Greybacks reach into their coats to draw out coins - because gambling is a thing and happens that easily. "I'm in." "In! In, in, in!"

The cat-shouldered man cranes his neck some to spy the Hood yonder, and a little wiggle of inked fingers is given towards Arianwen - before Ravna turns back to the other two, "Oi, Inktongue, give me a lift!" "What the f-"

Ravna without warning leaps at the man, raising The Stick high up and waving it wildly. "Oiiii! Greysky!" He is quickly tugged down and nearly thrown into the fire by his mates, before one takes Ravna's stick and whaps him with it, then his own is used to whap the drunk in the ribs. "Are you playing dice with Churchmen again? Th'fuck? Didju' not get enough from banging out that Captain's daughter?"

"Hee. Watch."

Ravna waits not for the other Greybacks, nor even Morrighan, spying her and giving the redhead a proper eye-fucking, but stealing back his hickory Stick, and swaggering beside the Inquisitor and starting to lean. Quietly. Right upon the man, and Rabbitsfoot, scared as she is, just clings - and meows at people.

By Morrighan, Inktongue just shakes his head, and stares at his companion. "He is going to get himself dead one day." The other just shakes his head, and drinks whatever poison the other handed him. "I doubt it. Mangata has a sense of humor, I think." "Doooon't start with all that." "It's -true-. Priests check that holy wine. Priests. Like -they- know shit all, about drinking."
(OOC) Ravna coughs.
Freja laughs brightly and ushers Cain to stand back up. "No tumbling over yourself. Save that for when you're in your drinks more. I promise I don't dunk you in brew as long as I don't have reason to." More promise than threat, really. An aside to Tyrene, "Well, mean most of the time tends to translate to just getting stuff done I have found..." When Gareth steps in close, Freja exclaims, "Yes, very fortunate! They were just suggesting the best brew to have tonight." Diversion? Maybe. To add even more to that diversion, she heralds Marcas over if she can in his search for the ale. "Seems to be fine over here...I think he needs a good one too." She points to Gareth for the Northman's benefit.

Talen gets his own quirk of the brow from Freja. "Of course I would like a drink. And, I do just fine without them when I'm out scouting in the snows or surrounded by soldiers."
(OOC) Gareth says: I expect a cut
(OOC) Ravna gives half.
(OOC) Gareth says: 90/10
(OOC) Ravna says: I count as three.
Arianwen waves a hand back at Talen, "Ty, meet Master Talen Artiglio, Sword of Lenosia. He's from the Lyceum, but he's of common blood. He's...a friend." She grins, "Talen, this here's Tyrene, Mistress of the Unkindness in the Upper Boroughs." She waves a hand at Acacia, "that's Mistress Acacia Culler, if you hadn't met. Then there's Cain...Ravna..." A wave of her hand, "oh, gods be damned, you lot can introduce yourselves!" Towards Talen, she shrugs a shoulder, "since always. And because you're going to allow it, of course!" A flutter of lashes, "what better reason to get terribly drunk?" Returning her attention to Tyrene, she says with a small blush, "well, to be truthful, I've got myself a patron already. He's not exactly the pompous sort of silk one'd expect from people up above, but he's handsome, and strong, and oh so fun to tease." She giggles at all the questions leveled her way, shaking her head mirthfully, "I'm a tavern wench, through and through. What's the real difference, between servin' lascivious men in the slums, and doing the same in some fancy little court?" Another shake of her head, "no schools, no. Maybe one day. I've got a tutor though!" Noting that hard look, she moves to gently squeeze the other woman's arm and say, "I'm fine. It'll be fine. Honest, there's nothing to worry about." A smile, "besides, Talen'll keep me safe." She waves a hand in greeting towards Ravna, only to giggle at his curious theatrics."
"Right fucking charmed to meet you, Talen," Acacia says at Arianwen's introduction, her brazen grin unadulterated as she slips away from the crowds in order to attempt to draw their attention.
"Masters, Mistresses. Miscreants, Sellswords, Dockhands. Vagrants, Thieves, and all else loitering around." Acacia had deftly vaulted onto one of the stacks of crates, strategically arranged so the flicker of the numerous torches spotlighted her projected speech. "Times have been harder for us all recently, yeah?" She waves a finger up towards the dark silhouette of the royal bridge high above with a roguish grin, jesting, "All that trickle down infecting our quarter. Making some you wish they'd keep their silks to themselves, 'fore it ruins that hard won itch from our stained linens."

"But no." Acacia's voice sobers, dark eyes intent upon the crowds. "The Guard and Inquisition have been rough on us. The Rainur's son got beaten badly the other day for a dirty look and many of you came together for it. I know they've crossed many of us, hurt our people, stolen our livelihoods and perhaps-- perhaps-- some of us have sought other means to pad our fraying pockets in return."

"But this?" Splaying her hands, Acacia gestures with a faux-grand air towards the simmering mayhem of the festivities, that rakish grin pronounced effortlessly upon her features. "This is a celebration of freedom. Our freedom. That sweet taste of grit that those who grew up here truly know. But more importantly? It's a reminder. A reminder that to those who take care of the Boroughs - the Boroughs works to take care of them." Drawing a steady breath, Acacia provides a short pause, before she clearly intends to go on at least the tiniest bit more.
"I will drown and die a miserable death," Cain protests, overdramatically so to Tyrene, with a dismissing wave of his hand. That said her last words have him exhaling. "I suppose there is some truth to that entertaining shit," he mutters, sounding not all that pleased, but accepting of things.

When Gareth approaches him, Cain looks up to him and swallows. "Well, I'm certainly happy you consider me good fortune, your lordship, it would be really bad I imagine to be considered bad fortune by someone as illustrious as you," he notes. "I'm not sure it is quite surprising to find us here mind you," he can't help but quip, "As this is our home, but then, you might be surprised at your presence, which let me assure you is of course, always welcome." He takes a breath. "And I'm nobody, I promise you. Just another Boroughs man, but since I imagine that's not going to be enough, and I don't want to give you reason to entertain thinking about asking me twice about things, know that I'm Cain of the Boroughs, your lordship." He offers a flourishing bow to the man. "At your service, of course."

"Your ladyship you can dunk me in whatever brew you wish any time you wish," Cain tells her. "Be it Ravna's piss, or the finest Tyrene has to offer." He pauses and glances at Ravna. "Perhaps we can skip Ravna's piss, mind you. But I'm honored to make your acquaintance regardless."

He turns toward Talen at Ariawen's introduction, but pauses when he hears Acacia address everyone, listening in silence. At her words he takes two steps away from Gareth, which in turn has him two steps a little closer to Freja.
Morrighan is leaving Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge, heading for Arx - Lower Boroughs - Dockyard.
(OOC) Ravna says: My piss has an alochol content of A Lot.
Gareth will pointedly make sure to not given Ravna nor his little gang of malcontents the time of day. Pointedly ignoring them as his chin raises slightly in response to Freja's words. "I do not drink. Though I thank you for the consideration." He'll state, moving a hand then to dismissivly wave off Marcus if the man intends to even remotley follow through on the suggestion. "Not that I would drink anything handed to me by anyone from these boroughs in the first place. I've a desire to live quite a long life, and I'm not willing to take the risk." He'll comment before looking to Acacia then and smirking slightly, though his gaze once more will be upon Cain, studying the man now up-close.. and very personally. Really, it's like Gareth thinks he has X-ray vision, or something all the more annoying. Again though Acacia will call his attention away as he growls softly under his breath shaking his head. "Tell me, Mister Cain, what do you think of Miss Acacia's rousing little number there?"
"Soldiers are rowdy," Talen acknowledges, "but they also understand discipline and have rank and file." Nevertheless he bows his head to the Redrain princess in acceptance of her wishes, pours out a cup and extends it to her. Hearing his name perhaps a dozen times despite standing as a straight-spined sentinel, the uppity commoner doesn't seem about to break out into a sweat over the mis-mannered folk around him. "A pleasure," he permits for Tyrene, his resting in that direction for a heartbeat before he indicates with an arm to Acacia, who has said her piece and ran off to address the crowd. "I've met her, a capable woman, but your introductions are appreciated, Mistress Arianwen," he says then. Pouring out a third cup, her hands it to the courtesan while noting Cain step closer to the royalty at his side. There's a hard, steely gaze rapt upon the man, as if that look alone would speak a thousand words of warning. No words, perhaps, because he's also listening to the speech.
With a pale rose tucked into her hair, Calandra sweeps in light steps and a coy smile upon her lips. It widens only when she gets close enough to hear her sister speak. From where she stands in the midst of the crowd, she flutters her fingers at Acacia and listens intently.
There is a stint of silent from Marcas but those actually watching his face, he looks confused or trying to put something together. A glance over to Talen gets a, "Master Talen." in response to the greeting. That is about the time he spots Freja looking at him and the nod to Gareth. Which then means the tall, northern brute looks between Freja and those that surround her. The Redrain Captain finding his tankard of ale, he makes his way over. A pause in his stride when Gareth waves his hand at him. Looking behind him, scowling, then looking forward again to keep on trudging along. A long slurp from his tankard leaves a foamy white coat on his mustache.
But Acacia isn't done.

