Kenna's actually on-duty today, wearing her steel armor and with her sword upon her hip. Said duty doesn't keep her from joining the crowd though, and she leans against the back wall of the Murder of Crows silently. No conversation starting, just listening for now.

Serenade, a lovely nightingale arrives, following Calandra.

Valor, a beautiful fan-tailed pigeon arrives, following Nurie.

Reynir very much looks like a young man out of place, all sharp angles and elbows. Wide brown eyes survey the room and a small meep is made as he nearly bumps into someone. "Sorry, sorry. sorry." As he awkwardly makes his way in trying quite desperately not to accidentally elbow or step on someone's toes.

Man and raven duck into the Murder with a quick glance about, both looking surprisingly fresh given the hour; Val has managed a bath that isn't saltwater, quite an accomplishment for the sea dog, though his rumpled coat is as unkempt as it always looks. When he spots Evaristo tuning his lute, a broad smile cracks across his face and he calls out, "Knock 'em dead, Captain!" A beat. "Well, I mean. Celebrate a life and all that. But. Ahh." He stops before he literally has to shove a booted foot in his mouth, or has it done for him, and takes a seat, the smile embarrassed. He spots Macda and waves, eyebrows quirking.

Reynir has joined the Crow Bar.

Nodding to Andry, Macda follows his attention to Evaristo as she speaks quietly. "I have. It was good, as they are." She offers it simply. Her eyes move around to all the unknown faces before spotting Valenzo to wave over.

Valenzo has joined the Murder Table.

Raymesin lurks at the bar, copper-coloured cloak and all, with a tankard in one hand as he watches Evaristo on the improvised stage. On spotting Raynir he nods a short greeting to the man.

Clearing his voice, standing up on that tiny stage, Evaristo raises his arms up to get some attention, lute hanging from its leather harness at his side for now. "Welcome all, to a night of joy and hope!" he begins, flashing teeth in a rascally grin. "This isn't a funeral wake. No, this is a celebration to hope. To Copper. To /us/. To the people of Arx who won't stand for being bulliet by some megalomaniacal toffs from across the sea. Up yours, is what we tell them - and we do that by wearing copper. Because Copper... she was one of us and she didn't stand for all that nonsense. She put her foot down, and she looked after us all. Now, we will keep up her work. We'll stand strong."

He turns more serious, glancing out over the crowd. He's wearing a bright copper scarf, and a little copper brooch shaped like a rose, and he lifts the fabric up to look at it, thoughtfully. "Alright, let's have some singing," he says and he lifts the lute up. "I'll sing the song that Princess Sorrel wrote." And he begins singing. He's not a master bard. He's better than many though, and he has enthusiasm to last for ages.

Nurie slips in the last minute, before the song starts, her cheeks a little flushed as if she'd had to hustle quite quickly to make the time. Her eyes are bright though, as she listens raptly once Evaristo begins to speak, and then sing.

Evaristo checked charm + performance at difficulty 15, rolling 32 higher.

Nurie is overheard praising Evaristo: Thank you for sharing your voice and your knowledge!

Listening to Evaristo play, Macda puts off her introduction between Andry and Valenzo until the song finds its natural conclusion. She claps for the performance as it manages to be very well done, perhaps even to the surprise of the singer. "Sir Andry, Captain Valenzo, if you already haven't." She keeps her voice roughly to the table, as the crowd reacts to the performance.

Raymesin looks to Reynir and murmurs a few words, then turns his attention back to Evaristo.

Reynir applauds enthusiastically. "Bravo, well done - um. ah. Nice Job?" The last finishes with a squeak as he returns to the conversation at the bar.

Kenna stands silently, leaning her head back against the wall as the song begins. Her attention is both on the song and on the crowd itself, though she doesn't seem to be expecting much trouble.

Andry scratches his scruffy chin with one finger while he watches the copper clad Evaristo looking lost in thought for the duration of the song before being called back to the real world by Macda's introduction. "I don't believe we have. Sir Andry Bayweather at your service."

Nurie offers her heartfelt applause at such a fine performance! Though there's a bit of reserve in her expression, as if she were tying a few thoughts together as well.

Reynir is overheard praising Evaristo: Good job, you didn't fall off the stage. Excellent work. Truly excellent.

