Agostino arrives with a curious expression on his face, looking around to see who else has shown up to observe this duel. Dressed in black and indigo, he makes his way to one of the round tables so that he can take a seat to look on from.

House Whisper is immaculate in its duties as a host at any event, and a duel is no exception. A white tent has been erected for refreshments, serving a variety of drinks from wine to whiskey to hot tea. A priest from the Sentinel's temple in the city has been hired to give a quick blessing to the gods, making it clear that they guide the hand of whomever wins this day. And Solange Whisper ties a golden favor made of fireweave to the arm of her Champion where they stand to one side of the ringed circle outlined in black rocks against the soft, pristine snow that blankets the Judgement Green.

The rarely seen Whisper has been outfitted in an aeterna gown that might blend in with the snow, if it weren't for the lines of stygian thread that interrupt the flawlessly white fabric and the generous portion of golden Lycene skin shown by it being left backless. She wears no cloak, slightly shivers betraying the cold that she must feel in the name of fashion. Her hair has been braided into a crown, her amber eyes lingering on Jeffeth as she leans into murmur something to him as she finishes tying off the favor. Once that is done, and the priest has intoned the prayer, Solange's amber gaze slides around the crowd before she motions for silence to speak.

Champion, a large Oathlands Vanner, Josiah, in a backwards shirt arrive, following Gawain.

Quintin has joined the long bench.

Tikva is overheard praising Solange: So stylish!

Harriet Culler arrives, delivering a message to Orathy before departing.

Narcissa has set up post beside the wishing well, swathed in umbra and black furs with a rather grumpy looking raven perched on her shoulder. Her book is long since forgotten, closed and hugged against her chest as she stares at others as they walk by.

Teonia Redreef, Aryka Wyrmfang, 3 Thrax Guards, Marquessa Pudding, a doughy dog, 2 Thrax Elite Guards arrive, following Sorrel.

Quintin has settled in at one of the long benches, apple in one gauntleted hand, munching away. His right leg is stretched out in front of him. From time to time, he glances up at the snowflakes tumbling down lazily from the heavens.

Acantha arrives to watch the duel and there's a smile on the lips of the Clearlake woman. She hadn't been out in a bit on her own and she was excited to be going somewhere. She takes a seat and settles in to watch things.

Syd bows stiffly to Tikva, not noticing when he splashes a bit of his mulled wine. "A duel, my lady of gossamer sunset? Well, that will do nicely! What is a duel, after all, but a very minor riot, hemmed 'round with tradition?" He opens his mouth to continue speaking, but apparently has exhausted himself, and settles quietly on the bench instead.

Syd has joined the a brick and wood wishing well.

Gawain makes his way in, a bit of a pep in his step, clearly excited to witness the duel. Stopping to look about, he tries to find a place to set, looking excited for all that will likely happen before the day is done!

Gawain has joined the small circular table.

Tiber finishes off his pastry and then begins tugging on his mother's arm so that she can give him his mitten back. Apparently, being demittened for longer than two minutes is too much for him. Tikva resituates the mitten appropriately and then pets her son's hair. "As you say," she says lightly, with slightly quizzical eyebrows. She tilts a smile across the park towards Syd. "I hope you enjoy it!"

Shard trudges into the area behind a number of the others arriving, though it's clear she's come alone. She utterly ignores the care-laid refreshments and the tent they've been set out in, instead merely picking out a spot to lurk and spectate. For all that it's cold and snow is everywhere, she's not really dressed for it; just the usual silks mixed with worn black leathers. And she isn't even bothering be polite and look cold.

Tamorin, a bubbly Whisper apprentice leaves, following Solange.

A group of young men keep a path clear for their rather brutish leader, a man who is grizzled from wear of the streets with white tuffs showing in his beard, yet with a steady and sure gait. The man in the front and swaggering into the judgement green is in fact, Orathy Culler. The ridiculous nature of his gear is instantly recognizable. Oh yes, the man is wearing some fancy ass bling from a comb neatly pinned in his hair, some earrings, a leather choker and a further locket, some arm bracers that gleam... and more than enough rings. It all hurts the eyes since NOTHING MATCHES!! It's like he DID THAT ON PURPOSE. If one wanted to know what a scavenging hoarder looks like, this is probably the finest example. All said, there's an subtle arrogance about the way that he meanders into the judgement green, his eyes flashing over the crowds and his whisker bracketed lips sneering wolfishly at them all. It's a good day to bet. It's a good day to fight. He nods to his 'men' and indicates they should be close by if he needs them.

Tamorin, a bubbly Whisper apprentice arrives, following Solange.

As the whole thing prepares to start, Ronja Sandreef tries to quiet the clack of her teeth bouncing against each other in the cold. She's near the front of the gathered crowd, and clearly got there early for it, by the amount of snow that's graced her blue cloak. She's not being her most social, probably because she's more concerned with holding her hands over her mouth to breathe out and provide at least the illusion of warmth.

"I find it interesting," Bliss says, speaking up a little so that even those who are not near her might be able to hear, "That after all of Orathy Culler's talk of a Champion fighting a duel being someone who is pretending to be a silk, here he is engaging in that same behavior. I would almost say congratulations to him for realizing it, except he's acting like a shav and fighting for himself, instead of handling this in any kind of proper way. A shame, really."

3 Culler Hoodlums, 2 Culler Brute, Thomas Culler, Harriet Culler, Richard Culler arrive, following Torian.

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

Quintin glances over at Tiber and remarks, "I had a wooden sword just like that when I was your age." He offers the child a quick smile before taking another big bite of apple.

Silently making her way in, Sorrel heads over in Tikva's direction, offering a fond wave and a broad smile to Tiber as she approaches. She does not actually say anything, though, but she seems to be in a good mood.

Evonleigh makes her way to the wishing well, taking one copper coin to drop into it, before looking about at those arriving, with curiosity. She smiles at Narcissa. "Your bird looks rather how so many seem to feel in this cold," she says lightly, though she doesn't seem to mind it as much as others. Bliss' words draw her attention, and she arches a brow, lips curving to one side in a smile, before her eyes go back to Orathy. She's an actress, after all, and lives for a little drama, especially when it is not her own.

Shard glances briefly toward Bliss as she speaks, one eye a little narrow, but most of her attention appears to be on the very jewelry laden arriving Culler.

When Sophie enters it's with a rush of white robes and once she slips into seat at the wishing well, she stops to catch her breath. She whispers to Bliss, "I'm not late, am I? I feel like I' m always late." Then her eyes move toward the activity.

Hana hurries in with the later arrivals, only to find the Judgment Green quite crowded already. She tips from one side to the other, trying to peer around those still filing in or not yet seated in hopes of catching sight of the two duelists. After a moment, she gives up and starts trying to edge her way through the crowd in hopes of finding a better seat.

Jaenelle and her small army have arrived to watch the duel, supporting her protege and the Champions in general. Moving towards one side so as to not interrupt the coming and goings of the crowd as they settle, the Archduchess Regent finds a seat close to the action without her guards worried that she might get accidently stabbed to death or something.

Tiber looks up at Quintin curiously, dark eyes flicking over the pale figure nearby them on the bench, and he holds up the sword. "Did you duel with it?" he asks.
Tikva's eyes crinkle at the corners, warm and bright as she glances aside to Quintin and gives him a slight tilt of her head in a companionable way for the young Ashford's attempt to humor her son.

Aleksei strides onto the Judgment Green with a massive dog and small child in tow. He's in his leathers and a cloak to add to the warmth, given the weather, although Fitz's little impeccably-tailored fur coat is rather more stylish. Especially for what looks like a four-year-old. Aleksei keeps one of Fitz's hands clasped in his as he draws over to one of the benches, offering Tikva a wry, crooked smile. "Well, if he wanted to fight an honorable duel, he'd have to fall back on actual skill," he calls back over to Bliss dryly. "Much better to just pay people to try and protect him."

Aleksei has joined the long bench.

The culler lads that came with Orathy are suddenly throwing out cigarillos to the commoners in the crowd... It's thrilling to have packs of cigarillos flung at people's heads.

Solange clears her throat, before lifting her voice to speak to the crowd in the way of a trained orator. She first says, "Thank you, citizens of Arx, for gathering to witness. But first, I'd like to address another issue." A pause, her gaze sliding to Jeffeth. "It should not always take a duel to realize our wrongs and move to right them. While this duel will settle the matter of Orathy Culler's assertions of my character and everything involved therein, I have been rightly shown by my own Champion, Sir Jeffeth Bayweather, that I have made my own assumptions of the rest of the Cullers based on rumors and reputation. I apologize for those and the words I spoke against those Cullers not involved in this duel. It was rashly spoken. I am sorry." She pauses again, before turning towards Orathy where he is bedecked and curtseying to him. "However, our matter is not settled. Let this be the end of it, as soon as the duel has concluded. May the Gods guide your hand, Messere Culler."

Shard has joined the long bench.

From his seat, Agostino watches the arrival of Orathy with some amusement. He does not remain focused on the duelist for long, though, before making his way over to the tent where refreshments are being serves to pick up a glass of wine for himself. Once he has a drink in hand, though, he returns to the table in time to listen to the duel's hostess address the crowd.

Orathy drops A pack of Cherry flavored Black Mountain Cigarillos.

Orathy drops A pack of Cherry flavored Black Mountain Cigarillos.

Orathy drops A pack of Cherry flavored Black Mountain Cigarillos.

Narcissa takes one slow step to the side as one of those cigarillos goes sailing over her shoulder and into the well behind her. She muses aloud to no one in particular, "I wonder what sort of wish -that- will grant..."