"Many of us here- my family, the Cullers, included--," Acacia's gaze roves the grounds, touching upon those who are posted in relaxed form towards the sides, with acknowledgement upon Calandra and Ravna with a wry smile, "-- are working to preserve that lifestyle we live and breathe." Stealing a foam-crowned tankard of ale provided to her with impeccable timing, it's toasted towards Arianwen and Tyrene both in addition. "We want to ease some of that pressure thrown our way, as we're stronger when we align ourselves. So tonight? Get to know those around you, men and women both, who walk the same streets, maybe share in the same distress. Support us, support each other -- because we've been through worse, yeah?"

"Now, the Cullers are known for their Sweet Words, but there's less painful ways to kill a man, so I'll stop here. Eat, drink, gamble, enjoy yourselves." Acacia's dark eyes slide over towards Gareth, holding boldly as she brandishes a slim smile and continues to speak, "Now-- /most/ of the Guard and the Inquisition have realized that occasionally, the common people need time to breathe, let loose-- to allow their uncultured selves to kick back a little in order to keep us happy." And then ripping her eyes away, she vocalizes easily, "So just remember that they're only paid off 'til the Gate, so keep your fucking and fighting to this side of the wall, eh?"

With a fluid motion, Acacia unsheathes a previously concealed balanced dagger from the thigh of her leather trousers, sending it hurtling upwards in a flash of steel towards a trio of suspended parchment-thin containers at the simultaneous time that two other men marked with the same skull-etched emblem do the same. A prismatic array of festive streamers and confetti-like slips of dyed parchment shower much of the area (aside from where the food and ale lies, as no one wants pretty things befouling their drink) to be picked up by the passing breezes in a distracting whorl of color that Acacia employs to escape the limelight.

And somewhere, as the festival roars once more to life, someone might potentially cry out when the knives unwittingly fall, but few seem to notice. Stabbings are part of a good time, right?
Tyrene blinks at Arianwen. "Girl... you got to be careful callin' yerself a courtesan. What yer talkin' about is more just bein' a whore or a wench. Ain't nothin' wrong with either, mind, but you call yerself a courtesan and yer gonna get yerself in a whole heap of trouble." She puts an almost gentle hand on Arianwen's shoulder. "Patron or no, it don't make you something you ain't. You gotta get all sorts of learnin' to be a Courtesan. Careful you keep that distinction in mind." She sighs and shakes her head. "You ain't one of us, boy, so you watch yerself, and if you hurt this pretty girl, I will find out and you won't like what happens next." She gives the Sword of Lenosia an openly hostile stare. "For my girl's sake, I won't push the issue today, but I'll find out. You remember that."

She turns to Cain and lightly thwaps him on the back of the head. "Save yer drama for the show when you get dunked, boy,. You ain't gonna drown in my good stuff. Dead is worse than dirty for ruinin' fine brew. No fucking respect, I tell you." She looks over at Acacia as she starts talking and scowls heavily as she's pointed out, but she raises her glass of ale anyway. "Any of you fuckers Fuck this up for the girl, I'll drown you right alongside this joker here."
Cain works his jaw at Gareth's question, he looks between him, swallowing and Acacia. He purses his lips, forms a thin line with them, shows Gareth two index fingers as a sign for him to wait and then opens his mouth, just to close it. "You know what, I'm sure going to tell you, Your Lordship," he says to Gareth as the Boroughs rat stares at the inquisitor in the eye... and swallows again.

"I think it is amazing. I think she is amazing. She is my best friend, and I'm amazingly proud of her. Did I say amazing enough? No, I don't think I did. Amazing," he notes, falling silent when Acacia continues and catching Talen's gaze his way.

This time, he doesn't shirk, or slouch or try to hide from it. He straightens, proud. "This is our home, Your Lordship. We're celebrating our home, our freedom, our community. I'm sure your lordships and ladyships do much of the same," he bows then. "In your own way. When gets thwapped on the back of the had, he ouches and rubs his head. He makes a rude gesture to Tyrene, but looks at her with almost fondness out of Acacia's words to the crowd. He looks up, and seeing that dagger hit the parchments he breathes a little easier. "I'm so glad she didn't fuck that one up," he mutters under his breath."
Freja turns sharp eyes to Acacia as she makes her speech. Her expression is thoughtful, if anything, and she doesn't seem in the least bit insulted by Cain's proximity, nor what was said around her either. "Yes, they do understand all of that, but they also do not balk at me if I happen to not indulge in the latest gossip." When Marcas approaches however, Gareth gets a sharp look from the tall Northern woman. "If you do not drink, what -do- you do? I apologize, I have not yet met your acquaintance." She flashes a radiant smile and keeps a close eye on the interaction between Talen and Marcas. "Are you both of better spirits around one another now? I think the last was just a misunderstanding..I would very much like for the pair of you to get along." She falls silent again as Acacia speaks more.
Arianwen listens to Acacia's speech with great intensity, nodding her head firmly to the mention of troubling times. She snickers at the comment about stained linens, but seems to agree through and through. She appears surprised to hear about the Rainur's son, frowning faintly at the news. She sighs softly, only to regain her cheerfulness at the end of the apparent first part to the speech. She claps her hands and cheers for Acacia, especially at the mention of taking care of one another. Finally noticing Gareth, she gives the cripple a suspicious glance, but tries her best not to appear overly concerned that an Inquisitor has crashed the party. She nods warmly to hear Talen appreciate her introductions, only to take the cup of alcohol and state, "thanks." With a jovial sip, she returns to listening in on Acacia's speech.

Hearing the Culler speak of preserving their continuing lifestyles, Arianwen announces, "as do the Grayhopes!" She chuckles at the comment about Sweet Words, only for her mirth to rise upon hearing the authorities won't likely further interrupt. By the end, she cheers once more, finally returning her attention to Tyrene's concern. Blushing faintly to hear what she might be considered, she replies, "i-it's not all as bad as you'd think, Ty. And while I'm not being taught in a school, I've got a real established courtesan training me. Mirari Corsetina's her name. She's graceful, and smart, and knows the world I'm tryin' to enter." She nods her head, "I'll be careful, and I'll keep what you say in mind. Promise." She grins to hear Tyrene's warning to the Sword of Lenosia, sipping mirthfully at her drink all the while.
Tyrene's warning is replied to with a solid salute, a pound of a clenched, black gloved fist to Talen's pectoral. "Cross my heart, hope to die," he says in acknowledgement, not looking particularly worried outwardly but at the same time giving a healthy amount of clear understanding. Perhaps that is enough to make it obvious he isn't intending to taunt the proprietess. Upending his roughly-hewn wooden cup to gather a healthier swig of the liquid, he swallows hard.