Valenzo slides into a spare seat at the table, rapping his knuckles against the wood; Kevin, weaving unsteadily, flaps raggedy wings for balance and murmurs in that deep corvid basso. "M'lady!" Val greets Macda with a delighted grin, and then turns it to Andry as she introduces him. "Captain Valenzo Vincinatti, at /your/ service. A pleasure!" He extends a calloused hand to shake, and then turns back to the "stage" as Evaristo begins to play and sing; he cups his hands over his mouth to shout a "WOO!", which the bird on his shoulder seems to take personally, pecking at his scalp irritably.

Evaristo is not Princess Sorrel, so the song has his spin in a manner. The lute is played with hard strung chords, the melody a bit rougher than perhaps the original is. The text, though verbatim as it is written, he emphasises the hope part, and his violet eyes glitter with conviction. He puts his heart into it. When he is done, he takes a bow and flashes teeth in a smile, the copper scarf sweeping the floor. "Thank you!" he says. "There will be more singing - I've written an original piece in fact, but I am going to need a little help with the last verse..." He pauses, looking faintly smug. "However, first I will tell a story about Copper." He takes a deep breath and waits for the crowd to quiet down for a moment and then tells the tale of how Copper got her magic.

"A long time ago in a beautiful kingdom that was run by some bloody tyrannical fops, Copper was a slave. Slaves in this kingdom, they were taught basic magic, but she figured - there must be more to it than this. So, she asked questions and she learned more about magic. And then she learned the most important question of them all: How must the world change? Her slave masters laughed at her, because she was 'just a slave' and couldn't really learn real magic. But Copper reached deep inside herself, and thought of time as a suggestion - not a rule - and she wove something beautiful. Something that demanded an unjust world to become just a little bit brighter for a time. She was the first human to ever weaved. She had magic - and she named herself Copper, after the color of her hair."

Valenzo is overheard praising Evaristo: Our Captain Evaristo's got talent! And a fine song to sing defiantly as well as in sorrow!

Nurie leans a little more forward in eager interest for this tale--her open expression obvious in its innocence of knowledge of it.

Lamora arrives, following Auda.

Clapping once agan for Evaristo, Macda looks impressed by what she hears. His style isn't as flowery and offers more, which fits the forum of the subject. The princess seems to note that as she turns to speak to her table companions, and points at Kevin as if she were to scold him a moment for pecking at Valenzo.

Reynir sits with the wide-eyed attention of a 4-year-old listening to a favorite bedtime story.

Auda steps into the Murder with little fanfare at all, save for the brief moment of recognition from the general riffraff. Bright green eyes glance around to take in the scene, her steps and greetings quiet. Just a hand lifted in a wave to those she knew, maybe a nod, and she was making her way to the bar with a grin at Evaristo while he told his story.

Raymesin offers Auda a nod from where he is, leaning against the bar next to Reynir with a tankard in his hand.

After that story - not told like an epic tale with flourish words, but spoken in plain language and Lowers slang thrown in - Evaristo grabs a tankard and takes a few very thirsty gulps of Murder ale. "Ahh, much better," he says, rakish grin forming. "So, that is Copper. Since the time of the Reckoning, she has protected us. But did she do flashy magic stunts and went about like some uppity person, because of this? No, of course not! Copper was one of us! She cared about every street urchin. About every dock worker, barmaid, stable boy, soldier, mercenary, merchant... all of us. Every single one. There was nobody too small for her. She cared about us, the humans. Once, she saved a dock-worker from being crushed under a crate, by running, jumping, spinning in the air and giving the crate such a hard kick it fell down next to the dock worker instead, saving his life." HE looks around with a dramatic expression there, for a moment, and nods seriously. "Another time, she helped a kid that got bullied for his money when he went to buy butter for his poor, poor family, and almost got robbed. Kicked their asses and took them by their ears and went straight to their parents and told them what's what." He smiles a little happy smile. "Copper - she was one of us. Big things, small things - it all mattered to her. So, a hero of the People - should we not remember her? Should we not stand up, like she did?!" he shouts out,looking demandingly at the crowd.

Slipping in quietly, Fiora does her best to avoid attention rather than getting in. The Malvici hugs her arms tightly around her midsection as she slips through the tavern. Quietly going to find a seat at some random table.

Fiora has joined the Murder Table.

Auda is overheard praising Evaristo.

Reynir eeps and stands up. "I'm so sorry! Please excuse me."

Reynir has left the Crow Bar.

"Sounds like a reason to not give into those who are in our harbor." Kenna murmurs from her corner, still not attempting to join into the crowd but listening carefully. The not-joining is probably due to her Iron Guard gear.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Fiora before departing.

