Cillian was sipping his drink when he chokes on it and looks at Jan.

Raymesin raises a hand to return Ian's greeting, but most of his attention right now - justifiably - seems to be involved in getting himself something to drink.

Katarina smiles to Medeia -- and to Aconite, and anyone else who joins the table. "I keep overhearing complaints about the heat," she says. "Really -- the only problem I have with the heat here in Arx is that the summer air is so..." She pauses, trying to find the right word in Arvani. ".../moist/." Katarina wrinkles her nose, because like any sane person, she thinks the word 'moist' is sort of unpleasant. "Honestly, I could stand for it to be hotter still -- so long as the heat is /dry/."

Caspian resists the unexplainable urge to rip all his clothes and armor off and continues chatting with those nearby

Nadir With one hand behind his back and the other holding a glass of golden cider, Nadir weaves among the many faces in the crowd, few of which are familiar to him. Even so, from his easy demeanor and the warm smile across his face, the Seraceni noble appears every bit in his element. He snags an open space at a nearby table and takes his seat, grinning to the others. Nadir takes a sip of cider as he waits for a good moment to jump into the conversation.

Aconite's invitation is met with a warm smile and the short princess pushes back from the bar and saunters in their direction to the open seat. Drink in hand, the whisky splashes a little as she walks, but nothing manages to spill out, luckily. Medeia's comment makes her laugh, the chuckle is somewhat impish and her brows loft upwards in a foreboding manner. "A table of the Best Behaved Women? This is exactly where I should be," she says looking all too innocent but confident in her delivery. Slipping onto the chair, Denica leans back easily against it, looking immediately relaxed and keen to sip on her drink and enjoy the conversation around her.

Nadir has joined the Large Table.

Seeing Raymesin moving bar-ward, Ian gives him a hopeful look and lifts his flask, giving it a slight shake.

Though the word 'Trader' is right in its name, the tavern has always been a host to people from all walks of life. Whether it is a dockworker come to spend their pay packet on better ale than can be found in the Murder, a craftsman on his way home after a long day, or a noble that finds the unrelenting snobbery of the Ambassador distasteful, the Traders Tavern welcomes all. As the hour grows later, more wander into the tavern, leaving the barkeeps and waitstaff moving from customer to customer to take orders, drop off drinks, and collect silver. It's warm within the tavern, but there is plenty of cold ale to combat the heat.

Outside the tavern, the night-darkened streets are relatively empty other than the messengers that run from ward to ward and those who work at night rather than the day. Even the guard is rather thinly patrolling at this time of night, so there is no one to notice overmuch as a man half-walks, half-stumbles through Arx's streets until he finds the tavern. He hovers before it, swaying on his feet as the burlap bag that he carries drags through the dust of the street, leaving a trail of something unsavory and foul in its wake. He pushes inside the building and remains near the entrance, watching those gathered with wild eyes as he continues to sway.

Then, suddenly, he lets out a blood-curdling shriek like some wounded animal. He shrieks until he no longer can and then he just stands there, grinning.

Denica has left the Bar.

Denica has joined the Table by the Fire.

Jan lifts a tankard and waggles it at Caspian in wordless invitation. She spies Raymesin then and is somewhat less subtle. There's a whistle and the lifting of one of the bottles.

A shriek like that can't help but draw Pasquale's attention to the strange man near the entrance of the tavern. He shifts in an attempt to better see that burlap bag but otherwise stays seated on the table near Jan, Ian, Zoey and Cillian.

Lucita has been waiting for a while for a drink and finally nods gratefully when it is delivered. A sip is taken and the glass then set aside only for her hand to jerk and slosh a goodly part of the drink across the table as the shrieking happens. Her eyes widen and she stares in the direction from which the sound came.

Sabriel turns to face the man with the blood curdling shriek, stepping towards him, concern until she spies the grin. "What's the big idea?"

Caspian gives aconite a bright smile and nods as she joins the others at the fireside table. He turns back to continue the talk with Sabriel when the man's shriek pierces the air. He spins, attention immediately dragged to the figure at the door as his brow knit in confusion. The man's grin seemed to to hint this as some weird prank, because people in horrific pain and bleeding out dont normally grin. so it couldn't have been that bad right? Caspian frowns slightly, quirking a brow as he watched the figure a moment. "Well.. thats one way to get everyone's attention i suppose. think he is going to start busking?"

The edge that Ian is usually on in public places never really comes into focus, except in the way that he tends to scan rooms as he enters them, and the way he's usually aware of people who get near him, even if they're behind, where he shouldn't be able to see. But it really comes into its own when someone near the door who he didn't notice suddenly starts screaming. He's on his feet fast enough that his chair falls behind him in a motion that's definitely instinct rather than a reasoned reaction.

The shriek is what stops Rosalind from waving and talking more. Her large eyes turn toward the man and she begins to try and study him. "Maybe I shoud try and greet people like that..."

Lou was mid-drink when the man came in and started shrieking. He startles her so much that she drops her glass of whiskey and it goes crashing to the floor, spilling the amber liquid all over the place and potentially on those sitting close to her.

The new arrival only gets a glance from Raymesin, same as any other new arrival. The shriek, though, that has the tall man in black leathers turning and dropping into a fighting stance, one hand going to the back of his belt. On spotting the grin he starts straightening slowly, with a frown drawing his brows together. "What in th'Shinin' Lands was that for, yer wanker?"

As Eirene snorts at the overheard mention of 'Best behaved women' she leans over the bar to take her drink. As her hand closes around the glass, the man with the disgusting bag of... something lets out his shriek. Quickly, she slams the glass on the bar, not even noticing Lou's splash. The doctor goes for one of her rubicund daggers. Out of pure trained habit. Her blue eyes snap on the figure and start checking for weapons or wounds, expecting one of the other.