"Maybe that's why he wrote a will and insisted on wearing such expensive armor. Some form of cowardice? He seems certain he will die today. It's almost insulting, as if he's calling the lot of us murderers," Bliss calls over to Aleksei, her own smile a smug one, matching his. It seems the mantle of Radiant is at least a little off for right now, and the barbs of the Champion are coming out. She looks over to Solange, though, and nods once, clear approval in her eyes at the words of the woman, before she lowers her voice to speak to thosen ear her once more.

Tikva gives Aleksei and Fitz a big smile as they join the bench. Tiber waves his sword at Aleksei in greeting and tells him, "I wanna duel!" by way of hello. "I have skill!" (Does he? Does he really?) He does kind of give Fitz a wary look, not entirely knowing what to make of the other boy, based on past experience.

Torian has joined the large bench.

Syd tt shakes his head to Sophie. "Not me, my Lady of Soothe! I don't know anyone's name. I am cheering for a double murder-suicide. More dramatic that way."

Quintin smiles at Sorrel, giving her a wave. Tiber is nodded to, solemnly. "I did. Quite a few duels. Some against actual living opponents, though usually we were discouraged from that before there were any victors. Something about someone's eye getting poked out. Lord Quintin Ashford, at your service." A slight nod to Tikva as well, still with a smile.

The massive hulking frame of Jeffeth Bayweather stands near Solange, slightly bent over to listen quietly to the Whisper as she speaks to him. His head slightly tilt down as he listens. Deep blues rest on the woman's hands as she ties the favor around one of his massive biceps. There's a soft smile that curls up his lips, "That's a nice ring, Whisper." He nearly whispers, to the whisper. Under his other arm, the shining alaricite helm shaped like a bull's head rests, horns still gleaming even with the limited sunlight.

Jeffeth tilts his head up and listens when Solange makes her announcement, listening with reverence as she makes her apology, his lips twitch into a soft smile and Jeffeth bows his head to her. When Orathy arrives, Jeffeth looks over in his direction with an inscrutable expression.

"Thank you Solange Whisper. I'm sure the Cullers will be glad to hear it." Jeffeth rumbles lowly with a soft smile. The bull's helmet is quickly raised and pulled onto his head. It's a little premature but maybe he just needs to hide his face with all that smilin'

Torian shows up with a small herd of his family and they, despite their reputations, keep themselves pretty well behaved and quiet. They seat themselves on a large bench to await the show.

Tikva scoots down the bench a little to make sure Sorrel has room to sit nearby so that they can communicate even if there aren't any words involved, her smile warm and paired with a wave.

Sorrel has joined the long bench.

Ronja Sandreef, as dignified as she looks in her fine fur and seasilk cloak, pulls her hands down from her face just in time to be smacked right in the nose by a flung pack of cigarillos. It's only enough to stun her, but stun her it does, leaving her wide-eyed and with a pack of cigarillos half-caught in her hood.

Ronja takes A pack of Cherry flavored Black Mountain Cigarillos.

Solange's gaze catches on Tikva and her son, a small smile catching into the corner of her lips. She sends her apprentice Whisper with a quick note towards the Grayson princess.

Tikva kisses her fingertips and blows Solange a kiss, followed by the flash of a wide grin.

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

Captain Teemo, a mountain lion cub, Flappinum, a human with many opinions arrive, following Leona.

Jaenelle has joined the small circular table.

Ugarte arrives, following Fortunato.

Tikva receives a note, glances over it, smiles, and whispers something to her child, who looks up at her with eyes gone round. Then he launches himself to his feet, Tikva dragged a little startledly behind as the bull-headed kid charges up towards Solange with his wooden sword in the air, visibly excited. "Yes please Lady Whisper!" he says very excitedly, while his mother, pillar of etiquette that she is, laughs through an, "Ack!"

Dusk, the artist formerly known as Fortunato, drifts onto the green, soft-footed and a little bemused by the crowd he must have known he'd be approaching. He links his long hands behind his back. He hums, tunelessly.

Leona steps onto the Judgement Green. She pauses, looking around to find familiar faces. Her hood is pulled up and forward, and though she cuts a recognizable figure indeed, it's difficult to see what expression she is actually wearing as she surveys both attendees and participants. And then she glides over to a small table, nudging her sister as she does in the sort of fashion that might have Jaenelle's guards bristling if it weren't for the form and figure of familiarity. "Teemo wanted to come," she explains to Jaenelle. "Something about a bet made while hunting."

Orathy may hear some of the remarks, but he's adjusting some of those pieces of jewelry, "Aye, aren't they pretty things yeah? All borrowed by them who care. Ain't it fuckin glorious? Shit, I feel half ways a champion already. Fancy pants 'n all." To no one in particular, before his eyes and attention fixes on Solange. He takes a moment to register her apology, brow lifting, "Aye well then. I be acceptin the fight fer the mud slung at me family, now that ya be takin that back, a good fight be still a good fight. I reckon I look the part of a Champion now, eh? This is how y'all do it, wearin all this fancy shit. Look almost as good Bayweather there, aye?!" His wolfish smirk indicates he was purposefully making a statement, but then he moves off into a section of the field and starts to make last minute adjustments. The red blade crafted by Ida is pulled loose from his scabbard, "I reckon I fight with the backin of the people who ain't got fancy tits to suckle on 'n who ain't got fancy people to train 'em how to fight. Still, be good to see what ya learned Bayweather." He is eyeing up all that gear that Jeffeth wears, noting the quality with a nod.

Leona has joined the small circular table.

Having finally found a position from which she can see the combatants, Hana waves enthusiastically at Jeffeth and offers an encouraging smile. It doesn't matter whether or not he actually /sees/ her among the crowd; it's the general spirit of encouragement that counts! Isn't it? But the waving falters and comes to a stop as she takes in the sheer /shininess/ that Jeffeth's opponent Orathy is presently sporting. "I haven't watched a lot of duels," she remarks towards Dusk as she spots her uncle nearby on the green. "Is that a /normal/ level of jewelry to fight in?"

Solange smiles to Orathy and tips her chin in a nod. As Tiber comes barreling over, she exhales a soft laugh, before dropping into a little graceful hunching posture to be more on level with the child. "Good, your highness. Now that we have given our speech and our opponent has given his, you should lift your sword, hold it for a moment to allow the men to ready themselves, and then drop it so they may begin," she instructs warmly.

Gawain settles at the table with a drink, in his hand, and a smile on his features, watching now the back and forth between as he sees how Orathy has dressed and he can't help just the slightest hint of a chuckle. All the jewelry indeed. "I almost recognize one or two of those pieces I think," he offers not ot anyone in particular. As the boy goes amrching out though to possibly help start the duel, he sits up a little bit more. Tis a serious thing to be out there amongst the weapons.

Dusk shifts his weight and flickers a smile over at Hana. He says, "I've no idea. None. Think I've heard rumors of rumors of a custom that jewelry's good luck? Maybe?" He raises his duskstone bracelet. "I'm pretty sure I would still just get beat up."

There is no reaching over to ruffle poor Teemo's head, no, Jaenelle instead gives the lion cub a familiar smile and respectful dip of her head. Leona is not given the same respect, and Jae easily nudges her twin with an elbow in return, amusement visable on her features. "I hope he wins then. Should I ask which side he bet on?" Flappinum is then turned to after, given her full attention, "I hope you find this enjoyable as well."

Tiber holds his wooden sword high in the air, small boy staring between the combatants with dark eyes gone very wide indeed. In the face of all this attention, Lord Tiber Riven looks a little boggled. The sword wiggle-waggles for a moment. "OKAY READY?" he yells. He doesn't have his mother's lungs, but it's fairly loud.

As a new comer to the city and a new face among the Whispers, Evangeline sticks out a little like a sore thumb. Though she is not decked out in luxurious silks or jewelry, she is tall and her locks of bright champagne blonde hair are artfully arranged into a braided crown around her head. She has the posture of a dancer and a graceful walk becoming of her training as a Courtier in Setarco. A gentle sweep of pale eyes takes in the audience and she moves to find a seat and yes, a familiar face in the crowd.

Shard leans forward a little from the seat she's taken on the bench. Her eyes are a little more narrow now, her demeanor a little more intent. She braces her elbows on her knees and threads her fingers together in front of her.

"You could make a killing selling bullshit to fertilize fields!" Aleksei calls over cheerfully to Orathy, smile wide and bright.

Tikva has left the long bench.

Confessor Imori have been dismissed.

Confessor Warren have been dismissed.

5 Armed Confessors have been dismissed.

Hana looks thoughtful. "I guess. I /do/ have my lucky paperweight, and I made that bracelet for Leola that she always wears. But it still seems like with that much jewelry, the enemy's blade might get caught on a bracelet or a locket chain or something like that!" She shakes her head, her gaze shifting from the two duelists to the crowd nearby as she murmurs something further under her breath.

When Orathy's speech is on-going, unfortunately Jeffeth has already put on his helmet. So none of his expressions or reactions can be seen. Such a shame. So the Bull of Solace just stands there, probably listening with his head tilted down slightly. "Actually, Orathy. Duels are usually fought with only high quality weapons and armor. So that any Champion has easy access to such equipment and can participate. That's generally a sporting way to do it anyways." Except the facemask of the bull is latched down and most of his words don't travel that far. So he lifts it. To repeat himself.

Which leaves his face exposed for the last of Orathy's speech. Which leaves Jeffeth rolling his eyes so hard they nearly fall out of his head. "Please, Orathy. Stop trying to make it sound like we haven't fought before. You already know what I've learned. Down in the Hollow." Jeffeth reaches up and pulls down the snout of the Bull with a CLANK.

There's a slow turn as the Bull looks over the crowd, waving perhaps to people in particular. Though there is a pause, the bull looking down at a certain mountain lion in attendance. If he's smiling, no one can tell.

Then the large Knight is turning to face Orathy, lifting up his hammer in both hands, "Alright."

Tikva has joined the long bench.