The Terrapin's captain seems to appreciate the tales of Lower Borroughs derring-do almost more than the ancient history; his face is filled with a solemnity that rarely graces it in public as he considers them. Kevin, of course, tilts his little bird head from side to side to peer at Macda's finger and ruffles his moulting plumage -- HOW DARE SHE! -- but Val's mood seems to have rubbed off on him; he simply quarks and looks away, deflating after a moment. At Evaristo's question, Valenzo slaps his hand on the table. "Hear, hear!"

Nurie touches her fingertips lightly over her heart, at the tales' conclusion. "Thank you for sharing these words, Messere!" She offers brightly, her smile radiant. And she does seem buoyed by the more personal stories, of a legend that cared regardless of station or grand ideas, but for the people as individuals too.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Fiora before departing.

After Macda leans over, Andry's grey eyes wander between Valenzo and Macda before he breaks into a short laugh and gestures for the server to bring him some cider before taking on a more somber expression. "It's sounding to me a bit like Copper never wanted the fame or recognition. Is it fair of us to make her a symbol she never wanted to be?"

There's some shouts of agreement from the crowd here and there and someone even yells 'I heard she once drank a Redrain Lord under the table!' which earns a smack form his friend. Evaristo laughs. "Maybe she did! She was tough as nails, bet she could've drunk us all under the table if she cared for it." He turns a big broad grin at Valenzo and raises his tankard his way in a toast.

"So, let us not be intimidated by the flashy metal of the ones across the sea. Their steel silk, and platinum. We people of Arx, we're creating legend with much simpler means. With wool. Lead. Bone. Linen. In fact, I've written a song of our unsung heroes of the Boroughs. However," he says and now he grins mischievously, "I just can't get the last verse right. I am going to need some help. I will sing the song now, and the one that can write the best verse for the last material - Bone - will win this trinket!" He holds up a lovely copper skull with ruby eyes to behold for all there. "And of course, your name will be attributed in the song when I sing it. The song is called 'The Materials of Tomorrow - The Commoner Heroes Song'"

Evaristo clears his voice again and now, now the tone changes to pure merriment. A light-hearted easy to remember tune begins and he sings a song filled with humor - but also a respectful song to the Commoner Heroes of the Lowers.
( https://pastebin.com/Lch4VW0h - for the text!)

Smirking at a raven, Macda turns from her moment of command to look at Kenna who first speaks up. The blond nods in agreement with the Iron Guard stationed to the side, understanding her stance in this mix company. More voices join in to agree that the foreign powers should be rebuked, and she looks pleased to hear it. Turning to hear Andry speak, she watches him curiously and then looks to their host for an answer. She had no first hand experience with Copper, though it seems many people- common or not- had.

"Seems like she wanted to protect and keep safe. To help people. And right now the people of this City need a symbol." Fiora leans back in her chair, glancing sidelong at Andry then back to the book Macda put in front of her. "I think she would see the practicality of it."

Raymesin listens, drinking the Murder's ale as he does so. The wisdom of this is debateable.

"We need her memory now more than we ever did." Kenna replies to Andry, pushing herself up from her pose against the wall. "We lost so much when we lost her - more than any of us will ever know. We need to become what she was for us or we do face being overrun."

"Perhaps a symbol is beside the point," Nurie says quietly, perhaps in support of Andry. "And rather work to weave our will with each other to take charge and ownership of our protection. Rather than seeking yet to hold up yet another legend. Memories are cherished, and good to have. But sometimes they can distract from everyone coming together--for each other."

Valenzo tilts his head as he considers Andry's question, though he's slower to offer his own answer at the table they share. "...Is it fair, Sir Andry? No, I think you're right. Not fair...but is it right? Aye, I think so. We have so little to cling to down here...I'd never heard these tales of her good works, but already they make it a little more bearable. Just...speaking for meself, of course." Kevin SQUAWKS, extending his wings. "...And Kevin, I guess."

"Aye, we need more than sentiment and words about coming together. I hope isn't lost in her praise." Macda offers with Nurie, nodding in agreement to her words. She smiles at Valenzo and Kevin in turn as the conversation spreads through the gathered.

"We should allow her to inspire us to make our own legends, like that anonymous pamphlet said. Copper was just a girl once, someone just like us. She believed very strongly she could make the world better and she did." Andry says towards Nurie in a soft voice while spreading his fingers out on the table. "I think if you want to honor her, you should all think of the question, how do you want to change the world? Once you find your answer you should go out there and try to make the world just a little bit better."

