The Lady of Grayson is dressed casually in a bid to fit in with these wild people. It doesn't quite work: nothing can diminish the upright way in which Dawn carries herself. But she does strive for more casual, dressed down, and with arms folded loosely across her belly as she observes Darren's antics. The slight skew of her smile is the direct result of those too. "I wonder is that how all boring parties are saved in the north? Here, we just slip the courtesans a little extra silver and pray they're feeling inspired."
    And then guests begin to enter. Or, more importantly, a certain guest whose presence leads her to straighten from the lean she'd adopted against the high table. Here, a respectful dip of head to the Mirrormask.

(OOC) Viktarkim bats his eyes.


"Well, you do know how I feel about courtesans. At least.. specific ones," Darren will reply to Dawn with a chuckle, but then guests have arrived. And it appears that Darren is the host, or so the invitations that went out said. Besides, he seems appropriately pleased at the sight of Isolde and her guard, a broad grin upon his lips as he strides down the hall to her. "Princess Isolde, welcome," he intones in a deep, friendly sort of voice, though his eyes dip to take in her gown. It is with a wry grin that he shakes his head at her. "Not going to fight, I take it? I set up a table though, like I promised," his thumb points to the table towards the back, where he'd been leaning moments ago, the chairs lined with fancy cushions rather than the hard benches that flank the other tables. "It's my cheering section," he informs, managing only a hint of smugness.

Come, they told her, par-rum-pa-pa-pum? Donella is the consummate tourist to Redrain, admiring the digs as well as the guests-- as ever, in her overly modest attire. "Oh, gods bless us, who are those poor souls lying all around the cask??" she inquires, with a hint of playfulness, perfectly sensible to their being very large pelts. "Front loading. I like it."

(OOC) Darren says: Apparently the room desc didn't show up when the event started, so I'll add that to my next pose :/

"Prince Darren, I am a pixie. I couldn't fight even if I wanted to. We all must have weaknesses to balance out our strengths. Besides, how would I have handsome Redrain princes impress me with their physical prowess if I could compete?" Isolde laughs and takes his arm, so he can walk her to the table, murmuring quietly. She looks at Dawn, dipping her head slightly. "Lady Dawn, it is a pleasure to see you this week."

Dawn stands near the head table, at the faaar end of the chamber. In trousers and boots and a blouse, it might be easy to overlook the quiet Lady of Grayson. Certainly she does not appear to mind the fact, and uses her vantage point as an opportunity to study as trickle of guests becomes flood of guests. But with Darren and Isolde approaching, a smile is found, and a second nod to answer Isolde's own. "Your highness. It's good to see you here. I'm told I'm to sit with you," she remarks with a hand turned towards the cushioned chairs. "Has Prince Darren confessed his plan to assemble a court of ladies to cheer him on? I told him that bordered near cheating, even if he is the host."

Silas arrives with little fanfare, clad in a simple tunic-and-trousers ensemble. He was a stranger to these parts, so his gait is slow and distracted as he takes in the new environment. He stops a few yards away from the rest of the gathering, closer to the cask and bearskin rugs. "Greetings, lord and ladies..." The guardsman politely bows to those present. "I hear there is going to be wine and fighting."

Viktarkim arrives in time to hear something about Courtesans, lucky him! He'd just been speaking with a Courtier a little earlier in the Grayson gardens. The tattooed and scarified Shav warrior will probably get some funny looks but if one of this House's guard will escort him, he enters into the Hall. His dark eyes seek for others that he knows and once he sees at least Lady Dawn here, he quietly thanks his escort and will go over a bit closer where she may see him. He inclines his dark head unto her with respect if he catches her eye but otherwise, he'll stand over here by this wall and study the hall - and those within it.

