Kenna ruins everything
Kenna was not overly fond of charades such as this, but she could see their overall benefits and understood it was her responsibility to attend. On rare occasions in the past, she had even enjoyed some of them. Now, there were far too many people for that. Still, the food was free and the braziers warm, and she wouldn't complain. The elf mostly lingered to the outskirts of the hall, away from the bulk of the crowd. Still, she partook in periodical conversation with several of the Wardens she recognized as well as the rare conversation with friendlier new recruits.
And it was one especially friendly recruit she was talking with when she spotted Lauchlan. One overly friendly new recruit. He didn't seem to be picking up on her subtle signs of uninterest. She was about to make a comment about paying her respects to the King (which she'd actually already done), but decided Lauchlan would make a better excuse. She cut him off in the middle of his sentence, she hadn't been paying overmuch attention anyway, but it seemed like he was bragging or something of the sort.
"I just saw someone I have an important message for, if you'll excuse me.." Kenna did not have a message, not an important one, at least. Hopefully he'd buy it. "Welcome to the King's Wardens … Um." Wait. What was his name? Shit. "Welcome to the Wardens." She repeated more surely. "I hope you like it here." And without another word, she left him there. He was mumbling something as she walked away, the end of which was a statement of departure.
"Lauchlan!" The elf called as she approached him. Of the dozens of people she didn't like, Lauchlan was one of the few she did. "Been a while," she added. Kenna had neither seen nor heard of him for several months, it was good to know he wasn't dead yet. Now that Kenna was closer to him, she realized she recognized several of those around him as well. Not necessarily a good thing. Tóra being one-- another Warden who'd worked under her in the past. Kenna wrinkled her nose involuntarily, Tóra smelled disgusting. "... And Tóra." The final nearby woman was one the elf recognized, but pointedly ignored.
"How've you been?" The Lead Scout addressed Lauchlan. Tóra looked smashed and somehow Kenna doubted any good conversation would come from engaging her.
Still half listening to the dwarf as she nattered on about names, Lauchlan suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. He was confident that Jericho hadn't traversed the continent hundreds of times, and, while he understood hyperbole well enough, he found it needless, and so too her commentary. Names, he thought, were names-- dwarven or otherwise. Hadn't some well-loved bard even sang about something like that once? A flower by some other title would still keep its scent? Or…something? He couldn't really recall.
So lost was he in his mental searching for where he'd heard the phrase before, Lauchlan had missed what had transpired between those at his table. That was, of course, until Jericho had doused Kwirkel with the remainder of her ale. Snapping back to his surroundings, Lauchlan threw a glance at the female dwarf as she murmured something in Dwarven, but Kwirkel hardly seemed bothered by it. Somewhat nonplussed by the unseemly behaviour in the King's hall, Lauchlan watched with an arched brow as Jericho bounded away after Anzo, though he said nothing. Now there was an unusual match if he'd ever seen one, but he hardly cared what-- wait, had Anzo actually lost his competition with Ansley?
For a moment, he turned his attention back to where the two men had been arm wrestling each other, noting the hearty cheers and toasts that were still going up around those gathered there. Apparently Ansley had won after all. Was it, he wondered, Anzo being generous or was he getting old? Then again, Ansley was likely a good match for the man. Part of him, for a brief moment, wondered how he would compare to Anzo and Ansley in such good-natured competition, but he quickly dismissed the idea. No, that was too much ado for him, especially at a feast like this; there were far too many people. As such, Lauchlan again scanned the area for a less crowded table, hoping to find some reprieve from drunkenness and ale-splashing dwarves. He spotted a relatively empty table where two women sat, both of whom looked unfamiliar. Likely, they were new-- they looked about as awkward as he felt--but they seemed quiet and composed.
Lauchlan was halfway risen from his seat when someone called his name. Kenna had made her way through the crowd, and Lauchlan couldn't say he wasn't happy to see her. She was a straightforward woman, and that was something Lauchlan deeply appreciated in a leader: no nonsense and no unnecessary song and dance.
"Kenna," he greeted in reply, relaxing his expression into a half-smile. It was about all he could muster in such a draining situation. "It has," he agreed, "better part of a year. It's good to see you well."
Kenna returned a small smile of her own at the northern man. "Has it been that long?" She questioned rhetorically. "You're a competent man, Lauchlan. It'd be great to work with you again. I could put in a word with Commander Jautice, if you're interested." She could stand to be surrounded by more people she liked. Especially with her second being so insufferable.
"Thank you," Lauchlan said, still managing the half smile. That was high praise from Kenna, and he was pleased to hear she thought as much. "And yes, I'd take you up on that, so long as it means an assignment north of Artana. Many more ventures to the Southern Kingdoms and I think I may melt."
The elven woman chuckled dryly at that. "Another time, then. I'm not at liberty to go into much detail right now, but I do know I'm headed significantly south of Artana." She groaned as Lareira entered her peripheral vision. Apparently her disregard wasn't going to be a two way deal.
