Bear, a war mastiff, 6 Last Watch Sentries, Nils, an aging Northern steward arrive, following Darren.

(OOC)The scene set/room mood is now set to: For Duke Vercyn, the Great Hall is decked out to the nines. The large slab table is groaning with food, from heavy roast meats to delicate puff pastries to every type of fresh fruit one can get in the middle of winter on short notice. The whiskey flows freely, no cup ever allowed to empty completely before it is refilled by one of the eagle-eyed attendants.

For Duke Vercyn, the Great Hall is decked out to the nines. The large slab table is groaning with food, from heavy roast meats to delicate puff pastries to every type of fresh fruit one can get in the middle of winter on short notice. The whiskey flows freely, no cup ever allowed to empty completely before it is refilled by one of the eagle-eyed attendants.

Vale, A Baby Arctic Fox, Pearl, A Baby Arctic Husky, 2 House Crovane Guards arrive, following Clara.

Connal, a Northern Wolfhound arrives, following Rosalind.

Thork, the bone wearing warrior from the north, 2 Bone Wardens arrive, following Arcadia.

Brianna hovers near Mirk, a glass of whiskey in her hand. "If I die, I expect jugglers, as well," she tells him, never mind that she arranged this whole affair.

Adelie, a controlling mother arrives, following Aine.

Mirk is here, standing near the grand table with a glass of whiskey in one gloved hand as he watches the guests arrive in the Great Hall. He hasn't helped himself to any of the food, at least not yet. "Try not to, Cousin. It'd take more than jugglers to return a happy atmosphere to the wake," he warns Brianna with a skeptical look.

Ravana the tawny eagle, Good Arn the Badger, 1 Trained Telmarine Armsmen arrive, following Ansel.

Jerome, a bodyguard, 2 Valardin Knights, Ansel arrive, following Isabeau.

Kritr remove gauntlets

Kritr puts enameled alaricite gauntlets in Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Darren steps into the hall, offering a deep bow of respect to the Halfshav already gathered. "My condolences," he says, approaching Dirk and Brianna once he's picked up his whiskey. "Duke Vercyn was a...." he allows a smile to touch his lips. "Formidable leader."

Aine is also here, dressed in a plain gown of mourning black with her hair pinned back somberly. She stands near her ever-watchful mother, Lady Adelie Halfshav, for all that her mother is talking quietly to a guest that she knew from her time in Arx before. Aine watches, her dark eyes wide and sweeping and her hands tucked in front of her in her skirts.

Kritr too goes to get a drink before following the High Prince into the receiving like. Not that he'll try to get there quickly. He has no idea what to say.

Arcadia had never met the late duke, but he was her Leige, so here she is. Dressed in leathers and heavy coat. Spotting Nova and Sir Floppington she makes her way over after greeting the family and collecting a glass of whiskey.

Amari drifts into the great hall and pauses on the threshold a moment, if only to take in the lay of the land and look for familiar faces. With not a lot of fellow Oathlanders in attendance, she strikes off to make slow progress down the hall toward the hosts. She has to admire the tapestries on the way, and somehow she ends up with a cup in her hand that's promptly filled with whiskey.

Rosalind comes venturing in, all redhair and leathers. She doesn't THINK she's met the duke, but she's supporting friends , so! Hurrying to grab a glass of whiskey, Rosa goes to find people! "Hi!"

Damien Pierce - A Charming Assistant, 1 Redreef Warden, Vagari The Cinder Cat, 1 Order of the Firebird, 2 House Crovane Guards, Biorna - The Protective Mastiff arrive, following Mikani.

"He was, at that," Mirk says with a dip of his head to Darren. "When I was traveling, sometimes I'd mention his name and you could see the reaction. Everyone knew his name, and every Shav tribe feared him." Perhaps not entirely truly, but he says it with sincerity. "Seems like it wasn't that long ago. The years fly, don't they, Your Grace?" He glances aside at Brianna to guage her reaction. "Seems like a crowd, doesn't it?"

Frosty, a friendly English sheepdog arrives, following Svana.

Duke Ansel Telmar and his Duchess, Isabeau, arrive at Halfshav Hall in each other's company, along with a small contingent of blended Telmarine and Valardinian guards. Once they are received, however, it looks to be Isabeau that does the guiding as she brings the Duke over toward wherever Lady Brianna can be found amidst the gathering. The blonde offers a hand toward the ginger and says softly, "House Telmar mourns with House Halfshav, my lady. I pray that the gods watch over you and yours in this trying time."

Jules enters into the hall with a more somber expression that would typically be seen on the man's face. He escorts Svana on his arm and he periodically leans in to whisper something silently. His eyes shift about as he makes his way through carefully. He takes care to remain restrained in his movements but those that might find themselves isolated would be certain to receive a formal bow and could feel free to use this as an opportunity to connect with either of the pair.

Brianna returns the High Lord's bow, then steps in to wrap him in a fierce hug. He's her cousin, after all. "Thank you," she says softly. A strawberry-blonde boy of about nine bounces up to Isabeau when he sees her, intercepting the duke and duchess. "Hi!" he chirps, and starts talking to Isabeau excitedly about the cow they have in the stables. Brianna nods to Mirk. "Certainly is. I should probably do... a thing." She clears her throat and speaks up. "Thank you all for coming. House Halfshav appreciates your support in our time of mourning. Please, help yourselves to food and drink and when the spirit strikes you, feel free to share memories of the late Duke with all assembled."

Arcadia decides to slip further into the shadows, a bottle of whiskey taken with her to the alcove.

Arcadia has joined the Pena Stormryder, the Last Hierophant Alcove.

Kritr nods his head at Brianna's words and finds a place close to the tableslab to eat. That he is fairly good at, unlike offering condolences.

Darren hugs Brianna back with a soft smile. "You're welcome, of course." *Mirk* gets a dip of his head. "They do, indeed," he agrees softly before he steps to the side. Plenty of people here for the Halfshavs and now Brianna's talking, so the High Lord melts away towards the food.

Kritr has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Mikani enters by herself. Unusual for her she isn't smiling. Instead she has a somber expression on her face. She bows her head to Brianna if the woman looks her way and at Jules and Svana.

Rosalind smiles over at Brianna and Mirk, albiet it's more subdued,"Sorry for your loss,"fluttering her fingers over to Caleb too. She doesn't want to crowd anyone! She remembers that feeling and didn't like it.

Svana slips away from Jules' side only briefly to get them both a drink before she's right back again, giving a soft bow in Mikani's direction. On her way back to Jules, she notes Arcadia slipping into the shadows and gives her Lady a nod and the faintest of smiles before she hands Jules his drink and takes his arm once more.

