They Who Slaughter Kings IC

[Slade]

"Master, you must stay here and rest. The ritual saps too much of your strength."

"There is no time. I must gather the ingredients again and get the next teardrop. Plus I have to scout for information."

"Please reconsider I beg you. You have been pushing yourself too much. I will go get what you need as well as listen to the rumors of the world."

"No. You must return. You have been gone for too long and they will start to get suspicious."

"They know I'm on Assignment."

"And they know that you're skilled enough to not take very long. You must return and assume your old role."

"I hate reliving the past."

"We all do. Now it up to us two to bring about a change to the future. Which is why I must get back on the road quickly."

"Then be careful. Rumors are starting to pop up about sightings of you. Surely Lysander will hear of it and take it seriously. The pressure put on us will be even worse then. You've been too bold recently."

"I'm not worried about that bag of dust and ash! Even if he knew exactly where I was he could do nothing. For soon his hands are going to be tied."

"Then it's true that-

"Yes. How Ironic that Boris will be indirectly helping us. His involvement has only sped up the process. Once Lysander figures everything out, he'll be scrambling like a beheaded chicken."

"And what of the others? Will they interfere?"

"The only ones capable of being a real problem are Sarda and Franco. Franco doesn't know enough to understand whats going on. And Sarda, despite his power, is chained like a dog by those three desperate little schemers. Paranoid that their pet will break something.

"What about Jaqcue?"

"What about Jaqcue."

"Heh. Good point."

"Go now. Back to your masters."

"You are my only Master. And unlike him, I have always followed you voluntarily."

"You once abandoned me."

"Yes. Because I thought we could awaken from this awful dream through other, subtler means. Now I know better. I know that you were always right. I was foolish to believe the dream could end any other way."
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________



"Remember to leave a good impression when you get to the Banquet." Benedict replied to the group that followed him up the maze of stairs throughout the complex city of Voima. With the city split into seven layers it was easy for one to get completely lost. Still, at least it was a bright sunny day out; a good omen in Benedict's mind, for heading out to the Eastern Wild Lands was always a dangerous prospect. More so now that Vulgo caravans were disappearing on a regular basis. He had assembled a good team, he hoped the King would think so too but just as important, he hoped the rest of the nobility would approve. He already knew Klemetti would complain, but Klemetti was always difficult so Benedict didn't assume that he would be getting his support. Still there were always others who would prove to be less ornery. Udo was a good example. Though he still held a immense dislike towards Jackal, he otherwise proved to be a rather pleasant fellow.

"Keep in mind that you will be inspected and watched closely by everyone. Most of you aren't noble so they will be checking you over carefully." Benedict had to smile. Only a few City-States in the Eastern Vulgo could be more pretentious and lavish that Gyrus's infamous nobility, whose arrogance had only grown under Lysander's success.

They were also late, the banquet had started without them quite a while ago. Still, knowing the habits of the nobility, Benedict figured that they would probably start off with endless chatting before delving into the feast. Benedict with his entourage walked up the stairway to the 6th level, which unlike all the others were guarded by a squad of soldiers. This was the living quarters of the nobles after all, couldn't have some riffraff just barging on through. All the guards recognized Benedict and would normally let him pass but his group of followers prompted two of the soldiers to form an X with their spears, blocking the path until the captain spoke with the Knight. Benedict was a high ranking member of the nobility and while others would be fuming at the prospect of being blocked off by common soldiers, Benedict simply smiled and explained that his small, armed entourage of adventurers were here to see the King personally. The poor captain, his eyes went wide and he barked at his guards to let them all pass, declaring a thousand apologies to Benedict for obstructing him, which Benedict merely laughed off and continued up the stairs.

The 7th level was flattened out and paved meticulously and unlike the other levels which had a large number of buildings, the 7th only had one. The huge courthouse, which housed the King and his relatives and was also was the prime seat of power within Gyrus. Its two doors were over twenty feet tall and built with steel that was a foot thick. However these doors were also beautiful and had carvings of Gyrus's previous kings dating back to the founding of the Kingdom thousands of years ago. However, the face that was bigger than even those legendary kings was a young Lysander, who was given long, flowing hair and a braided beard. The details that were given to his face were so intricate that it outclassed any of the other kings that were present. The fact that it was carved into steel was telling of the immense work and craftsman ship that went into making these doors. It would always be the first thing one would see before entering the court room. Reminding everyone of Lysander's greatness.

Benedict could hear the excessive noise inside and smiled. He was right, they hadn't even touched their food yet so their tardiness would hardly be noted. Unlike the previous guards, the ones at the door let Benedict and his band in without question. These soldiers were the elites and they knew Benedict was coming and more importantly, who he was bringing with him.

It was easy for the courtroom to turn into a banquet hall. It was already a huge room, housing wooden tables that were easily a hundred feet long where not only the Nobility dwelt, but their knights and squires as well as their own servants. That wasn't including the guards that were stationed throughout the room, of which there were at least a hundred. In the back of the court room were doors that led to the kitchens where the food was still being prepared with dozens of raging fires and large cauldrons. Doors to the side were where a mass of servants of the King went in and out, providing services such as wine and even playing instruments if they had the skill, prompting merry laughter from a nobility that were often quite stuck up and pompous.

When Benedict and his group entered, the noise only went down slightly with others noting their presence but were otherwise too busy in their own affairs to care at the moment. Still others spoke in hushed whispers and pointed towards their group with speculative fingers. Benedict didn't really care about all of that though, what mattered was to talk to the King as soon as possible, though he frowned when he finally caught sight of him

King Lysander sat on the throne before his feast, his elderly appearance was drastically different then the image of his younger years that had been carved on the door. His hair was still long though it was completely white and gray, with the texture of rough wires. It was also unkempt, as strands of it fell over his face. Which gave the impression of a grumpy old man, who was simply too old to be bothered with most problems he came across. His body had withered from age and his strength had left him years ago, his elegant robes and cloaks now seem to barely hang on him they were so big. Everything about him seemed anything but kingly, keen and cunning perhaps. But not kingly. All except his eyes, those dark gray eyes which spoke of an immense power, and a raging, eternal fury to those who dared not to respect such power and authority.