There was a crackle in the air when Lareira clipped her shoulder against Kenna's, the force not unnoticeable. On most days Lareira would have avoided the contact, a bitter look enough to satisfy her dislike, but the unhealthy dose of liquor in her blood emboldened her. Kenna followed Lareira's movements with a sharp glare, some choice words balanced on the tip of her tongue. If not for the other woman's inebriation, she would have given her an earful then and there. Although spared for the night, Lareira would definitely hear about this in the near future, if not from Kenna herself then from another superior.
"Keep it in mind." The Lead Scout's tone had taken a clear note of irritation, which she hoped Lauchlan understood was not directed at him. "If you'll pardon me, his majesty put a lot of effort into this feast and I'd hate to see it descend into something unpleasant. Farewell, Lauchlan." Without another word Kenna departed from the scene.
The terse exchange between Lareira and Kenna didn't go unnoticed, but Lauchlan merely nodded to the elf as she departed. He didn't want to see the feast devolve into anything unpleasant either, but Lareira was drunk, and it would likely do little good to chide her now.
"Hm, still walks like she stuck her pointed ears up her ass," Lareira said, chasing the words with a deep swig of wine.
"Bena wash ya mous," came the half slurred, half muffled words from the slumped drunk across the table.
"...What?" Lareira said, her nose wrinkled slightly at the hint of bile that was wafting from across the table. Her eyebrow cocked in question, but her hands still drifted up and down the table pulling bites of this and that to her plate. With great effort, Tóra pulled her head back up from where it had been nestled in the crook of her arm to send a bloodshot glare at Lareira.
"I said, bes' watch ya goddamn mouth," Tóra spat, the words were still a slanted mess, but at least they were distinguishable as a coherent thought. The snort that followed was perhaps not the answer that Tóra wanted. With a cruel grin, Lareira shot a glance over her shoulder where Kenna had disappeared before turning her gaze back on the bumbling drunk seated across from her.
"Oh an admirer. Well, don't be shy," she mocked. "Kenna needs a good screw. Who knows, maybe you will be able to finally work that stick out of her ass."
Tóra's hand darted out across the table towards a cluster of silverware that had been set out. With incredible skill she grasped the handle of her weapon of choice and brandished the deadly...spoon.
Laughing down the barrel of the spoon that had been brandished at her, Lareira turned away from the drunk girl and reached over to a fruit platter to continue to help herself. The laugh must have torn at the booze-thinned control that Tóra had been maintaining. Spoon still in hand, she leapt from her seat and sailed over the table, arms outstretched. Lareira's hand groped for an apple, but instead found thin air as Tóra collided with her and the pair tumbled to the floor. A cascade of food followed them, along with a shower of glass as a few bottles crashed to the floor. Shock knocked the fighting sense from Lareira, and a moment later the floor knocked her breath away as well. Lareira went deaf to the crowd as blood rushed to her head and roared through her ears. Her mind was a blank of confusion. Had that really just happened? It would not be the first time her tongue had gotten her into trouble, but then again it was the first time that a drunk had threatened her with a spoon.
As she tried to recover her breath, Lareira was vaguely aware that while her opponent was looming over, Tóra seemed frozen in confusion. Whatever fogginess was clouding the woman's thoughts didn't last long and, as she looked down at Learia, a grin spread nastily across her face. Clearly bolstered by her apparent victory, Tóra wound up and brought her fist down across Lareira's face. There was a sickening crunch where fist met face and Lareira was dazed enough that she barely remembered to raise her arms up to offer her face protection from another blow.
Tóra's face was twisted with loathing and she brought the knife she thought she had grabbed close to Lareira's neck to threaten her again. It was only now that bloodshot eyes seemed to focus on the object that was brushing against Lareira's throat.
"'Sa funny looking knife," she mused to herself. Suddenly, her vicious smile was pushed aside for an expression of shock and a northern curse.
The revelation was enough pause to give Lareira a chance to reach up and grab Tóra by the collar, twisting with a single hard movement that threw Tóra off her perch and onto the floor. Both girls scrambled to their feet, growls bubbling in their throats as they faced each other. Scarlet drops began to dot their skin, pricks from the glass that they had just rolled through. Lareira also had a thin line that dripped steadily from her nose to color her lips. With the sting of the blow still very fresh and with less booze slowing her system, Lareira was the first to break the standoff.
Charging in close, Lareira raised an arm to block as Tóra swung at her with the spoon, an eye twitching in a wince as the edge scrapped at her ribs. Damn, she was rusty at hand to hand. Distracted, she aimed a little higher than she meant to, feeling her knuckles connect with ribs instead of Tóra's stomach like she had been hoping. Even so, the blow was still a good one, knocking Tóra backwards a couple of paces before causing her to bend double as she fought to breathe through an eruption of coughing and retching.