"I believe we came to a mutual understanding that should either one of us disrespect the other's families, it wouldn't just be a gauntlet that is thrown. Until that day comes to pass, we'll manage to be at least civil enough not to overturn any tavern tables."

Ravna, beside Gareth, is leaping up and down and howling.

The other Greybacks around, also howl, and hoot, and hollar, and liquor is thrown into the air as veiny, tattooed, bearded or scarred faces latch onto Acacia and her speech.

While Ravna is busy losing his shit like a young teen, Rabbitsfoot leaps off of his shoulders and onto Gareth, down the Inquisitor and is soon scattered to the street.

Soon enough, Ravna lands and gives another raspy-voiced howl at Acacia, turnign the gourd upside-down so the dark fluid within fills his mouth and he might turn, to stare over Gareth's shoulders to those whom staredown the Inquisitor so. "Heeeey! Heeeey! Hey, hey, hey, heey. You know? This is Greysky! Why are you all not so happy to meet my Greysky? -I- invited him. He needs a drink! Even if he says he dosn't, he does, because you know, I know." Drunken smile given, Ravna even tries to shove his gourd into Gareth's person. "Or! Or, or....or-or-or...we play dice. Right now. Right noooow."
"We also chalked it up to too much fine Northern drink." Marcas adds to the tail end of Talen's words as he steps to stand to the left of Freja and behind. Making it easy for him to draw the sword on his left hip if need be in a pinch. A posture done out of habit and training as his gaze drifts from Talen, to Gareth. Gareth is looked at like he may have grown flowers for hair when Marcas realizes he doesn't drink. Oh the questions that light on his face but he holds his tongue. That and, well, Ravna pulls away his attention but not from his drink. Nope. That tankdard gets another hefty, uncultured slurp off of.
"I will leave what I do in my spare time to the imagination,. I am Prince Gareth Grayson, Inquisitor of the House of Questions, an apparently morally corrupt and bankrupt institution that picks up men and women for no reason." Gareth responds simply enough as his left brow narrows slgihtly as he looks to Cain then. "I noticed that you have done much to show your appreciation of Miss Acacia's sentiments, but I can ascertain those are not your true feelings. If I wished for platitudes and falisities, I would hire a sycophant. Next time when I ask you a question, I will expect honesty.. Mister Cain of the Boroughs." With that then he'll lift his chin and turn his gaze away from the man, though he then reconsiders. "I have a command for you, Cain of the Boroughs, though it is more a plea. IF you hear of anything.. that might be of interest to the Inquisition.. know that I personally have arranged a substantial monetary reward to those who will bring justice upon this wor-"Ohfuck.

Welp Gareth is now about to collapse as a feline friend jumps down on his shoulder, almost stumbling to the ground as he winces, his eyes narrowing for a momment as the veneer of supority leaves what Gareth really is for all to see- an obvious cripple who can't even carry a cat.. though soon enough he'll stager himself up, his robes dirty and covered in who knows what as he grunts. "Ravna." He'll state, turning his head slightly, studying the man then
"Tables ain't an issue, boy. Friendly brawls, it happens, then folks are civil and clean it up. But hurtin' one of ours is something completely different." Tyrene nods to Talen once, and grabs three more mugs of ale, shoving one into Talen's hands, one to Arianwen's, and keeping one herself. She holds it out to touch mugs, before drinking, satisfied for the moment. "Just be careful, girl. You ain't made for their games, I don't think. If you ain't careful, it'll be the death of you." She wraps her arm around Arianwen's shoulders, squeezing protectively, before releasing her. "Now git, enjoy this thing, and put yer money down to dunk the Cain. It'll be fun. Especially fer me."

She looks towards the commotion around the Inquisitor and sighs. "You fucking moron. Keep yer pussy to yourself! Fuck!" She sighs and mutters, elbowing her way to the side of the Inquisitor, making sure he can get up, but not actually helping, since he seems to get it himself. "Jenfie! Go get some of my personal stock. Fucking morons pushing Inquisitors down. Prince, you ok?
Audric arrives.
Freja raises her cup to her lips then, drinking lightly but not blanching at the burn of the ale on her throat. "Mutual understanding is better than none...though, if it is in The Spirits you may overturn them. Just make sure you return the tables to as they were after you are done making a mess of the place." she sagely advises Marcas and Talen. To Gareth she warns, "The imagination can be a fickle thing, and idle minds tend to wander. Be careful what you give license for them to wander to." She frowns a little, brow furrowing. " terribly sorry to hear that it is morally corrupt and bankrupt?" It is a jest, as she smiles and laughs brightly thereafter trying to get a smile out of the man, even if it is a fool's errand.
"What?" Cain begins Gareth, rubbing the back of his head. "That is how I feel. I mean, I honestly feel like that. True, I was about to chicken out and tell you all sorts of stuff I thought you wanted to hear, but while Acacia often pushes me into the river and off boats, I can't quite throw her under the boat, so to speak," he continues to rub the back of his head and then grows somber and serious as Gareth is about to give his Inquisitorial command.

Just... as a cat saves the day and Cain uses that moment to mutter a quick, "Yes your lordship as you wish your lordship," bowing deeply and then stepping back and away from the man.

Tyrene gets a stare, but it's not a very intimidating one and it doesn't really last too long.
Late to the party and not looking even the slightest bit ashamed of this fact, Audric struts his way towards the party. He's even whistling a jaunty little tune, the feather in his cap bobbing with the beat. "It is entirely possible," Audric says to no one in particular. "That I lost track of time doing that was absolutely critical and definitely did not simply oversleep."
In that lingering descent of color and brilliance, Acacia's quick departure had her trailing to Calandra with open arms intent on fully smothering her sister. And standing there in the midst of the mayhem, she's gotten more than just a few looks of attention for the Culler who shares just as much prominance as Acacia would around the Boroughs, if not more for her role at the Black Rose Theatre. "I was going to be so fucking upset if you didn't get away, love. Let's drink, yeah? Cain's being berated for loving me by the Inquisitor, Ravna's throwing cats and you've yet to meet Talen and say hi to Arianwen and all, yes? I've missed you, love! Come. Dance. Be yourself. It's kinda like-- welcome home. You've been gone for what-- an hour? And I've missed you dreadfully." Attempting to latch onto her sisters arm and direct her towards Cain, Freja, and Ty, she winks, "You'll have to fill me in. I know I said no killing, but I'll certainly kill anyone who gets out of hand with you."
Tyrene makes a kissy face at Cain. She snickers to herself, before becoming more normally resting bitchy attitude. She's had a bit of ale.
Arianwen's features grow pink to hear the seriousness in Talen's voice, doing her best to hide the colorful stain beneath the rim of her ale tankard. Before she knows it however, another mug arrives. Considering she's already carrying one, she lifts the edge to her lips and starts chugging. She chugs and chugs until she gets a few stains on the top of her surcoat, only to toss that first tankard aside and wipe an arm at her mouth. Ultimately, she ends up hiccuping, though she tries to swallow that spasm down with yet more alcohol. "Gods, it's been too long since I've got meself some cheap sort o' ale." Smiling cheerfully when Tyrene hugs her close again, she giggles to be shortly set free. Turning about to squeeze the other woman's hand, she declares, "I promise to be extra super careful, Ty." At that, she breaks free for some fun, though not before taking a gander at Gareth's supine form. She lets out a perhaps overly dramatic gasp and looks up towards Ravna with a theatric scowl. "Someone must be punished, I say! To the river with Ravna! To the river!"
Giving Acacia a peck on the cheek, Calandra embraces her sister tightly, fondly. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, darling," she promises with an airy laugh. "Everyone should love you, and I refuse to believe otherwise, so he must have a lot of berating to do in the near future." Hooking arms with her fellow Culler, she steps along with a brilliant smile on her lips. "It could make for some good entertainment, in theory," she points out with a wry smile.
Marcas doesn't move to help Gareth. The Northerner just looks down upon him in a brief glance then acts as if he didn't see anything. Either not making a scene of the man's weakness or not catering to it and expecting the Inquisitor to stand under his own power. "Oh so we -can- brawl in The Spirit now?" he asks of Freja with a broad, toothy grin. The first real smile to spawn on the Captain's face since he arrived. "I was worried that I was going to need to be wearin' silks under me leathers and furs!" he lets out a thunderous 'HA!'. Apparently this is good news to someone.