Barric enters the great hall of the Redrain villa, more unassuming in his attire than he is in general appearance. Cutting a striking figure, the Sword of Bastion strides on into the large hall and looks about as he does so. He clearly considers himself a friend of Redrain and so, naturally, felt invited. "Good morning!" he greets, voice booming as it carries, cheerful and warm. "Lady Dawn!" it takes him a while to see her since she's so very far away, but he does eventually catch sight of his cousin and make an approach so that he might greet her with a shallow bow and a wide smile, "Good to see you, as always. Princess Isolde, hello. And Prince Darren." he offers a similar bow to the Velenosa and the Redrain, "Should I watch out, cousin, lest you take a swing or two at me?"


Typically, Lydia is dressed more in linens so as not to be overwhelmed by the summer heat, but for this event, she has done herself up in more traditional northern garb, with a layer of leather that covers her other skirts and tall boots that wrap around the thighs. She heads first to where Darren and Deva are, giving them both a curtsey before moving off to find a place to sit.

"Cheating?" Deva's arms cross loosely in front of her, and she scoffs so very loudly while striding on in. "My dear brother wouldn't cheat. Right? Right?" Her head turns to stare at Darren for a long moment. Then she points two fingers at her eyes, then him. And then again. Turning, she gives quick smiles to all the new arrivals.


    The Great Hall has been transformed to host the party this evening. Long wooden tables have been set along the Great Hall, flanked by benches for seating. They are placed on either side of one another with some distance between them for walking between. A separate table towards the head of the hall has been set to face the others, lined with chairs that are fitted with sumptious cushions rather than the bench seating. At every table are large platters filled with food; mostly meats, cheeses, and fresh fruits, arranged in a manner where one could help themselves rather than be served. Of course, most importantly are the numerous casks of whiskey at every table, and two very large kegs of ale that have been set to the ends of each.

    Darren offers Isolde his arm easily, a warm grin plastered upon his lips as he leads her to the table towards the back of the hall. Not even the murmured words passed between them could make that smile falter tonight. "Well, Princess, I'll restrain my disappointment that you'll not fight. So long as you promise to cheer for me," he chuckles. Then, his focus will momentarily fall upon Barric and Viktarkim in turn, each of them offered a nod as they approach. "Welcome, welcome. I'd certainly watch out, these two are wily ones even if they swear they'll not fight," Darren chuckles to Barric. Deva's words will earn her a long, disapproving sort of look. "Who is saying I'm a cheat, Deva? I'll punch them in their lying mouths," he shouts down the hall to her.

Isolde laughs warmly to Dawn and shakes her head. "Do not worry, my Lady, I have already warned Prince Darren that I tend to get in a mood and will be determined to distract him, if I am not suitably entertained. He may rue the day he collected a harem of strong willed women."
    She blinks and stares at Barric for a moment. "Prince... Barric? I thought you had disappeared to the far reaches of Arvum! Gods be praised you have returned to us! I dare not hope to keep you o'relong, however." She laughs, teasing the man. "Are you going to fight then?"
    "I do not think even the North could handle the sight of the kind of fighting -I- would do, my love." Isolde laughs to Darren and shakes her head. "And I will promise to start with cheering for you. Then Lady Dawn and I may do our best to make you lose if you do not give us your best showing." She gives him a look, then murmurs back.

Isolde has joined the Small Table.

"Ah, Master Viktarkim, you made it." That pleases Dawn, to judge the smile she tips up at the Prodigal, and no matter his unusual appearance. "I'm glad," she just has time to say before suddenly, Barric! It's difficult to compete with so exuberant an entrance and even she, dignified Lady, must give into the urge to grin back at the Sword's greeting. "What have you done that would warrant a punch, Prince Barric? Such questions are usually the mark of a guilty conscience. But you're probably safe. I'm a threat only to the Redrain stock of whiskey... ah, Princess Deva!" A smile for that woman, a beckoning to summon her nearer. "Have you met my cousin, Prince Barric? Or Master Viktarkim? Princess Lou has invited him to stay with us in Arx for a time."
    This string of pleasantries grows smoother as she goes on. By the time Dawn turns back to Isolde, her smile is secure. "I would not dare presume to be a candidate for anyone's harem but I can well imagine his Grace accomplishing that with others. He has a way, no?"