Aine's posture is elegant, without an ounce of restlessness. She watches, her gaze lingering for a moment on Darren and Brianna as they hug with the slightest smile caught in the corner of her lips. Her gaze sweeps away after a moment, though, to watch the others gathering.

Entering with Isabeau, Ansel is taking a look about the room, offering the occassional little nod in the direction of those that he knows, and even those that he doesn't. When the approach to Brianna is interrupted, there's a quick little smile that dances to his lips at the story of a cow and his gaze is shifting towards her, "Looks like we arrivd just in time." Then he's quiet, turning his attention towards Brianna to simply listen for the moment.

The interception is unavoidable, perhaps, but Isabeau doesn't appear at all bothered by it. In fact, the boy is warmly received with the Telmar Duchess adopting her very best 'very interested in stories about cows' face. That is, of course, until Brianna begins to make her announcement(s) proper. All the same, she gestures to Ansel by her side and says, "Duke Ansel, may I introduce..." She takes pause pointedly, as if to subtly prompt the boy to introduce himself.

Jules takes his drink and smiles to Svana, "Thank you." He glances around and spots Arcadia and gives the woman a bow even if he's not right there. He spots Mikani as well and gives her a wave and smile. His eyes shift about trying to take in the various people that are present though, given the nature of the event, he's not moving to be too pressing.

Tarik quitely makes his way into the Hall and stands be the door until Brianna states for everyone to be seated.

"I'm Caleb, ward of House Halfshav," the boy introduces himself to Duke Ansel. He has a bit of an odd accent, something between the North and somewhere else entirely. "I have known Duches Isabeau for a /long/ time," he says with the confidence only found in the very young.

Brianna is not gonna tell people to sit down. This is a Northern memorial. She takes a long pull of her whiskey. "I suppose I have to go first." She doesn't look thrilled at this. "Many of you knew my father better than I did, and have much better stories. One thing I can certainly say is that he was a formidable figure, one that did what must be done and that was that. I hope that someday I might be able to have the same presence and fortitude."

At Brianna's words, Amari seems to reconsider her forward progress and detours instead to the table. She dips her head politely to the Halfshav host then sits nearer the middle of the great slab table. Nothing is immediately grabbed for as though she were starving. Instead she settles in neatly, sips her whiskey and looks about with curiosity. There are a number of unfamiliar people for her to observe and quietly scrutinize with a vague, smile eschewing but somehow still pleasant expression on her face.

Jules nods to Svana and makes his way over towards Arcadia with Svana unless she happens to draw away. As he reaches her, he gives a bow and as he's preparing to say something he hears Brianna begin to speak and he pauses for a moment to hear her words. When she finishes, he takes a moment to speak softly there so as to not interrupt.

Aine clears her throat, smiling to her cousin Brianna, and speaks second. She offers: "One time, when I was eight or so, I had a new dress based on a design all the way from Arx. My lord uncle Vercyn took one look at it, thought about it, and said 'that bow is silly'." She nods, a wry gesture, as she agrees: "It was a silly bow. It was almost half my size!"

Arcadia glances over to Jules as he whispers to her, a brief nod "Thank you Master Jules."

Svana bows her head to whatever Jules says in private, giving him a small smile, thanking him quietly. She listens to the stories that are being told first and foremost, letting out a soft laugh at Aine's anecdote about the big bow.

Mirk reaches for a bottle of whiskey, refilling his whiskey himself, instead of waiting for a servant to do it. He smiles, as the stories begin, and comments to Aine, "Blunt. That sounds like him. He once told me to my face that I wasn't what he usually expected from the House." A chuckle. "Then he asked me to go make a deal that would serve the House's interests. I think I was helping Lord Arik with his expansion projects at the time."

Ravana the tawny eagle have been dismissed.

Good Arn the Badger have been dismissed.

1 Trained Telmarine Armsmen have been dismissed.

Frosty, a friendly English sheepdog have been dismissed.



When Clara arrives she is with Lord Llyr Nightgold, a bottle of Nightgold whiskey in her left hand, right arm linked with Llyr's. She leads Llyr over to where Mirk is standing and simply offers Mirk the bottle, wordless grief in her eyes. "I know I said so before but he was a good man an' I'm sorry he's gone." She bows her head to Brianna as well though she doesn't appear to know the woman as well as she knows Mirk. She doesn't look like she knows what else to say, she'd lost a friend but Vercyn was Halfshav's family and Duke.

"Duke Vercyn and I crossed tongues on several occasions," Darren pipes up from where he's currently sneaking food to his dog. "But there was no better man to have by your side in a fight. We brawled too. I won't spoil his wake by telling you who won, of course," he grins.

Drysi, a young shaman apprentice, 2 Redrain Guards arrive, following Khanne.

Arcadia discreetly excuses herself and exits after a quick apologetic nod to the Halfshavs.

Arcadia has left the Pena Stormryder, the Last Hierophant Alcove.

Thork, the bone wearing warrior from the north, 2 Bone Wardens leave, following Arcadia.

Jules allows his eyes to linger over the group of people present and makes his way away even as Arcadia disappears. He moves along and over towards Mikani slowly and gives a bow as he approaches and says, "Lady Mikani, it's so good too see you." His tone is more soft and attempting not to carry too far, "Did you know the duke personally or just through reputation?"

Mikani nods softly, "I knew him personally." Mika says softly. "He was kind enough to give me my first horseback riding lesson." She says after a pause.

1 Crimson Blades Sergeant, 1 Crimson Blades Lieutenant, 1 Crimson Blades Private arrive, following Cillian.

After helpfully assisting the coordinated fury of her fellow servants, Nova finally seatuates herself directly adjacent to Tarik. She certainly smiles to all those here but also mourns the prior leader of her ducal Halfshavs, too, which can be easily seen in her cobalt-blue eyes.

Khanne has been here, all along, because surely she would be! She's just been busy speaking with those who wished to offer their condolences to her and such. In Vercyn's honor, she is not wearing black, but the colors of their house in deep red with black accents, a wolf in her hair. Listening to everyone speak of memories of Duke Vercyn Halfshav, her uncle, brings a small smile to her lips. "He has returned to the wheel, but will live on in legacy and tale. That is for certain."

Kritr eats and listens. He has little to add here, not personally acquainted with the deceased. He is becoming personally acquainted with that turkey leg though.

"Thank you, Lady Clara," Mirk says with a dip of his head towards Clara. "You mean you don't want to spoil your reputation," he suggests to Darren in a dry tone, though he doesn't go quite so far as to suggest who won. He has a seat at the Pena Stormryder alcove, though it doesn't stop the way his eyes drift from person to person, always following the flow of the conversation.