Emilia watches the proceedings from a nearby table where she sits alone. There's only a minute purse of her lips as some words are spoken, indicating that she is paying close attention to the two Champions.

Quintin snorts at something said at the benches, managing not to choke on his apple.

Jeffeth wields a tactical warhammer with a brutal spike.

Tikva laughs out loud and almost chokes on an apple!

Narcissa takes a silver and tosses it into the wishing well as she chats to Sophie and the others beside it. There is a pause as she makes a wish supposedly, opening her amber gaze once more to stare pensively at the duelers.

Ronja recovers swiftly from being smacked in the face with flying cigarillos, a process aided by how very few seem to have noticed. Easier to pretend it never happened, in that case... though she does slip the cigarillos into her cloak. When Jeffeth looks out to the crowd, Ronja takes advantage of her position near the front to stick two fingers in her mouth and whistle, loudly, to register her support.

Marius, 1 House Corvini Guard, Dante arrive, following Giulio.

"Perhaps you could make everything close to the skin. Tight chain, flush locket." Dusk gestures to the seating, then gestures to Hana. "Where do you want to sit, niece? About to get exciting."

Orathy raises his hand to Aleksei, cause he heard that, "Aye, 'n then I could be buyin a duchy eh?" Or something. He hears this little kid calling out ready and he grunts, "Ready as I can be, ya noble brat." He swings his sword Wrath around a bit, testing the weight, moving his shoulders a bit as he draws up his knees to his chest a few times to warm up his limbs. He looks across then at Jeffeth, hears some mumbling and cups a hand to his ear, "What be that son? Somethin bout some rules? Eh." And he makes a flippant gesture as he pulls up his hood to shrowd his face in shadow, where he probably belongs.

With both men readying themselves, Solange nods softly to Tiber before straightening. If she is anxious about the outcome, it doesn't show as she watches the entertainment.

Acacia arrives with a smooth easy gait, her hips swaying lightly under form fitting leathers. She moves through the crowd and finds a place with a good view. Folding her arms across her chest, she silently watches the proceedings.

Gawain is clearly amused at the back and forth, "All this and the duel hasn't even started yet." taking another sip of something in a nice wooden cup, he continues, the young noble just enjoying all the sights - people dressed up for the event, all the outfits and excitement and all the classes - it's a fun event, vibrant, active, and the young man is getting focused now on what is about to come with the duel.

Tiber gives Orathy a frown. His sword wavers for a moment at the insult, his nostrils flaring. He looks to his mother, and visibly straightens his spine, lifting his head. Then he yells: "GO."

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Demetria Arcuri arrives, following Josephine.

Demetria Arcuri leaves, following Josephine.

Demetria Arcuri arrives, following Josephine.

3 Culler Hoodlums have been dismissed.

2 Culler Brutes have been dismissed.

Giulio has joined the a brick and wood wishing well.

Dante has joined the a brick and wood wishing well.

Evangeline catches Acacia's arrival and lifts a gentle hand to wave hello just as the duel is about to begin.

A fight has broken out here. Use @spectate_combat to watch, or +fight to join.

Josephine slips through into the judgement green beneath a mountain of silk and fur for warmth and the ever familiar ornate cane and finds a quiet place to sit and watch.

A little upnod is offered aside to Evangeline and the redhead smiles slowly. Acacia turns back to the fight and silently watches.

Syd looks to those seated nearby, tugging at his beard, "Well, you can't back the young taller feller against the old shorter one! Least I can't, not without knowing both 'em. The older fellow 's gotta be the father's age of--oh! You're already wagering? Too fast for me, my rambunctilous children, if that means what I think."

Josephine has joined the small circular table.

"You did very well, your highness," Solange says quietly to Tiber, dragging her gaze away from the fight to smile at the boy. "Poise in the face of insults is always the best route." She pauses, glancing to the fight as Jeffeth grazes Orathy.

Tiber nods to Solange gravely. He says, "Mommy says not to rise to it," before shuffling back to the bench where his mother awaits him with food rewards.

Orathy is trying to manage that bull suit of armor that charges at him. He's quick on his feet to attempt to get out of the way of that large weapon to go along with Jeffeth's knightly form. The older man does hit, though his blows merely bounce off that expensive suit of armor! It's fine, he's got his own baubles of magical prowess to hopefully keep him safe! His form is nothing to be sneezed at either, although it's rough around the edges and more about avoiding getting hit than doing a lot of damage. The glancing hit upon him makes him twist on his feet and try to redirect, successful but without any of the bloodshed that's required. The shadow that the hood creates on his face does at least let people see the grit and determination settling into his jawline, neck muscles taut against that borrowed leather choker. He pauses long enough to actually adjust it, grunting as he attempts to keep away from Jeffeth's weapon.

Tescelina hastens to the field and sneaks toward one of the benches. The graceful knight shivering because she went and forgot her damn cloak. But those half-lidded eyes of hers sneak a look toward the challengers before she clears her throat and settles, promptly, as though she had been in attendance the /whole time/. It would not be dignified to be late, after all.

Tescelina has joined the long bench.

"WOOO! GET HIM, SIR JEFFETH!" Looks like Ronja isn't feeling the cold so much now that there's a fight to watch. She bounces on her heels as she keeps her bright eyes focused on the action, and doesn't hide her excitement for the duel in the slightest, decorum be damned. "GO IN TO THE LEFT! NO-- YES, THAT LEFT!"

Tikva has left the long bench.

Confessor Imori have been dismissed.

Confessor Warren have been dismissed.

5 Armed Confessors have been dismissed.

Tikva has joined the long bench.

Hana watches the green intently as the duelists exchange blows, though the weaponsmith's attention seems to be on the balance and handling of the weapons as much as it is on the duelists themselves. "You know, I don't think I've ever actually seen Jeffeth really in a fight before," she muses to Dusk. "And we can sit anywhere you'd like!" The words cut off as Hana shouts an encouraging 'wooo!' at Jeffeth when the duelists exchange blows.

The Bull of Solace moves forward slowly. A very slow charge. There's no goring, at least not right now. The big man holds his hammer up like a quarterstaff, balanced in between his gloves to avoid actually using the hammerhead, at least at first. They're both so well protected he probably could get away with using it a little. Even though he's a large man, the behemoth dances on the field. He moves forward with a lunge to draw a pary and is quickly pivoting and turning to keep Orathy moving.

Though he dances, it's at times not a very graceful dance. At times the Lowers in the man comes shining through. As when he sends an elbow across Orathy's hood, leaving only one hand on his weapon for a moment, then insteps using his shoulder to plow into the older man's chest, to push him back and give himself a little space. After that first light blow delivered, Jeffeth takes a single step back and goes to circle his opponent.

Syd leans forward in his seat and calls, in a quavering voice to Orathy, "Don't let that young pup beat you too fast, you weathered and bejeweled hedgehog! There's gold, brandy, raisin-cakes and garnets riding on this match. Dance, my lumbersome child! Dance like a--" His voice cracks, as apparently he can't maintain that volume for long. "Well, a professional dancer of some variety," he finishes, before pausing to catch his breath.

Agostino has left the small circular table.

Cecily, a coy secretary, Omero, a hulking bodyguard leave, following Agostino.

Acacia remains quiet for the most part, her large honey-brown eyes locked to the battle on the green, her arms folded loosely across her chest. A slight smile makes a brief appearance at hearing Syd's calls of encouragement and a bit of a spark of humor finds her eyes. But it lingers only a moment as she turns back to watch.

"Great," Dusk says. "Wherever I like. Any vantage, any." He seems a bit tense, but a crowd's a crowd. He gestures to a deserted table, then gestures again to Hana before sitting.

Fortunato has joined the small circular table.

Hana has joined the small circular table.

Sapphire has joined the small circular table.

A nondescript woman slips out of the crowd, taking a seat at a small table, eyes drifting over the crowd before settling on the combatants. She is carrying a pennant of some sort, which she waves as though she's cheering someone on - but it's just a plain red flag with no symbols on it at all. Hard to say.

When the fight starts, Maja is all enthusiasm for Jeffeth. "Get him, get him!" she calls, hopping up from where she sits to cup her hands around her mouth to better amplify her holler. But as the bout goes on and .. no one's nose has been bloody, the curly-haired apprentice slooooowly sinks back into her seat.

"Get him. Get him." This is said with much less enthusiasm. Please. Something happen. Anything. Maja claps her hands together -- once.

Acantha gives a look over the field and those that are fighting. She knew of Sir Jeffeth, but she'd never seen Orathy in person. So the woman is quietly taking notes on each of the combatants that are out there.

Shard's level of intensity doesn't get any less as she watches the two fighters. Watches their movements. Watches their blades. Their footing. There's no cheering from her, just an uncomfortable sort of quiet.

Syd calls to Orathy in a tremulous voice, having barely regained his wind, "You're supposed to -hit- him, you reluctant warthog! You oversized truffle-sniffer! He's big enough! Why, in my day I would've had him over my knee five minutes ago for a hearty spanking and a bowl of barley soup!"

Quintin finishes his apple; ever since the duel began, he's hardly looked away. He's too busy studying both combatants.

As it becomes clear that this fight won't be fast, perhaps Solange is regretting her decision at standing on the edge of the circle. Or her lack of coat. Or maybe everything that led her to this. Her amber gaze now starts to stray over the gathered crowd sometimes, taking in the people watching and cheering.

Tescelina watches the fight with a rapt fascination. Her hands knit in her lap. "The great misfortune of a meteor is that, no matter how fast it flies or how hotly it burns, it will succumb to the steady earth upon impact. Doom is its own beauty, I suspect. But it is doom none the less." She says to herself, or anyone nearby -- gods help them. She raises her hands and claps politely.