The Argento brothers have not made quite as big a commotion as they could've when they docked in the lower wards a fortnight ago, but when they arrive, it's clear that there's something saltier, coarser and seedier in the air, like the stink of fish and the call of sea shanties could be just beyond the horizon. A march, traditionally, is run by a Marquis, and is, again, traditionally, one of the territories arrayed near the edges of the kingdom, awarded to petty warlords and roustabouts. But when Salazar and Hugo Argento enter the Great Hall, they're dressed not for a party, but as if they'd stepped off a longboat, warm Lycene breeze blowing in their sea-salted hair.

House Redrain might appreciate the stark honesty that these sailors come with - the Stormborn, the Argentos claim t be - but as Salazar crosses the hall towards the table, he searches for who exactly to greet. Silk chemise, leather breeches and a single copper hoop in his left ear, a corsair alright. His brother has a sailor's cap on, among other things - a shorter, slighter version of his elder brother. Dark-sunbleached hair, rugged stubbled beard, and eyes of liquid honey that flick from personage to personage, drinking in the sights. He comes to a stop at the edge of the table, raising both eyebrows expressively at Darren and his party. Barring that, he glances over at both Dawn and Isolde, offers a grin, before snagging a slice of cured ham from the table nearby and chewing thoughtfully.

Lydia's first few steps seem to be pushing her in the direction of the knot of nobles towards the center of the room, but appearances can be deceiving and it appears that she's headed instead towards one of the side tables and a flask of whiskey. She pours herself a glass and then with flask still in hand circles around the room until she finds Donella. "Princess Donella, right? I'm still cross that no one introduced us properly after the invocation! Lydia Nightgold."

Deva just waves and smiles at Darren, so wide and in such absolute amusement. The sleeves of her shirt have been rolled up to her elbows, casual as usual. "I haven't. Welcome, Prince Barric. Good to see you again, Lady Dawn." While exchanging greetings, she swivels to grab a drink from a passing server. "I suppose it may take us a little while to get into the action."


Darren's laughter is bold at the banter between Isolde and Dawn, about himself. He seems to be preening, albeit only a little bit. "I don't claim to be gathering a harem. Only a cheering section. It is /my/ house, after all," he grins to the women, before his focus tunes onto Salazar as he approaches with his expressively raised eyebrows. He'll extract himself from Isolde's side after a murmur, before approaching the man with a hand extended to shake. "Welcome to my home, friend," he declares, grinning at Salazar, "We're all friends today, at least. Until the punches start getting thrown," he chuckles.


Darren is given a respectful nod, though Viktarkim is interested in studying Barric whom he's not seen before. His dark eyes in his strangely marked face roams over those here. The tall Prodigal with tattoos all over his face and arms remains silent, watchful and listening as people are filing into the Redrain hall. He is armed, unless he'd have been required to give over his weapons when he came onto the Redrain estate. This man doesn't look like the more familiar eastern and northern tribesman. It may be that Viktarkim is something else than the usual sort House Redrain deals with among savages.

Lady Dawn's words elicite a faint smile from Viktarkim. His baritone is kept quite low, oddly accented, "I have, thank you my Lady."

    Silas's attention goes from the tables of food to the two of pirates who seem to bring a haze of salt with them. He arches a brow at their colorfulness, and their unfamiliarity. "Hello, m'lords..." He greets Hugo's and Salazar's direction, not -entirely- certain they were actually lords.

Silas has joined the Far Corner.