Cillian is a bit late he was not meaning to be dealing with a baby and all can be hard on the young Sword at times but he walks into the great hall dressed in h is leathers looking around to see who is here, he stays near the back of the hall as he enters remaining quiet letting his hazel eyes look around.

"I never brawled with Duke Vercyn," Amari says, "Nor did I ever fight at his side. I gather that's where his talents lay, but I only ever interacted with him in more peaceful settings. He could be blunt yes, but not unkind. He did me a favor once, and got rid of a nephew of his who hadn't been entirely truthful with me. Although he really didn't need to, he explained it all to me, face to face. It wasn't to seek an apology for his blood either, just to tell me that the necessary and honorable thing had been done. I respected that. From that point on I was his main and enthusiastic supporter in all the beard competitions that were often held at the Spirits. I still don't believe that he used to point it so nicely by working the blood of his enemies into it, not entirely, but he did have something of a sense of humor and endured mine with patience. I'll always remember him fondly." She lifts her glass of whiskey in a toast.

As Ansel excuses himself from the hall, if only for a few moments, Isabeau is not left without an escort. She stands by Caleb, listening to the tales told both by other guests and the child at her elbow, seeming to pay equal attention as best she's able.

Jules nods to Mikani and his eyes seem to light a touch as he hears Mikani's connection and he nods his head, "I hope that perhaps you will have the opportunity to mention it if is it appropriate. It's always delightful to hear the personal connections." He glances around slowly, "Though I know less of northern funerals I fear." His mouth slightly curled into a smile and then adds, "But perhaps you are the same."

Connal, a Northern Wolfhound leaves, following Rosalind.



Clara offers Mirk a sad smile but turns to face Darren after. "A pleasure ta see ya, Yer Grace. It has been some time since we last spoke. I hope you've been well?" She nods to Llyr as she speaks with Darren. "Have ya met Lord Llyr Nightgold?"

A long narrow table is brought in and Brianna moves to stand by the head. "For those who care to participate in a grand Northern tradition that I am sure my father would approve of, I had this arm-wrestling table special-made for the event. You're not going to beat me, but you can try amongst yourselves." Pompous ass.

Mirk joins Amari in the toast. He sips at his whiskey after, and then asks her, "Which nephew was that? It was before my time in the city, and I admit I never heard the details."

Darren grins to Mirk. "Now both of our reputations are untouched," he offers, lifting his glass when Amari does. "To Duke Vercyn Halfshav. To the last!" he calls. His attention switches to Clara as she speaks. "Lady Clara, it has. I am well. Whole and healthy. Yourself?" he asks politely. "Lord Lyyr, a pleasure."

Cillian after standing and watching a few moments he moves to find a seat near to Nova giving her a light elbow and then nods to Darren, but he still remains silent listening and watching its what he likes to do.

Jules listens to Mikani, he slowly nods his head and has a soft laugh that follows, "There are no ends to the surprises is there?" His eyes look around, and he then says, "I believe the only one of the family I'd had the pleasure to meet Lord Mirk but most families do seem connected."

Kritr stands, chucking aside the food and heads over to the long narrow table. "Lady Halfshav. I'd be honored to be the first to armwrestle in the Duke's honor." Finally, something he knows how to handle. He picks food out of his beard while waiting to see whether that offer is received well.

Quiet is the best way to describe Llyr for the initil moments of him escorting Clara into the hall. He pauses as Calra introduces him to Darren and offers a small smile, "Prince Redrain and I have met in passing once or twice, certainly." He offers a half nod/half bow to the High Lord, "Likewise."

Svana squeezes Jules' arm and smiles at Mikani, happy to listen without adding much right now. Instead she sips from her glass and works on being an attractive ornament on Jules' arm, which is much easier than the other work she normally does.



Clara hadn't grabbed a glass of anything to drink just yet so when the toast comes around she simply praises with the others. She then looks back to Darren and offers him and Llyr smiles while they talk. "Good, I'm glad ta hear yer doin' well, Your Grace. I am doin' well. Just got back inta Arx this month, puttin' me axe ta good use back in Stormwall. Ya still have my thanks fer the help attainin' it." She offers Darren another smile. "How is the family doin'? How is yer wife?"

Mirk has joined the Pena Stormryder, the Last Hierophant Alcove.

Khanne is overheard praising Brianna: Wears mourning with poise.

"The first time I met Duke Vercyn was at the Golden Hart. I overheard him debating about noble marriages. He spoke about his wife and how he had barely knew each other when they were wed, but grew to a great level of fondness before she past. " Tarik pours himself some whiskey, "I remember that most of the noble there were very romantic and spoke about marrying someone they love." Tarik grins, "I believe that was probably the only time Duke Verycn conceded a battle, and he ended up raises a glass to love. Tarik continues speaking after taking a big gulp, "The future allowed the wise Hungry Wolf to emerge victoriously because most of those nobles married people they didn't know. The Hungry Wolf could snatch victory from even the smallest of defeats.

Tarik lets out a deep laugh, "He called me over to table which I realized would become a regular occurance, no matter what tavern we happen to find outselves in together. He bought me a drink, criticized my ettiquette, joked about southern neighbors, and bought a few more drinks."

Tarik nods his head slowly, "His was great man that enjoyed talking about Halfshav and enjoyed his people that helped make Halfshav a better place. He would always stand up for you. Tarik raises his whiskey, "Here is to the Hungry Wolf One of the the kindest, wisest, strongest, and bravest that I have ever bought me a drink, criticize my etiquette, and talked miitary strategy with."

Jerome, a bodyguard have been dismissed.

2 Valardin Knights have been dismissed.

Adelie, a controlling mother leaves, following Aine.

Amari cups one hand to her face and mouths a name in reply to Mirk, then tips a goodly amount of her whiskey back. She either didn't want to disrupt Tarik's recollections or it was a /secret/. Probably the former. She lifts her glass again for the next toast.

"I was glad to help, Lady Clara," grins Darren. "And I'm exceptionally glad it's been of use," he smirks. "Donella? Ah, she is as spry and as well as ever. Dacian is taking up large amounts of her time." A messenger comes to him then, the High Lord sighing. "No rest ever, please excuse me, Lady Clara, Lord Llyr." And then he's slipping out. Though he's taken a heaped plate of food with him.