Medeia replies to Katarina's complaint about the humidity with a soft, knowing laugh. "Come south, I insist you visit with me in Saikla-" Her words are cut off by the shrieking, which startles her so badly that her wine sloshes as she jolts to look in the direction of the door. She's on her feet, looking to see if someone needs medical attention, and instead is looking terribly confused by the grinning man.

Lucrezia and a few members of her unnerving crew have commandeered a table and are drinking. They seem to be celebrating something, but when the shriek sheers through the room all her crew members go uncannily mute and only she snaps her head towards the sound. "Oh, some fun has come for us." Her lips, never given to softness, curve to a wicked, anticipatory grin.

By the time Ian's finished standing up and getting his feet under himself, he comes to a halt between the door and Zoey. Even he seems surprised to find himself here.

Aconite lifts her wine glass to drown a laugh at Mediea's statement. She sets her wine aside, "Airy fabrics, Your Highness, if one is going to have to suffer the humidity they can at least wear something that doesn't stick to the skin. But that's why we're sitting by the fire isn't it?" She wonders absently before looking towards Denica when she makes her way over. "You know I have gotten no end of compliments for the ballroom fresco. I think it's drawn more people to the Whisper House, just to have a lo.." Her attention is drawn by the sound and towards the man with dark eyes wide.

Zoey turns her head toward the door at the sound of the man shrieking, and the way he grins gives her pause. She glances to the others at the table in a 'is this really happening?' sort of way before looking his way again. She catches Ian's movement out of the corner of her eye and she grows still as she waits to see what happens next. Then her husband is moving and she holds her breath.

Jan blinks and turns towards the direction of the shriek, "What in Petrichor's untamed bush was that?" she rises and shoots a glance over her shoulder towards Pasquale to check his reaction.

The first of the shrieks go largely unnoticed by Nadir, but as the screaming continues he has little choice but to turn his gaze upon the source of the commotion. His expression cools into a mask of composed intrigue.

Cillian was in the middle of greeting Raymesin when he spotting the man but then there is a shriek and his head looks over quick enough that he just might gave himself whiplash. His hand instantly rests on the hilt of his sword and stands up himself as if to get a better look at the man standing there.

Katarina was not born a Valardin, but she's absorbed all of their staid Othlander traditions all the same. She just had to study them a lot /faster/ than her adopted siblings, cousins, et cetera. So when someone walks into the Traders Tavern and screams like a dying animal, well. Something has to be done about this.

"Excuse me," Katarina murmurs to Aconite, Medeia, and Denica. The diminutive woman stands up, and /points/ -- at the screamy grinny stranger. "You there!" she says, with as much full-throated royal authority as she can muster. "I am a Princess of House Valardin and beyond that an affiliate of the Iron Guard. You /will/ mind your decorum in such a public venue, or you will leave."

Lost in the conversation, the short princess's smile is easy as she listens to the other women. But. Someone is shrieking, now. It's loud. This results in Denica knocking back her drink in one large gulp. It's some sort of preparation. Think eyebrows loft upwards, but she makes no effort to move as others divert their attention in the same place. Rather, she watches on curiously to see what happens next.

Sabriel turns to stare at Katarina, "Must I really mind my decorum, your highness?" She asks, tilting her head. "Remind me, what is decorum again?"

Katarina doesn't take her eyes off of the stranger near the entrance, but she /does/ lift an index finger lightly toward Sabriel, as if to silently say, 'One problem at a time, you.'

Caspian looks to Sabriel and smirks, "Well, you didn't shriek like a helion when you entered the room, so you are havbing a fantastic start. And you didn't comment on petrichor's bush so.. honestly i think you are two for two." he gave sabriel a smile and two big thumbs up!

Pasquale is studying the grinning man's burlap sack, as if he could work out what it contains even from his seat. He glances to Ian as the man moves and then back to Jan. "I'm fine." and then back to the bag. What /is/ that?

The man stands, giggling softly under his breath as he sees the chaos that his screamed arrival sets into motion. His clothing looks like it might have been some kind of uniform once, but caked in mud and frayed as if someone had tried to rip it off his body at some point. The skin that is exposed sports what look like rows and rows of tiny puncture wounds that criss-cross over his body. He sways back and forth and breathes out in a rasping voice, "I have brought you a present and an invitation. Can someone show me where the scions of House Grayson live?" The man sways so much to one side that it seems inevitable that he will topple, but he manages to right himself just in time so that he can slooooooowly sway to the other side.

Lou checks composure at hard. Lou is successful.

Lucita leans to the side to see around the standing people. That grin is watched carefully to see if it is more a grimace than grin or if it has an 'off-normal' element to that curve of the lips. She remains quiet, watchful, and quite distrustful. The visible puncture wounds send her glance darting to Eirene and Medeia and back to the wounded man.

There's something careful about Ian's level voice when he replies to the man: "How about you leave that with me, and I'll take it to them for you."

Raymesin's pale eyes narrow as he gets a better look at the man. "I think as yer can fuck right off wi'that idea," he replies bluntly to the man, Lowers accent to the fore. "Just like the Iron Guard silk."

Rosalind is already starting to wiggle a bit in her chair. She finishes her drink and sets it back on the bar. There's a squint at the man, the northerner doesn't even try to hide she's watching. "What kind of present,"Rosa finally asks after a moment or two, making no effort to tell him where anything is. "And uh...you ok? Do you need a drink of water or something? Maybe put your feet up? You don't look so well you know."