"Greyskyyyy! Some pussy knocked you off your feet, I see? Wonderful woman, no doubt. Wonderful. SAINTLY, even, I -bet-. I do. Yes." Ravna taps an inked finger to his nose, "I know these things, you know, I know." Ceaseless in his grinning, Ravna peers at the Brewmeister and laughs, nearly falling over himself as someone moves by, and tapping The Stick on the ground. "I can't! I -can't-, you know, tame the pussy. I cannot. Can Not. Untameable, pussy. It just throws itself wherever it wishes to, you know, like at Greysky." A pause, and raises his stick in the air to scream: "To the river with Ravna! That Culler Bastard!" But he turns then, to lean close to Gareth and slap his back. Like they were cousins.
"I have survived worse. Not sense the time I was a child and stuck my head into the furnace have I been so embarassed however." Gareth mutters un response to Tyrene as his hand reachs to wipe his hand off on his gray robe, lips now perpetually twisted into just an outright scowl, not even bothering to contain the open contempt he had for nearly everyone there. "I do apologize.. I do not know your name." He'll state then as he turns to Freja, "And decorum would dictate taht you introduce yourself in turn, would it not, considering I have? ALl I have are jokes in poor taste and names now.." Dignity had been thrown out the window for tonight it seems.
(OOC) Gareth says: oh dear god Ravna posed.. one second 'amends'
"Acacia!" Audric booms, sauntering up to one of the people he recognizes. "Now, now, why are we killing people? I thought we understood that we leave the killing to me." He pauses. "Well, at least, leave the killing to be organized by me. Only do the killing yourself if you absolutely have to, I say." He grins brightly at the Culler, showing teeth.
"If I am ever not on my feet, then I would rue that day, Ravna. Postivley rue it." Gareth mutters as he tries to manage some composure at his words. "Yes, the river.. Wherever that is.. from here."
"Feh, many a good folk fell in these streets. Yer amongst good company an' yer probably better off since ya ain't pissing yerself for being so drunk." Tyrene gets a flask from the little urchin and offers it to Gareth. "Here. Drink up. No one fucking cares that ya fell." She nods once. "We can dunk Ravna until he smells like booze too. What do you think, Acacia?" She looks over, shooting her a look. "Want me to get another barrel of cheap booze?" She nods to Gareth. "Tyrene Macally. Nothin' special."
Talen takes the cup from Tyrene and lifts that one, the other having been tossed as if it was inferior, the slosh of liquid and roll of the cup on the floor not even regarded as rude or unacceptable. Raising the cup in thanks, he then briefly lets his eyes drift between Cain and Tyrene, as if the stare being given her direction is of interest. With only the faintest arch of a brow, the uppity sworn swordsman then looks to Marcas and indicates the princess he's currently linked arms with. "If it is her highness' decision we can, apparently we can. Perhaps sometime we ought, to vent frustrations. I expect our men would enjoy the opportunity to place a wager," he says, "and I would like to test your mettle. You talk the talk but walking the walk is important, especially for one of your position, no? Still," he looks to Freja and back to Marcas, "I should expect that your accompanying the princess here is sensible choice you made. I feel much the same when the princesses of Velenosa decide they want to go somewhere they ought not. You just accept it and follow along."
Freja gestures to the cat, "I was about to introduce myself, but you seemed suddenly preoccupied and rather suddenly." Her dark eyes follow the cat as Gareth is rescued from it. "Silly things, no sense of decorum. It is almost like they are beasts or something." Between the commotion of others, she quietly and politely introduces herself to Gareth before there are shouts of shoving someone in the river. "Of course you can. You're a Northman, just don't be an idiot and bully about it. Hell, I'll pay to replace the tables there if needed, so there is no lull in morale." She shakes her head and drinks deeply from her cup then. Acacia approaching with her sister in tow gets a wave from the pale woman before she is commenting aside to Talen, "The same can be said of you. Men sometimes just need to beat the living stuffing out of one another. You might come out closer and more understanding of one another for it."
"I've heard of brawls in the Spirit-- didn't Mistress Morrighan and Prince Kieran initiate one of their own awhile back? If you care to brawl here though, I'm not going to complain, s'long as I don't have to pull responsibility." Acacia's presence had interjected between Marcas and Freja, linked as it is to her sister Calandra. And the words of her blood has her snerking anew, eyeing her aside and then lightly rolling her eyes, "If you want to perform, darling, I'll be more than fine and welcome to it-- the crowds are a little while, but your voice always seemed to soothe even the more dangerous storm. Which is why we've always got along so well, yes? Talk to people, woman."

Hearing her name called has her casting a look in Audric's direction, laughing as she props a hand to her hip and then tries to immediately kick him in the shin, an act easily dodged, "Well, if you're offering to kill for me, love, as you're prone to do, how could I not go ahead on it? I put you in charge of Calandra here, on occasion, when it pays, and serves your best interests, so on and so forth-- it'll keep you swimming in the temptation of death and also in her graces, yeah?"

Slanting a look back towards Tyrene, she hikes her shoulders into a near casual shrug, a nod sent to another, wordlessly, gathering a couple of tankards of overflowing ale which are they distributed at her beckon to Audric, Calandra, and for some reason, Ravna, "Ravna-- Ale. Drink. Dice."
Ariawen grins to hear her chant picked up by others, though she rolls her eyes when nobody approaches to do the deed. Instead, she eventually locates someone she had not seen in some time. Turning to Calandra, her face lights up with glee, "Cally!" She dashes across the way, sloshing her ale with the speed of her gait. Skirts flutter about her feet and her blonde tresses paint golden wisps across the air. She reaches Calandra after only appearing marginally breathless, reaching to take the other woman's hand and state, "it feels like ages since I've seen you! How are you? What've the Black Rose Mummers been brewing?" She bobs her head enthusiastically to hear Acacia's suggestion, "yes, please. Sing something for us?"
(OOC) Arianwen apparently can't spell her own name :/
"If such a person existed." Gareth mutters under his breath as he responds to Tyrene, "I doubt they would be alive for long. A pleasure.. Miss Tyrene." Gareth will dryly state before looking to Freja for a momment, head bobbing ever so slightly. "Princess Freja.. it is a pleasure to meet you, were it not under better circumstances." He'll comment before shaking his head ever so slightly to look towards Marcus then, watching the man. "When you have the time by the way, I would ask that you would speak to me.. I have not met as many from House Redrain as would be appropriate.. and could use a few.. formal introductions when the time is right." Gareth observes before sighing. With a flask in hand now, he'll look down to it, sniffing it to check if its liquor, and quickly handing it back if it is.. otherwise he might.. MIGHT risk a drink.
Cain makes a face at Tyrene's kissy face. He frowns, frowns some more and then makes a mocking kissy face back at her. Those eyes remain narrowed, although there is a grin threatening to show somewhere in there.

"Alright, so since I need to get drunk before my execution by drowning me in booze, I better go refillthis tankard," he points out and takes a moment to go do so, returning with the thing almost overflowing. He drinks heavily from it, then uses his arm to wipe the foam of his mouth as he rejoins the small group he was with, when Acacia and Calandra reach it.