Evaristo is stomping the beat to his song, and encourages clapping so about half way in the crowd in the Murder of Crows is getting quite rowdy, and of course, the chorus is easy enough to learn - by the end there's a sing along from some very drunk and some just tipsy and some, probably, mostly sober. It ends, Evaristo bows, and he makes one last short speech from that makeshift stage: "You stand up with your neighbor! Put some copper on, because she is our symbol for freedom and solidarity and /hope/!" He then hops off the rickety stage, slings the lute onto his back and dives for a new tankard of ale that is being handed over. Clearly he does not intend to leave, making ready to mill about and answer questions if there are any.

"Sometimes you need something else to give you hope before you can go and make change yourself." Kenna replies. She's got that characteristic guard scowl on, but there's something just under it that hints it's very much a front for something deeper going on.

"Another legend?" Fiora asks glancing askew at Nurie. "This is a silly argument." The Malvici murmurs. "We're starting to argue about whether or not we should honor her and remember her and the different ways she should inspire us." She waves her hand around at the room full of people listening to a story about Copper. "It's already happening. Let people wear their brooches if they want. Change is happening because of what she did. There's no changing it now. And if she saw the inspiration she gave even after her death, I don't think she'd mind. The fruit that will come from it..." There's a little shrug, leaning back into her chair she falls silent.

Valor, a beautiful fan-tailed pigeon arrives, delivering a message to Evaristo before departing.

Autumn slips into the Murder of Crows, taking up a position near the back and observing the crowd with curiosity. She keeps to herself, however; perhaps she's just here to listen to the tales people have of Copper, and how they feel her own story inspired them.

Nurie seems about to reply to Fiora, but seems to almost immediately think better than to answer back to her betters. Instead, the somewhat quiet tailor slips back into her pleasant expression, though her smile at Andry is quite genuine. "Agreed, Messere."

Nalani arrives, following Shard.

Raymesin lurks at the bar, drinking, except when he stops for a few moments to applaud Evaristo. He's sporting a suspiciously-rectangular copper cloak, taller than some people, pinned to his shoulders with two copper pins.

"Point of fact, given her power over time...there's a good chance she /did/ see this coming," Valenzo muses, lowering one calloused finger to tap the tabletop. "And, who knows...maybe this riot of copper, maybe us all taking comfort and making a symbol of it, gave her some comfort in her death, rather than the other way 'round?" He shrugs his broad shoulders under his rumpled coat, causing Kevin to dance and flutter his wings. When Evaristo finishes his second song, Valenzo calls out raucously and claps those hands together with enthusiasm. "GOOD ON YE, NEIGHBOR!!"

Sparte is a late arrival, looking like he had to do a bit of work on the way here. He has a big scratch on his left cheek that looks like it came from a person, but one with short nails that couldn't really break the skin. He sits down at the end of the bar, giving the bartender a friendly smile but not ordering anything as he turns to listen.

Sparte has joined the Crow Bar.

Shard clearly does not expect to find /this many people/ in the Murder, or at least, this many very excited people, because she pushes through the door and then stops short. After some hesitation she begins weaving through the back of the crowd on her way toward the bar, deliberately avoiding going anywhere near the center of all that attention.

Evaristo has just stepped off the stage, having performed an amusing tale of the Heroes of the Borough, the Materials of Tomorrow. "This is about her legacy. What she left us is hope. She gave it to us and now we better damn well take care of it. It's up to /us/ now - this is as much a celebration to us, as to her. SHe is inspiration, but we have to do the work," he says, speaking up with the voice of the performer, raising his copper scarf up a bit. "This, this is a symbol of that hope and it's showing that we will not be bowing down to become slaves."

Nurie drains the last of her ale, not afraid of smacking her lips a little in enjoyment of it. "Here here," she offers to Evaristo. "And thank you so much for sharing your tales of her, and your songs!" She touches her fingertips to her heart, at the declaration against becoming slaves. "May it be so, because we will make it be so."

Kenna nods once to Evaristo's words. The group at the Murder seems like a calm enough one that the Guard decides she's no longer needed. Stepping about the edge of the room she slips out - as quietly as one in full armor can slip out.

Princess Sally Acorn, an acorn toting red squirrel leaves, following Kenna.