"Adventure to the furthest reaches of the continent are all in a day's service to my mighty house, your highness. Off on noble tasks of virtue and honor and chivalry. I would hate to bore you with the details. I'm sure you would find such concepts dull and trite. Alas. Yet here I am, back at home to adventure and serve more locally." another bow offered to Isolde before Dawn draws his attention and he flashes her a bright smile, "I've found that most peoplecan easily concoct a reason to hit me. I don't mind it at all. I may be more defenseless than you think, without a sword in my hand and," he casts a look about the room quickly, "I doubt that any good-natured fisticuffs will devolve into swordplay here. So I'll take my beating and hope only to get a few good swings in." when she mentions whiskey, "Though I admit a Grayson assault on the whiskey stores sounds like a good way to spend a mid-morning." when his cousin introduces him to Deva, he turns and offers the woman a bow - he's bowing all over the place, "Your highness, it's a pleasure to meet you."


    Isolde eyes Salazar as he offers his grin and nods to him, a curious expression on her mirror masked face. She looks to Dawn, then, laughing and shaking her head. "I would consider being part of a harem, for Prince Darren, I think. I'm not overly jealous and would simply destroy anyone not worthy of him. And if it means causing him no end to grief for being so bold and gauche as to collect a harem blatantly in the first place? Even more worth it." Isolde laughs as she slips into a seat, nodding to Dawn. "But, perhaps, Lycene women are more suited to such games."
    Without taking her eyes of Darren, she asides to Dawn again. "What say you, shall we make a game of this? 500 Silver says that Prince Darren will -not- best any challenger that comes to brawl him. I give you the gift of betting on the host, while I play the wicked vixen and challenge him to prove me wrong."
    "Prince Barric! Will you do me the honor of being my champion and trying to save me some silver? Can you beat Prince Darren in a brawl?" She laughs, lounging in her seat, looking about for someone to get her a god damned drink, so she can last through the crowded event.

(OOC) Hugo says: oh gosh, I feel like Hugo might take up that chalange

Aaaaand it appears that Donella is distracted, so Lydia takes her whiskey flask and instead heads over to where Salazar and Hugo, who have just entered. She holds up the whiskey in an offering, "Can I get you started, friends? I've been looking for people to tell me of the sea, and you seem the sort!" Her head cants to one side to give Darren a grin as well, more familiar and warm than the one she gives to the men who just arrived and offer him the flask as well.

(OOC) Hugo says: though he has no ranks in brawl. :P

(OOC) Isolde makes it hail.

(OOC) Isolde says: (Like making it rain but with silver coins.)

(OOC) Nadia is feeling ill, excuse me!

(OOC) Barric doesn't either. I should learn some brawl right now

(OOC) Silas whistles.

(OOC) Salazar picks up brawl right now.

(OOC) Darren says: Cheaters

Hugo takes the flask. "Thank you." He takes a good sized drink. "Yeah, the sea is pretty rough place. Not for noble dolls like you, with pirates and storms and rough seas."

(OOC) Barric punches Darren in his lying mouth!

Dawn follows Deva's lead, opting for a glass splashed half-full of whiskey. It's held rather than swallowed, at least for now. "I still say that's cheating and am grateful his sister is here to ensure all is served in fairness," she opines but the remark is mild, still faintly amused. Pale eyes also track the more colorful arrivals, her bright head tilted at the scrutiny she and Isolde appear to have drawn. "A beating delivered in brotherly spirit is surely less painful than other sorts. Ah, Sir Mercier! You've come as well. We'll achieve a proper gaggle of Graysons yet," provided, of course, that the Voice of that House only loosely categorizes what a "Grayson" is. As might be expected of a bastard!
    Then Isolde lays down a challenge and she finally lifts the whiskey for a sip as she considers. "A generous gift indeed. I suppose I can accept that bet, your highness, though with a token protest at having my own Sword stolen from me by a vixen. Still, if Prince Barric agrees, then I can do no less and will offer my token to Prince Darren."

(OOC) Hugo says: oops. I shuold introduce myself.