The fight is evenly matched much to Evangeline's surprise. She finds a place where to linger and her eyes remain glued on the fight. She cheers right along with the other spectators and can feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins. At some point someone is going to do some damage.

The two combatants are well protected and defend themselves well, plenty of exchanges go back and forth, neither really penetrating armor nor leather. Jeffeth swings the haft of his hammer to deflect a strike before swinging an arc over Orathy's head which the older man ducks under, a swing of Orathy's axe glances harmlessly off of Jeffeth's shining breastplate before a thud of the haft of Jeffeth's hammer smacks against Orathy's chest, also, harmless. But let it not be said there is no shortage of grit on the field, the two men never go very far from each other, Jeffeth even though he uses a weapon with reach tends to favor getting in close with Orathy and using his body to do the talking, shoving and forcing off balance.

Emilia is not the type of person to cheer someone on. From her lonely table, she watches the duel with no overt change in her expression. It's not like she is staring intently either - she is just observing. One might even say she is unimpressed or bored, but that couldn't be farther from the truth.

5 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant, Luca II, the laziest of the feline lot arrive, following Carita.

5 Redoubt Buccaneers, Bengalo, the sneaky black cat, Luna, the sweet, studious assistant, Luca II, the laziest of the feline lot leave, following Carita.

The comment on meteors from Tescelina is indeed overheard, as Ronja glances over to her side, breaking from her enthusiastic fight-cheering. Ronja gives all due important consideration to Tescelina's rumination on the nature of mortality and finality and the perverse form of beauty in same: "Huh?"

Orathy isn't going down as quickly as some may have bet upon. The taunting is heard, the heckling embraced, every scowling noble savored. Standing toe to toe against Jeffeth in front of a crowd drew some ire from the man, in the set of his jaw every time he dodged quickly enough to avoid that hammer, charging up a parry and rebuttal swing with WRATH, his patient rubicund blade. "Reckon she be waiting fer a taste of victory, she be patient-" he indicates with a flick of the tip of his sword, "I outta be fightin with an axe..." Although that's a story he doesn't have time to tell, not when Jeffeth is keeping him busy and pushing him to use everything he's got in those old bones to counter him, to prevent Jeffeth from getting beyond the netting of gear he's wearing, to keep breath in his own damn lungs. And while Jeffeth tries to shove him off balance, Orathy's not so small that he cannot hold his ground, he's well over six feet himself, able to quickly pick up his feet and adjust, rebalance, and survive. It's sheer grit on his part, the crowd and their jeering a muted thing. For now, it's the wolf against the bull, squaring off in an evenly paced game of weapon tag.

A gaunt young man with oily black hair and ice blue eyes arrives, following Braith.

Tescelina offers a polite smile to Ronja, although she doesn't take her eyes off the fighting if for a moment. "Sir Jeffeth will win," she explains. "In a matter of time."

Ronja gives Tescelina another look. "Well, good," she replies. "I'd hate to waste my breath cheering on someone losing a fight." She might be joking? She says it with a grin, but she also... well, sounds like she might not be joking. Her attention turns back to the duel: "SIR JEFFETH!" And then another fingers-in-mouth piercing whistle.

Syd tugs his beard enthusiastically and calls to Orathy in a thready voice, "You've rocked him back on his heels now, my gladsome boy, my handsome winsome lad! He's all ankle! Press the advantage! Don't stop to--oh! Ow, you should've dodged that one, my lily-of-the-trees! No matter! With age comes wisdom!" He lowers his voice slightly. "Also weakness and a delicate digestion, but we shan't dwell on the latter."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Emilia says. At first it's not clear if she is replying to someone or not, but eventually she casts a glance in Tescelina's direction.

Syd's calling out to Orathy draws a merry laugh from Evonleigh. "Oh, to have someone cheer me on so," she says, fanning herself a little despite the winter's chill. "Can I hire you to be my spirit raiser, my lord?" she asks the Volkov noble. "What would that cost?"

The curvy leather-clad redhead remains stone still in the chaos of the lively crowd. Even Syd's cheering seems lost on Acacia for the moment.

The exchanges continue, back and forth, seemingly unending as the pair of men from the Lowers battle on. At times Jeffeth gives a little ground before going to aggressively take it back. Orathy swings his blade and Jeffeth ducks his shoulder and moves into the attack, deflecting it while pummeling Orathy with his shoulder. It is followed up by a light strike to Orathy's back with the haft of his hammer. There are a few more exchanges and the fight has gone on for quite a while, now. At one moment, Jeffeth takes a step back, pulling up the snout of the bull to suck in some air. Jeffeth's athleticism is legendary and his armor is light, but they've been fighting for quite a while, and sweat is rolling down the big man's brow. He sucks in a breath and clamps the facemask of the bull back down, before darting back in towards Orathy.

Despite the effort of the old street thug, the uppity commoner from the Lowers, the rabble rouser of the white journals, Orathy isn't scoring any heavy hits. He's connecting most of the time with Jeffeth, but it looks like that rubicund blade is being patient for that blood! Yet, the gritty determination of Orathy Culler is evident now as he continues to stand his ground against the younger professionally trained knight. Orathy might cock an eye toward the stands though when he hears someone cheering for him? NO, that can't be right. A minor distraction sets the wolf back on his heels and he braces for a few more hammer falls that come because of it, trying to parry off the heavy weapon with his smaller but exceptionally beautiful blade. He uses the moment that Jeffeth gives him to right himself and continue trying to keep his feet going long enough, his wit dry humored as he offers, "Ya know, it be out runnin all those Goats that made me quick 'n jist like then, I be knowin ya ain't got time to stop." He lunges ahead and looks eager to continue despite how long the fight has already waged.

Gawain is enjoying the exchange, watching, though he looks to Jeffeth and purses his lips. He's seen the look of a person starting to get fatigued in metal, at least slightly. Not that a person can't keep going for a while like that. But it's interesting that th eman who's landed all the blows might also be the first to start showing that the length of the fight is taking its toll. He leans forward now, watching the continued back and forth


Late. Braith is late and she rushes the judgement green with her lute shifting on her back. Its untuned sour notes vaguely sound in the body of the instrument. She tries to get to a good vantage point, catching when Jeffeth pushes his helm back down over his face and steps in to do battle. Dark curls slow from their bobbing about her face to settle into place. She steps to the side and watches him, eyes going wide before she calls out, "GO SIR BAYWEATHER!" She's loud, perhaps a bit shrill near the end as her hands cup around her mouth to project her voice outwards before clapping her hands together. Only THEN does she look back and around for someone. Dust. She left himin the dust. She huffs out a breath and lifts on her toes.


Solange stills for a moment, just a moment, as Orathy manages to hit her Champion, but she lifts her hands soon after to clap briefly for the hit.

Syd calls to Orathy again, shaking one feeble fist, "Get in close, you worm-eaten driftwood ham-hock! Hug him tight! Bite his nose! Who taught you to fight, a recalcitrant butterfly? Stop holding back, you twice-birthed mud-nugget!" He quiets, panting, and mutters something at his table.

Evangeline has joined the small circular table.

Sauntering more than running on the heels of Braith, Podraig takes his time getting to the field. While he doesn't mirror her excitement or exhuberence, he does allow for a small, reserved smile to crack his otherwise stony expression. The tall shav'arvani hunter misses the loud outburst of support from the Sanna lady, but starts walking up towards her after she's turned around. He brings with him a couple of mugs of ale from a nearby vendor. When he's finally closed that distance, he offers one of those mugs to Braith. "Who's winning?" he asks, finally looking out onto the field with a squint.

Josephine is overheard praising Syd: That mouth! Those words! Whuff!

Evangeline makes an O shape with her lips as the last strike was a good one. The clash and clang of metal stealing her attention briefly. Her mode of cheering is a subdued clap. She leans over to continue speaking at her table.

Acacia winces at the hit, but her chin remains up, her arms neatly folded across her chest as she rests her weight on her right hip. Her gaze never wavering.

Ronja's enthusiasm for the fight doesn't flag in the slightest. At Jeffeth's latest strike, she seems almost giddy, lifting her hands in the air while cheering in a way that makes snow shake off of her cloak. Bloodlust, or just not getting out enough? Who can tell?

To her credit, maybe, Solange doesn't react much differently as her Champion scores that hit on Orathy as she did when Orathy scored the hit on Jeffeth. She lifts her hands to clap politely, though the small hint of a smile catches her lips briefly.

Tescelina smiles pleasantly as the fight carries on. "It is not certainty, though it sounded so," she says with a bow of her head toward Emilia. Her attention returning to the contest. A breath drawn in and exhaled. "It is faith."


Joined by Podraig and two mugs of ale, Braith looks rather grateful for the prodigals thoughtfullness. She hesitates a moment, making an audible 'uhhhhhh' to try to answer Podraig. Narrowing her gaze she hmmms, "I am not sure to be honest but they are looking tired," she admits and bites her lip in thought before finally sipping at her ale, tipping the mug back to take big gulp and then leans in to speak softly with the blodne Prodigal. Eyes narrow she hmmmmmmms. "Yeah they look VERY tired...ugh...man I bet they both stiiiiink after this."


Jeffeth is clearly wearing down. His gear is heavier and it is starting to show. His movements are slowing down and there's no hiding that. Orathy though older is still quick and wily as ever. Fortunately for Jeffeth, heavier gear means, not a whole lot of damage is incurred. Hardly any, in fact. At one point the large man just takes a couple of blows while standing there, catching his breath, and then he moves in.

There are several wild swings that Orathy is able to easily deflect. And for a few moments it seems that the tiring Jeffeth may be easy prey for the elder wolf. With a staggering step back, Jeffeth swings the haft of his hammer out to try and give himself a little space, and he staggers backwards. Reaching up, Jeffeth goes to take off his helmet, his face is slick with sweat as he looks tiredly across the field at Orathy, that breastplate rising and falling rapidly.