"Hey Calandra," he greets the woman, with a little wave.
Marcas peers over at Talen, looking at the two arm in arm, then to Freja, then to Talen and he shrugs. "Parhaps we shoul'." he drawls out. "We can see if yer bravado an' love of teachin' lessons in etiquette are worthy of spit." he grins faintly, it looks predatory but his eyes are not really looking at anyone. Just the natural profile of his face. "As for accompanyin' me Princess? Well.. that was more out of fate's design than me own." he nods, looking to Talen. "Northern women need no..." he looks to the arm-in-arm gesture, "... panderin' and pamperin'. Our women can handle themselves against a handsy Southern... man." he notes. Slurping back some more of that ale that he seems to favor drinking. Cheap and strong. Kind of like Marcas. His attention drawing to Acacia, saying they can brawl here... and he looks over at Talen. Then he smiles. Eyes going wide. It looks unhinged, psychotic like the Northerner still can become blood crazed in a moment's notice. Poor guy probably just looks that way whenever he smiles honestly.

That gets put on hold though when Gareth addresses him, well, talks to him and gets his attention. There is a dip of his head, "Absolutley, sir." he says gravely. A different tone and demeanor than he took with Talen, of course. "At your convenience.", he offers.
Tyrene nods once, lifting her mug to Cain in approval. She has weird senses of proper behavior amongst friends. She nods to Gareth, offering an awkward curtsey, "Prince Inquisitor." She withdraws, happy to do so, and finds more ale, overseeing that no one tries any crap like... mixing barrels or spilling it.
"What good am I if I'm not willing to inflict violence on people, eh?" Audric asks, keeping his grin. He takes one of the tankards of ale and takes a hearty drink. The grin turns on Cain, then. "No better time to get drunk than before you're off to die! Wait, why are you being executed and you'd best have a good story for it or I'm going to be quite cross."
"Let's give them a bit longer to get riled up before I dive into that," Calandra squeezes her sister's shoulder, strolling along with Acacia and taking her lead. "Ariawen! Goodness, how are you?" With a light laugh, she squeezes the offered hand and places her other above it in a friendly gesture. "If I told you outright, it would spoil all the surprise, wouldn't it?" she points out with a teasing smile and suggestive bounce of her brows. As Cain joins them, she offers a wave of her own in return, her expression still pleasant and upbeat.

Dark eyes turn on two Cutters -- Calandra and Acacia, and there the Greyback, Ravna, grins and leans on The Stick. "Heee..." A grip of his own self, before swaggering a little; nearly falling, "You two, side-by-side, are THE MOST invigorating drink. The most -lovely- pair of creatures in this whole, sweaty, messy flock. I feel as if I am a breath away from euphoria, and terrific agony: Am I being stabbed?"

Ravna waits not, but sort of lunges towards both women to greet them in a terribly terrific and titanical hug. A squeeze, really, and he already reeks of liquor. Probably rum. Vodka. Ale? Ale, too? Likely.
"I've never been described as a handsy southerner before though it has a certain appeal if I ever wish to foster a brutish reputation. You must be confusing me with our good allies, the Thrax, in the eastern isles. However you managed that, however, is beyond me," says Talen, brows again hiked as he hears Marcas' confession over the coincidence of arriving with Freja. "Truly?" he murmurs rhetorically, tone judging but not querying any further, verbally. The commotion of Acacia, Calandra and Arianwen's excitable nature gets his attention then, watched from over the way. Draining his cup of whatever concoction he had received from Tyrene, he then sets it down on the nearest crate or barrel and insists to Freja, "It is apparently unforgivable I would invite you to take my arm in the company of your immeasurably skilled Captain, your highness, so might I leave you in his remarkably less pandering and pampering company for a time? I will be just over there," he says, indicating the two Cullers and the courtesan-in-training, Arianwen.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Ravna before departing.
"Acacia is sacrificing me to the gods," Cain casually explains to Audric and lifts his shoulders. "She's giving twenty silver to whomever dunks me in brew. Or something like that." He says and then stops and exhales and narrows his eyes at Audric. "You're totally going to dunk me in the booze now, aren't you?" He drinks heavily from his tankard again.
Squished and squeezed, clearly accosted and laughing all the while, Acacia's hand hooks behind her to smack at the back of Ravna's head, a rougher and familiar pet of acknowledgement that's hindered by the man's sheer size. The dual-lunged embrace has tipping a bit upon her feet, one boot staying steady even as the other threatens to unhinge her. "And we fucking love you too, Ravna, my drunken Luck. Though if you need stabbing-- I will always, always oblige, so long as you don't leave my side in this world where you are so much needed." The grime, the spilled drink, any taint the man might carry seems to be secondary to Acacia, when she simply plies that kiss against her Not-Cousin's cheek, messy and open and then seeks to entangle herself in the same beat.

With freer steps and a confident swagger away, she's there by the time Talen partially departs, sharing a broader smile towards Arianwen and then commenting towards the Sword, "You're an infuriating southerner, but one of my favorites, truth be told. And I thank you for keeping an eye out for the Princess-- as I requested-- so even though you two don't know each other well, she had someone to watch out for her. Cuz well-- we certainly keep to our crazy selves when the ale runs freely and the food sates." An extra nod, respectful, is provided towards Freja and Marcas both, before she queries, "Though, if brawls are to be had, there's few who would go against them-- if only to save face. For instance, I'd brawl most times, but swelling while hosting is such a bad thing."