"I left my boxing gloves at the front door," Salazar says with faux regret in his voice, pressing one fist to his chest and dipping down into a bow. "Salazar Argento, Voice of Said House. And my brother, Hugo. We're here to enjoy your food, wine and hospitality, Lord Darren, and offer our deepest condolences for whichever fellow decides to challenge you for that dubious honor of saving the Lady some silver," he says with a sugary smile at Isolde. Did he blink? Or bat a wink? He turns back to Darren. "I am honored, delighted and pleased to make your acquaintance, your Grace." Another bow.

Dawn has joined the Small Table.

Vercyn prowls in, grinning wolfishly at the proceedings. He makes a point of greeting Darren and his sister Deva, "Your grace, your highness. Have I missed all the fun? Sorry I've been absent as of late, Prince Darren."

Silas seems to be in the midsts of piling a helping of fruit and meat onto a plate when Dawn suddenly notices him and vocally acknowledges his existence! He stops and looks up at the Grayson princess. She is rewarded with an impish grin. "Hello, Lady Dawn. I've come to watch, mostly. And eat." He inclines his head in the direction of Barric and Viktarkim. "Aye, a gaggle indeed. Will I see either of you fight on our behalf?"

"No weapons here tonight," Deva lightly wags a finger at Barric. "We'll save that for a lunch next time, I think. Or perhaps a post-dinner dessert. Sound good?" she wonders, grinning wider as she glances over her shoulder at Darren. "Glad you could make it, Lydia," she slips by the woman and gives her a quick squeeze of an arm. "Don't worry, nothing shady on my watch, Lady Dawn. You have my word," and she dramatically holds a hand over her heart before another grin betrays her amusement. "Duke, glad you could make it," there's a polite nod for Vercyn when he arrives.


"It's a pleasure to meet you," Darren replies to Salazar, before his focus swings back to Isolde. The devious fox and her wicked deals earn her a stare, as his grin stretches across his lips. "You're going to lose your silver," he chids her, before it is to Dawn that his attention goes, the Prince holding his hand to his heart. "I'd be honoured for your token, my Lady. The Princess is lucky I'll allow her to continue seating in my cheering section, with the deals she is making," he chuckles, all in good humour, before he'll turn and scoop up a glass of whiskey. "Now, if you'll all excuse me.." he trails off with a wink to Isolde and Dawn both, and then promptly leaps up onto the table to stand above all the others, clearing his throat to get everybody's attention.

Donella gives her attention. How can she help it? The man is standing on a table.


    "It is only fair, I think, that you get Prince Darren, if I get Prince Barric." Isolde laughs and shakes her head slightly, laughing as she lounges in her chair. "But I'm happy to switch. Or we could make Prince Darren decide for us." She grins brightly, taking a sip of her whiskey.
    "Princess Deva! We're fighting over your brother. Do you wish to claim him as your champion? I've put 500 silver down on this. Pick someone, and let us make a game of it... unless your'e competing? Then I'll cast of Prince Barric and pick you as my champion."
    Isolde grins at Darren, baring her teeth. "Go forth, Bear, and prove me wrong."

Barric is about to settle the matter of his championing services but Darren is calling for attention and the Grayson prince isn't going to rudely interrupt the man in his own house. With a sly smile to each woman, he turns and focuses his attention upon the Redrain prince.


Viktarkim finally leaves the wall he was astutely holding up. The Prodigal sees others helping themselves to plates and food, not just drink, so he gets himself one. A bit of whatever meat is on offer, some bread and cheese, and fruit - but all in moderate portion. His dark eyes are ever roaming, moving over those around him that he does not know here. A slight movement of his mouth that may be amusement to Silas' question, "I may, if it pleases my Lady Dawn. Though I am better with sword or bow than with my hands alone. I can take my licks as well as any man." Or he might get lucky and deliver them. The tattooed tribesman has kept his voice down, easily missed in the many louder, boyant conversations.