Lou's dumbfounded look turns to something much, much more stoic. So stoic. SO VERY STOIC. Except, even still, the people around her can pretty much tell that she's gone so, so very still in her seat. In that sort of way that one might want to do when they do not want to call any sort of attention to themselves, AT ALL.

Jan doesn't move beyond to stand yet, though she does happen to have made sure she is between the Sus man and the table she was seated at. She flicks Ian a wary sidelong glance but other than making a comment towards the table she was sat at, just watches for now.

Noticing those wounds, and the tone of voice. Sabriel carefully takes a step back and begins to ensure that if she needs it, her weapon is ready, while trying to avoid drawing attention to this.

Zoey whispers something to Jan before her eyes turn to the shrieker again, eyes narrowing slightly as she examines him as closely as she can from where she sits. She does cast a quick glance in Lou's direction, being the only Grayson whose presence she is aware of, then back to observing.

Her voice cutting through the noise of the bar, Eirene calls out "He's been wrapped up in vines. Could be infected or possessed. Keep him away from the Graysons, because fuck-me if he drops off his little 'present'" she barks, glancing ever so briefly at Lou beside her.

Lucrezia laughs madly at the man's request and swallows back the latest drink she'd been working on.

A single dark eyebrow lifts upwards but Denica doesn't react beyond that. Rather, while attention is on the man, she's scanning the room for signs of anything or anyone else. Split between this and watching the exit, her hand rests comfortable on her hilt. Looking like a tightly wound coil, ready to bounce when need be.

Aco carefully places her wine glass aside, her gaze sweeping the room in a swift assessment of its occupants. Then, her attention returns to the grinning man and the enigmatic sack he clutches, her eyes narrowing with a hint of suspicion. She studies his peculiar attire, her concern deepening as her eyes trace the troubling wounds that mar his skin. While others engage in conversation around her, Aco maintains a resolute silence, her head tilting slightly toward their words, but her unwavering focus remains fixed on the concerning figure before them.

Caspian pulled out a flask from his belt.. yes.. it was becoming one of THOSE kind of days. he took a swig, then shook his head, "Friend, you are in the wrong place if you are looking for the graysons. Go find the nearest guard station and ask them there, sure they can get you sorted out, and maybe help you with those nasty.." Eirene's callout shut him up and he quickly stows the flask. "Well shit."

Medeia is practically holding her breath as she watches the man sway and takes note of his attire and wounds. For a sun-loving southerner at the height of summer, the medic who has seen some terrible things is awfully pale. Eirene's warning causes her to step back from the table, reaching out blindly to try to get Aconite, Denica, and Katarina away from the table and the man.

Rosalind hears Eirene then glances at the bag. Then Caspian. "Uh...Right."

Katarina most certainly /heard/ Raymesin but now is not the time to educate him on the inescapable truth of some people being better than others through hereditary feudalism. Besides, once Eirene calls out to the assembled group that the stranger has enjoyed(?) the intimate caress of monstrous awful vines, Katarina is moving from around the table (and slapping Medeia's hand away from herself). The Valardin Minister of War is, in fact, going to march right toward the stranger. "It is time for you to leave."

If you guessed that Katarina is trying to buy Lou a moment to hide behind the bar or something: good job!

Cillian nods not look at Lou or anyone one else he stands with Ian looking to him then back to the insane man thats grinning. He wrinkles his nose as he takes a step forward, "I think its time that you are gone." his thick Northern accent sounds a bit thicker as his hand tightens on the hilt of his sword. He realizes Rosalind is here as well and his nose wrinkles more.

Jan answers Zoey " Whatever he's delivering. The fuck is the doc talking about vi-" her gaze snaps around and her eyes widen a bit, her face paling and then her lips press into a thin line "Turd-sucking goat-licker, _those_ vines." her tone grim.

Even with Eirene's shouted warning, Ian takes a couple of steps closer to the man. "You've come a long way, right? How about I show you the rest of the way. Let's go, alright?" The lack of inflection in his voice makes it hard to parse his intent.

Faced with this unexpected request, Nadir is among those who elect to keep their silence. His only visible reaction is to push his glass slightly away from him and towards the center of the table, minimizing the risk of the glass falling over should he ever have the need to rise abruptly from his seated position.

Pasquale looks across to Eirene when the healer diagnoses the man's injuries. He looks thoughtful briefly and then shifts in his seat until he can actually reach his feet fairly quickly if he chooses too. He does not actually stand up though. "Go join Ian if you will feel better." He murmurs to Jan. "Zoey and I will be fine. We're more dangerous at range anyway"

The man looks at Ian, his head canting to the side at a strange angle as he says, "Are you a scion of House Grayson?" His gaze, eyes too wide and pupils narrowed into tiny dots, stare intently at the Kennex man as he slowly lifts the burlap sack. The bottom of the sack is soaked and dripping on the floor. The other offers of assistance or direction are ignored. At least until Eirene speaks up. The grinning man's smile widens until it strains the muscles of his face as he staggers in her direction, laughing as he says in a sing-song voice, "For you especially! Come see what we have brought for you!" That smile shifts from mad glee to something sinister as the man's very voice changes into something higher, feminine, "-Lady Riven-"

As something clicks in her mind, Sabriel goees on to fully draw her weapon and move to position herself between the man and the entrance. "Lord Ian, I doubt this fellow is going to come peacefully."

Sabriel wields Blood Price.

Aconite is herded from her seat. Moved back and behind Medeia to which she makes only a quiet noise in protest. However, for some reason, the Whisper doesn't seem to mind there being bodies between her and that grinning man. She looks a little ashen and her lips are pulled down in an ugly grimace as the man makes a move for Eirene.