A voice from somewhere in the back of the crowd pipes up. "All we can do is try to make the best choice we can in the moment -- the choice that saves the most people -- and hope it was the right one. Copper did that alone for so long; now we have to help each other make those choices."

Finishing another transcript of Evaristo's song of the Lowers, Macda rests her quill down to give him another round of applause. Then she returns to tidy a few things on the page as chatter resumes. She notes the uniformed Iron Guard leaving, but it seems a small detail as the crowd continues to swell and contract. Her flask takes her attention, drinking from it as a voice she's never heard starts to speak.

Shard orders a whiskey--the whole bottle, in fact--and then turns around, bottle in hand, with her back to the bar. Her eyes narrow faintly.

Evaristo's smile turns wide at the voice from the back, looking that way with a squint in an attempt to make out who spoke. "There is that," he agrees wholeheartedly. "But there is also learning more about the world we live in. To consider the future, and be ready and prepared." He laughs a little. "I'm more of a spurr of the moment sort of man, myself however."

Sparte speaks up from the bar in answer to the voice from the back. "Helping others make 'those' choices. I can't help but think there is a better way to say help people without deciding what is best 'for' them."

"I am certain that many think they are helping others make the correct choices," Nurie says gently. "Or at least--that is their intent. Certainly there are many that still do. But I am also hoping that we might also be willing to consider that the people we think are lesser than, nobody of note, too humble to be important...that perhaps our eyes and hearts deceive us. We will need all kinds among us, won't we? To truly be protected."

Samantha makes her way quietly into the Murder. Her dress is a bit to plain for a silk, making her look more like a silk's well dressed servant. She seems to have come in on the end of a song, She uses the time to slip back towards the bar herself, though the current conversatuib has her interest.

"Helping someone make a choice means standing at their side when they do, not making it for them; not all choices are easy to make, and sometimes people need to know someone's standing beside them." The voice from the back sounds a touch saddened now, but is still hard to pinpoint; whoever it is who's speaking, they're short enough to vanish easily among the crowd.

Sparte considers the new words from the unidentified speaker, nodding in agreement as he quiets down. No rebuttal from him.

Valenzo leans forward and plants his elbows on the table at the end of the songs, digging a hand into an inner coat pocket for some silver as the server approaches through the crowd, and dumps a fistful into the man's upturned palm. "A round of whiskey for the table, and an extra here for the bird -- dark ale, if you please...whiskey makes him gassy," He adds helpfully, probably a little too much information as the gruff server simply stares at him for a moment before pocketing the coinage. After the server departs, Valenzo leans forward to clap a hand to Andry's shoulder if he'll allow it. "Your heart's in the right place with your question, friend...and it's a question that needs asking, every time." A beat. "...Not that I hope this all happens again, ever. Big ol' mess, all of it."

Shard takes a drink from her bottle that's...too large to be recommended for whiskey. She gets it down, but she can't help a faint cough. She glances toward Samantha, and then quickly glances back with a very brief upraise of her eyebrows, then takes a much more measured sip.

Auda has been silent so far, having found some out of the way spot in which to simply drink some whiskey and listen. A hand is belatedly raised to wave at Shaard, but the alchemist seems far more thoughtfal than talkative.

Evaristo's cheerfulness dampens a tad, but his violet eyes scan the crowd alertly still, trying to find that person. "You're right," he calls out. "We're quite often quick to get angry at people's choices, when they just made the one that is best for most. Wise words to remember in the near future, I'm pretty sure."

Grail, a Steelhart War Mastiff arrives, following Col.

Macda ponders the voices considering Sparte's comment. She seems content or perhaps relieves that the conclusions aren't devolving into wild conspiracy or bewildering emotional unrest. Even in discussion of Copper, people seem to find little to argue about and much to reflect upon.

"It is true," Nurie agrees soberly. "Sometimes the most important choices one has to make are the hardest. The most terrifying to think about following through, and the time when a quiet or even outspoke support can ease the burden. It is a good reminder that we should keep in mind that we do not neessarily know who's at the crossroads, and why. I'll try to guard my tongue and assumptions, when someone acts in a way that I /think/ I wouldn't." There's a sadder smile there, but she squares her shoulders, setting her empty glass nearby, and gathering herself as if to depart.

"The most important choices are sometimes the hardest ones to make." But Autumn seems content to fall silent now, from her place buried amongst the crowd; the short blonde woman slips away from the thick cluster of people and makes her way over towards the bar. Perhaps she just wants a drink before she leaves.