Mirk nods his head slowly, and admits to Amari, "I worried it would be someone else." He rises to his feet. "It's been a pleasure to see all of you here to support House Halfshav and remember Duke Vercyn, but I'm afraid I must depart. My cousin, Lord Arik, will be your host from here." There's a dip of his head, and then he heads towards the door.

Arik arrives from the family wing into the Great Hall of the Arx residence. The Sword of Whitehold seems well enough dressed in dark linens for the memorial, Frostfang on his hip, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail down his back. A whiskey glass is nabbed from a passing servant and his low rumble of a voice fills the hall. "My Uncle was always one to encourage a rotation of the guard. I suppose I can take a break from duties to ensure everyone gets their chance to remember him well... So who was the last person to tell a story?"

Arik has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Jules makes his way quietly along towards a place where he and Svana can have a seat for a moment and looks to her as they're walking along. His head seems to bob back and forth along the way as though he's uncertain on some matter.

Khanne points to Tarik when Arik asks who was the last to speak up. "Good evening, brother. I am glad you are here. Duties require me to be elsewhere soon."

Bear, a war mastiff, 6 Last Watch Sentries, Nils, an aging Northern steward leave, following Darren.

Mirk has left the Pena Stormryder, the Last Hierophant Alcove.

1 Crimson Blades Sergeant, Rurik, a prodigal assistant, Aegis, a large red Oakhaven bloodhound leave, following Mirk.

Svana has been listening raptly to the stories being told, giving a nod to Mirk as he heads toward the door. She sits down with Jules and quietly whispers something to him. She looks a bit relieved when they sit down - mostly so she can sip from her drink freely and rest her legs for a brief moment.

Arik dips his head to Khanne while adding in passing, "Nice coat." then he reaches the high table with much of the food set out and stands behind one of the chairs, his body weigh leaning against the back of the tall wooden affair to watch the room.

Cillian looks over to Arik nodding his head to the man, "Lord Arik." when he does finally speak its with a heavy thick Northern shav accent, "I did not know the Duke very well, I only meet him once or twice at The Spirits but I have come to pay my respects and I do wish I had gotten to know him better."



Clara nods her head to Darren. "I can only imagine. Be well, Yer Grace." She looks then to Arik as he arrives tot he memorial. She starts making her way over to him but pauses and looks to Llyr. She leans over and whispers something to him and then proceeds to move over towards Arik. "Lord Arik." She inclines her head to him. "How have ya been?" She motions to Llyr. "This is Lord Llyr Nightgold, if ya haven't met him."

Jules nods to Svana and allows a few moments to take a drink he still gives smiles and waves to those that might wish the company.

Kritr seems to greatly entertain himself arm wrestling anyone who is willing. He isn't good enough to win every bout, but he stands willing to wrestle again anytime a newcomer steps up to the table.

Llyr looks relaxed and nods to Darren as he leaves. He glances at Mirk and then some of the others here before Clara leads him to Arik. When she speaks to him, Llyr nods to Clara and then offers a hand to Arik, "I do not believe we have met, Lord Arik."

"Why thank you." Khanne runs a hand down the coat decorated with a knotted design. "And what tale of our uncle will you share this evening?" She smiles a little and says, "with a toast of whiskey, of course."

Arik looks at Kritr and the string of opponens the Lord of Clearlake arm wrestles only to have his attention drawn to the white-eyed Clara and Llyr. The Halfshav Lord takes Llyr's hand and remarks, "Shaman, Lord Nightgold... I don't believe we've met. I am Duke Vercyn's nephew Lord Arik Halfshav, Sword of Whitehold. The Duchess' brother." he nods in Khanne's direction as he releases Llyr's hand and lifts his whiskey glass, "As for the story of my Uncle... One some of you may recall had you been in the ward during the time. Some years ago during the first Beards and Brews, my Uncle and I competed. Oh it was a night of drinking, cod pieces, and Lord Geraly Crovane found many a brew to satisfy the crowd. In the end Lord Crovane won the night, I think because he provided the beer... But not to take away the victors laurels he drove my Uncle to a challenge. He demanded to feel the Sword of Stormwards beard. Upon an inspect my Uncle, Vercyn did conclude he had a remarkable beard and yet... As I recall... My Uncle was the one who walked out of Spirits that night with a crowd of Princesses all seeking his advice on this or that. He was a dominant man, knew when to let others have their due, but in subtle ways he was never beaten either... All those Princesses live happier lives today for the advice they took from my uncle!"

Jules stands from the seats with Svana and attempts to discreetly make his way out without adding too much disturbance to the hall.

Of course, Nova would have lightly elbowed Cillian. Right now, she is at the massive table by Tarik and looks up toward Arik, Clara, and Llyr. Though, the Wolfy Scout certainly seems to be a bit quiet as she swigs down white whiskey.

Rowenova has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Svana gives a nod to Nova and a brief smile as she sneaks out with Jules, waving to her - then the same to Clara. She bows to Arik and Kanne on her way out, squeezing Jules' arm.

Khanne lowers her head and says to Arik, "apologies, brother. I need to attend to a meeting. Please keep the whiskey and memories flowing."

Frosty, a friendly English sheepdog leaves, following Svana.

Amari finishes her glass of whiskey and declines a refill from a sharp eyed attendant with a bottle making the rounds. "Duchess Khanne, Lord Arik, House Keaton extends their condolences." After that, a respectful dip of her head, and she's heading out.

2 Keaton Huntsmen, Marigold, a cheeky pygmy goat, River, a happy Oakhaven bloodhound, Barf, the Bog Dog, Clerk Kant, a mild-mannered assistant leave, following Amari.

When she spots Svana and Jules on their way, Nova lifts her cup toward them before quietly uttering a few words to Tarik. Another swig is indeed taken.



Clara gets herself and Llyr some whiskey so that they can join in all the raising of glasses as it occurs. Clara nods her head to Nova and Svana as she spots them. "Evenin'." She then gives a look over to Arik again. She waits for him to finish talking and then speaks again. "How have ya been, Lord Arik? It has been over a year since I last saw ya."

Drysi, a young shaman apprentice, 2 Redrain Guards leave, following Khanne.

Tarik raises his glass to Lord Arik's story. Tarik leans in to whisper to ROwenova.

As the Hall thins out abit Arik takes a long drink from his whiskey and begins to move along the tables one rough hewn palm dropping down onto Rowenova's wolf topped head for a moment before continuing around the table to the opposite side from Kritr waiting to take up a match with him as he sorts out his current opponent. "I've been well as can be... Rebuilt the army after the losses at the Lodge, expanded Cascade Springs with my family, generally seeing to things back north moreso than in the capital... Lamenting in the Whites how everyone seems so eager to pick a fight with Eurusi while ignoring the threats on our own shores. What of you Shaman Clara, you've been back home yes?"