Adding to Cain, casually, she suggests lazily, "Hey. Can I borrow twenty silver for that, love?"
"I'm great! This is great. I'm glad Acacia set all this up for us." Arianwen laughs some more, bobbing her head to the debacle of spoiling her own surprise, "very true. Well, you'll be sure I'll be there to support and watch you. I'm sure you're as amazing on stage as you've always been." A grin curls her lips, "did you hear? I'm a courtesan now - or well, a courtesan in training, at least. A lovely woman named Mirari Corsetina is teaching me, and I've even got myself a patron. A hunk named Victus Thrax." She drinks some more from her sloshing mug of ale, only to level a scowl at Ravna, "hey! You forgot all about me!" She arches her hips in comic seduction, "or is that because you're trying to ignore the broken mess of a chair you made in my tavern?"
"It is always better circumstances to meet new faces, particularly ones where you can learn more from their interactions with others." Freja opines before hiding her smile behind another sip of her ale. "When time permits, of course. Let me know what works for you." Acacia gets a small quirk of the Redrain woman's lips as she talks about the brawls at the Spirits, to which she adds for Marcas, "See? It happens. We aren't putting an end to it. Terrible shame if we do.." she stage whispers to Acacia and her newly arrived sister. When Marcas speaks further she explains, "Not that the gesture isn't appreciated. I am happy to say you are here, though I would rather it would be more about the pair of you enjoying yourself." She looks pointedly between Talen and Marcas, trying to soothe over any roughness of words. "And he tries to downplay his being here, modest as he can be, but he is here because I bade him to be. Besides, I admit ulterior motive in seeing a friendly rivalry between the pair of you." She looks to be at a loss, though a flare of Redrain fire is seen in her eyes as she adds calmly, "It is not unforgivable..I never said it was, nor did I condemn the action of either. I am not fond of words being put in my mouth for me. It was a gesture appreciated, even if taken as 'panderiing and pampering' by others."
Tyrene has joined the Shady Corner.
Gareth for his part now seems content to just stand still, regaining his composure bit by bit as he stands quietly, watching, lips pursed, though time and again the man will just frown.. and be unable to tug the expression away as he gives a deep growl. "There is just too much going on here.. too much chaos.." Gareth mutters under his breath. "I am certain a Lyceum ball would be easier to keep track of.." Gareth states as his hand reachs up to rub at his forhead, then he thinks better of it given the state of his dirty hand
"Welllll," Audric says, eyeing Cain for a moment, considering. "Nnnnno. Probably not. Maybe. I'll consider not doing it. I'm off duty, after all. I might make an exception. We'll see." He grins even more brightly, and laughs as Ravna drunkenly starts embracing people. "Acacia, quit being rude and introduce me to this lovely lady, by the way." He gestures at Calandra. He might already know who she is and has just forgotten. This is entirely possible.
Hammar arrives.
"Not at the moment, dear, and hopefully you will remain unstabbed for this lovely evening," Calandra smiles in amusement at Ravna, taking a moment to tilt her head toward Acacia in a sisterly pose before pulling her arm away to allow the other woman to mingle freely. "My sister does excellent work, as always," her nod for Arianwen is thoughtful, head dipping low. "I had not heard yet. Welcome to the profession," her smile widens, and she briefly touches Arianwen's arm in a gentle gesture. "I have a feeling you'll enjoy it immensely." Glancing between Audric and Acacia, she hides a fit of laughter behind splayed fingers. "We're sisters. Don't you see the resemblance?"
"Really? You plan my demise and you want me to pay for it? Tch," Cain shakes his head at Acacia in mock disappointment. He exhales, and reaches for one of his pouches, testing its weight. "Here," he says to the redhead, tossing the pouch her way and letting his stare linger on her for a few more moments. That tankard he's been heavily drinking from returns to his lips and at Audric's words, he offers a deep bow to the man. "Remind me to read your fortune for free some time," he says, flashing a toothy grin.
"yes, well, I could always hope perhaps that I am not covered in muck in the future.. Yo-er.. Miss Freja." Gareth states, almost as if hesitating to use her title then, as he looks about for a second, hand moving to his chest, over his heart as he offers a slight dip of his chin. "Of course.. I'l llet you know as soon as I can.."
Marcas grins darkly behind his tankard of ale that he takes another swig off of. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'm bein' friendly." he reassures Freja but that is all he has to say on the matter. "Aww, where ya goin?" he wonders of Talen, shaking his head and tucking his left thumb into his swordbelt. Gareth is looked upon then, studied for a few moments while he takes another drink of ale.
"Hammar want honey cake..." The immense hulking figure of Hammar appears quite abruptly, the flip-flop sound of the loose sole of one of his shoes is heard in a fast repetitive way as Hammar's nose leads him toward a table laden with honey cakes, it's as if the man were part hound, sniffing them out as he does. He pauses momentarily for those ham-sized fists to make an eager dry-washing sort of motion before almost gingerly picking up a honey cake, looking from side to side as if certain someone will stop him. Once the cake is in his hand, it quickly disappears into his mouth, honey dripping down into the thick beard at his chin.
"Perhaps the appreciation of the initial gesture will offset the offense taken by my speaking as though I knew your mind, your highness?" Talen presents in quasi-barter to Freja, trading insult and praise to come out in an even state. Then, leaning inward he speaks quieter before he extracts himself from the arm-in-arm stance and wanders toward the Cullers. "You're welcome, Acacia," he exhales, nodding curtly. "It would be remiss of me not to provide an escort to those who are deserving of one when in their presence and the princess over there more than qualifies."

One of those gloved hands set itself lightly upon the small of Arianwen's back and whispers in a soft timbre tone, eyes flicking from face to face indiscriminately. Marcas' words don't quite reach him, or if they do, he tactfully ignores their purpose.
"We share my Father's blood-- but he couldn't choose between our mothers," Acacia answers wryly for Audric, a familiar hand moving to clap him upon the shoulder, ticking her head to her sister, "But Calandra Culler, Nightingale of the Boroughs, Singer at the Black Rose, Rencio's Other Daughter, so on and so forth, Kin to a Highly-Protective-But Loveable Sister, a Duo of Dangerous Not-Cousins and enough other bloodlusty kinds of miscreants that drink as well as they cut." But her hand whips out to catch the pouch tossed towards her, dark eyes never once leaving Cain's own through the process as she fingers its weight with the same sort of practiced hand. "I'll get you back for it," she says, even as the tiny coinpouch is tucked away flawlessly as if it never existed, other hand still wielding that tankard of ale in the process.

Gareth's presence is constantly checked, and should he slip out of view, it seems that others are willing to occasionally whisper to Acacia in her stead, though only subtly. But it's to Marcas and Freja she speaks to, focus on the latter, "Did you find the break you were looking for, your Highness?" A couple of stray steps aside, but not without her breaking the zone has her procuring one of a trio of honey cakes she seemed to have left particularly in arms length, one of which is then flung like a discus in greeting of Hammar and his formidable self, with the only calling of warning being his projected name of, "Hammar! A Culler's word remains, aye?"

And for some reason, Acacia's gaze then returns to Talen, holding, lips curved with evident amusement upon that study before she blithely states, "Loosen up, Talen."

Ravna's arms latch about The Sisters, squeezing, hounding, and eventually as Calandra flees the embrace will he leans on Acacia. "Haaa. Now, Cousin Not-Cousin, look at what you made! Look! Look, look! I know, yeah? So, I was thinking, that I should -drink- more, and, one of these cunts --" A handwave at the group of gathered gallavanters, specifically the Brewmeister, "-- should play dice with me, and, you know, lose their shoes. Maybe their hair? I mean, look at her, could you imagine her without panti--" Dark eyes finally find Hammar and for the second time in his life, Ravna stops talking, and stares. He continues to stop talking for a full nine seconds before words flow out, "Fucking Fuck...did his mother hump a bear -and- a bull?"
Theodoric arrives.
(OOC) Calandra afks briefly.
Arianwen beams towards Calandra, "I've been having a surprising amount of fun already, actually. In fact, if you ever get the time, I'd love to hear a few hints and tips of the trade. Trying this without a school backing me up isn't always easy. But you managed it, so at least I know it's possible." A glance towards Tyrene, "oh, and if you could reassure Ty I'm not going to end up in a ditch anywhere, I'd appreciate it." When Talen arrives beside her, she hears him whisper into her ear, only to whisper right back. As Ravna arrives and fails to respond, she nods her head firmly and declares, "I see. You still owe me silver for that chair, you know!"
Freja is raptly watching Hammer eat the honey cakes. It is quite a sight to see a honey cake just...go 'poof' the way it does. She tilts her head to the side and nods to Gareth, "Yes, yes..of course. I may be leaving shortly. Would you want to go and talk then? You can stop being troubled by the festivities..." Perhaps she is also willing to fall on the sword for Cain and Acacia's sake, though subtley. "We are even then. Thank you. Consider apprecation of gesture as more than adequate offset for the slight offense taken." she directs to Talen in his parting. Acacia gets a kind smile and she nods, "That, I did. There are times down here that I miss the soldiers and the front in the North. The snow..really is something else, and so are the people." Marcas gets a shake of her head and she asks, "Do you play at dice?"
Like a catcher at a ball game, Hammar snatches the flung honey cake from the air and it disappears just as quickly into his mouth, there is ravenous chewing before he likely swallows too large of a piece to be good for is digestive system. Hammar begins to sloppily lick at his sausage thick fingers before moving toward Acacia, holding an arm out as he comes near, his right eye squinting and when it appears he is just out of touching range, Hammar stops. "Hammar thank Acacia, Hammar like Acacia's honey!" He claps his big hands together excitedly.
"You'll quickly learn I have an awful memory for faces, and resemblances are beyond me," Audric says with a melodramatic sigh. He listens to Acacia and Calandra's words, then lets out a laugh. "A pleasure to meet you, Calandra. Audric, Captain-General of the Valorous Few, and likely the best sellsword you're likely to ever meet." He takes another long drink, finishing off the tankard and promptly acquiring another from somewhere. His gaze drifts around the crowd, presumably looking for his next target to annoy.
Talen matches the eyes of Acacia with his own and tilts his head, a silent question. Then, with as much mocking pointedness as he can muster, the southerner loosens one of the straps at his neck by tugging on the dull, tarnished metal buckle at the throat of his martial vest. "Would you have me break posture too? You will ruin me," he accuses neutrally, impressing upon her the evidence his spine is as straight as any noble's by then slouching just enough to make him look relatively normal in comparison to the other company. Well, as normal as you can with an alaricite blade covered in precious stones at your hip in the lower quarter of the city.