Samantha offers Shard a mild smile, but seems inclined, for the moment, to listen to the conversation around her. But there is a quiet request for a drink from the barkeep, and like Shard, she turns to face the people, with her back to the bar itself.

Shard returns the smile with a small nod, although, naturally, there's no hint of a smile from her to go with it. She takes another sip of whiskey with an appreciative sort of grimace, her gaze shifting from person to person as they speak.

"The most." Andry repeats while finally recieving his cider, pausing to wet his throat with the bittersweet liquid. Valenzo's clap earns a brief smile. "Those are some hard choices to make, the kind of choices I hope most of us will never have to make. I think if we always try to make the best choice, we'll stare ourselves blind. A good choice, a choice made with the intent to make things better for everyone, not just yourself. That's something I think we can all do."

Col wanders in from the street with no real purpose to his gait, heading to the bar to order himself a black beer. He nods here and there to those that might catch his eye. "Murder is rather alive tonight." He says with mild amusement to anyone who may be listening.

Shard has joined the Crow Bar.

Autumn has joined the Crow Bar.

Samantha has joined the Crow Bar.

Sparte considers for a little while before speaking again. "A choice being good is subjective. Good isn't just, or fair, or even benevolent. I would like to help people make informed choices. Choices that reflect who they are, and who they want to be. Forgive me if I'm harping on the idea of people deciding for themselves, but..." Sparte shrugs. "We've got two boatloads of reasons why that distinction is an important one to spell out right now."

Raymesin, from his place leaning against the bar, just listens.

"Well - we're starting something," Evaristo says, his rascally cheer returning. "This isn't a funeral wake, remember! Drink, be hopeful, get to know your neighbor - one day you might be standing next to them in support when a hard choice has to be made." He throws back the last of his tankard at that. "Me? All I can do is sing and talk and hand out copper scarves, hoping that it will alight hope in someone's heart," he adds with some performance drama. Not that he doesn't mean it. "Ah, how about that round of whiskey?" he says and makes sure he gets one of those that Valenzo so generously offered earlier. "You all work on that verse, too! I'll give you a week, then I'll pick a winner. I'll probably ask for some expert advice from some REAL bards. I mean... I'm not /actually/ a bard. I'm a captain of my own ship."

"Is that not the message in the air about Arx? A push against secrecy and pull for greater knowledge. Informed decisions are in the benefit of the individual but it doesn't make a case for that person to consider the consequences in regard to others. I think that is what the Godsworn means: decisions made with good intentions for all." Macda adds as Sparte speaks and voices lift again above the drinking and side conversations. She turns again to another new voice, but the blond turns her eyes from Col back to Andry a moment to say something quietly.

"Aye, I don't envy her choices, none of 'em. Don't even know what I'd do with that kind of power, to be frank," Valenzo replies, sharing Andry's smile. "I hope I'd do the right thing, eh? But you never know til you're in that spot." Kevin finally decides that's a good time to chime in, flapping his raggedy wings and cawing, "DISASTER!! DEATH!! BLOODSHED!!" in that stunningly deep corvid voice of his, before Val raps him smartly on the beak with a knuckle. "Quiet, ye daft pigeon..." He mutters. When Evaristo asks about the whiskey is about the same time the server comes back with a tray of shot glasses, and Val extends the one he ordered to his fellow captain with a broad grin. "I'll get the next one, here's to the best Not-Bard in the Lowers!" He crows, and waves the man over to their table if he pleases.

Sparte's comment on the subjectivity of best provokes a short laugh from Andry followed by intense coughing as some of the cider gets stuck in his throat. "Ofcourse, if we could all just agree on what's good all the time, we wouldn't so violently argue our point and we would have no more need of an iron guard. Now /that's/ something I don't think is ever going to happen." The knight slowly shakes his head and combs his fingers through his brown hair. "As long as everyone works towards what they believe is good, I think we'll be fine in the end."

Col receives his ale and begins to drink and listen - he couldn't help but to overhear of course. "What's the saying - what's good for the spider is chaos to the fly? It's all about perspective."

Autumn gets a troubled look at Valenzo's words. She opens her mouth as though to say something in answer... then closes it once again, thinking better of it. Instead, she continues to silently sip her ale.

"Absolutely, chaos." Macda remarks without missing a beat, though she doesn't quite project it anywhere. She just seems very amused and wears it on her lips.