Kritr has wrestled three, and this opponent has wrestled about the same. Kritr out toughs him in the end and when the hand slams onto the table he yells: "HALFSHAV!" Since the arm wrestling is in honor of Vercyn and his house. He looks to Arik, stretching his shoulder out comfortably. "My Lord." He says with eager anticipation.

When that big hand is on her wolf-pelted noggin, Rowenova glances up as much as she can do so. "I remember that Beards and Brews!" says she to Arik's passing before straightening out her niveous pelt. She nods it to Tarik before then standing up with the screech of the legs of her chair, "HALFSHAV!" she echoes after Kritr's yell. She certainly has Northern lungs. The volume quite loud!



"Sounds like you've had a time of it." Clara offers to Arik. "Glad ta see yer alive an' well. Oh..." She reaches into her bag and pulls out a little velvet bag that has its draw strings pulled tight and hands it over to Arik. "I've been well. Got back inta Arx an' have been given more ta do than I know how ta handle. Gonna have ta start givin' me proteges some work an' hire an assistant or somethin'."

Mikani raises her glass of cider to the cheer. "HALFSHAV!" She smiles softly before taking a long draw.

Nova picks up her whiskey and raises it to Mikani after her cheer. "Hello!"

Arik takes the bag and tucks it into his belt pouch before claiming the chair across from Kritr with a low chuckle. The slimmer northern warrior places his elbows up on the table and begins to line up his hand to clasp Kritr's own. "Lord Clearlake, you do my Uncle proud... Now lets see if we can give a proper show for the others." a grin curls his lips and he tenses his hand in Kritr's waiting for the signal to... arm wrestle!

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "I bet on my liege!"

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "100 silver!"

Cillian has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Mikani says in Northlands shav, "Someone has to counter that ... I put 100 on Lord Clearlake."



Clara shakes her head and steps away to let Arik have his fun arm wrestling with Kritr. She looks to Llyr and once more whispers something to him.

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "Winner armwrestles me, too!"

While holding up a bicep of her own and flexing it, Nova grins over to Mika.

After listening to Arik's story, Llyr blinks and thanks Clara for the glass of whiskey, smelling it, but not drinking right away. Though more quiet, he seems to be paying attention and studying the people who still remain at the memorial, though leans to say something to Clara.

Kritr's complexion is not improved by meeting his most difficult challenge yet in Lord Arik Halfshav. He turns a brilliant shade of purple in the face, his tattoos standing out starkly as every ounce of his being is put into not being overpowered by the larger man.

Tarik bangs on the tables wth his fists a Halfshav candence that he heard as a guard and from the soldiers around Halfshav. Tarik chants, "
As we march forth
Into the cold North
The Hungry Wolf, we obey!
Our enemies, we will slay!
Halfshavs forever!
Halfshavs Forever!
Halfshav's Forever!
The Hungry Wolf, we obey!

Arik is fair skinned with coppery hair and a beard so it is when his own face turns flushed red. There's some *hrrrrrks* and a *aaaaaaaaaaah* and a *hue hue hue hue* ending in a *bbbbrawr!* as the contest edges to the right... to the left... back to the center and slowly begins to tilt in his favor as beads of sweat quickly form on his brow.

Since she grew up with the military of Halfshav, Nova probably knows that one and is equally off key as Tarik is. She joins him in his chanting as well as clangs her now-empty cup (which once beared whiskey) on the massive table! "Halfshavs Forever!"

Kritr starts to recover, breath hissing past clenched teeth, but the late surge is not enough to overcome Arik's advantage. A wordless shout escapes as his hand is hammered down on the table. "GRAAH!"

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "/THAT/'s MY LIEGE! WOO HOO!"

With the victory the Halfshav Lord begins catching his breath and leans back in the chair, slapping the table with his hands in a drumming manner. "Halfshav!" he hollers before reclaiming a fresh whiskey and taking a messy drink from it, liquor dappling his beard. "And Lord Kritr!" this one gets an echo from the staff as the Clearlake Lord has been arm wrestling for who knows how long now and Arik just came in.

Arik is overheard praising Kritr: Knows how to honor a northern Lord, with biceps!

Cillian has left the magnificent wood slab table.

1 Crimson Blades Sergeant have been dismissed.

1 Crimson Blades Lieutenant have been dismissed.

1 Crimson Blades Private have been dismissed.

Enough esteem is given the loser of the match that Kritr finds a full drink in his hands. "I'll be feeling that one for a couple days." He tells Arik, rubbing his shoulder with his free hand.

Mikani looks over at Rowenova, "I'll take you while you are waiting .... that is if you are brave enough." Mika winks at Nova before slinging back the last of her drink.



Clara lifts her glass to Arik when he wins and takes a sip. Though she then turns her glass towards Kritr and does the same. She smiles at whatever Llyr said and takes another sip of her whiskey before whispering back.

Nova leaves her cup on the table and bolts from her place to join Mikani, "And, Lord Kritr! Lord Arik: Soon!" Nova shouts out, too. Nova seatuates herself across from Mikani and focuses fully on her as she brings her elbow up onto that massive table there. She offers out her right hand with no rings on it, her left one bearing the commemorative Saikland one from the glass cleansing.

Kritr steps back from the arm wrestling table to let someone else honor the late Duke Halfshav. He carries his drink over to Clara and introduces himself. "Krit Clearlake." He says, careful not to repeat himself by saying where he is from. "Did I hear right that you are Lady Clara Crovane?"

Arik is rubbing at his shoulder and unlike the robust Kritr, he doesn't get up right away... In fact he seems winded. Leaning back in his chair he motions for Cillian, "Sword Cillian it's been a long time... How are you and your wife doing? How is the Marquessa?"

Llyr watches the contests and nods to Clara, smiling softly to her. He considers for a long moment and then spaks to Clara again.

Mikani grins at Rowenova. She takes her place and gets into position raising her arm allows the sleeve of her dress to fall back from her wrist revealing the tattoo of the compass and sparrows on her forearm. "I'm ready when you are."

"Thousand silver on my retainer, Row." Arik gets in before the contest... BEGINS!



Clara turns her attention to Kritr when eh approaches. "A pleasure ta meet ya Lord Kritr. Aye, I am Lady Clara Crovane, Stormwall's Shaman of Winter an' Deathspeaker, Sister of Duchess Fianna Crovane." She looks over to Llyr when he speaks at her and offers him a smile as he does so, turning back to Kritr. "This is Lord Llyr Nightgold if ya haven' met?"