Ian isn't dissuaded from an apparent attempt to talk the stranger out of the tavern by that dripping bag. "I can take you to them, alright?" His voice stays level, careful. He's not offering any threat, even in the face of the change in the man's demeanor. "Eirene can even come with us. Let's go."

"Bugger," says a very Lowers-accented voice, from the overtall man who'd been trying to get himself a pint a couple of minutes ago. One of Raymesin's hands stays at the back of his belt; the other reaches behind his head and pulls his hood up.

*Vines.* If the reactions around her were not enough, Eirene's words certainly are. She catches her attendant with a sidelong glance, who then moves to just behind Zoey's chair. The Lady's eyes on are on that bag and she gets a sneaking suspicion that she knows what must be in it, if not whom. She swallows and says in a soft voice that those farther than the table might not hear, "I do not like the look of that bag."

Jan says, "The fuck makes you think I'd let him go alone?" she does move to stand alongside Ian though not too close though when the Sus Man teeters towards Eirene she steps as if to impede his path, "Ah, I think not." Her hand on the hilt of her sword "Out. Now." She demands of the Sus man though the grim look on her face suggests her stern voice is unlikely to compel compliance "No one wants what's in that bag."

Lucita's lips thin and press together in a firm line as she stands up. "Something is not right, possessed or puppeted...something is wrong... taunting." This said in a low tone to those nearby. Her hand drops to her sheathed weapon, peace-knot loosened in the light of potential danger.

Eirene sighs through gritted teeth. "Ahh fuck." That's it. No long string of curses, no ephithets. She grabs her whiskey, slams the drink back, and turns to face the waivering man. "Wondered when that delusional shitsack would start to see me as a threat..." She looks at the calm collected face of Ian. "Kennex is right. Maybe we should take this outside." Her sharp blue eyes take in the rest of the bar, civillians and soldiers alike.

Caspian tugs his gloves on and lurches from where he stood as figure began to move toward Eirene. trying to get himself in between the figure and Eirene was his goal as he bumped tables and chairs and people. Sabriel had the exit covered, but whatever was in this bag, and it wasnt hard to guess at this point, was not good. More sop whatever magic had twisted this figure did not need to get any closer. he gave a sad smile to Ian as he tried again to get through to the man, "don't think he is quite in the quite and peaceful like mood my friend"

It takes a few moments for Lou to kick into gear. It's not that she's not able to react, it's just that she's had a whole world of living in terror ever since the night of Bastion, so she moves a bit slower when things decide to continue to haunt her. She glances around the room to see how many people are ready to show the stranger out and that helps bolster her a bit, but only a small bit. There are wheels cranking, decisions being made, and there's a whole lot of courage she's trying to build up. "What do you want with Scions of House Grayson?" she asks, both dreading that she's drawing attention to herself and that she probably already knows the answer. She stands from her chair, the glass on the floor crunching as she does, trying to stand as tall as she can. Maybe that'll make her look bigger? More intimidating? Not that Lou is very intimidating at all.

"I have a terrible feeling its going to be heads." Pasquale agrees with Zoey's sentiment. "Or worse. I'm not sure what could be worse... So hopefully we aren't going to find out."

Zoey mutters, "At least one head, anyway."

There's a shudder at the mention of vines and the redhead seems to want to sprint into action. But instead she waits, hand near her dagger. Her bow swung along her back. But Eirene and Caspian aren't far from her eyesite, nor is the man with the hopefully not heads.

Clearly Rosalind

Cillian looks to Caspian, "Don't let him or that sack touch you." he looks to Ian and moves along with Ian, but then Lou speaks up and then he looks to the insane man. He is follow Ian's idea here and he frowns now, "Rosalind, careful." he looks to her as well then back on the guy.

Katarina stands in the stranger's path alongside Ian, Cillian, and whoever else is stepping up to enjoy some rough vine trade on a steamy summer night. Her hands rest on her hips, and even as Lou speaks up, Katarina resists the temptation to look back and over at her -- one, because it might give away that Lou is in fact Lou, and two, because it would mean looking /away/ from the stranger and opening herself up to some sort of viney sucker-punch or some horrible nonsense like that.

Is that a flash of fear in Eirene's steely blue gaze as she looks at the oozing sack? Perhaps.

Jan checks luck at normal. Jan is successful.

Ian checks luck at normal. Ian is successful.

Caspian checks luck at normal. Caspian marginally fails.

Cillian checks luck at normal. Cillian is successful.

Sabriel checks luck at normal. Sabriel is successful.

Though his schooled expression has yet to give anything away, Nadir raises one hand in a particular gesture, and just like that a guard appears by his side. "Quite right, Baroness, quite rightly said," he mutters back to Lucita, before leaning over to his guard and conferring in urgent tones. Meanwhile, his hand drops back below the table, though not before a perceptive observer might notice a slight tremble.

Medeia looks across at Pasquale and Zoey, her own head shaking slightly before she searches the crowd for Lucita. The petite Saik lady is standing protectively in front of Aconite, one hand reaching down to search for a blade strapped to her thigh - no blade is strapped to her thigh. Another half step back is taken, putting her and the Radiant nearly against the hearth behind them as she watches Eirene and Lous step forward.

Aconiteis no warrior and she stays back. Even slipping a bit farther back towards the fire when Medeia moves back. She doesn't look away though. She carefully removes her dagger from it's sheath and carefully moves to slip it into Medeia's hand.

Eyes still on the room and the exits, Denica stands with her hand on her hilt watching everything with an unusually stoic expression. Lips press together, moving back and forth in quiet contemplation, her attention alert with her gaze sharp.