Sparte is briefly distracted by something at the bar, then he is calling out to Valenzo. "Your bird friend is very well spoken. Does he know any words that arn't awful?"

Nurie is amongst the crowd that ebbs rather than flows, her ale paid for and consumed, the tailor unhurriedly makes her way through the throngs towards the exit.

"This is all way too deep for me," EVaristo says and grabs a whiskey. No, two. He winks at Valenzo. "It's alright, I'll pay the next round," he promises and already digs out some silver to do just that. "Get that lady the best ale!" he calls to the barkeeps. This is a dubious request, does the Murder have better ale? "Seems easy to me. Do we want to be under the bootheal of tyrants that will take away our will and make us slaves? Probably not. So, what do we do? We tell them to bugger off." He pauses. "I suppose this is why I'm not like, a general or something."

Valor, a beautiful fan-tailed pigeon leaves, following Nurie.

finally, Auda settles in at the bar without too much concern as to who's beside her. The young woman's been quiet so far, and even her words to the bartender are muted. She does glance curiously to Autumn and Col, watching both for a moment.

Auda has joined the Crow Bar.

Samantha offers, perhaps somewhat belatedly to Andry, "I often find that those who choose to be villainous seldom believe themselves to be. They more often than not believe they are doing the right thing, and are so committed to the notion, they become zealots to their ends without considering the means."

"It's not that easy. They've not come for what's best for us. They've come for whats best for them. If there was someone protecting Arvum from foriegn powers, their timely arrival on our shores indicates that she what guarding an asset. They are here to conquor. Not to provide us with temptation and leave." Col states simply, swilling his black beer. "Not how these things work. If we want freedom from the heels of their boot we will have to pay for it with blood."

Autumn raises her ale in thanks to Valenzo, still looking thoughtful as she listens to the conversations around the Murder. But when Col speaks up, she clears her throat. "If half the tales of the Undying Empire are true," the woman remarks, "I suspect they truly do believe that what they have in mind is best for Arvum."

"We pay for everythin' in blood, down 'ere," Raymesin grumbles in reponse to Col, his Lowers accent front and centre. "Includin' freedom. We already know we'll be payin' for their visits in blood too."

Sparte nods in agreement to Samantha. "Seeing our own actions clearly can be the most difficult challenge at times. Self-reflection has a place for all of us. As does the ability to change, praise Lagoma."

"I think much more common then misguided good, is simple selfishness, pride and vanity." Andry suggests to Samantha while looking down at his by now empty cider mug and making a motion to stand. "If you're making bad choices for what you believe to be good reasons, you're atleast trying."

"Ahh, err..." Val seems genuinely baffled by Sparte's question. "Fire? Fire's not too bad, given what's done with it!" A beat. "Though it does tend to spook the crew, when we're at see and he suddenly starts yapping about it." He grins at the man and shrugs again, unsettling Kevin once more, who quarks and ruffles his neck feathers indignantly. He claps a hand to Evaristo's shoulder when the man takes a whiskey, and when his own arrives he raises it in salute to Macda, a big grin plastering itself across his face. "To chaos," He murmurs.

Col looks to Autumn and gives a little nod of the head. "I imagine those brainwashed surely do. Neither do I believe in intentions, only actions." He lifts his beer to Val and chaos and addresses Raymesin. "I'll mark your words."

"The woman on the barge from the God-Emperor believes she is doing something good." Samantha points out. "She believes her choices and her actions are good. We undoubtedly regard them as evil." She takes a sip from her own mug, letting it rest in both hands. "Selfishness, pride, and vanity are not 'good' things, do they also equate to evil? I don't tink any of these concepts are so easily measured."

After a brief exchange at the bar, Shard is back to drinking again. Slowly, but not entirely measured. And she's still looking to each speaker in turn, with at least mild, if guarded, interest.

Macda looks up at Andry rising before being distracted by other things happening around the table. Her attention shifts to Valenzo with a mirrored, knowing grin. "Indeed," she raises her flask in a near chuckling toast, "to chaos."

"I'm not so certain they're 'evil'," Autumn replies, though there's a weariness to her tone. "The /wrong/ choice, certainly. But 'good' and 'evil' aren't always so straightforward. If we accept that magic is real... well, even magic that isn't from the Abyss could be used for selfish or harmful ends, couldn't it? So some people could justify binding mages with Writs that would compel them never to abuse the Art -- never to harm others with it." She doesn't sound as though /she/ approves, but she can perhaps understand how others might. "But the loss of free will... no. The choice to choose -- even if it means choosing /badly/ -- is important."