Benedict had frowned because Lysander was surrounded by nobles, and they were all important. He could tell by their stern expressions and hushed whispers that the topic was anything but pleasant. Among that group he spotted the notorious Conrad Klemetti, who looked even more unpleasant than he normally did. Benedict sighed, Klemetti could actually be a handsome man if he just stopped all the scowling. Still, Benedict knew he would have to wait for a moment before speaking with the king. Though he narrowed his eyes when he noticed an important person missing from the group that spoke with the King.

Where was Jackal?

Ah! Benedict spotted him among the tables, quietly drinking to himself. No one bothered to talk to Jackal as most of the nobility hated him and would have nothing to do with him. Benedict seemed to be one of the few exceptions. Though he certainly acknowledge that the man was suspicious at times, he agreed with the King that Jackal was a phenomenal adviser and incredibly resourceful. He felt the ire that was directed at Jackal was undeserved, though it wasn't as if Jackal had ever done anything to ease relations between himself and the nobility. He never once invited them as guests to his home, never sent them gifts nor made any attempts to acknowledge them. It seemed he despised them as much as they hated him. He was just more subtle about it. He also wasn't an impressive man by any means; he was generally unassuming with a few brisk whiskers and short brown hair. He simply didn't look like someone who would be Lysander's most trusted adviser, he just looked like a commoner, even a peasant at times. Benedict guessed that he wasn't with the King to prevent the nobles from causing a stir, and would give his thoughts with the King later. He would have to say a few words to Jackal later on, assuming someone from his group didn't join the man for a drink.

Benedict looked around, spotting other people of noteworthiness until his eyes zoned in on Shay, the merchant who fled from Xabsiga and was given temporary refuge by Lysander out of pity and curiosity for his wares. Though Benedict had personally advised against it. Shay sat with other members of the minor nobility and seemed comfortable enough, though he had an odd habit of shifting his eyes throughout the courtroom, as if constantly afraid that something would strike at him. His smile was toothy and nervous and the bags under his eyes showed stress and a severe lack of sleep. Plus his fingers were constantly tapping on the table, he was anxious and afraid of something. Though what that was was the real question. It was true he was accused of Demon worship back in Xabsiga, but the Draco Cauda held no influence here in Gyrus. Benedict figured there was something else going on. Though since this man openly collected and sold Demonic items Benedict was certain he didn't want to know what sort of trouble the merchant was really in. Though his entourage might want to learn more and talk to him

Finally, Benedict smiled as he spotted two familiar faces. Udo and Aapa. Two fast friends who could not be more different. Udo was stoic and serious, rarely smiling and having almost no sense of humor. Though generally a decent enough man past his taciturn moods. He was especially fond of his troops stationed back at Fort Seima. Aapa was also a commander of a fort, though it was Fort Sorto up to the north. A bit of a backwater region since it was erected to defend against another possible Orc attack, but since that had never happened (nor would it ever happen) Sorto wasn't maintained as well and its soldiers were of a lower quality, often new recruits. Aapa, was jovial and laughed often. Often prodding and teasing Udo and the others. Though like Udo, he too was a massive man. Famously known for wielding a warhammer with ease. Benedict would have to chat with them at some point during the feast. Assuming that the two commanders didn't take a liking to his recruits.

A servant meekly walks up to Benedict and whispers in his ear. His once smiling face becomes a little more serious as he nods and sends the servant away, he turns and looks and his recruits. Each and every single one of them he had chosen for their unique skills. After traveling with them to the capital and speaking to each of them, getting to know and understand them just a bit more, they had his utmost confidence.

"I'm afraid I must go see the King privately, please have a seat anywhere you like and have some wine. Though careful not to drink too much. I still have to present you to everyone."

And with that, he was off, walking with a hurry towards the King. It seems whatever the servant whispered worried Benedict greatly, and he joined the group of nobles surrounding Lysander with stern faces, furrowed brows and hushed whispers.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Men chose glory missions, the ones where you either lived to be told tales of, or you died to be celebrated in tales you'd never hear. For either the fame or glory, though there was a third and greedier kind. The greedier kind wanted both. He was skeptical of anyone choosing a situation that either you lived to tell the tale yourself or die to lay waste to a single wordless whisper on death's door. The only people who chose those kinds of missions were the greedy seeking their fame. Or so desperate that they didn't care if they died any more.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He wasn't sure which category he fit into. He already had the fame, even if it were a throne made of iron, spikes, and infamy. But he most certainly did not want to die, nor did he want to see his name go down as a hero either. Still it was best he kept his identity mostly at bay. Give Benedict a few breadcrumbs. Though he was worried that no matter the glory mission, none of it would save him from iron bars if he were ever caught.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He always knew before even getting to the party that he'd have to acquire a separate identity for the mean time. Of course he told Benedict a little of who he was. A man hired to kill. It was an honest job. He wasn't some vigilante bettering the world. He never claimed to be a infamous man either though. The clothes he acquired were off some noble earlier.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The man wasn't dead. Just better off locked in the cabinet for the mean time. It was a very nice cabinet. He figured a good couple pounds or so. A good antiquity. Even with the noise and bustle of the castle and the city, Nuit was not distracted. He was paying attention the team Benedict had himself.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some roguish man probably late twenties, while Nuit was not one to judge a book by his cover, the man had a laid back quality that made him wonder why he was here. Nuit would have to watch and pay attention to that one.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some good looking guy also in his late twenties, who could have fit along with the nobles here. Which intrigued Nuit in knowing who he was. In Nuit's line of work, knowledge was power. The more knowledge he had the more power he had.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A woman who could be good in a fight, but she also could not be in a good fight. The armor could have been for show. Have to figure out more listening in on conversations. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was another young woman, very young in fact. She didn't look more than a peasant, yet she was chosen for this group. Another one to consider before all of this was over. While appearances could lie, she certainly seemed the least useful. Did Benedict invite his cousin over? He was unsure about that one.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Some country bumpkin. Was the only way he could describe the other guy. He certainly didn't seem to fit in with the mood, but that didn't bother him as much as peasants and sunshine.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]There was a curious little bard woman he noticed as well. He recognized her from a tavern on the outskirts of another town, what a couple years back? Voice like a songbird. Not someone he would have considered though to join a live or die situation.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]And another country bumpkin, with a staff of some sort. What had they had here? A crowd of the desperate and depraved. People who needed the money? He was hoping to see more effective soldiers, but they all looked like they had been called off their day jobs whatever it be and asked to storm the castle.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Which was a massive display of wealth and luxury. This was the closest anyone of his kind would have gotten close to a king. Assassins that is. Most of the soldiers, in this heavily fortified bunker would have cut down an assassin before they could even get to the king. A lavish soiree set up in the hall. Several noble guest whom Nuit could point out.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He knew them by name. And he knew whom wanted to kill whom and for what reason. Merely by the notes left as his dead drops. Evil machinations the wealthy were. Plotting and spying, while lying with smiles, and fake friendships.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]It was almost too much cynicism for him to bare. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]A servant had walked weakly to Benedict and whispered something. Nuit was observant, he wondered what those lips read, but too far to really catch anything important. They were told to drink, and talk he supposed or assumed amongst themselves. Drinking was fine with him. It allowed him to ignore the pain in his arm. Which was letting him know of poor boyish decisions. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He took the opportunity to slip through everyone mostly unnoticed to find himself behind the bard woman. Her name had started with a K and she had sung songs about high adventures in a chipper voice. If the only complaint he had was that her wardrobe needed some cheering up, than it really wasn't a complaint. Was it?[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Last time I was served cheap wine, at least the location also had a better sing," he joked in his already low voice, that was merely a calm, but gentle whisper on its own, "How about we liven up the party of these fancy breecher wearing nobles, and add some fun to the party?"[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He had already his goal in mind. While Benedict expected good behavior. Nuit wasn't entirely incline to follow aptly behind. Nobles were too stuffy. They were liars. And he half heartedly expected they could add something to the mix in this party to make men jumping off walls, breeches to fall to the floor, and men licking walls claiming fruit were growing on them. [/BCOLOR]