Medeia wields Serpentine Grace, a cupridium kris.

Jan wields Turgid Defiance, an elegant alaricite sword.

Raymesin, his hood settled into place, keeps one hand at his back. The other moves to start unobtrusively undoing the peacebonds on one of the blades at his belt.

Wordlessly, Medeia accepts the blade from Aconite and holds it tight and low, not drawing attention.

Lucita may not be in the fore-guard confronting this stranger at the door, but is so used to working with Jan and Ian and the others that she moves in a position to back them up, another barrier between perceived danger and those less able to protect themselves. A nod is given Nadir.

Lucita wields a sharp siangham.

Though there are many that try to usher the man out of the tavern and into the street, he seems implacable as his gaze fixes on Eirene unblinking. Only Lou seems able to distract him. With a burst of unsettling laughter, the man drops into a bow that seems... wrong. As his body bends, there is the unmistakable sound of something within the man -crunching-. Yet, he only smiles as he looks up through the fringe of his filthy, matted hair, still he continues to speak in a voice that does not match his outward appearance as he says, "Ah. I remember you. I come with an offer of parlay. Isn't that what you humans do? I wish to parlay with House Grayson." He remains fixated on Lou even as he holds his arm out in Eirene's direction with the bag dangling from his fist. "Lady Riven, your gift is still waiting."

Ian lets out a low hiss when Lou speaks that might contain a curse in it somewhere, although the sound might be lost in the multiple hisses of drawn weapons that happen at about the same time. He still only has his cane, which he's using... as a cane, a third point of balance to reinforce his odd gait.

Rosalind shrugs at Cillian, but remains focused. Until there's the crunching thing. She wriggles her nose a little and mutters,"Stuff of nightmares, that..." The Ravenseye starts to climb over the bar, for reasons unknown. Pre-planning one could suppose, and starts to prepare her bow. For just in case in reasons.

Rosalind wields a diamondplate bow with a spruce green leather grip.

Sabriel remains at her position between the unnatural figure and the exit, weapon drawn. She lets others do the talking, but she's prepared to act.

Caspian winces slightly at the odd crunching sound the man makes as he bows. "Gods friend.. you know you really out to get that looked at. bodies arent supposed to make that kind of sound normally. i hear fish oil is great for the joints." Levity aside, his eyes narrow as he looks at the bag, then to Eirene. Then back to the bag. Unless stopped, he would slowly reach out as if to take the bag from the man.. cause someone has to be the idiot in the room.

"All right, PUPPET." The Riven steps forward, spitting out the word. "What's your master got for me?" Eirene edges closer to the courier with rigid posture as a she takes in a deep breath. Fear overriden by anger, a soldier's training countering a wife and mother's nightmares flashing through her mind. Her gloved hand reaches out for the bag unless intercepted by the others.

Its all the weapons being wielded that finally urge Pasquale to leave his chair. Although he doesn't do more than sit on the edge of the table instead. His eyes linger on the strange man with a mixture of fascination and revulsion thats only broken when he glances away to make polite his cough.

Cillian lets his sword go and he moves to walk behind Ian and over closer to Lou, his bow is taken from his back, and knock a arrow, if he gets to close or makes a move to touch Lou there will be a arrow in him.

Long shrieks attract attention. Presumably Sen wasn't far to start, because she arrives outside the tavern with a swift clip rather than a run, and it doesn't take her long to do that either. her gold-yellow eyes are narrowed to slits, nostrils flaring as if she's caught the scent of something she Does Not Like.

Jan winces a bit at the unnatural crunching and moving. She steps forward "Out. Now. No one here wants anything from you. Parlay is for those with authority not disgusting meat puppets. Leave now, take that soggy sack with you." the blade tip is kept down low for the moment, not yet menacing the messenger. "Leave this place and everyone in it and do not return." She flicks a glance towards Eirene with a grimace as if anticipating that Eirene might regret having asked.

Lucrezia watches, eyes glittering with their usual malevolence, but she remains casually posed at her table. However, one of her feet is tapping restlessly, tattooing a demand of when the exciting, fighting bits are going to start. The word parley makes her yawn and reach for another drink.

Raymesin glances doorwards, and motions for the people standing in front of it - Sabriel, mostly - to move aside. And then there's a Sen, and he nods politely to the woman before focusing once more on the entity trying to look like a person and currently failing.

Cillian wields Stormpiercer, the Longbow of House Blackwood.

Ian puts a hand on Jan's shoulder when she advances with a drawn weapon and gives a slight shake of his head. He looks to Sabriel as well when he does this, including her in his silent request that nobody take this situation to violence if it doesn't have to be taken there.

Lou casts a sideways glance at Eirene as she notes the other woman's fear. Lou might be a little bit better at hiding hers, or trying to do so anyway, but her own is there all the same for those who are close enough to see it. She's keeping herself tightly together, just barely. Though her reaction to the offer to parlay is very visible. That dread turns to a pale washing of her tanned facial features. Still, she keeps her stance. Stand very tall. Try to look intimidating. Try, try, TRY. There are distractions everywhere and so she uses those to bide her time before responding. "And what is it that you wish to parlay about?" she counters, making note of where people are positioning themselves as she tries to also address the situation before her.

Katarina remains right where she is, hands on hips. Sure, the weird disgusting creature-person-thing can ignore her all it likes, but she's not in a position where she can just say 'oh, fair enough, Eirene and Lou, you two deal with this and I'll go back to my wine.' She was, in theory, raised better than that. Her eyes stay fixed on the mysterious visitor and his squelching bag of 'gift,' and her expression stays stern.