Raymesin simply lurks and listens, steadily making his way to the bottom of his tankard as though he actually /likes/ the Murder's ale, though he does exchange one or two words with others at the bar.

His steel gaze settles on Samantha as he rests his beer. "Once, when I was young back home... a girl went missing. We searched in vain for weeks. When we did find her, tearing her away from the grasp of the man that took her was a feat. She loved him. Truly. But he did unspeakable things to her. Brainwashing is a hell of a thing." Col settles into a chair backward, watching the group with interest between swills of beer. "We shouldn't take into account intent. Intent doesn't matter. What matters is action. Another saying - the proof of the pudding is in the eating. If you make a fig pie with shit, it's going to be a shit pie. Doesn't matter if your intention was to make a fig pie."

"Well, I better get my drinks down before things do turn to bloodshed," Evaristo says. He downs a shot, then another, and waves for more drinks to come in his way. Now that he's done his part he fully intends to drink. He studies everyone with that rascally smirk plastered on his face. Question is if it's just a well rehearsed facade.

"I must admit, my crew and I know little about this Undying Whosit and the Cardian Whatsit...I could encourage the men and women who serve aboard the Terrapin to take a bit o' time in the Stacks, but...has there been much done to inform the Lowers of what this all means to us? Those steely sails /are/ quite impressive, from the mud," Valenzo pipes up in response to the more political lean the conversation's taken. When Andry stands to leave, Valenzo extends his hand again to shake in passing. "Well met, Sir Andry. Hope we can converse again soon, find me at the Tasty Terrapin if you need a fast ship for any reason!"

"I can almost guarantee that those ships aren't any better for us than the Crown is. Probably a fair bit worse, really." Auda glances to the familiar and unfamiliar faces, and then her gaze drifts towards the dingy windows for a moment. "They see the whole of Arvum as dirt, so how could they possibly see value in the Lowers?"

"They are absolutely fucking worse," Shard says, around her bottle. Not loudly, but it carries.

Raymesin gives Valenzo a flat look. "Yer in th'Lowers," he points out bluntly. "Right now. An' while there's a few silks in 'ere, there's some'a us ain't got no fancy titles too. An' we'll be spreadin' word."

"Sadly the compact doesn't have much moral ground to stand on when it comes to the subject of forcing others under our loving protection, but we can always do better I hope." Andry smiles faintly before starting his walk towards the exist, waving idly at everyone who looks intent to stay around.

"I don't disagree." Samantha notes calmly to Col. "At the end of the day, the uninvited guests in the harbor are dangerous to us, and when they're rejected at the Assembly, the proof will indeed be in the pudding and the eating."

Autumn finishes her ale, putting aside the tankard as she glances over at Andry. "Copper," she says after a moment, "tried to protect /Arvum/, or so the stories that I've heard go. Not just the Compact, but all of humanity. Maybe that's worth our remembering, too."

Macda can't help but rumble a soft laugh at 'shit pie.' Perhaps inspired to work that into something- somewhere- she appears to have mouthed the words, 'Bisland birthday pie.' But that seems completely nonsensical. She murmurs a good-bye to Andry and mentioning poppies before he leaves.

"Oh, quite personally I agree with you...bunch of pompous garbage, that proclamation o' theirs," Valenzo responds to Shard and Auda. "I get a thrill outta the idea of putting a boot right up that keel. But..." He spreads calloused hands over his rumpled coat. "Still a man of some means, me. I'm not at the very bottom." He wags a finger in Raymesin's direction. "Aye, friend, I don't doubt we will. I just haven't seen much of a larger response for the little folk, is all."

Macda is overheard praising Evaristo.

Col waves to Andry as he leaves. "Indeed, the Compact employs the same tactics at times. It's why we can probably predict the outcome of telling them where to stick their offer."

Autumn stands from her seat, preparing to make her way through the crowd to the doorway. Perhaps the blonde woman has said all she had to say on the topic, or perhaps she feels this discussion is up to others now. Perhaps she simply has business elsewhere.

Andry has left the Murder Table.

"Megalomaniacal toffs," EVaristo repeats, which is his favorite word for them on that ship. He has procured a whole bottle of something that might be whiskey and waves it to everyone. "Thank you all for listening and coming here! You wear that copper. Show your hope." He smiles brightly and somewhat drunkedly, turns around and almost stumbles over a chair before he lazily saunters out.