Clasping hands with Mika, Nova appears to have cuff bracelets which are in a Eurusian style, ultimately revealed when her silk sleeve drops down along her niveous arm (which is mark free at least on the fore part which can be seen). "Anybody else betting? Get it on before one of us wins!" She nods across, "Okay! Go!" Her wiry muscles firm up, becoming more solid and show off the definition forged by physical labor for countless days across many years.

"We have not." Krit admits. Turning his attention to Llyr. "Now we've met. Krit Clearlake. I'm quite taken with that axe you're sporting Lady Clara. Can I ask who made it?"

Mikani laughs softly as she starts with the woman, her arm strong from time on ships and pulling ropes. She bites her lip as she feels Nova gain some edge, yet she doesn't say anything. Though no one voting on her was a bit sad.

"Oh, I am afraid that will ruin some of my future plans if I betted against Row." Tarik walks over to Kritr and raises his glass to him. "Fine Match between you and Lord Arik." Tarik dips his head to Lord Arik. "Sorry for your loss, Lord Arik. He was a good man."

"Thank you Tarik." Arik replies in a mildly distracted voice as he looks towards Rowenova doing bicep battle with Mikani. Those silvery grey eyes narrow a bit as if eyeing up the young woman.

It is a mighty struggle, since the former sailor is a formidable match here, but a silent one as Nova goes deep into that mental space where pained sounds never escape her. After some time of intense focus, Nova finally wins with their combined hands finding the surface, the back of Mika's hand upon it.



Clara chuckles at Krit and nods her head. "I'll compromise down ta Lord Krit an' no further." She insists with a smile. She looks down at her axe and pulls it free from her side so that Krit can get a closer look at it. "I designed it but I don' remember fer sure who forged it. I want ta say it was Hana Grayhope though."

Mikani laughs as her hand slams back into the table. "Good showing. Congrats." Mikani says warmly to Rowenova appreciatively.

Nova cannot help a little grin as she ultimately wins, but then she lets go. Kipping up to her booted feet, Nova zooms around to happily hug Mikani along with jokingly pilfer her for 100 silver. "Excellent match!"

Ravana the tawny eagle, Good Arn the Badger, 1 Trained Telmarine Armsmen leave, following Ansel.

Llyr nods to Kritr, "Well, met, Lord Clearlake." He stops and looks to Clara's axe with a grin, just letting the conversation go forward, sipping his whiskey.

"Best loss ALL NIGHT!" He robustly agrees with Tarik. Before carrying on with Clara, "You designed it. I'm in the market for a new axe. I lost mine to the deeps not two months past." He pauses to applaud Nova's win. "You have to channel that BABYMaking power OUTWARD Lady Crovane!"

Mikani looks at Kritr and tilts her head. "I will ... um ... work on it." She laughs.

"Row..." Arik thumps the table in front of himself, "Catch a breath and let us see if you can earn a raise finally."

After hugging Mika, Nova stands up to her full height with a hearty laugh after what Kritr says about BabyMaking Power. Nova zooms over to settle down across from her liege lord. "I do believe this would be the fourth try for it, yes?" Smiling across to him, she clasps hands with Arik and jokingly growls at him.

Kritr says, "YOU're on your own there Lady Crovane! I can't FIGURE it out FOR YOU!" Krits slaps his stomach amusedly and looks around at the people eyeing him askance for that comment "What. I don't want kids anyway, but no way am I willing to grow one inside me. I'd rather armwrestle a white death bear.""

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "Who is gonna bet on who?!"



"Aye, I designed it." Clara nods her head in confirmation, long curly hair bouncing around her shoulders. "I'm sure Hana Grayhope would love ta make yer axe. She's a great smith an' will make somethin' ya won' regret payin' fer. Sorry ta hear ya lost yer last one though. Losin' a good axe is a terrible thing." She pauses at the baby making comment but hte wrestling bears part brings her back to conversation. "I fought some bears once. In the Gray Forest... mean monstrous bears. Huge beasts. Dire bears. Terrifyin'. Was one hell of an experience. Got a tattoo to commemorate the event."

Tarik raises his right eyebrow and shakes his head at Kritr for a moment. Tarik turns to Rowenova, "I have 1000 silver on you!" Tarik turns to Kritr, "I heard that you experience in the Everwinter. I am leadeing an expedition to a section that is way west than most people travel these since forever, but I would love to have another person come along with me that knew their way around a snowy landscape."

"I'll take your money friend. I wrestled that man, and he cannot lose." Krit promises Tarik. "And I'll go with you to the Everwinter if you like. I spent the last two years there. I don't mind it at all." Back to Clara he says: "You are the second to recommend Hana Grayhope to me. I was hoping for a Northerner smith maybe like." He fingers the tattoos on his face. "I should like to see that tattoo for myself. I didn't kill a white death bear, so I'm not deserving of such."

Arik and Rowenova square up. It seems there is some sort of raise in the retainers stipend on the line. Now there's some side action as well with Tarik and Kritr thus does the contest of wills, begin! The Sword of Whitehold has a bigger hand enveloping Rowenova's smaller but rougher grip. Arik might have Rowenova by a weight class or two, but when they lean into the fray both northerners biceps bulge!



"Aye? Well, Hana Grayhope has quite the reputation fer bein' a great smith. Me Protege is a Grayhope, runs the Black Axe Pub if ya ever care ta drop by." Clara considers something and then offers. "I have a second axe that doesn't get much use. It's not diamondplate like this one here but it is a good axe all the same. If you'd like it I'd be happy ta part with it." She considers the part then about the tattoos. "Come by The Black Axe sometime an' I'll show ya. Here probably isn' the best time or place ta half strip down."

"Where did you see a white death bear at?" Tarik tilts his head towards left shoulder as he looks back at Krit, then back to the arm wrestling." Tarik dips his head to Krit, "Great, I will love to have you join me."

Arik has left the magnificent wood slab table.

"I never do things by halfs anyway." Kritr jokes. "It's ALL or NOTHING!" He lowers his voice again. "Asher, right? I been to the Black Axe. Saw Lord Kaldur throw an inquisitor out for starting a fight." Yeah, that sounds like a sentence. "Where else? In the Everwinter. Woke up one night to hear it cracking through the ice to make a waterhole. CRACK!" He slaps his half full mug against his hand, sloshing beer. "Loud as a maple tree dying in the dead of night."