Jan's head turns a bit, trying to catch her cousin's gaze before reluctantly a single terse nod of acknowledgement though there's a low soft murmur.

Rosalind is just poised for just in case. If Caspian goes to reach for that bag however, she practically shouts,"Are you freakin crazy?! Gods and Spirits, Cas?! That could be a lot of ew and shady shite in there!!!!" Too much?

At the word 'humans', Nadir inhales sharply and looks askance at his guard. Whatever her reaction, it's clear that he doesn't like it. Nadir rises from the table, as quietly as he can manage, and the two of them back away from the strange man and the weapons pointed toward him.

The Radiant Whisper continues to follow the conversation. However she doesn't linger too long on any one familiar face, always drawn back towards the lurching sack-wielding body. Clearly the Whisper knows not to draw attention to herself in a room full of fighters. She lifts her fan and snaps it out, holding it in front of her face, perhaps to hide her queasy expression. Or maybe to hide what she whispers to Medeia.

Paint-stained fingers tug on the ribbons that keep Denica's blade peace-tied to her hip. They are colourful ribbons, dyed vibrant hues with the ends curled, just because. However, she's not quick to draw the blade itself, merely have it available to her. Denica does like options.

Lucita holds back, her position supportive though her color goes a few shades paler. Nostrils pinch together against the unsavory scent of the currently un-opened bag. She reaches her free hand over to move chairs out of the way should she need to move. Her glance stays focused on the 'thing' at the entry and she stays quiet.

Zoey keeps her features schooled and unreadable, even as her heart quickens. Caspian and Eirene are both reaching now, Jan and Ian stand too close for her comfort, and she senses the tension in the room like the rising heat of summer on sand.

"Do not worry, Lord Ian. I will not start a fight today." Sabriel keeps her eyes on the intruder, weapon remaining drawn.

Raymesin's lips move silently, the peacebonds on one of his blades falling open, undone.

While Caspian might reach for the back, it is only relinquished when Eirene's hand is upon it and offered over to her custody. As soon as she takes it, the man's arm drops and he doesn't even look in any direction but at Lou. The man offers another of those face-splitting grins to Lou and says in a low voice, "I offer you a chance to save your people what is coming for them. I offer an opportunity to prevent what happened to Bastion to happen to Arx." Though the vessel from which it comes is a broken thing, the voice that slips from between its lips is a silken, seductive thing, full of sinister promises. "Haven't you wanted to meet me, Princess Loucia? Here is your chance. Come to me in the ruins of Old Oak. You will not be able to miss the scent of smoke in the air. I would hurry, though. I'm not a patient woman." Then, the man's body begins to shudder and he drops to the ground. A last groan, half-agony and half-relief, spills from his cracked and bruised lips. Then nothing is heard from those lips again.

Eirene checks composure at hard. Eirene fails.

Lou checks composure at hard. Lou fails.

Rosalind checks composure at hard. Rosalind fails.

"Lagoma, grant me strength. Queen of Endings, grant me vengence." Eirene says this before she even opens the bag. Her hands tremble - a rare thing for the surgeon. The request to meet with Lou is unheard over the sound of her heart pumping in her ears. She looks around the room at everyone, her southern skin pale.

She opens the bag.

Some of Medeia's color has begun to come back as she shifts into problem-solving mode, but whatever her whispered exchange was with Aconite, she is left looking frustrated. And then the broken being is speaking more and falling to the ground and the bag is in Eirene's hand. Her expression pales once more.

Sen'azala's weight shifts to her toes as she picks up her pace. Not *quite* a run. It takes her to the tavern door in time to get a view of the man collapsing, though whether or not she heard him is another matter. ...Probably. The tips of her canines are faintly visible, and even moreso as she steps into the doorway.

Aconite shudders and her shoulders jerk as her abdomen tightens with an urge to loose her lunch. But the Whisper manages to keep herself in control, expression hidden behind her fan.

Pasquale watches the now-corpse drop down to the ground with that same mixture of fascinated disgust that he's carried for a while now. His eyes flick to the bag and then over to Lou. "You will allow us to accompany you Princess?"

Jan scowls darkly "Shitberries." she looks to Lou "Please tell me you're not actually thinking of going." She scowls "Don't go along. My sword's yours if you insist on playing this sadistic game." She frowns as Eirene opens the back "No, I don't think..." she winces and heaves a heavy sigh "Is..." She nudges the man cautiously with a toe "Still alive?"

"So that invitation is a trap, right?" Sabriel asks what to her seems obvious, focusing on that rather than all the strangeness.

The bag is blood-soaked and smells oddly of rotting leaves and stagnant water as well. As Eirene opens it, she would indeed find that it is a head. Lank, dark hair is the first thing she sees, but no features just yet. By scent alone, she can tell that it is relatively fresh. She's going to have to pull it fully out of the bag for that. Which means touching it.

Caspian watches Eirene take the bag, one of his hands moving to his belt, the other to place a steadying grasp on her shoulder. Whatever was in the bag, Eirene was not alone in what she faced. As the figure conitnued to speak, his brow furrowed even more. "Well that just seems like a real.." the figure collapsed suddenly, silent, and that left Caspian standing still a moment. With the man no longer a concern (maybe) he looks back to eirene

"Helena," comes a sharp intake of breath from Lou. The words are only just barely out of her mouth when the man's body falls to the ground. And when he falls to the ground, Lou seems to stumble backwards, no longer able to keep up her bravado in face of danger. And as luck would have it, she doesn't stumble onto a stool or chair, rather she falls unceremoniously onto the floor onto the glass and all surrounding her as though her breath were taken away. It's not. She can breathe. It's just it's a lot to take in within that particular moment. Even more than they survived the encounter. They did survive right? Lou looks around to make sure they did, but is in a sort of foggy haze as she does.