The Bull is dropped and Jeffeth is suddenly charging across the grass, the hammer is almost an afterthought, brought up to slap Orathy's blade away and then, it is quite simply, dropped. Mostly so the large champion can dip his huge frame and shove one massive shoulder into Orathy's gut, both arms wrap around him and the large man picks Orathy up, up, up, off the field before darting forward a few steps, carrying the older man. Then all of it goes driving down into the field, shoulder driving down into the man. Jeffeth is instantly picking himself up, swinging one hand out to pin Orathy's sword arm to the grass. The other freehand, it comes flying hard down at Orathy's face with a loud, dull thwack. There's a few breaths before Jeffeth raises up his fist, first to Orathy, then to the crowd. His knuckles stained with crimson.

"Duels swing all the time," Emilia says in reply to Tescelina, taking a moment to study her appearance a bit closer. "Those who fight for Gloria will be rewarded." Emilia glances back to the fight, just as the decisive strike happens. She sniffs and then smiles to the Lady, "Not this time, it seems."

When that last hit is scored, Shard's only reaction is a faint showing of teeth. It's most definitely not a grin, or a grimace. Far from either. She straightens up from the lean she's been in since the fight started, and casts a brief glance down the bench.

Quintin's eyebrows arch way up as the final movements of the duel play out. He doesn't applaud just yet - his eyes are on the man Jeffeth just defeated.

At the showing of blood, there is no noise from Bliss, no cheering or booing, but rather, her eyes just remain focused on Orathy and whatever might happen next.

"Pretty even match, then. Should be interesting." Podraig smiles a bit more broadly to Braith after handing her the mug of ale. Looking back out onto the field along with her, he tries to get a better idea of how the fight has progressed. He takes a long drink from his mug then, leaning in a bit so that he can hear Braith over the crowd gathered to see the fight. "Lot of people come to see these," he observes casually. "I wonder who..." His eyes are back on the field just in time to see Jeffeth's rush and he widens his eyes. Rather than shout out, he gives a little fist-pump and a nod of his head. "That's how it's done."

Acacia is overheard praising Orathy: Good fight. Proud of you.

The way the knight raises a fist covered in blood earns him the loudest cheer yet from Ronja -- probably in competition for the the loudest cheer of the whole night. "WOOOOOOO!"

Evangeline looks a touch flushed at her seat. A simply gloved hand rests on her cheek as she says something softly to Gawain. The Whisper tenderly looks away from the violence but as the applause and praise rises from the spectators, Eva joins in celebrating both the victor and his opponent.

Evangeline is overheard praising Jeffeth: Well fought, Bull of Solace.

Evangeline is overheard praising Orathy: A well fought match.

As the lengthy dance comes to an end, Evonleigh applauds, though no loud cheer or jumping up on the Whitehawk lady's part. "Well fought, both," she says loudly, clearly not truly invested in the challenge itself but there for the sport of it and the company. She nods to those she is seated by as she rises and dips in a curtsy. "Have a lovely rest of your days. It was so nice to meet you," to those she hadn't before, "and see you," to those she has.

Sophie rises from the wishing well, and plucks the satchel she's carrying up to take with her. She nods politely to everyone and she says, "If you'll excuse me.. I'll go see if anyone is ready to be patched up." Sophie moves then toward the green, slinging the satchel over her shoulder as she does. As she approaches Oarthy she calls out, "Will you let me see to your wounds?"

Solange's gaze lingers on Jeffeth's fist before she nods. "Well fought, Champion. And you as well, Messere Culler. But, it seems the results are clear in regards to the insults given me," she says simply, her voice lifting to be heard over the crowd.

Evonleigh has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

2 Whitehawk Guards leaves, following Evonleigh.

Giulio has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

Marius, 1 House Corvini Guard leave, following Giulio.

Dante has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

With how tired that it seemed Jeffeth was, Orathy was like a wolf nipping at the heels of the bull, waiting for a moment when that weakness would overcome the pull and the wolf could go for the throat. Maybe Jeffeth knew that and maybe that's why the tactic was suddenly changed and while Orathy does try to react to the charge of the younger man, the impact reverberates as alaricite armor hits leather and cloth, the older man taking the impact full force in the chest as he's hoisted up and thrown down, lungs expelling a whuff of air as the bull gets his damn horns into him, goring him with a final smack of a fist. It's over that quickly, despite the older man looking as if he had energy left in the tank. He suffers the punch well enough, grimacing up at Jeffeth as he spits aside (not aimed at the knight) to get the taste of blood out of his mouth. There is some feral disappointment in his gaze though, as he waits for Jeffeth to get off him so he can roll over onto his side, pick himself up - and reclaim any of those baubles that got launched off him when he was thrown to the ground. Another wad of spit gets spat on the Judgement Green, "Reckon I be rememberin that move next time..." He rasps over to the Champion. He looks up to Sophie and nods, sitting on his ass to catch a breath.

The leather clad redhead moves through the crowd and arrives at Orathy's side as Sophie moves to see to his wounds. Acacia places a hand on the big man's shoulder and smiles a hint before leaning forward to whisper in his ear.

Bliss is overheard praising Solange: Not only did she initiate the duel properly and handle the manner in the right way by hiring a Champion, she also made sure to right the errors she had made in the process. This is what honor looks like. Not whatever it was that Orathy Culler decided to do today. It is no wonder that Gloria favored her Champion.

Tescelina rises fluidly from her seat and claps at the conclusion of the duel with as much enthusiasm as is appropriate for public display. She smiles slightly, always tinged with an edge of sadness, before she moves toward Emilia and curtsies properly. "Lady Tescelina Wyrmguard," quietly spoken. "Knight of House Wyrmguard. I would be remiss to not have introduced myself."

As Orathy grants her permission she approaches and gets to work wrapping bandages tightly enough to stop the flow of blood, shifting the flesh to determine the need for additional healing. When she completes what she can do she moves a step back and she says, "You held your own well, Master Culler. You should be proud of yourself." Then she's moving toward Jeffeth with a bright smile, "Congratulations! Do you need any healing, Sir Jeffeth?"

Quintin is overheard praising Orathy: Well fought.

Quintin is overheard praising Jeffeth: A sound victory.

Tiber whoops without any lordly dignity for Jeffeth, which makes Tikva, beside him, laugh.

Acacia nods ones and starts to head out once more with an easy smooth gait, her smile remains as does the spark in her eyes.

Narcissa begins to wrap her cloak about herself against the biting cold. After a round of applause for the fighters, a small smile and nod for the victor, she asides to Sophie, "I'll pilfer that bottle of wine from his stores and see it sent over as the bet decrees. Well guessed! We'll have to settle for winning a bet another time, Radiant." she promises Bliss.

Tescelina is overheard praising Jeffeth: Gloria's praise upon the righteous.

Syd tenuously rises to his feet. He steadies himself on against the side of the well for a moment, then calls to Confessor Warren, "Well, next time, with any luck, we'll see a riot. A populous roused, and all that, with righteous indignation--or indigestion, if they're older folk like ourselves. You work on your fiery oratory and I'll polish up my spectating, how's that for a deal?" He bows stiff in general farewell, and without waiting for a reply from the Confessor, turns to totter unsteadily away.

Sorrel claps brightly for the end of the match, smiling at the competitors as Gloria decides the winner.

Emilia rises out of her seat and bows politely to Tescelina. "I am Dame Emilia," she says. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my Lady." Emilia glances at Tescelina's rapier and companion dagger, before looking up to the Lady. "I don't think I've ever met a Knight of House Wyrmguard before."

Jeffeth pushes himself off over to the side. He rises to his feet and goes to bow deeply to Orathy. The large knight then turns and bows at the waist to the crowd. "To Gloria." He booms out before looking down to Orathy. "Well fought." Jeffeth states quietly. Straightening up, he raises his hand in a forestalling gesture to Sophie with a sweet, but tired, smile. "I'm fine, Mother Mercy. Thank you." Jeffeth makes his way to go pick up his hammer. He turns slightly to face Solange raising his hammer to her before bowing deeply. The big man then heads for his helmet.

"Lady Wyrmguard, I am glad that you could come. It is a pleasure to see you and return your ring," greets Solange to Tescelina as she hears her introduce herself, smiling to the woman. She moves to slide a ring off her finger, holding it out to the noblewoman, before her attention shifts back to where Orathy is being administered to.

"Indeed, m'lord," Confessor Warren says with a deep rumble in his throat. His face is fixed in a stern expression, absent any smile, but he dips his shiny bald head to Syd in acknowledgment. "I'll work on that."

Quintin does applaud now, rising from his feet to do so. "Well," he remarks. "I certainly don't want to fight either of them, ever."

Syd has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

Jaenelle is overheard praising Jeffeth.

"Me either," Tikva says with a crooked grin. "But that's an archer's privilege, to only fight people from quite a long way away." She tousles Tiber's hair as she rises. "Thank you for the fruit, my lord!"

Sophie nods her head as Jeffeth declares he doesn't need healing, and she returns to her seat, leaning in to tell Narcissa, "I would enjoy the wine much more if it comes with the company of those who were betting with me. You'll join us for a drink one night, and perhaps dinner?"

Orathy lifts up his hand to Acacia to gesture to her that he's okay, a subtle thing with a nod granted to whatever she whispers, his own raspy voice whispering back with a solid hard tone, as Sophie tends to him. He suffers the healing with as much dignity as an old wolf might, that is he grumbles and growls... But then he's rising up on his feet, "I ain't expectin to be punched.. were a good turn 'bout..." He doesn't bow, but he does grunt toward Jeffeth, "Aye kid, yer truly no longer one of us, eh. Tis good, fer some to get out." He follows along behind Acacia, because damnit, there's too many looks at him right now. He stops long enough to grab his rubicund blade and keeps it out, while his guys catch up to him as well.