 

[Grothnor]

Renvar proceeded in with Sir Benedict, silently scanning the room. He recognized a handful of the crowd of nobles as some of his former employers. He could guess at what those that saw him were whispering of him: "There's the torturer, the one from Xabsiga, the Draco Cauda." Among the common folk he was but another face, but among the nobles of the court of Gyrus, he was a poorly kept secret.

Fortunately, his presence was overshadowed by another Xabsigan native, Shay. Renvar took a dim view of the mercantile expatriate. Anyone dealing in demonic artifacts was guilty of profaning the name of the God-King; even if he wasn't a worshiper, dealing in them was blasphemy enough. However, the loathing and disgust he would normally feel towards the merchant was muted by the hypocrisy of his situation. How could he truly condemn the man when he himself had abandoned his sacred duty?

Renvar sighed before Sir Benedict ordered them to relax and await his return. He nodded as the knight went off to discuss matters of import, then went for a goblet of wine as ordered. Taking a goblet from a passing servant, he briefly questioned if it was poisoned before throwing the concern away. If the Draco Cauda wanted me dead, they'd have killed me with a simpler means. I am certainly not worth starting a war over. He drank the wine faster than the vintage deserved and eyed the garishly dressed assassin. He had known many from his days in the Draco Cauda, and pegged Nuit as one the moment he laid eyes on him. "We are here by the good graces of Sir Benedict," Renvar warned. "Do not abuse his trust."

 

[gamer5]

Unlike most of the group that Benedict gathered here Jeanna was well used to dealing with nobles and was dressed as properly as possible, given the short amount of time she had to prepare. So she did the only thing she had time to - removed the iron guards on her leather armor and put a simple pale blue dress over it, covering it from sight and thous at least looking decent. Although most of her luggage was on her horse in the stable of a inn, her scythe was with her, trough she did cover its blade with rope-tied cloth, but it was a massive thing and drew attention. So it only took a few moments for some of the gathered people to recognize her. She could guess that some of her many nicknames she gathered were now being passed between those gathered in the hall. She felt as if she could almost hear all the words that refereed to her pass from lip to lip; "Reaper", "Bloodhound of Ragabash", "Death", "Bloody Scythe" and so on.

But it was her companion-to-be that caught her attention with his words which insulted the food and wine of the one that invited them here while suggesting they add some fun to the party. Another of her companions-to-be quickly rebuked him about the fact they were here thanks to Benedict. She felt like she also had something to say so she spoke up as well: "Assassin, you do not want to see my idea of fun. It is not a sight many would like to see. We are here to present ourselves to the king, nothing more. So don't even thing about starting something that might influence the future of us all, because it would be the last thing you ever do. Mark my words." She had little like for assassins and similar figures as most were cowards and greedy sell-swords. They had no honor and were usually boring and uninteresting to fight. She doubted that this one was any different from the rest. She looked around, searching for a nice, quiet and isolated seat, while waiting to see if the conversation would continue or if they were done and she could go.