Ian's attention is on Eirene as she opens the bag, his presence near her protective. He has a hand on her shoulder. "I'll get it, Eirene. You don't need to do this."

Katarina grimaces as she watches the vine-man fall. Her throat moves like she's quietly trying to keep from vomiting. She looks from the corpse, to the bag, to Eirene. "...someone should probably burn that body," she notes. "Or... whatever is done with... those who are..." She can't find a word that she wants. "...inhabited." Then she's pulled away from that thought by the stench of the bag opening.

Jan says, "Either a trap or another step in this extremely fucked up waltz of doom, either way it's definitely bait."

Rosalind listens to the man, her bow slowly lowers and her eyes just seem to--look sad, her freckled skin pale. For once, the Ravenseye is quiet for just a few moments. Which is a lot. She peeks at Lou, asking,"You're not going, right?" When the smell from the bag hits her, she basically grows the color of snow.

Cillian looks at Eirene and he frowns, "Eirene...." his bow is still nocked and he is not lowering it, "Your highness." he lets her know he is there if she should need him for whatever. "He sends his lap dog." he wrinkles his nose letting a soft growl out.

"The Deepwoods," Medeia breathes out. "Someone... Must go. We cannot..." Abandon a noble house of the Compact. Which is probably, you know, burned to the Abyss.

Pasquale hops down from his table perch and goes over to crouch by Lou. He reaches to touch her shoulder. "Lou? He's gone."

Eirene's head turns from Caspian on one side to Ian on the other. "No, whomever this is, they died because of my hubris. They... deserve I at least look." Her steady voice, once so calm and commanding, waivers. "Cill... I have to," she repeats as she looks at Cillian. "See to Lou," she says, a quiet order. The sack is set on the bar without apology, with blood oozing onto the wood. She gently pulls the head out, trying to shelter as many as she can from the grizly sight.

Eyes narrow ever so slightly, a small breath taken in and held there long enough that when it expels it comes out in a quick rush. What unfolds is not lost on Denica her attention watches the body hit the floor, Lou's identification is met with no outward reaction, merely a sudden tension that fills every muscle in Denica's body. Katarina suggestion and question of burning is met with a single nod from the princess.

Raymesin watches the man fall; his hand lifts to touch the skull pin at his throat. He seems remarkably stoic when the bag is opened, but then - as the Pravosi can attest - the Lowers in summer doesn't smell much more pleasant. "'E was a man, once," he says, turning to Katarina. "We'll treat 'im as the honoured dead, 'cause 'e was an' is." And with that, he's stepping towards the corpse, to start laying it out.

Ian isn't interested in being so sheltered; he goes with Eirene to the bar, sticking near her. It's hard to tell if he's intending to be supportive, or just hasn't let go of the instinct to defend her against some kind of attack.

Pasquale corrects himself. "She. She's gone."

Rosalind is already at the bar. She stands next to Eirene and Ian both, standing still, looking at whomever was unfortunate to be in that bag...

The head that Eirene pulls from the bag is immediately recognizable. The lifeless eyes of Oberion Thornweave stare sightlessly at Eirene, almost a mockery of the man's once vibrant gaze.

Lucita swallows hard, color still pale. "They are chipping away at us, little by little, our morale, our houses. We ...stand together. We have to or we all fall." And she shifts position so she can see the head as it is exposed to view. To others she murmurs. "...seen heads before, some were left staked round our district a few years back."

Zoey finally gets up from her own seat and approaches Raymesin where he starts his work. She is, after all, a Harlequin as well. "Can I be of assistance?" she asks him.

Aconite's lip press together as she listens to the words everyone says. Observing everyone and everything, still looking a bit woozy from the encounter and the smell. She takes the dagger back when Medeia hands it over. She does attempt to get a look at the head without crowding the bar.

Katarina doesn't reply to Raymesin except to look at his hands and make sure he's wearing /gloves/ if he's going to be touching the body. Really, even if she wanted to get into an argument about 'who knows what kind of awful... plant things that body has been stuffed with' or whatever -- hey, look, there's Oberion Thornweave's head. Katarina's golden eyes widen, and she stares in shocked silence.

Jan frowns and opens her mouth to say something to Eirene and hesitates before asserting "Lady Eirene, you are not responsible for the world's evils. At MOST you were a convenient target but if it weren't you it'd be someone else. They want you to blame yourself. To doubt. Instead of getting fucking angry and focusing your energy on whatever it's trying to distract you from."

Lucrezia cocks her head as the head in the sack becomes visible, but her expression doesn't change. Just another dead body to her.

Ian checks composure at daunting. Ian is successful.

Sabriel lowers her blade. She seems entirely unconcerned with the presence of a head. "The only one responsible for this." She insists, "Is whomever or whatever deemed fit to send this pathetic excuse for a message. The coward doesn't even dare threaten us to our face, acting through this nonsense."

Medeia is (surprisingly?) stoic about a head on a bar, detached from its body. She has passed the blade back to Aco ite to secure and

Ian lets out a breath at the sight of Oberion's head, like this is somehow less bad than something else he was afraid he was going to see. But that breath arrests halfway through, and he catches himself on the bar. His lips form silent words, but probably not at anyone here. He's looking at the severed head, but may or may not actually be seeing it.

There's a sag of her body as an elven head is produced from the sack. One very few would recognize. But it's clear Eirene knows him. And, oddly enough, she's relieved. The body posture is one of quiet reaction. Her worst fears have not come to pass. "Oberion... He was an ally. One of the Thornweavers -- freed from the madness," she explains. "He was standing against the Horned Fuck on our side. Countering Helena's magic when he could." She gently puts Oberion's head back into the sack. "And she finally caught up to him."