Audric's introduction has the Velenosa ward's attention and then, with a slight lift of his chin, he seems to measure the mercenary's stature andgait with an unsubtle interest. "How many men do you have?" he cuts in, asking rather directly of Audric this.
"I could use an excuse to get out of here.. yes." Gareth will respond easily enough then, his hands coming behind his back to look at the woman from behind as he tries to remain composed, but again always failing just a little with keeping himself composed, lips twisting as he looks about then, studying each face in the crowd before grunting under his breath.
Marcas' eyes widen when Hammar arrives in search of sweet treats. "... by the spirits." he drawls out in a soft utterance of prayer. "I'll be a shavfooker, he must be kin to a cave bear." he more whispers to Freja but his voice carries. Awe and wonder, clearly. Not fear or disgust. A blink and he knocks out of his reverie, looking to Acacia, learning the name of this Southern Giant, a few slow nods. Have to remember that. "Mmm?" he says smartly in response to Freja's question to him. "Oh.. dice? Aye. I do. I got shite for luck but it doesn't keep me from tryin'."
Acacia watches Hammar's looming and massive figure close in upon her with an air of confidence no person in their right mind should have when someone like that approaches. When his hand nearly touches her shoulder and then drops again, her grin is expressed all the more broadly as a result. In a break of precedence, she crosses that invisible boundary between them, if only to enlist a half-hug upon the monstrosity of a man, drizzled honey and all, "I'm glad you could make it, Hammar. Try not to squash anyone you don't point at. The last thing I need is your Boss angry at me too." After exposing a grin as she looks towards Marcas, his expression likely shared by others in the near vicinity, she adds, "Hammar, you might have a fan. Captain Marcas here had a hand in brawling once, I do believe-- though perhaps he's just curious where you stand. Greet as you eat, love?"

That messenger is received even as her gaze remains upon Talen, lips quirking as she exchanges her tankard to unfurl it. "You're impossible to ruin, Valiant Sword. If you could be ruined, where would I find nearly as much enjoyment from your company?" Looking between him and Audric, she inclines her head once, satisfied.

Turning back briefly towards Freja, she requests, gently, "Your Highness. Might I be able to request audience from you another time? More refined settings, maybe, equal amounts of alcohol if you like it?"
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Acacia before departing.
Acacia puts a heavy bottle of Stone Mountain white whiskey in a rugged, rope-tied burlap knapsack.
Acacia puts A bottle of Muscato d'Aureus white wine in a rugged, rope-tied burlap knapsack.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Marcas before departing.
Cain has been heavily drinking from his tankard, and having it refilled often enough. He ends up looking at Freja, squinting as if trying to place her, waving at her and then swaying thanks to the liquor he's had so far. "So when are we dunking me? Is it happening now?" he asks toward Acacia, taking a step and stumbling. "I mean, I've been getting ready for it," he pounds at his chest. "And now I'm so fucking ready. So let's do this thing," he challenges those around him, and drinks some more from his tankard.
"Now," Audric says, turning to face Talen and give the man the same grin everyone else is getting. "-That- is a very good question. How many men do I have right now? None." He gestures around. "They're off duty, enjoying the festivities. But once -that- stops, around a hundred. They come and go, and recruitment is at an all-time high. Why, my friend, interested in a change of employment? We do pay quite well."
"Will you escort me out then and back to the Redrain property?" Freja, towering like an Amazon over Gareth, asks of the Prince Inquisitor with a flash of pearly whites. "Well, I think the pair of you might get along..or win a few rounds at dice?" She bids him, "Enjoy your now evening off duty, Captain." As she moves to leave, Freja gives Acacia a big grin and a thumbs up that hopefully Gareth doesn't see.
As Acacia breaks the boundary she had set, Hammar accepts the half hug and his massive hand drops down to lightly pat at her upper back before he looks to Marcas and he makes a huge fist. "Hammar like punch." He tells the man with a firm nod before that fisted hand drops and he pats the warhammer at his side. "Hammar like whack more. HAMMAR WHACK!" He suddenly bellows out loudly before looking around. "Boss man here?" He inquires as Acacia brings up Theodoric. As Cain talks of wanting to be dunked, Hammar's attention is drawn taht way. "Hammar dunk Cain?"
Freja remarks to Acacia upon hearing her request, "Of course. It doesn't need to be draped in and alcohol is enough."


Like oil, Ravna slips away, backpeddles, sideswipes and eventually comes to stand beside the admitted Gambler. One inked hand to slide along his shoulders, while the other holds onto The Stick, "Games! Let. Us. Play. /Games/! Then! I love games. Chance, not Choice. Choice is boring, and cold, like a pair of corpse-tits in the winter. Cold and boring..." A pause, a thought, another, and Ravna's speech picks back up, "SO! Let's play, yeah? Maybe? You know? Loser has to poke the Ogre in the eye."
Gareth will see, he may be a cripple, but the one thing he has going for him is the eyes and ears of a hawk.. or an eagle.. that is better than other hawks and eaglers. However, Gareth doesn't respond right away then as he moves to offer his arm out for Freja, partly to be a proper gentleman.. though one suspects he is the one that would benefit most from this escort and support.. considering he is the smaller of the two. "I would much enjoy... going with you to the Redrain estate, please do lead the way.." Gareth will offer then with a small smile and nod.
In the center of the mayhem, the drinking, the fires and the festivities, Acacia performs a gallant and deep bow for Freja's departing presence, rising with a respectful dip of her head, followed by a bold and brazen grin. Careful attention has her checking frequent looks towards Hammar though, with increasing focus, ending up remarking towards the end in a lower whisper, upticking her chin towards Cain, "Hammar-- just don't kill him, okay? He's special to me." Apparently satisfied with that single phrase, she steps aside to the aid of parchment and ink in order to script a message -- one of which is stopped and given to Talen on the spot, and the other which wanders far out of sight.

"Surely someone is going to gamble with Ravna? Arianwen? For old times sake, love?"
Freja takes the arm offered and moves to leave, a polite smile offered for those as she goes.
A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Talen before departing.
Freja is leaving Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge, heading for Arx - Lower Boroughs - Crows Lane.
Marcas listens to what the messenger has to say that had come to his side, whispering something back with a glance to watch them go. Wait, what? He looks to Freja then to Gareth, then back to Freja. His jaw tightens and he nods his reddish head, "At your command." he rumbles out more as a sort of 'sure thing' or 'as you wish'. Still, he watches the pair but that is offset by Hammar, looking at the ham-sized fist. The simple speech. He smiles wide and that is when he gets wrapped up by the shoulder. Stormy eyes wide as if he is now realizing that... he is off duty.
Gareth is leaving Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge, heading for Arx - Lower Boroughs - Crows Lane.
"Companies are plentiful in the Lyceum provinces and I know a few different collectives worth reaching out to when required, but here in Arx that becomes less true," Talen presents for Audric. "The Valorous Few will receive a missive sometime, I should think, if it is as you say." With a small nod, he reaches out for the missive given to him and silently he flicks the folded parchment open to read it, before tossing it in a nearby fire.
Cain squints again as he hears Hammar and he rubs his chin. "Yup, you can go ahead and dunk me buddy," he agrees, stumbling forward as he nods. Off Acacia's words to the large man, Cain finds himself pointing at the Culler woman. "But like she said, try not to kill me, yeah? I'm rather fond of this life, as it is, so I would prefer not to stop breathing for too long at least," he hiccups and drinks again.