 

[Sir Salty]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Seemed this group had quick ears. A private conversation had become family it seemed, so quickly Nuit had to address both the woman. And the man who looked like a monk going on a pilgrimage. He was not in the mood for stick in the muds nor those on high horses. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]The cheeky attitude he had presented had quickly fizzled over to his more meticulous nature as he stared between the both of them. His arm giving him a sizable pain as well as these two.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Should have told that to the Fat Baron of the Iron Walls," Nuit told the woman first, "I don't even know if you know the Baron, but we have had dealings before." He paid him to take down a few political adversaries in the day, "Man was called fat for two reasons, the first reason was for the size of his pockets naturally. The second was well he was quite large. And I suppose the third reason is because he also had quite the sizable parties."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Nuit brushed a blond bang from his mask, well it wasn't even his. But he planned to return it to Jermaine later.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"One time he spiked the drinks with something that had all the nobles hanging upside down from chandeliers," Nuit took a pause, "Eventually we, the Baron, and many of the nobles, found ourselves in a whore house with no recollection of the nights before."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He took another second with a chuckle, "That and most of the nobles and dukes of the Iron city were all bloody naked, and the story goes eyewitnesses saw them stripping in the middle of town. Good old bread trail of fancy knickers in cobblestone streets as nobles were chasing whores."[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Nuit shrugged.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I suppose old age and wisdom, and I suppose experience and pretty ladies have all things in common, a high horse, and a stick rammed so far up their ass they cannot even fathom to think of having a little fun,"[/BCOLOR]

 

[Tempest]

It was along the way to the party that Coby half-listened to Benedict as their vividly glowing eyes darted back and forth beneath their mask and head turned back and forth, taking in every detail as they passed along their path. In their mind they were drawing a mental map of every twist and turn and the entire area they could see as they came upon it, taking notes on everything they saw and the paths of people unconsciously as an endless stream of questions bobbed to the surface of their mind needing to be answered and attempting to answer them. At Benedict's comment about being inspected, and looked over regularly, Coby perks up like a deer caught in torchlight and looks to him with an unreadable expression... Unreadable if only because of the mask that kept their face from view. They give him a good long stare before quickly patting over their set of leathers and tunic, sending dirt and loose debris scattering out and smoothing it out more presentably.

As they come upon the guards, Coby crooks their head and follows the points of the polearms up to their pinnacle before crossing their arms in a mock presentation, bobbing their head back and forth quizzically. They wait as Benedict speaks, trying to listen and catch what they were saying before catching the profuse apologies of guards. Baffled, Coby quickly clasps their own hands together and bows themselves forward towards the guard, thankful, apologetic, they weren't sure, but they do it several times as they side step around before jogging to catch up with the rest of the group.

As they came to the last set of doors and would be readying to go inside, despite their wide-open status, Coby looks up uncertain at the great staring face and then inside. They quickly shuffle up to the monolith of a door and knock in a rhythmic nature before entering past the threshold after the others and scan the great hall where everyone was drinking quite merrily. Their hand goes to their stomach where a gurgling at the scent of food and they loose a faint grunt, glancing around for any food. Their eyes gravitate slowly along to bits and pieces laid out here and there but not much that looked like the real food cooking.

Servants pass by with trays with goblets upon them low and nearby. They crane their head and try to sniff at them and even manage to get a whiff of a couple. Quickly, they manage to even snatch some to smell more closely, replace, grab another, sniff... then got stuck with one. It seemed like something that could be drunk. Others that came with them were drinking it now. Coby looks at them long and hard after Benedict dismissed them to go their own way and they settled in close to more, prattle on insultingly infighting. They blink slowly before their mouth works behind the mask and they let out in a croaking rasp, "Must have been cold," in comment to Nuit's tale.

They begin to walk along meandering around the hall, holding the goblet. A time or two, they even attempt to get a drink, but the goblet did not quite suit with the visor. Frowning, they settle into a chair not far from the nobles, not paying much mind for who was who and touches over their bandolier before finding a hollowed out reed and popping it into the goblet. They raise the reed to the goblet and begins to suck wine up through it delighted in their success as they look up curiously. Seeing the appetizers of sorts on the table, Coby looks at the noble next to their and starts scooting their chair closer. They inch it steadily forward, creeping quietly before tapping the noble on the shoulder, staring at them with dead steady eyes and then pointing at the food and then themselves and then the food again.

 

[Rae]

Selia Mallory had been told many things in her lifetime. She'd been regarded as misfortune yet also praised as beyond the skills of many, especially given her particular disability. The death that had followed her life was like a stench that could never be lifted, but only a few knew its extent. When she had first been approached by Sir Benedict, it had been quite the surprise. She could tell from the smell of him that he wasn't the usual estranged person who came to her with promises of gold. Now, of all things, she was here to see the king of arguably the most powerful kingdom in the world.

When they had passed through the threshold into the courtroom-turned-dining hall, she had immediately been suffocated by the vast array of smells, sounds, and the addled shadow world of her sight. It took her many moments to orient herself, having to sift through the jumbled assault on her mind to find what was important. That was the thing about the Sight. In such a large crowd of talkative nobles, she could see hundreds of intended actions--possibilites that made little sense with so many people grouped together as they were. When she finally got hold of herself, she was able to follow the group without difficulty, avoiding tables and servants.

The whispers were more than obvious, but luckily they were not all directed at her. She heard many interesting comments, though it was impossible for her to tell who they were about specifically. Selia did, however, know quite well when she was the topic of conversation. "Is that woman blind?" "She looks it, for sure." "How does she get around?" "Must be magic..."

It was nothing unexpected. Her grey, unseeing eyes were more than a little noticeable. Giving a soft sigh, she focused less on their petty comments and more on the people who would be her new comrades. One of them--the assassin, if she remembered his voice correctly--suggested they make the party more interesting. Selia, ever the stoic woman, gave little reaction to the idea, but she found it rather childish. They were here on the good graces of an (apparently) important man. What's more, they were here to see King Lysander--arguably one of the greatest kings to have ruled Gyrus.

Luckily, there was little need for her to say anything on the matter, as two of the others jumped in without hesitation. She remained silent as he responded with an outrageous story about naked nobility running around unabashed. It seemed entirely fantastic to her, but so did the rest of this situation. She was more worried about meeting the king--and her current hunger combined with thirst. Not knowing who was serving wine and who was enjoying it, she stood quietly, listening carefully to the conversations of her companions. Her own pride disallowed her from asking for help in finding a servant. Eventually, the smell of new wine and a distinct lack of perfumes and silks would guide her.

 

[Tempest]

The noble startles at Coby's touching of his sleeve and the fingerprints left behind on his white overcoat. He takes a napkin and dips it in a glass of water and quickly sets to clear his sleeve of the marks, glowering. "What? What?" Coby gestures at the food and themselves again. "Oh. Yes. Yes. It is for everyone here. Just, do not touch me with those grimy paws of yours again," he shudders and shifts his seat a bit away from them. Coby crooks their head and looks at the food before picking up a piece of cheese and a knife, cutting a chunk and offering it out to the noble. "No... I'm quite alright," the noble says dryly before turning to pay attention to the conversation.