"Oh boy..." Braith whispers as Orathy is heaved bodily into the air and she edges forward without even realizing it. She thrusts her ale back towards Podraig. "Just a sec!" As things start to wind down she slips past a few people. As the Culler is being seen to, she is turning her head to spot the bull helm. She cracks her knuckles to stride out onto the open green and moves to head for it. It probably stinks but why not help the rather tired and focused fighter? Why not indeed. The Sanna lady is crossing the green, looking like for the entire world she deserves to be there. The lute sings very light hollow sour notes as she walks, the cracked bit of it killing the true sound of the instrument should be giving. Her hand goes for the horn nearest her.

HEEEEAAAVE

Braith grunts a bit as she lifts the helmet and struggels a moment to get it up into her arms and it turns unexpectly. The whole thing does smell like body and sweat. "OH BOY."


Narcissa glance skywards, "Well, I have time for a drink now, but it does not quite have the same enjoyment as enjoying a bottle plucked from my brother's rations. Simply let me know the night, and I would be glad to join you for a drink and a bite to eat."


"Well that was easier than I thought but the smell," Braith begins, tilting her head down into it and suddenly wishing she had not. Her back is mostly towards the inbound Jeffeth.

"Ah, what a surprise. He is too proud to let another fight for him, and his beaten pride is refusing to let him apologize, as is proper. Instead, he decides to try to shame the Champion who fought so well against him," Bliss says with a shake of her head, very clearly not surprised in the slightest by this result. "Some people really do belong in the gutter."

Tescelina cants her head to the side and studies Emilia's longsword in turn. "The pleasure is mine, Dame. I hope that the impression is worthy of my noble House." She turns as Solange approaches with the ring and her smile softens. "I prayed for your success," she admits, before taking the jewelry back and sliding it upon her forefinger. Her cyan hued eyes return to the Templar. "Your sword is radiant." A particular kind of compliment, sweetly delivered.

"You're welcome. The Orangery is wonderful," Quintin tells Tikva. Another smile for Tiber, because who doesn't smile at little kids? Buttheads, that's who. Spying Braith, he squints a little. "Lady Braith," he calls. "What are you doing?"

3 Culler Hoodlums, 2 Culler Brutes leave, following Orathy.

Shard's eyebrows arch, just slightly. She says something low and mostly inaudible.

Torian doesn't make a show of leaving any more than he did of arriving. He doesn't get dragged into any of the chatter, or passive aggression brewing. He just rises up from his bench, followed in turn by his family members, and moves to leave with his brother.

Josephine has left the small circular table.

There's a light frown as Orathy goes. Jeffeth looks over to Torian, with slightly widened eyes, Jeffeth doesn't move for his helmet, just yet.

Podraig raises a brow at Braith as she thrusts her ale back towards him. He's clearly confused, but takes it anyways. He then watches the Sanna Lady cross out onto the field. "Sure you should be doing that?" he asks, but doesn't move to stop her. Rather, the befuddled-looking prodigal just stands there with two ales, blinking. With a shrug then finally, he sips from his own ale and takes the moment to observe the rest of the crowd. They slowly pan back over to Braith, who is lifting up the helmet. There he watches on curiously, not excited about the idea of drawing much attention to himself, it would appear.

Solange pauses, for a moment, as Orathy leaves. But then she smiles, warmly, to Tescelina. "It did," she assures her. Then she moves to join her with Jeffeth, offering to him in public thanks, "Thank you again for lifting your blade to my cause as a Champion, Sir Bayweather. You have done me a great honor." She curtsies to him, before she also moves to leave.

Sophie nods to Narcissa and she says, "That sounds lovely." She looks to Bliss and she leans in to kiss her on the cheek, murmuring, "I'll see you later.." Then Sophie is off, back to the House of Solace to see to mercy matters.

Emilia smiles seems ever-present and never-changing - always warm and welcoming. "Of course it is, my Lady. I am quite fond of your style and choice of weapon; I think it is befitting of both grace and skill," Emilia says. When the sword is brought up, she offers a chuckle. "Thank you for your kind words. I am not worthy of it, however." She means the sword.

Sophie has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

Dame Rosario Nevarre of the Oathlands, Anouk Ardennes, Anais Ardennes, Triage, The white dove of Mercy, 3 Valardin Knights, 1 Templar Knight guards leave, following Sophie.


Oof. Braith turns to the sound of her voice and she scans the assembled for someone.."Oh Lord Quintin. Good to see you, oh just helping a friend out. You know. He's probably starting to feel the effects of that fight...if this helmet has anything to say about it. How have you been? You do remember Podraig right?" She makes a motiont to the double fisting Prodigal and smiles at him, giving the blonde a wink before curls her arm around the full circumference of the helmet to settit it against her side and slightly against her hip.

She turns then, glancing back towards Jeffeth and notes his pause. She slowly starts towards him then. "Be right there, hold the ale." she remarks.


As a rumble comes through the crowd, Bliss turns her head to listen, then nods, whatever tension had been in her seeming to melt away. "Well done, Solange," she says to her fellow Whisper, walking by her and giving her a soft smile, before she's headed away as well.

Bliss has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

Jared, an overworked-looking, nervous Apprentice Whisper, Donatella leave, following Bliss.

Narcissa waves a farewell to Sophie as she goes. Before moving to leave, much to the chagrin of the disgruntled raven on her shoulder, Narcissa asides to Bliss, "Another time, of accents, roots, stems and where they have led. See you around." she dips her head in a fond farewell.

Torian has left the large bench.

3 Culler Hoodlums, 2 Culler Brute, Thomas Culler, Harriet Culler, Richard Culler leave, following Torian.

Narcissa has left the a brick and wood wishing well.

Nevermore, the sulking raven leaves, following Narcissa.

Aleksei's brows arch as Orathy leaves as he does, but he just snorts quietly and shakes his head. "Well-fought, Bayweather!" he calls over to Jeffeth. Fitz tugs on his hand for his father's attention, and Aleksei leans over so that he can catch his words above the general hubbub. He laughs lowly at whatever Fitz tells him, and then he straightens back up. "He wants to see your helmet," he tells Jeffeth.

Tamorin, a bubbly Whisper apprentice leaves, following Solange.

Teemo leaves the vicinity of his table and stalks right over to Jeffeth, shouldering people aside - the mountain lion cub has no manners at all. He headbutts the big Knight and then offers a paw up for a fistbump. Pawbump? It seems to be a familiar sort of thing, though his tail flicks at Fitz's hair like he's familiar with the boy too.

Aleksei and Fitz have a drifting tugboat in the form of Tiber Riven, who follows them toward Jeffeth with an unusual diffidence.

Tikva is here too but she's not the entertaining part of this pose.

"I've been well, Lady Braith," Quintin tells the Sanna bard. He inclines his head to Podraig, too. "And of course I remember Mister Gwent." There's... a mountain lion cub. Offering its paw up to Jeffeth. This distract Quintin, who blinks several times.

Champion, a large Oathlands Vanner have been dismissed.

The large man is frowning over at Torian, standing still. The large man tilts his head down a little, his features taking on some form of concern. A light nod is given before the big man turns over and smiles broadly at Solange once more. "Of course, Whisper." Jeffeth rumbles, bowing once more. The big man's lips then twist into a bright smile and he looks down at the approaching Fitz. Jeffeth's smile goes brilliant. "Hey." Jeffeth barks out down to Fitz. "You can see it if..." The big armored knight takes a step forward and yells down at the child.

"Be my door!"

He doesn't run or anything he stays still before looking down to the approaching Teemo, the large man immediately going down to a knee so Teemo can headbutt him easy enough. Jeffeth then smacks his fist into Teemo's claw before.. punching him in the head. It's not hard or anything. Just a friendly punch friends do. Then he's looking over to Braith. "Lady Braith, can you bring it over here? The boy wants to see it." Calls the man friendpunching a mountain lion.

Tescelina drifts a bit closer to speak with Emilia properly from the vantage once of politeness to conversational. She tilts her head from blade to Dame. "I should be so honored to show you on an occasion of your wish, we shall dance together, yes. I think it would be a pleasure." Then she asks, "Why are you unworthy of it?"

Shard pushes up from the bench, and this time the expression that crosses her face is a faint grimace. She stretches a little, and seems inclined to simply linger there for the moment, but Teemo's arrival in her field of view inspires a squint, and she ends up wandering over to the forming group more or less behind Tiber.

"Say excuse me!" Jaenelle chastises Teemo, looking towards Leona after, "have him at the Velenosa estate in the morning for etiquette lessons" is stated with a tsking tongue clicking sound of disappointment for his behavior.

Lifting his brows, Podraig shifts his wandering gaze back to Braith as she's looking his way. He's a bit too far too tell what's being said, but he does recognize Quintin so he raises one of the mugs of ale his way. He nods again to Braith when she calls back to him that she'll be right there. He of course nods his head and lifts the mug of ale again, signaling that the message has been received. For the most part, the prodigal seems more than content standing there on the sidelines and drawing as little attention as possible while he observes the crowd with intense steel-grey eyes. They shift from one person to the next, giving a quick study before moving on.

Leona raises an eyebrow at Jaenelle. "You expect a mountain lion cub to just start talking to people, /Archduchess/? Aren't you the fanciful one these days." She pushes her hood back from her face, her skepticism clear upon it - though there's the slightest twitch at the corner of her lips as she regards her sister.

Relic arrives, following Harlan.

Relic leaves, following Harlan.

Hanging back with a shuffle of his feet, Tiber seems taken aback by this play. And possibly by the mountain lion. I mean, you never know. Tikva fetches up behind him and slants a sidelong look at Shard, her mouth wry. Long time no see, we just watched this whole fight on the same bench.