He turns to the departing nobles and seems a little confused. "Hey, where did her ladyship go? Where is she going?" He waves over one of the messenger boys in the area.
"Oh, I'm quite aware," Audric says. "We've been to quite a few places, even in the Lyceum from time to time. Do feel free, we're always looking for more employers. A mercenary has many uses." Grin, drink, and then he looks over at Cain and Hammar. "The lad is clearly quite drunk, the perfect time to be dunked. Just try to drink your way out, will be a grand time!"
Walking forward toward Cain, Hammar grabs the man in both of his large ham-sized fists and lifts Cain up off of the ground rather abruptly. "Hammar!" He exclaims before beginning towards the river's edge. "Cain swim?" He asks as he grows nearer the deceptively dangerous waters.
Arianwen rolls her eyes when Acacia suggests she go gamble with the ungodly lucky man. She takes a long sip of her ale mug, swallowing the cheap alcohol down, before breathing out a grudging and pointedly reluctant sigh, "oh, fine. I know I'm going to regret this, but if there's any time for gambling, it's now." With that, she marches off towards Ravna, only to place hands on her hips. In a loud declaration, she demands, "a game of luck it is. But! However!" She wags a finger at him, "I get a handicap. Let's say...two to one odds." A short pause, only to reiterate, "no, three to one odds! I roll thrice for your once. Deal, Ravna? And if I win, not only do you have to poke the Ogre in the eye, but..." She taps her chin imperiously, "umm..." A frown down to Ravna, and then an abrupt grin, "sometime in the future, you champion for me at a game of chance. And I get your winnings."
That extra bottle of whiskey is placed with due care into a knapsack which seems to already contain other alcohols for some reason, carefully delivered to the arms of another and whisked away from where pilfering paws might be able to molest it. The burning of the message seems to go without verbal notice from Acacia who is instead caught up with placing a hand to her hip-- just as Hammar walks by her with Cain in tow. Her jaw drops open, head slowly turning, eyes a bit wider as she casts a look towards the trecherous waters and then glares at Tyrene, for some reason. "HAMMAR," she shouts, invoking that seabearing attitude with no wavering to her voice, "Throw him in a keg of -ale-, not the river. You don't throw them in the river when they're -alive-, love."
Tyrene just lifts her mug, from where she sits in her little corner of the world, amused and takes a long drink.
"Hey, boy, you go to that ladyship and tell her this," Cain starts whispering to a messenger boy... until Hammar picks him up. "Whoooooooaaaa...." The messenger boy salutes the man being lifted and takes off. Cain sees the river and his drunken eyes widen. "That is not ale!" He protests. "I swim... sure, but that is -not- ale!" He looks at Acacia then, and the kegs of ale and makes grabby hands at those kegs.

The Greyback keeps his arm on Marcas' shoulders, grinning under the floppy hat, and when the woman arrives there is a loong: Pbbbbbbt. "If you lose with two-to-one odds, this man's face is goin' in your tits."

A turn to look over the man beside him, and give a once-over, "So, what is on the table from you, Northman?"
(OOC) Ravna braindeads.
Just as Hammar was beginning to bodily lift Cain up as if to log toss him into the river, he spins a 360 to look back at Acacia. "Cain in ale?" He seems to take this in and looks up at Cain, who is about 10 feet off the ground by this point. "Hammar sorry." He walks towards an ale barrel and moves to dip Cain into the barrel head first before giggling like a kid and spinning him to drop him feet first down into the barrel and claps his heavy hands together. "Cain dunk!" He steps away then and grabs a honey cake in each hand, making one disappear inside his mouth, the other he actually takes two bites from before it is gone.
Tyrene is overheard praising Hammar for: That's how you do it, boy! Double fist those honey cakes!
Tyrene is overheard praising Cain for: You didn't drown, and you gave a good show, kid. Quit complaining and smile.
"Well!" Audric says. "At least this way he -probably- won't drown. DON'T INHALE THE ALE, CAIN." The last is shouted, because Audric loses control of his voice when he gets excited. "So, we leave him in there until he drinks his way out, aye?"
Marcas scowls faintly and looks over to Ravna, then to the tits suggested, then back to Ravna. Poor Ravna. Marcas... stinks. His furs need washed, his leathers need to be treated. Body odor? He has it. Musky and rich that assaults the nostrils as much as it offends them. If he were the one being dunked into ale? It could either spoil or go through a second fermentation process almost immediately. If anyone needs to be thrown into the river? It'd probably be Marcas. Oh, sure, he smells clean-ish but that close? Woof.

"Ah.." he says with such quickness, ".. what... is on the table?" he wonders, buying himself time. "Money?" he wonders, more like he is asking if that is the right thing to say. He has a bear torc around his neck look to be made from copper mainly. There is also some other necklace in twine. Definitely no jewels and riches on this Northern brute.
Arianwen scowls at Ravna, pink clouding her cheeks. She quickly counters back, "if I lose, you don't got to pay me for the chair you broke. How's -that- for a deal?" She glances towards Marcas to hear what he'll offer up, arching a brow at his uncertainty, "money, favors, whatever you think best and we both agree to. Ravna wins, we both poke the Ogre in the eye, whatever the hell that means, and he gets a pardon from me for breaking my chair. I win, you two do that Ogre thing, Ravna owes me a favor championing me at some future game of chance, and I get whatever you put in the pile. You win, and, well, you get where this is going..."
"Now, that's the proper fucking way to do things." Raking her fingers back through her chaos of curls, Acacia saunters over towards Hammar and Cain both, eyeing the latter, even as she takes the coin he had just given her and passes it towards Hammar in that same go, perhaps once he's finished chewing upon his secondary prize. "Your win, Hammar. And good job, yeah?"

It's only then that she trails back to dart a kiss upon Calandra's cheek and then try to invade Tyrene's corner, hoisting one boot upon a stump that looks as if it's been stabbed more than once through the duration of the evening and leaning forward all the same, "Appreciate you showing up here, Tyrene. I still think perhaps you have too much good in you, but the Boroughs maybe doesn't have enough sometimes, eh?" Eyes are pitched towards Ravna, Arianwen and Marcus, amusement and satisfaction fused in a single, serene smile, before she straightens, "And no one died. Imagine that?"
(OOC) Acacia says: I'm going to end this event here soon, though feel free to keep RPing. And thank you sooooooooo much for participating.
By now, Cain is flailing some, although really he's mostly trying to keep his the contents of his stomach in as Hammar carries him around. But when the large man spins Cain in order to dunk him in the keg, it's a little too much. He gets dunked in the barrel feet first and the moment he manages to hold onto the edge of it, Cain is loosing everything and all that was in his stomach, which is mostly the booze he drank. He throws up over the side of the keg, at least, avoiding the indignity of floating in his own puke. He just waves a hand at Audric's shout, trying very hard to not just pass out.
Talen seems satisfied with his reserved involvement in the festivities and upon conclusion of his conversation with the small collection nearby, he drains his cup and tosses it into the sand. With a hand returning to the hilt of Mirror Blade, he wanders up towards the docks with the march of his leather boots.
Talen is leaving Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge, heading for Arx - Lower Boroughs - Dockyard.
"Feh. I'm shoe leather and piss, girl. Don't go thinkin' I ain't." Tyrene nods, motioning around, before looking at Acacia. "Was a good evening. Good showing. Think it'll do a lot of people some good. At least it didn't get broken up by fights or raids." She jerks her chin toward Cain. "Go get him before he does somethin' dumb. I'll have the kids help clean up. Work's good fer 'em."
"Well, try not to let him pass out in the barrel, eh?" Audric says, reaching up to unnecessarily straighten his hat. "I'll see you soon, Acacia, and this was truly lovely. Only one person threw up and no one died, which is both a blessing and an unfortunate loss." He sighs, wistfully. "In any case, I've something to see to." With that, the mercenary ambles off.
Audric is leaving Arx - Lower Boroughs - Rivers Edge, heading for Arx - Lower Boroughs - Crows Lane.

Back to list