Coby pauses and feeds the piece of cheese under their visor instead with a shrug before grabbing a scarlet napkin, chewing noisily. They unfold it and begin to pile goodies onto the napkin in front of themselves: cheese, grapes, nuts. A small little harvest to tidy themselves over before the real food comes. They nibble on it and sip on the wine and glance across the table at Jackal and Shay. They make a polite little wave with a piece of fruit between their fingers before thumping their chest twice, "Coby." They slurp up the last of their wine through the reed before lifting it up, tapping it of its droplets before passing it off to a servant and grabbing a new one. Uncertainly, Coby watches the short haired girl that looked about with dead-grey eyes. Whispers of words met Coby's ears that tickled their interest and made them worry about why they seemed to just be standing there.

Coby huffs and eventually pushes themselves up, straw in fresh goblet and approaches them, this one that they called blind but that they had no words for yet. Coby places a hand on the small of their back and tries to softly say, though it comes out unpracticed and rasping, "Drink. Follow and sit." They said blind, it was a foreign concept, and they had no idea how to really help. Yet, their hand as light and giving a soft urge in the direction towards where Coby had been sitting, the brink between the more common and the noble, to allow them to choose which sort they wished to interact with or hear in the coming feast. More, they was giving the blind woman the choice. If she wanted to follow, they would be there together. If not, Coby would just go back to their little food pile quite happily alone. For now, Coby was just offering the chance of being a guide and their glass of wine, reed straw and all.

 

[BlueFlameNikku]

For Sir Henry Udolf it felt good to be visiting the city of Voima once again as he has taken ventures to the city on accounts of some trips with his uncles as well as some tournaments that have been held here. He felt comfortable and confident as he always while present and in sight of the people of his home kingdom; though even more so on this day as along with the rest of his group were on course to the top level of the city to be inspected by the high nobles of Gyrus as well as the king Lysander himself. Having already sent and received word from his family of the honor of such an audience swelled his family with pride. He walked through the streets closer to Sir Benedict than the rest as a fellow knight of the kingdom even if the stations both held were quite different in ranking. The knight's steel half-plate armor clanking against the stone ground as most armor would as it's polished surface reflected the suns beaming rays, his crimson shoulder cape pressed clean as it flutters slightly while his longsword lies still within his sheath. His uncles have told him that a knight has no more noble garb than what he wears on the battlefield as anything less would be an insult.

Upon reaching the seventh level Sir Henry kept a stern expression as they all made way to the massive steel doors and entered the courtroom turned into banquet hall. Each step the man took held strength and intent as he entered the room with an expelling aura of valor, pride and bravery though despite the numerous eyes peering and questioning the group; some said eyes likely knowing exactly who Sir Henry Udolf was as apart of the known knightly house of Udolf within Gyrus. Whether the whispers of him were of good or foul nature Udolf's eyes didn't dart around the room or at others...only one person; his eyes lay upon King Lysander's with nothing but admiration. He new not to let the man's old stature fool him as he could feel that burning power and authority held within that dark gray gaze and fully respected that man sitting there more than any other soul in that room many times over.

Then onto his to be...companions. Not a moment after Sir Benedict leaves their sides order seems to go right out the window as if the hounds have just been left off leashes, for some at least. The first man's who spoke up within the group rang concern in Henry's ears at the thought of how dare he have such thoughts at a moment like this but before he could promptly react two others began handling the issue first. The two individuals with polearmish weapons on them, one man and one woman. Two at least...bearable individuals so far. Looking at a few of the others that have been moving as well. That one...sniffing the drinks and putting them back. A real odd ball that one. Yet he seems to hold some amount of manners...at certain points. Then a blind woman and who knows what else aside from Sir Benedict. As Sir Henry turns a quick glace at the rest of the odd crew assembled that he would be presumably working and fighting alongside; his hopes not finding much more purchase at the sight of the rest which included what seemed to be a small village girl.

Loosely resting his left armored hand upon the pommel of his sheathed sword while his right less armored hand becomes placed over his face. Shutting his eyes as he let's out a sigh and some almost hushed words though they were more so hushed from being apart of the sigh rather than being deliberately quiet as he spoke to himself. "May my ancestors grant me strength..." I hope Sir Benedict knows what he's doing with these lot. Sir Henry casual lifting a goblet of wine from a passing servant as he begins to sip at the beverage. He never drank much though he felt he was gonna need a little bit in him less he become so stressed at these..."people" disgracing the privilege of standing where they stood that he cleave their heads from their shoulders by his own blade.

 

[Dovahkiin]

Admittedly, Keevah was nervous. While on her travels from tavern to tavern, she'd happened upon her fair share of nobles, murmuring deals and scheming plans, but Western Vulgo politics seemed a stark contrast to Gyrus'. Shady dealings and assassinations were a common occurrence in the Western Vulgo, but that hadn't appeared to be the case in Gyrus. Nobles laughed freely in the banquet hall here, bereft of shifty eyes and apparent ulterior motive, with guards poised throughout the room; it all but screamed safety. Some part of her wondered if it was only superficial. Another part hoped she was right. She had more experience with less-than-righteous nobles, but, still, she tried her hand at casualness, expelling a quiet breath as Benedict parted from the group with a suggestion to find a seat, mingle, and go easy on the wine.

"Don't mind if I do," Keevah murmured, more to herself than anything. Her eyes were quick to scan the banquet hall for the nearest goblet-carrying servant. She made a beeline for a grinning servant, skirting around nobles, swiping up a goblet with a swift 'thank you', and lifting it to her lips for a sip. Grimacing, her gaze darted down to the wine. Well, that's... different. Taking another sip, she gave a small shrug. An acquired taste, she figured.

A low, softly spoken voice crept behind her. "Last time I was served cheap wine, at least the location also had a better sing. How about we liven up the party of these fancy breecher wearing nobles, and add some fun to the party?"