Arik has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Indeed, Nova is only 5'9.5" tall (plus her wolf ears). Arik is 6'2" tall with bigger hands. One would think she would probably lose, especially after the recent armwrestling with Kritr. It looks like Arik is even winning, too, as their twined hands start falling in his winning direction, but then there is a intense flash in those cobalt blues of Nova who just heard Tarik bet on her. Then, she somehow regains lost ground, bringing back those clasped hands from what looked like Arik's win to the middle line between them. Her cherry lips press flat as she determinedly puts her wiry everything into this pay raise!

Rowenova has left the magnificent wood slab table.

Rowenova has joined the magnificent wood slab table.

Kritr has left the magnificent wood slab table.

There is no beating the Halfshav retainer as she bears down on Arik's arm. There's an *aaaaaaaaaaaah* followed by a *rrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh* then he's up out of his chair trying to put his body weight into his defense! *Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee* until finally Rowenova snaps his will and his hand smacks down out of the blue with Arik quickly throwing his arms up, his right arm more noodly and weak than it was a moment ago. "Spritis, she finally got a raise." he's also sweaty, sweaty shirt, sweaty face.



"So much as I like a good brawl such does not belong in the pub." Clara nods her head in approval of the Duke's actions. "Aye, Asher Grayhope. He runs the bar." She listens to the rest of the story. "Well, I'm sorry ta say it but I'm startin' ta run out of energy fer the night. Probably going ta go home an' sleep. But if ya need a Deathspeaker or combat medic let me know. I'm happy ta help." She looks to Llyr. "Shall we?"

Tarik smirks as Kitr smacks his full mug against his hand, "Yes, I was wondering where in the Everwinter. Was it near your lands or somewhere else?" Tarik takes the silver coins and cheers Row. "You are amazing!" Tarik turns to Clara and dips his head, "Yes, I think last time we got injured dodging an attack from a Cockatrice, then we had to jump from a collapsing stronghold, so we can always use medics. Just in case."

Llyr sets his glass down after finishing it and offers Clara his hand, modding to her.



Clara nods her head to Tarik. "Fantastic. Feel free ta include me then. I'm happy ta help out." She smiles at Nova. "Congrats. That's somethin' ta be proud of right there." Then she takes Llyr's hand and heads out.

Vale, A Baby Arctic Fox, Pearl, A Baby Arctic Husky, 2 House Crovane Guards, Llyr leave, following Clara.

As Lord Arik stood up, Scout Nova analytically glanced at his rising stance, beefier arm, and their twined hands. She did so with outward obviousness that generally goes without visble witness when she mathematically calculates the compensating forces that she might need to ultimately apply as she did there. After it is all over, she hops up and deftly lifts her own arms up into a victory V! "FINALLY!" says she with a big grin! "Thank you!" she calls back toward Tarik and Clara. She turns back to Arik. "I thought you had me there!"

Mikani listens as Damien speaks into her ear. She nods, "I am sorry I must go as well. Again you all do Halfshav proud with your strength of arms." Mika says with a grin before slipping out.

Damien Pierce - A Charming Assistant, 1 Redreef Warden, Vagari The Cinder Cat, 1 Order of the Firebird, 2 House Crovane Guards, Biorna - The Protective Mastiff leave, following Mikani.

"All the way to the EDGE OF THE WORLD!" Kritr says, more theatrically than just loud. "At least, that's what the Children call it. Turns out they're wrong. They just can't see or swim past the water out there. There's a... mountain out past that. Whitepeak. Never been. Is that where you're headed? You must be Tarik Morien, am I right?"

Arik shakes out his arm with a *woof* sound and a breathy chuckle, "Well in light of Row's victory honoring my Uncle with her victory after so long... Let us conclude the memorial to Duke Vercyn Halfshav. A man who never gave up, much like Rowenova here..." there's a motion to some of the servants to begin the subtle process of cutting off the free booze until people stumble out later.

Tarik raises his glass to Arik, "To Duke Vercyn Halfshav, The Hungry Wolf, Half Savage, Half Hero!

"NEVER GIVE UP!" Kritr replies as he gets a fresh beer and raises it over his head. He's not drunk, he's naturally this loud.

Kritr gets enameled alaricite gauntlets from Clearlake Climbing Harness.

Deeply touched by Arik's words, Nova quietly thanks him with a soft smile. Before too much booze can be taken away (and since she is a servant herself), Nova quickly nabs a passing bottle which the other servers do not dare try to take away after having seen her just beat the House Sword. Nova pipes up, "To Duke Vercyn!" as she raises up the newly-acquired whiskey!

Arik has left the magnificent wood slab table.

Lygeia, a calligrapher and alchemist arrives, following Rysen.

The wake may wind down, but Kritr seems intent on eating and drinking until the last person leaves the room.

As Rysen enters, there are a slew of people who are cheering for Duke Rysen and never giving up and the Halfshav motto: Half Savage, Half Hero.

*DUKE VERCYN

After facing Mika and Arik in armwrestling, Nova certainly seems rather sweaty yet in high spirits as she swigs back a good amount from her whiskey bottle.

Rysen drifts into Halfshav Hall amid the applause. His face is solemn as he makes his way towards Brianna, with Lygeia following in his wake. He nods to Rowenova and Kritr as he passes, and bows respectfully when he comes to stand beside Brianna. "I'm sorry for your loss, My Lady," he says softly amid the cheering. He glances over at Caleb and reaches out a hand to accept a blackwood throwing axe adorned with an eagle and raven feather from Lygeia. The Crovane lord takes a knee before the boy. "Brought this from Stormwall for you, Lord Caleb," he says, offering the boy the wooden weapon.

"I'm not a lord yet," the boy says a little too loudly. Brianna clears her throat. "Say thank you to Lord Rysen, Caleb." "Thank you, Lord Rysen," the boy chirps.

After the adrenaline rush as well as several swigs off the whiskey bottle, Nova simmers down to some degree and curiously observes Rysen and Caleb. That solemn look is a bit contagious, and Nova soon reflects it after the phase back to the current reality beyond liege defeating and pay raises.

Kritr rounds the table, picking at choice meats and making introductions. Among the Northerners, he is very comfortable in his own skin, especially those that deck themselves out in furs, like his.

Rysen laughs. "You're most welcome." He rises, and Lygeia hands him a glass of whiskey. "To the Duke. May the Queen guide him to the Shinning Lands, where he may dwell with his kin until She should call him back to the Dream." He raises his glass and takes a long drink. Rysen's grey eyes study Brianna's face. "How are you?"

If there are fur beasts here, Nova is one of those like Kritr, too. Meeting up with that Clearlake Lord, Nova curiously asks, "Would you like to go a round with the arm wrestling?" She rolls her shoulder out after the last two.