Cillian checks composure at daunting. Cillian is successful.

Caspian wasn't really sure what head was hidden in the bag, but on the list of possibilities, Oberion was reaaaaally far down there. He had met the man only a few times, seen him fight only twice.. but it was enough to place the man in the echelon of a figure that would outlast everyone. Clearly, that was not the case. Caspian stared, unable to pull his eyes away from the head, his fignrs squeezing Eirene's shoulder tightly.. giving and taking support from the woman. He finally found his voice and spoke, "Well.. thats..." he looked to Eirene. "Not your fault."

Sen'azala is still a step behind. She's only started looking down at the body when Eirene reaches into the bag, and it's only talk of someone being dead in there that causes her to look up sharply. She stares at the bag, and for that awful moment before realization about what Eirene has and her reaching into pull it out, the woman goes very, very, very, *very* still. *Very* still. It takes her several moments of staring before recognition - or non-recognition, perhaps - settles, and she doesn't...*relax*, certainly not, she doesn't relax at all, nor does she look relieved, exactly, certainly not that, but there's certainly a sense that what Eirene has isn't what, or who, she thought it might be.

The head doesn't seem to be a thing that is gaining Lou's attention. She looks up at Pasquale, blinking at him a moment when he crouches down to reassure her. That's when she shakes herself out of it and she offers him a weak grimace. "I'm fine. I'll be fine," she assures him. To the others she adds, "It's most definitely a trap. But, it's also the only time we've known where Helena Thornweave will be. I'll have to take this to Liara and talk to... some others. Quickly." That's neither a yes or a no at the moment. But, possibly, a maybe. She works on setting herself aright and getting back on two feet.

Raymesin is indeed wearing gloves. In fact, on thinking about it, he's only ever seen wearing gloves. This might be one of the reasons. "Zoey. Yeah, can yer get a message ter th'Shrine, an' th'Archlector? Don't touch 'im if yer not wearin' gloves." If he recognises who the head belonged to, he doesn't seem to care.

"No," Sen says toward Lou. Flat. As flat as she's ever sounded.

Medeia is (surprisingly?) stoic about a head on a bar, detached from its body. She has passed the blade back to Aconite to secure. She doesn't offer help with the body, nor step forward to offer any sort of comfort to anyone. Her attention is everywhere, trying to sort out the next steps.

Jan's head tilts towards Ian at the exhale. She frowns and asks gently "cousin?" She studies Ian another moment and if she hasn't gotten his attention she'll reiterate, "Ian?" another moment of careful study before her gaze sweeps to find Lou "Pathfinder, if I may be of service please do not hesitate to let me know." Her gaze finds Sen'azala then.

Lucita glances between Sen and Lou. "A trap..Must be a trap."

"We have to take the risk." Pasquale agrees when Lou speaks of going. "Some of us at least. Just don't think you have to go alone Lou." he moves back up to his full height as Lou does. "Many of those here would go with you. Without even needing to be asked." His eyes finally go onto the head and whilst his lips thin he doesn't make a comment, or look particularly bothered.

Rosalind slowly blinks at the head. She doesn't recognize it at all. She turns over toward Eirene, nodding slowly. As if understanding what's going on.

"She seemed... pretty determined to do it," Ian says to Eirene, his voice oddly tense. He wrenches his gaze away from the severed head at the sound of Sen's voice, and looks at her.

"Oh. Hi,"Rosalind says to Sen, just realizing she's here.

Aconite looks to Medeia for a moment as everyone recovers as well as they can from what just happened. She murmurs to the Noblewoman.

Caspian looks to lou, "if you are going there right now, i trust you know you won't be going alone and you dont have enough rope to tie up everyone who would come with you. And if you aren't going now.. i might just go take a walk and see what can be seen. i hear the Old oak is lovely at night.."

There is a shudder that runs through him when he hears Eirene, there is a deep breath taken as he lowers his bow. He shakes his head, "Oberion." his grip tightens on his bow. He looks to lou then the others.

"You will have me at your side, Princess," Katarina says to Lou. She looks down at herself. "Though in something more formidable than seasilk. Excuse me -- I must ready for war."

"If you're going, your highness, please allow me to come with." Sabriel offers to Lou, "I'd rather no-one walk into a trap, but if we're going to walk into a trap, we'd best come as strong as we can."

Denica Stretching her arms out, the expression of the princess's face doesn't change. Rather, Denica takes in a small breath and walks over to the collected group around Eirene and Lou, volunteering herself for whatever, as per usual.

Katarina has left the Table by the Fire.

A dutiful Valardin aide, 2 Valardin Knights leave, following Katarina.

Eirene turns to her aide, "Take this to Mia. See that he's buried under the old oak.

Zoey nods to Raymesin and gestures for her aide to come forward. She dictates the message to send to the shrine per Raymesin's orders before sending it off.

"I will come as well," Zoey chimes in, glancing briefly at Ian and back to Lou.

Rosalind shifts her large eyes to Lou, just telling the woman. "I'm there--for what you need..." She clearly avoids Cillian with this.

Aconite has left the Table by the Fire.

Eirene turns to her aide, "Take this to Mia. See that he's buried under the old oak. Gods willing, we can find the rest of him someday." Poor Planchet gets severed head duty while Eirene turns to Lou. "Sometimes you need to set off a trap to know who's behind it, and strike back. I've got your back, hun," she says reassuringly. Some of her old bravado is returning now.