Quirking a brow, she turned to respond, but two others she recognized from the group beat her to it. The duo warned the assassin, Keevah mindlessly tapping her fingers on the goblet as she watched the assassin respond with acidity. "Let's not argue, hm?" she managed to get in, attempting to diffuse the situation with a smile. "Drink, enjoy the food!" She took more than a sip of her wine. Be merry and whatnot, Keev thought to herself before speaking up once more, this time addressing the assassin in particular. "We'll have plenty of other chances to be little deviants," she assured him, giving him a toothy, lopsided grin. "Nice seeing you again." She eyed his mask. "Sort of. Maybe next time you hear me sing in a tavern, you'll leave a tip." Flashing him a saccharine smile, she made her way to the table to sit. It was a hasty quip, leaving her mouth before she could bite her tongue.

Easing herself into a chair, her thoughts wandered to the group she was now a part of, downing the rest of her wine and smiling small at any noble she made eye contact with. In truth, she liked everyone in the group. Sir Benedict certainly assembled a diverse, if not odd, set of individuals.

 

[Silvir]

So much had been happening at the same time. Nobles, Cities and actual knights! Not to mention being called to stand in front of a king. Her journey till now was nothing compared to this. It was so exhilarating to have this chance as if out of some fairy tale.

Erin's heart fluttered in her chest as they walked up those stairs and the girl couldn't make out if it was from the thrill or out of fear. She could almost hear her mind scream at her to stop, slow down that it was going to fast, she was not ready for this yet. And yet she walked with these strangers into a completely different world from what she was used to.

With her mind racing, walking through the final door was like taking a cold shower. She had prepared herself as much as possible. But when that impressive piece opened and eyes turned towards them Erin was glad to be one of the smaller characters in the group. Though said group soon showed its notable variety as they shrugged of the limitations of Benedict's presence. Showing more restlessness then nervousness, they young girl didn't dare nor have much chance to say anything as a few quite frightening ideas and descriptions where presented by the large man who by the others was called an assassin.
Looking back and forth at the exchange worried a fight or something else would break out between the other party members, the group slowly dissolved instead leaving her standing with a feeling of being lost. Kindly offered a goblet of whine by a passing by servant who seemed to pity her Erin remained standing where she was sipping on it. It was a bitter taste.

 

[Rae]

Selia could both sense and see someone coming towards her, their shadowy wisp darting about much like their mind. When they had reached her, she recognized their smell and their voice immediately. Without much say in the matter, they led her to one of the tables, offering her a goblet with a curious piece of...straw floating about it. She merely shrugged, taking a sip and noticing instantly that this wine was far better than the kind you find in the taverns. As was to be expected, given the nobility that surrounded them with their constant chatter.

"Thank you," she said firmly, communicating what she was too prideful to admit. Despite her wondrous ability, this was still an environment completely unfamiliar to her senses. The sounds, the tastes, and the sights were so very different. The Sight, though devoid of color, was full of a strange sense of vibrance. She couldn't quite explain it even to herself, but it was perhaps the closest she would ever get to seeing the world as others did. Without a single word, she reached out to the food on the table, brushing her fingers against a block of cheese and a loaf a bread. Breaking off morsels of both, she ate as well as she could, marveling at the superior texture and taste of everything she was eating. It was quite delicious, to say the least.

"You're the one called Coby, right?" she finally said to her companion, figuring a simple conversation wouldn't hurt. She was neither shy nor introverted, but the constant movement of the room was a little dizzying. She glanced at them, able to see the general details of a strange-looking mask on Coby's face. They certainly were a strange sort of fellow. But then again, weren't they all? They had an assassin, a singer, a knight, a scythe-wielding mercenary, and many more strange folk to add to the conspicuous group. She wondered again how Sir Benedict had managed to find them all, for it was quite obvious each had a skill that he deemed useful.

 

[Sir Salty]

@Dovahkiin

[BCOLOR=transparent]He didn't wait long for a response. They could think about whatever they wanted about who was or what his profession was. A mercenary gets hired for the same work and slaughters in blood pounds more than he did. His survivability had always been in the way of influencing the courts. While the authorities may try to capture him or think he was of importance to find. He always had friends in high places and gold lined pockets. He was no more than another string for them to pull, but that didn't really matter to him. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Brushing another bang from his mask, the bard had spoken to him again. Her music, he could never forget her music. They met at the [/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent]Scumm Bar[/BCOLOR][BCOLOR=transparent] a couple years back, met was not exactly the right word. He had come to the bar under a much different identity then. Not as he was dressed now, or not as he was dressed normally.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He met her music first. Then her as a person. Probably because he didn't stop peering at her the five or six times he walked in for nothing. A joke meant between two friends reuniting was interrupted by people who thought themselves so important they had to impress Benedict. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Except wasn't the opposite more true. If they already had impressed Benedict, than Benedict should account and know all of their personal sensibilities. There was no need to impress anyone, maybe perhaps Lysander. He wanted to see how close he could get to the king though. Just to tease the guards. A playful smile twisted on his lips. Before he turned a silent heel to chase after Keevah, while also grabbing a goblet of wine. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She had eased herself into a seat and he raised a glass her way before deciding to lean on the wall instead of sitting. He didn't like making himself vulnerable. In these situations you never knew who was acting the fool. Assassins, would try. Even if they could not catch a king, they would try. Or a noble. To think someone may spike someone's wine with poison. Exciting. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]His left hand pricked from underneath the surface. Like knives that had become living needled worms. He nearly lost grip of his goblet, but recovered by grabbing it with his right hand. Shitface. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"About that tip," he began to speak to Keevah again, "I thought I did pay you." He actually had thrown a belt with a coin purse attached to it, it wasn't his, but most things he owned were borrowed, "Unless that doesn't count." he smiled.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He turned his gaze to the other companions. Watching them for a brief second. Something about parties livened up his spirits.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He turned back to Keevah.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"I also remember you owe me a ring," he told her. He would not admit out in public they may or may have not decided to steal a precious ring from an important lady in a town. But as he recalls it Keevah dropped a bobby pin the cracks of the floorboards and they had to make a dash for it out the window before anyone caught them.[/BCOLOR]

 

[Windstormugly]

The day was shaping up into something really interesting in Baltons opinion, fashionably late and everything, if the lack of others moving in their direction was any indication, heh, wonderful. Following sir Benedict up the stairs through the ascending levels alongside his fellow recruits the peddler for the twentieth time checked an inner pocket to make sure his iron key was there. It would have been moronic to carry his backpack and stuff around, so he had left them in a tavern in the middle levels. Thinking back it was months since he had last been without the comforting weight for so long.
Well, he thought you can't attend a noble banquet looking like just anything. A glance around at his future friends put that thought to rest however.