Lydia fills up the whiskey glasses from her flask for all who take her up on the offer. She turns to Hugo with a half-cocked smile as she responds. "You say that as someone who knows nothing about me! I grew up in the coldest of mountains among men who alternated between fighting Shavs and beating the earth to give us its majesty, don't chalk /me/ up as weak so quick!" Of course, Lydia looks about as shatterproof as a glass vase. When Donella rejoins her, Lydia leans over to whisper to the noblewoman, although her eyes are on the Prince on the table.

Salazar swivels to watch Darren bound onto the table, while he nudges his brother Hugo, to pay attention as well. "Hm," he says in response to Isolde's boast of Deva possibly entering. He turns to look at her, brow arched, and then returns his attention back to Darren. "Hear, hear," he calls, before picking up a goblet and filling it with a good measure of whatever passes for refreshment here. He hands it to his brother and pours his own.


Darren gets his attention. Viktarkim steps back with his plate to return along the wall to watch the Prince of this House, and see what he has to say.


"Welcome!" Darren's booming voice is amplified by the Hall's acoustics, allowing those even towards the other end of hall to hear him, as he holds his glass up to his guests. "To each and every one of you, whether you're friend or family, I bid you welcome to my home. Today, we're all Redrains in spirit, and that means I expect all of you to eat and drink to your fill and beyond." His warm chuckles fill the room, as he continues on. "I expect to kick all of your asses today to prove Princess Isolde so very wrong, but until then - a cheers! To food, to drink, to health and home, to bloody fights and someone who will lick your wounds when you crawl into bed tonight. And, finally, of course..." there's a pause, perhaps for some dramatic effect, before his voice roars all the higher. "To the last!" And then, he'll knock back the shot in his glass, a cue that the party has begun, and he jumps back down off the table, Isolde given a /long/ glance as a smirk tugs at his lips.

It would seem the matter is settled for Dawn. She tucks her chin, her chuckle near inaudible as she trades the whiskey glass into her left hand and pats at her hip pocket with her right. No Lady comes without a token to these things and she is no exception: the confection that's drawn out is silk and lace and embroidery, in pretty green and white. This is flicked at Darren when he concludes his speach and vaults down again. "Here, a bribe to ensure my... ass remains unkicked." Yes, she just said it. That word.
    /Far/ more dignified is the nod she dips to Viktarkim. "Of course, sir. If you feel you'd like to compete."

Silas looks from Barric to Viktarkim, assessing their appearances in his own head. Whatever judgement he comes to he keeps to himself, for now. He nods to prodigal before finally giving Darren his attention. A little rude, perhaps, but he doubts the prince notices. "Good luck!" He calls out to Barric as he finally seats himself. He looks anxiously at the nearest cask of whiskey...

"My brother? My champion? Pleaaase. I mean, I'm gonna beat him myself. But thanks," Deva laughs merrily as she gestures toward Isolde. Then she turns to watch Darren speak, a hand lightly resting on her hip. "To the last!" Her drink is lifted high, and luckily she's already had enough of it to avoid splashing anyone. Then she takes a long gulp of the remainder.

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

Vercyn gestures for a drink, patting a server on the back in thanks as he takes a whiskey and drowns it in one, "To the last! I know, your words not mine, but I served you long enough. And with all due respect to his grace, my money would be on Princess Deva."

Lydia is standing with Donella, murmuring back and forth, and whatever the two are saying too each other, there's an amused twinkle in Lydia's eye. This pauses when Darren lifts his glass and she lifts hers in response before downing the liquid and offering to refill the glasses of everyone around her.

With the party started, Barric lifts his glass of whisket - which he's swiped just now from a table - and lifts it high before downing the shot and slamming the glass back down onto the table. "To the last! Now, Your Grace, should we have a few more drinks before I begin pummeling you. rather, before I begin making hamhanded and ultimately unsuccessful attempts at pummeling you?" if he's just being humble in regards to his pugilistic skills, he's very good at it. More likely, he's not a great brawler. He doesn't seem to have enough guile to attempt to hide it.