"/Dame/ Leona, I expect your companion to show as much care for the people of Arx as other animals living within the city walls show. Oh. Speaking of. I stole Laric's mug" and for some reason she might still have it, and there might now be wine in it instead of coffee. "We are co-parenting it."

Jaenelle drops a 'WORLD'S OKAYEST INQUISITOR' coffee mug.

Hana has left the small circular table.

Gawain has left the small circular table.

Shard tips her head to the side, in Tikva's direction. No smile, but there's something a little brief, a little light that crosses her features.

Jaenelle takes a 'WORLD'S OKAYEST INQUISITOR' coffee mug.


Okay that is something neat. "Pod come get a look," she says watching the fistbump with open fascination. It takes Jeffeth asking for her to bring his helm over that moves her. "Right! I can do that," she walks then, bull helm pressed to her side as she crosses the distance to the celebratory gathering. She shifts it away, taking it by the horns and letting it rest before her to show it off for Jeffeth so he can continue to thank those around him. "Here it is...don't smell it." She quickly offers the last advice as she looks at Teemo and Fitz. "It's a bit wet too so maybe just the outside?" Helpful. She glances back at Quintin and Pod and jerks her head as if to bid them closer.


Emilia covers her mouth as she chuckles at Tescelina's words. Still, Emilia thinks about the question, smile never faltering - not even once. "I've not yet lived up to the expectations. The sword was made for me, and was a gift to the Faith." She shrugs. "It was the wish of its creator that it not be turned on the innocent, and to eradicate evil. So far, I've only realized one half of that." Her tone is smooth and conversational, almost said as if it was a passing thought, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Do you like watching duels, my Lady?"

Quintin glances over at Podraig, gives a little shrug, like, why not? and heads over toward Braith. The helmet is given a curious glance.

Prior to making her own departure, Evangeline approaches Jeffeth with a rather proud look upon her face. When he is not taken by conversation, she politely excuses herself to speak. "Sir Bayweather, as a first time spectator in the city of Arx, may I congratulate you on a wonderful dueling performance. I was at the edge of my seat the entire time." Her smile warms her cheeks and she offers this expression to Jeffeth and those around him.

"A sun seeking darkness," Tescelina considers, "Such a search. I see your dilemma. Perhaps we can help one another." But she says no more, her attention drawn toward Jeffeth getting bodied by a mountain lion cub. "I enjoy the beauty of the dance, anything in the name of Gloria carries a music like the stars -- Sir Jeffeth," she calls to him and raises a hand in greeting. "You did very well," like she's proud of him before her attention returns to Emilia. "I feel unworthy of things as well."

"Co-parenting it? Do you mean you're using it as a Sally lure?" Leona's query is wry indeed, even as Teemo wanders back to her side and gives Jaenelle a shake of his head. A definitive no from the cub. "I wouldn't blame you if you did - Sally's good company no matter the day." She eyes the mug again. "That is a singularly ugly mug.

It took Ronja a bit of time, there, elbowing her way through the crowds to get close enough to observe Sir Jeffeth having his post-fight fun. "Sir Jeffeth!" she calls, from a short distance away, but close enough to be identified on sight. She looks awfully more sober than the last time the knight saw her. "You did fantastic!" she calls, and pumps her fist in his direction in an enthusiastic, if not particularly mannered, show of support.

"I'm the BEST at doors!!" Fitz declares, bold and fierce, to Jeffeth, bracing himself on his tiny little legs. Aleksei stands a bit behind his son, his smile faint, but tinged with a little something more complicated.

He really was comfortable where he was. Happily out of the way. Podraig gives a somewhat dramatic roll of his eyes before, grudgingly, he begins walking over with two mugs of ale in hand. She was going to make him socialize. There was no stopping it. The hunter moves with a sure step, steady hands not spilling a drop of ale on his way over to where Braith and Jeffeth are...along with the mountain lion. Although he's not entirely familiar with the animal, he knows enough to know what it is. "Nice lion," he remarks aloud as he approaches, albeit awkwardly. He moves to stand like a statue next to Braith, holding her mug of ale as well as his own. "Sir Jeffeth," he greets him before looking to the other. "Lord Quintin." He nods to both in turn.

Jeffeth checked composure at difficulty 10, rolling 3 lower.

Jeffeth reaches up, one giant hand enveloping Evangeline's shoulder briefly. "Whisper, thank you so much for coming. And thank you for your kind words." Jeffeth smiles brightly before his attention is taken by Tescelina calling out to him. His smile is everpresent as he bows in her direction. "Thank you My Lady." Jeffeth's attention is very split. Everyone who greets or speaks to him gets a very bright smile even if brief as he tries to shine that bright smile on anyone who comes into his vicinity. Often saying 'thank you' to people as they go by, even if they may not have congratulated him. When Braith comes over with the helmet he takes it and looks down at Fitz.

At his declaration the smile falters a little bit, it is still there, but wan. His eyes bright but something about his gaze is a little vulnerable. The big man swallows hard and takes a bit of his battle skirt up and goes to wipe the interior of his helmet. Going to one knee he looks up to Aleksei as if for permission before slowly lowering the bull helmet over Fitz's head. Once he has it on, Jeffeth goes to give him the tiniest of shoves. Door'd.

As Ronja comes over, Jeffeth looks up smiling brightly. "Ronja. Thank you for coming." He pipes happily, though he's busy pushing a kid over to hug her or anything right now.

"We share it on a week by week basis, it is my week" Jaenelle explains,voice lowering, "it is a work in progress, its only the first month we're tried this." When Sally is mentioned she wrinkles her nose, "it was because of Sally that I stole the mug! Laric tricked me into eating one of Sally's bugs. He probably doesn't need to drink as much coffee as he does anyway, so I am probably prolonging his life by at least five full years by keeping the mug for two weeks a month." She is clearly doing her duty to the city. Teemo is tsked again as Jaenelle leans down just a little, keeping eye contact, "I am not angry, just disappointed."

"Do I ever want to know what 'be my door' actually means?" Shard wonders, out loud. "Other than 'get the hell out of the way'."

Tiber continues to sort of dawdle on the edges of the group of well-wishers and congratulators. He waggles his wooden sword from his left hand to his right and back, frowning at Jeffeth and Fitz.
"Personally, I think I can convey the thanks of House Grayson for your having relieved Laric of his ugly mug," Tikva pipes up.

Emilia nods at Tescelina's words. "I suppose that is what it is; a sunrise chased by the darkness." Emilia says, resting her forearm on the pommel of the sheathed sword. "But I don't think a sword understands that the brighter the light, the deeper the darkness. When one dims, so does the other." She clears her voice after a moment, perhaps realizing that random bits of philosophy were uncalled for. "I don't know of any thing that you might be unworthy of, my Lady, but if there's something I can do to help, I will most certainly strive to be of service to you - if it is within my power."


"Glad you could come out," Podraig gets a prod for that and she smirks up at the Prodigal beore looking to Quintin. Suddenly the helmet is being taken from her and Braith's small hands relinquish it only to watch as its cleaned out - GOOD JOB JEFFETH!. But then its being plunked down on a rather tiny head. "Look at that, a new bull in the making." She crosses her arms before her as her expression softens and she reaches over to take up her mug and sip from it. There is a moment as she considers taking another gulp but steps forward, offering her ale to Jeffeth wordlessly. A little upnod for him to take it because guy needs a drink. Emotion and sweat. Her eyes straight to Aleksei and linger there. "Hello...I see now." She says, a soft smile on her lips as she looks to Fitz.


Sapphire hears Podraig comment on Teemo and she calls over, "He's not tame, but he's civilized enough." Then she looks at Jaenelle. "Oh those bugs," she says, and she laughs like it's the best joke ever. There seems to be no dissembling with her either, she is well and truly amused.

Leona hears Podraig comment on Teemo and she calls over, "He's not tame, but he's civilized enough." Then she looks at Jaenelle. "Oh those bugs," she says, and she laughs like it's the best joke ever. There seems to be no dissembling with her either, she is well and truly amused.

Quintin's lips tug to the side; he tells Jeffeth, "Congratulations, Sir Bayweather." There's a nod to Braith and Podraig, and he adds, "I think it's time I get back home. It was good to see you both again. Another time, soon, I hope!"

Quintin has left the long bench.

Tescelina considers Emilia's words with an almost owl like cant of her head, her long hair falling to the side. "I think we may become fast friends, Dame Emilia. I shall reach out soon. For now, I must retire. What type of tea do you like?"

Sorrel reaches out to ruffle Tiber's hair, continuing to be uncharacteristically silent. She smiles, though, watching the shenanigans with amusement.

Evangeline offers Jeffeth's mammoth hand a little pat-pat of her own and quickly side-steps any horseplay by children and champions. Of course there is also a mountain lion cub present? She turns to Jaenelle and Leona with wide, smiling eyes. "Your Grace, My Lady." Her eyes curiously following Teemo for a moment with a hint of awe. "He is precious. I do not believe I've ever seen one up this close before." Now that the crowd has thinned some, she spots Sorrel and politely waves to the Thraxian Princess.

Aleksei's expression falters for the briefest moment when Jeffeth looks up at him, but then he finds a smile again, clearly assenting to that silent question before Jeffeth sets the helmet carefully on Fitz's head. "Stop being SAD," Fitz orders Jeffeth, even as his little hands set on either side of the helmet to balance its oversized frame on his head so it doesn't wobble too much. "Mama says you say it wrong," he tells Jeffeth next. Inscrutably. Aleksei glances over at Shard, almost as if he might answer, but then he hesitates. "It's one of the follies the Nox'alfar do," he finally says.