As they got up to the big doors he once again looked around at the others, so young some of them seemed, or maybe that was his business-mind talking. His hands were starting to tingle, how long had it been since he took a sip from the stabilizer, half a day? As the guards let them through Balton slowed his step and reached into his for once clean coat and fingered around, sure not to take any of the emergency vials he had prepared earlier, but let his fingers close about a rougher bottle made of hardened clay. The guards looked a bit... guarded, heh, as he took the bootle out and took a sip from it. Putting it away he went past them with a smile on his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

The lights were vibrant and the sounds washed over him like a sweet caress, oh how he had missed this, a steamy tavern couldn't compare! Or maybe that was the sip talking, he was feeling a bit lightheaded.
As their guide was currently surveying the room Balton joined in the study, his eyes stopping at the elderly king Lysander. Yeah, he would make sure not to underestimate this monarch.
It was at that time Benedict left them to find for themselves for a while. Pointing out that they shouldn't get absolutely wasted yet. Which wouldn't pose an issue for the peddler, his mind was clear and the tingling sensation was gone, he could have done a handstand if he wanted to.

Watching the others with him proved intriguing to say the least, the masked assassin immediately getting into a discussion with the scythe-woman and the, xabsigan? Balton could swear he recogniced that face from somewhere, maybe a family-member. Such an untimely topic as well, though the archery-woman had the right idea, let the banquet be enjoyed! Still, their own knight seemed a bit more despaired by how everyone acted.

"Just wine will not be good for you, I think those cheeses would do nicely, don't you agree?" he said, adreesing the one member of their group who seemed completely lost. He couldn't remember her name at the moment but he settled for giving her his best smile instead. Grabbing a goblet of his own he brushed past her motioneing with his hand for her to follow. As he passed their knightly friend he gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.

The tables proved to be just as joyfully filled with food as they had first appeared, Balton couldn't help taking a few bites of cheese and pie as he waited for the girl to join him. When she caught up however his eyes had fallen on something quite wonderful in the room, an old acquaintance! Putting a plate of goodies on a table next to the masked oddity and the blind woman and pointing for the girl to join them Balton made his way across the room.

"Shay, old friend! How have you been? Finally left Xabsiga did you?" Balton said. A big smile on his face as he walked up to the Xabsigan merchant and the surrounding nobles, some of them staring wideyed at the simply dressed peddler. It must have been the better of five years since he last visited the theocracy, that first stay had made Balton sure that staying for too long would never work in his favor. But he had found an odd sense of familiarity in the merchant, most likely due to his chosen trade. It reminded the peddler of home.
Sitting down across from Shay with the smile still plastered on him Balton felt the day was only turning out better and better. Maybe a new glass of wine would be in order.

 

[gamer5]

@Clyde

It took some time for Jeanna to get what the assassin's words meant, as she was not one for word games or double meaning. And when she did she was not happy at all, which meant she had to at least rebuke the man. "Assassin," she addressed him, "were we not here I would have chopped off your heads for those words. I demand an apology otherwise I will have no choice but to challenge you to a duel. No one calls me a stuck-up bitch and gets away free." She looked at the assassin, her anger clearly showing in her eyes and on her face. Of course she knew that this was not the time or place, but her pride would not allow it. No one said she was a fun-hating person just because she disliked tasteless jokes and got away with it.

 

[Sir Salty]

@gamer5

[BCOLOR=transparent]If they could see Nuit's eyes narrow under the mask, they certainly did. The glimmer of spirits, cheer, and happiness on his face drastically changed as the woman demanded him to apologize. He was not like her. His pride meant nothing to him. As spoken before he was a puppet and a tool of the nobles for a long time. Killing and sorting out their problems. No what irritated him was not the woman's words, but the way they were presented. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He took a sip of wine, letting the rim of the goblet touched his lips briefly. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]"Very well," he spoke in a much different demeanor, "If your pride means that much to you. I am sorry that I wounded it so easily. Now do you mind? My space cannot accommodate your pride." He gestured to where he standing.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]He was not a man to be trifled with. If she thought that all he was a man of the shadows, then she was sorely mistaken. He was a bitter and cold individual, who gave up his pride, and gave up his dignity a long time ago. He was not shadows, he was the void. [/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]Void as in devoid of happiness, devoid of regret, guilt, remorse. Void as in the abyss as the countless lives he took did not weight a single ounce on his souls. Instead they were taken and trapped by the gatekeeper of death. Himself.[/BCOLOR]

[BCOLOR=transparent]She could have her pride. All he asked was a glimmer of happiness. Something he was denied often. He drained his cup and made a face at the goblet, before grabbing another from a passing servant before they slipped off. [/BCOLOR]

 

[Tempest]

Their eyes follow the fumbling movements of the blind woman towards food. In their mind words darted of trying to summarize what it was like watching before deciding slowly that it was like watching unsuspecting bloated prey being stalked upon by sickly predator. Silent they fixate on the crushing paw batting around the table for a piece of cheese and in their mind they cheer it on: Left. Left. Right. Up. Claw at it. No, too fast. Now, catch it before it escapes, you've almost got it. There, yes, finish it. The savage claws rake at the cheese and loaves of bread before dining in victory. Coby stares quietly at her mouth, trying to size up the qualities of this one before jumping with a start as they speak up again. Name. Coby. "Coby." They thump their chest twice swiftly to punctuate it in representation that that it was them before staring at the blind woman, realizing that meant they had a name too. They must have heard it. They start to run down the list of words they must have heard Benedict use. He used many.