"I already lost a thousand silver." Kritr tells Nova. "SO YES!" He says loudly. "And double or nothing SAY I!"

Brianna ruffles Caleb's hair. "You are only allowed to throw it at axe targets. If I catch you throwing it at /anything/ else, I'm confiscating it until you're thirty," she warns him. She looks up at Rysen. "I'm tired," she admits, and she looks it.

At first, Nova ohs. But, then she hears Kritr say YES, and she clanks her whiskey bottle down on the armwrestling table. Innate experience with these whiskey bottles ultimately prevented her from using too much force that it actually remains in an unbroken state. "LET'S DO IT!" says she, sitting down and bringing up her left elbow on the table top. Her right arm can have a momentary break. Anyone who ever read her scribed letters knows that she is actually lefthanded not right handed despite having beat people that way. "Double or nothing!"

A look of concern rests on the features of the Knight of the Northlands. "Caleb's welcome to come stay at the Black Hall for a while. If you need anything, let me know." The exchange of challenge and acceptance, causes Rysen to step to Brianna's side to observe the match. He takes another sip of whiskey and smiles when he notices the gold and duskstone arm ring warn by Warrior of House Halfshav. "It's good to see the Duke's life being celebrated."

Kritr lines up across the table from Rowenova and offers her his hand. "Now. Don't go easy on me. I want to see how you beat Lord Arik!" He sets his mug down on the table, like a fool.

Apparently assessing the current situation, Nova sets down not only her own whiskey bottle but also his booze mug onto the floor nearby. She must be a preparative preplanner who always streamlines everything ever. Then, back to setting up: she strongly grips that offered hand of Kritr's. "You got it!" Then, "Go!"

A slight grin passes over Rysen's lips as he watches Rowenova and Kritr armwrestle like true Northlanders.

Kritr throws his all into it. But even so, he is slow to start and things don't get better from there.

Tarik cheers on Rowenova again.

At first, Nova plays at looking worried but then she wolfishly grins, leans in, and braces harder with her arm coming closer and closer into her own win. Apparently, she is showing him exactly how she beat Lord Arik, and with the repetitive nature of tonight's challenges, one might notice she never groans and only respirates at a quicker pace.

Kritr puts on a show of straining against the woman's might. It'd be comical if it weren't so earnest, gritted teeth, throwing his head back. Panting heavily and then throwing himself into a renewed effort. To no avail.

Rysen laughs, the contest evidently bringing some good humor to the lord. He walks over to where Kritr and Rowenvoa are wrestling, and says, "I've got winner."

And then it all ends with a mighty slam of Kritr's hand against the table top! After that, Nova lets go and sits back, gesturing in welcome to Rysen. "Yes! Let's do it!" She rolls out her shoulder as she grins over to Tarik before picking up Kritr's mug and handing it over toward him.

Rysen hands his whiskey to Lygeia. "Well contested, Krit." When the Clearlake lord rises, Rysen will take his place across from Rowenova. "I've got to insist on the right hand, Scout Rowenova," he says, as he rolls back the sleeves of his silk tunic. He sets his arm on the table, and something to the woman in Northlands Shav.

Rysen says in Northlands shav, "Say when."

Kritr's overconfidence had his mug too close, his hand hits it when he loses to Rowenova. He lunges after the falling liquid and fails to prevent a spectacular mess. He stands and wipes at his furs, fishing out a purse of silver. "You have earned it." He tells Rowenova."

Nova graciously accepts the 2000 silver. "Thank you, Krit." She finally calls the Clearlake lord, sans title. She pockets away the coin purse and turns to Rysen's challenge. She apparently assents to the right hand with a brief dip of her wolf-framed face before sitting up and getting ready her own arm. Apparently, she -- too -- has a silk sleeve she rolls down along her own niveous/wiry right before carefully gripping the offered hand. "Any bets?"

Tarik rubs the back of his neck, "I need to get head out." Tarik pauses, "Okay, one last bet on Rowenova.

"I can't bet against her three times." Kritr says. "I'd be a fool." He demurs, failing to cover Tarik's offer.

Rysen waits while the gamblers take their bets. He seems more interested in the tradition and contest than any coin that may be one or lost.

When Tarik mentions that he needs to head out, Nova curiously looks his way. Though, she smiles softly when he ultimately stays for this one last time. Hopefully, she will not let him down. Looking back to Rysen, Nova pipes up: "When!"

Rysen checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 38 higher.

Rowenova checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 72 higher. Rowenova rolled a critical!

Rysen checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 29 higher.

Rowenova checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 77 higher. Rowenova rolled a critical!

Rysen checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 30 higher.

Rowenova checked strength + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 21 higher.

Rysen grips Rowenova's arm, and presses - controlling his breathing. His muscles strain against the Halfshav scout's until he reaches the limits of his strength.

Strong and steady, Nova maintains the middle until she hits those limits and finally brings Rysen's hand down onto the table below. She briefly squeezes before letting go then stands up with a quick bow to the Crovane lord there. "Thank you, My Lord."

Rowenova says in Northlands shav, "it is an honor to compete with you in not only poetry but also armwrestling, too."

Kritr bangs his now empty mug on the table. "THAT's how it's DONE!" He cheers for the undefeated Rowenova.

Rysen laughs happily, and rises. "Well done, Scout Rowenova. Strong, and generous in victory." Accepting his glass from Lygeia he raises it into the air, and roars to the roof of the hall and the heavens above, "Do you see the strength of your people, Duke Vercyn!" He takes a long drink.

With a bright smile, Nova speaks up. "Thank you, Duke Vercyn!" she calls out, "Thank you for your reign and how it saved my life!" More on that story at another time, though. She looks to her fellow Northerners, "That was fun!" Then, "Goodman Tarik, would you wish for any company, perchance?"

Tarik lets out a deep laugh, "Well, seeing how you beat everyone here in arm wrestling, I would be a fool not to walk the city with you. No one is going to harm me when I am with you.

Nova smiles brightly after what Tarik tells her and steps closer his way.

"I should be getting back as well," says Rysen, finishing off his whiskey. He makes his way over to Brianna and Caleb and says, "Farewell, My Lady, and take care, Caleb. Come visit us soon." Rysen bows, and then turns to make his way out of Halfshav hall not far behind Rowenova and Tarik.

Rowenova has left the magnificent wood slab table.

Sir Floppington, the soulful hound leaves, following Rowenova.

Rowenova leaves, following Tarik.

Lygeia, a calligrapher and alchemist leaves, following Rysen.

Kritr stays until the last plate is packed and left then says his farewells and offers his condolences, at last, to the Halfshav family.