Podraig smiles lopsidedly at Braith in response to her prodding, steel-grey eyes giving the woman a briefly adoring look as she takes the ale from him. He takes his own in hand and takes another long gulp from it. Looking back over his shoulder at the voice calling out then, he looks to Leona and nods his head once to her. Seems about right, so he decides to go with it. "Be well, Quinting," Podraig says to the man in parting. Falling silent again, the stoic young hunter looks over towards the kid now in the helmet and then to Jeffeth. A long moment of consideration is given, but he speaks no words. Instead, he quietly observes the others as they converse amongst each other.

Emilia chuckles once more at the words, and she looks both humbled and embarrassed at the same time - she does seem a bit shy. "Thank you for the kind words, my Lady. Any tea would do, really. I don't have a favorite or a preference," she says, inclining her head politely. "I too should get going."

Shard looks toward Aleksei, then Jeffeth. And then, for a moment, toward Fitz. She grunts. "I suppose that makes sense." A beat. "In that it doesn't actually make any sense at all."

Jeffeth swallows hard and smiles. "I'm not sad, you're sad." Comes the very adult reply to the child. He looks up over his shoulder to Shard then down to Fitz. "Show her how you play. You have the bull helmet now." Jeffeth goes to stand, adjusting his the flowing length of his steelsilk skirt if Fitz is getting ready to gore him. It's hard to depend on something as thin as silk, but Jeffeth does his level best. He glances to Podraig, then Evangeline, then Braith. "Lady Braith, Evangeline Whisper, Podraig. My friend, Captain Teemo. We go hunting together. Teemo, these are some of my friends."

Tescelina quirks her lip and waggles a finger. "That won't do. We will find you one." Its decided. "Have a pleasant evening." The knight will keep her no longer and turns to walk from the greens with the same light steps.

Emilia salutes Tescelina in a knightly fashion, "You as well, my Lady."

Tescelina has left the long bench.

"You would laugh" Jaenelle accuses Leona as she does just that, her nose wrinkling at the memory all over again. Thank the Gods for Evangeline though! Taking the distraction to forget about eating bugs, she offers the Whisper a warm smile, "Mistress Whisper, hello. I hope you are doing well, and enjoyed the duel?" At the mention of Follies, Jaenelle doesnt appear sad, despite everything, "if at any time you visit the Nox'alfar embassy, do visit the Human Follies room. The mannequins are constantly being rearranged into different positions for maximum confusion."

Leona murmurs something softly to her sister and then raises her voice slightly. "But Follies are off limits to humans outside certain very strict conditions, namely the foregoing of all protections of the Compact." She says that very firmly, and adds, "and there are one or two specific titles that cannot be held by anyone who intends to go on a Folly as well, regardless of Compact status. I did promise."

Fitz looks from Jeffeth to Shard to Leona and then back to Shard. "No Follies for you!" he tells her. Apparently doors will have to remain a mystery to her.

Leona nods approvingly at Fitz.

"That's new," Podraig remarks to Jeffeth, nodding over to the lion. "Never met anyone that hunted with a lion before. Interesting." He makes an effort at least, cracking a reserved smile. "Some of my people hunt with large, golden eagles." The last bit is offered forth, in a somewhat awkward conversational manner. He clears his throat then and lifts his mug of ale to his lips to take another large swallow of ale. "Still considering. Usually go out on my own on hunts."

Shard also looks toward Leona, and when Fitz makes his pronouncement, she looks down at the boy. Solemn. Deadly serious. She even eases into a crouch so they're closer to eye level, and looks at him there for a few moments without saying anything. Then, "Good."

"I am and certainly did enjoy the duel, Your Grace." The Whisper dips into a well practiced curtsy as she introduces herself to the Archduchess. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Evangeline but Eva will do just fine if you wish." Mention of human follies and arrangement of mannequins does produce a rather curious loft of her brow. She clears her throat a little before continuing to say in a feather-soft voice. "If I could ever be of service, Archduchess, it would be an honor." Eva takes a little step back as she was already on her way out. "Have a wonderful evening."

Evangeline has left the small circular table.

"Okay, Tiber, you better say your piece because we've got to head off," Tikva nudges her son into action.
"Oh." Tiber looks up at Sorrel and bites his lip, and then ambles a few diffident steps forward towards Jeffeth, whom he tells: "You fight good." And then, for some reason that -- does not immediately seem super clear, he also tells the big man: "Thanks."

Sapphire has left the small circular table.

Jeffeth gives Fitz a little shrug. "Well there's a nicer way to say that.." Comes a gentle chiding as Jeffeth goes to retrieve the bulls helmet from the boys head. He gives Shard another little shrug before he looks down to Tiber, a light smile curling up his lips. "You do too." The big man pipes, "I saw you swinging the sword." His toe slides forward and gives a little nudge to the inside of Tiber's foot. "Keep your feet a little wider apart. Harder to knock you over that way." Jeffeth rumbles gently. He cants his head down to Tiber, arching his brow. "You're welcome."

Takign a step back he smiles at the group at large. "I might go get some drinks but I need to bathe and get out of all of this. Thank you all again, for coming." He calls out, going into another bow to the group.

"No Follies for papa too," Fitz informs Shard in a lower voice before wobbling away from her with that oversized helmet. Until Jeffeth STEALS IT FROM HIM. "Hey!" he says, as if he had the idea that he was going to get to keep it. OBVIOUSLY.

Whatever Leona tells her has Jaenelle laughing though her amusement is also something warmer. "I should return home as well" she admits as she leans over to give her sister a tight hug that is held for moments longer than just a simple good bye. Is it ever simple? As she releases her sister, she turns towards Jeffeth and offers the man a bright smile as she approaches, "I am very very proud of you."

"/Even better/," Shard says to Fitz, as he wobbles off.

Dusk draws himself away from his table, looking a bit pale-shaken, but not so pale-shaken he doesn't look toward Fitz with a, "Yes, I quite agree. No Follies for papa."

Fortunato has left the small circular table.

Tiber promptly widens his stance and then jabs experimentally with the wooden sword, even as Jeffeth backs up. "Hah!" Tiber says to an invisible opponent. "Tchyah!"
"To you too, buddy," Tikva assures him. "Come on now, honey, we're gonna be late for dinner and you know the faces we'll get. Inquisitor Morgan, I still want that meeting when you have a minute!" She tips her hand in an airy wave, and then hauls off her child towards home. 'Inquisitor Morgan' who even calls him that.

Tikva is overheard praising Jeffeth: Huzzah!

'Inquisitor Morgan' is such a ridiculous thing that Aleksei doesn't even seem to recognize it as someone talking to him.

Tikva has left the long bench.

Confessor Imori, 5 Armed Confessors, Confessor Warren leave, following Tikva.

Podraig seems happy staying where he is for the time being. He does lift one hand to wave to Jeffeth as he starts off towards, presumably, home. Not one to hold people up for things like propriety, he leaves his farewell at that. He'll no doubt be seeing the knight around the city at some point. Still quietly observing the dispersing crowd, the prodigal casually drinks from his ale. Eventually, he gives a gentle nudge against Braith with his elbow and jerks his head towards the exit. He lifts his brows then, questioning.

Aleksei does recognize 'Papa' as one of his names, though, even when it's Dusk saying it, and he looks over at him with a faint frown. "I didn't--" he starts to say, and then he stops. "You okay?"

Leona grins at Jaenelle and then nods once, hugging her before letting her go again. "I'm sure I'll see you soon," she comments. Her eyes slide over and look at Dusk thoughtfully, one eyebrow raising in a silent question as behind her, Fitz seems to be telling people who may or may not participate in Follies.

Dusk waves a hand over his head, a little flicker of dismissal, but he fails the dismissal. He rubs his face instead. "Am I a good person?" he asks either the air or Leona and Aleksei. Or both.

Shard straightens back up, rubbing her hands once over her knees as she does so. She looks toward Dusk at Aleksei's words, and he gets a slightly deeper frown than her usual. "...People are more complicated than that." Nevermind he wasn't asking /her/.


As people continue to cluster and Braith pulls back the mug of ale. A smirk plays at her lips, watching it all unfold. "To be a champion," she murmurs and then gets nudged by the blonde prodigal. Jostled a bit, she blinks and looks up at him. Noting where he looks she considers and gives a faint nod of her head in return. "Congratulations, Sir Bayweather. I will drink to you tonight and your continued prowess." She lifts her mug to him and then smiles at the rest brielfy. "I will see you again soon. A good evening!" This is bid to those near them and then takes a step back. Turning on her foot she jostles that broken lute at her back and hooks her arm over to jovially take Podraig's. "Where we going next? The weather is balmy..." says the Northener as the two trail off.


The big man smiles broadly over at Braith, bowing deeply. "I think I'll go take a proper bath then head over to the grotto. Thank you for coming everyone." Jeffeth calls out to everyone. "Have a good night." He looks down to Fitz. "You'll have to catch me for it." Jeffeth waves the bull helmet around, and then breaks off into a sprint. Seeya sucker.

Jeffeth checked dexterity + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 49 higher.

Jaenelle has left the small circular table.

Aleksei GM Roll checked dexterity(1) at difficulty 15, rolling 3 higher.

12 House Velenosa Guards, Ibasia, the Velenosa Lady-in-Waiting leave, following Jaenelle.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I will come by soon!" Yells out the knight as he is running off in the distance far far away from Fitz.

Leona frowns suddenly. "The best people," she answers Dusk firmly, even as she looks over to Aleksei and then back to Dusk. "Why would you doubt that?" Then to Aleksei, then back to Dusk, even as Teemo wanders up and headbutts Dusk quite carefully.

Inquisitor Jonathen, 6 Veteran Confessors, Salvadore, a fire salamander arrive, following Laric.

Inquisitor Jonathen, 6 Veteran Confessors, Salvadore, a fire salamander leave, following Laric.