Their name begins to make a list of possible words of merit, their mind halting and lingering on his mention on a sweet cakes this one time mentioned that were sold on the 4th level of Gyrus in a shop called 'Look at the Flours', before abruptly filling in Selia. "Sel'a," Coby tries to work out, putting a hand upon her to acknowledge they got who they were. They fidget for a moment in their chair, looking about the room and everything going on before snapping their attention back to Selia and taking a breath. Their eyes hone in more intensely on her, appraising her for a long moment. In Coby's mind they work upon orienting the beehive of droning and buzzing and slowly starts, "If... you... Need help. Ask. Will be here." They clear their throat, scratching at it before borrowing the goblet with a straw in it and sipping.

 

[Slade]

Before Jeanna could respond to Nuit, a small, tiny hand tapped on her shoulder. She turned around to see a servant, no older than 12.

"Excuse me ma'am" the boy squeaked meekly, "but master Jackal has invited you to come sit with him" the way the boy said it, it was clear that Jackal's invitation was more like a command. If Jeanna looked in his direction she could see him staring at her, or more precisely her weapon of choice. His eyes looked almost hungry.

Other servants were sent out by Jackal to collect other members of Benedict's party. If he would be barred from counsel with the king, he would have this one advantage. A servant, a much older one found Coby and Selia and spoke to them in a whispered hush. Adviser Jackal wished to share a drink with them. And the way the servant nervously spoke, it was clear they should go sooner rather than later.

The last one Jackal would want was Erin. Who was easy enough to find, looking rather lost in the court. The servant whispered in her ear of Jackal's invitation and gently pointed her to his direction.

Henry Udolf however, received no such invitation. Jackal was familiar with him already and had not much desire to speak to another noble. Instead a familiar voice called out to Henry.

It was Udo, sitting politely with a constantly drinking Aapo and a few merry knights. The servants knew better than to give Aapo wine, they brought out the Mead for him. Udo's warm outreach to Henry was interrupted by Aapo's more....messier way of doing things.

"Oh look, he's a fancy knight now. You ain't fancy enough to have a drink with me are ya?"

"Aapo you really should slow down on the Mead" Udo replied, his eyes showing hints of embarrassment.

"Oh sod off! Maybe you shouldn't drink like a virgin at her wedding!" Aapo retorted, getting chuckles from his fellow knights as Udo only sighed.

Aapo then turned his attention to Nuit and Keevah, who he spotted out of the corner of his eye.

"Oi!" He called out to them in between chugs of Mead. " Come here" he bellowed. "I wanna see Benedict's new thief and the pretty lass". He bellowed

"Aapo that's incredibly rude-

"How many purses you think he's stolen already?" Aapo said, laughing as his face grew red. It was hard to fathom that this man was a fort commander, let alone a fearsome one.

Udo shook his head slightly as he looked around at the three who gathered around them.
"I'm sorry for Aapo" Udo said " I would say he wasn't normally like this but..

"But you'd be dead wrong!" Aapo shouted as the men around him gave out hearty laughs.


Shay nearly jumped out of his seat when he heard Balton. He turned around and offered him a weak smile and a even weaker handshake.

"O-oh, indeed my friend. That new king over there, Novatian, is a real piece of work I tell you. He's always so uh... unreasonable. His father was much more sensible man."

Balton pauses for a moment, remembering that the old king in his day enacted new execution reforms condoning burning heretics alive.

"Either way, there was a small misunderstanding between me and the king and that ghastly Draco Cauda called me in. S-so I fled across the border. Got on the first boat in Ardit and sailed to the Western Vulgo. With almost all my wares too. Heh, lucky me."

Shay's eyes than shifted over to Renvar before quickly calling over a servant and whispering something in his ear, something that Balton couldn't hear.

Soon the servant nods warily and hurries towards Renvar, bending towards his ear in a hushed voice.

"Master Renvar Setn your presence is asked for by Master Shay." It was clear to Renvar now that Shay knew exactly who he was.

"I hope you don't mind Balton," Shay said, "if I call over someone else to get acquainted with. I love mixing the new with the old."

 

[Silvir]

"Eh?" Erin looked at him confused but he did not seem to think further on it and merely motioned for her to follow passing by like a smaller whirlwind catching up any strays in its path.
"u..um im not sure ah" Before she had even caught up at the table with food he was of again waving once more for her to move again. Looking in the direction he had pointed some of the others were sitting at a table.
Looking from the table and to the group she thanked him silently in her mind even though she could no longer spot him and looked at the food. Picking a few things here and there half of it she had never seen before, pastries, meat of different sorts and what where those small things, fruit?

But before she had the chance to move over the servant called for her attention and notified her on a man that wanted to have a word. Flustered at how events shifted the girl moved through the room towards where the young servant had pointed, fidgeting a bit with the plate in her hands she stopped and looked at the man in front of her "Sir Jackal?"
There was an attempt at not making the voice waver but alas she was in a room full of rich and powerful nobles all dressed well for the occasion to. And here one of them had called for her to top it off. Was something wrong? Had she angered him somehow? O..o..or was he going to take her just like those stories of young country girls being taken by lords with raging hunger and lust for young women!?

 

[gamer5]

@Slade

After hearing the servant pass on the summon from Jackal, Jeanna sent a few words to the assassin: "Apology accepted Assassin. Now excuse me I shall go and find myself a seat, so I can enjoy the feast. Until later." With that said she moved trough the hall with precise and fluid movement, dogging the servants moving around and drawing as little attention to herself as possible as she made her way to a seat near Jackal. Siting down on the chair, at the same time lowered scythe on the floor and leaned it on her back, she politely said to the man: "Good day. I am here, sir, as you asked." She started filled the plate in front of her with a bit of food, while wondering why did exactly Jackal want with her. She noticed Erin but didn't bother with her presence, guessing that she was called here by Jackal as well.