Grabbing her opponent by the hair, Lareira pulled Tóra up to eye level before loosing a couple of punches into that stupid, elf-loving face. The force of the blows and the numbing effect of alcohol caused Tóra to twist around in Lareira's grip. Letting go of the clump of hair, Lareira instead reached across the other woman's shoulder and placed her hand across Tóra's mouth, pulling her backwards on her heels so that drunk's ear was level with Lareira's mouth.
"I'll make you regret being born to your whore of a mother," Lareira whispered before using her free hand to launch a savage blow at where she thought Tóra's kidneys were. Just as she was about to strike again, Lareira felt a searing pain in the hand covering Tóra's mouth. The damned shit-faced cow was biting her! Already she could feel a trickle of blood running past the base of her thumb. Desperately, Lareira smacked the side of Tóra's head until she felt the sweet relief of the pressure on her hand being released. Intent on checking the severity of the damage to her hand, she pushed Tóra with all her might, sending the drunken harpy tumbling to the floor.
The sound of an outraged shriek made Lareira look up from her injured hand, and smiled when she saw a large white griffin turning angrily on her opponent's sprawled form. Tora had landed on the griffin's tail, and the animal was none too pleased about it. The griffin in question whipped her tail free of the offender and snapped angrily at the woman, though she did not attack. She was, however, hissing and looking utterly scandalized.
Lareira's confidence was bolstered by the knowledge that she had a griffin on her side, and she stepped forward only to find herself being lifted off the floor by her waist.
The fight had, thus far, happened very quickly.
When the two women had come to blows, one pinning the other to the floor, Lauchlan had jumped to his feet, looking outraged at the disrespectful behaviour. With some effort, he managed to grab Lareira around the waist, extracting her from the fight and pulling her away from Tóra.
"Come to your senses!" he snapped, trying to get a better hold on the flailing woman.
That, however, was proving a difficult task. She was fighting like a thing possessed.
Struggling to get her there, he hauled the woman up over his shoulder, incurring several scratches on his arms and neck in the process.The archer was a lot stronger than Lauchlan would've guessed, and he'd seen the woman fight before. Apparently she was all the more aggressive when drunk.
Madness struck her, and Lareira groped for the decorative hummingbird pin that had somehow managed to stay perched in her hair. Trinket as it was, it did have a very sharp point at the end and right now she had few qualms about using it.
Lauchlan winced as the hairpin was stabbed into the back of his right arm. "Dammit, woman--" He hissed, trying to maintain his hold, "stop this nonsense. Are you out of your bloody mind?" He'd managed to resecure a grip on her, but a hissing griffin chose that moment to streak past him, causing him to overbalance. Reflexively, he released one had from Lareira, bracing it on the table to steady himself, but that was just enough for the writhing girl to slip from his grasp. In a split second her feet hit the ground and she charged toward Tóra, the pin raised high. Though the booze had long stopped its slow burning, the heat of the fight seared away her sense and control. It would be so easy; Tóra was unarmed and almost blind through the blows that she had suffered. It would be so easy!
"Easy, Lareira, easy." Morcoth had extracted himself from the crowd to grab Lareira cross the waist with one arm, his other hand grabbing her wrist. With one arm pinned to her side and the hair piece subdued in Morcoth's iron grip she could do little but wriggle and curse. With a voice like one would use with a spooked beast, Morcoth spoke, until finally, exhausted by the fight and her struggle against Lauchlan, her body slowly went limp. It was another half a minute before the blood finally drained from her eyes and her breath stopped hissing through her teeth.
[BCOLOR=transparent]"There ya are, thought we'd lost ya." Morcoth said with a sigh, letting his grip loosen slightly but did not let go completely. He gave her a chance to find her footing again, all the while Lareira blinked bemused, as though unsure of what had just transpired. Nervously she fidgeted with the hairpin her mind slowly clicking back into place as her eyes darted from Tóra, to Lauchlan, to Morcoth, to an enraged griffin, and back again. Finding it warm and slick in her grasp she looked down to see that she was attempting to make a small puddle on the floor as her hand dripped scarlet onto the stone tiles. Seeing her gaze Morcoth reached down and slipped the pin from her hand, tucking out of sight. [/BCOLOR]
[BCOLOR=transparent]"I think thats enough for tonight." he said gently and without another word guided Lareira away. For once she had no comments, and followed along gentle as a lamb.[/BCOLOR]
Meanwhile, two Wardens were lifting the semi-conscious Tóra to her feet only for one of them to immediately drop their side when the woman coughed up a mouthful of vile-looking dark liquid. The Warden left holding Tóra up grumbled a few choice curses at his retreating friend and his new charge before beginning the slow process of practically dragging her away to somewhere more suitable.
Featuring:
Applo's Tóra
E.T.'s Lareira
Rook's Kenna
DinoFeather's Lauchlan