Donella hasn't touched the libations as yet, but a toast has been called for, and so, she antes up. She takes a sip, as sparing as she dares, for it makes her cough and wince into her sleeve. "To the best! And to the best of hosts," she shouts back amongst the merrimaking, and gamely lifts the cup. She leans a little to chat softly with Lydia, her brow furrowing, even as her face takes on a little reddish glow.

Isolde laughs brightly and lifts her glass. "To the Last! Who will win my silver!" Isolde leans back in her chair, and she watches the antics and goings on, mirror masked and decadent, enjoying how she stands out in a crowd.


The token given to Darren from Dawn is gingerly pinched between his fingers, the Prince eyeing up the frilly hanky before he utters a low chuckle. "I'm sure this will keep me going," Darren says to Dawn, stuffing the hanky in his pant's pocket so a bit of the frill shows. Then, Darren will lean over the table to murmur something in Isolde's ear before he pulls away and swings back around. Vercyn's comments earn the man a wry grin. "If she were up against any other man, I'd bet against her, too," he replies, then flashes a smirk over to Deva, chuckling as he goes to get himself another glass of whiskey. "But she's not, so the silver's on me, I'm afraid. Sorry, Deva," he calls over to her. "But yes, first, let's drink. Fighting's much more fun when there's three of your target to hit," he grins.

Dawn is just going to... retreat behind the table, yes. With her whiskey. It's become crowded, there's talk of fighting, and her token has been bestowed. All is well, right? So she slips into one of the cushioned seats beside Isolde and frames her glass between both hands, elbows set on the table. "That's what... four now volunteering to fight? Five? How many does it take to make a proper brawl?" she wonders, a question directed to any and all who care to answer.

"I think more than one makes it a proper brawl, and simply more exciting. Though, I feel I should put a caveat. My silver goes to the one that can best Prince Darren one on one." Isolde nods to Dawn, motioning about. "And double that if Princess Deva wins."

"You're on, Darren. You're on." Deva's chin lifts proudly, and she slides a look from Vercyn to Darren. "Remember this moment!" But her cup is empty, and it's time for more. Grabbing a bottle, she refills her own and holds it by the neck to offer refills for those around her as well. "Are there those of you who -aren't- going to fight?" With a disappointed frown, she looks pointedly at Dawn and Isolde.


The Prodigal mostly keeps to himself but he takes a taste of the whiskey at Darren's toast. THen Viktarkim eats quietly as he observes the others, listening to their conversations and studying them in turn. He does raise a dark brow at Dawn's saying the word ass but the tribesman looks only faintly amused. A faint upnod for her reply and then he's back to eating where he stands, leaning against the wall. He looks relaxed, watching the Prince of the House fingering Dawn's token. The tattooed Viktarkim keeps tabs on the location and safety of his Lady of House Grayson but she seems to be in good company within this Hall.

With a lift of his fist in a show of solidarity (or brutal, bone-crunching agreement to bloodsport), Salazar lifts his voice: "Count me in too," he roars.

Silas begins to diligently saw into the meat on his plate with the utensils at his disposal, keeping his ears directed towards the conversations. He seems content to remain a wallflower at the moment. "I could fight, but that may be a little unfair..." Humblebrag.

"What about HIM?" Donella can be heard to say baldly to Lydia, looking a little unsteady even as she appears to point at Viktartim. Who is, of course, occupied. She puts the cup down, opting just to hold it.

Vercyn holds a hand to his chest, "I'm already betting and turning the Voice of House Redrain against the highlord. I must restrict myself to the duchy of the sidelines to not spread my treason any further."

"Every time I risk my neck, the family gives me such disapproving looks," Dawn says in defiance of Deva's glance. She'll fight a frown with a brighter smile, as if sparkle were capable of acting as a shield against disappointed. "Sometimes, they even -lecture-." The horror! As more combatants pledge to fight (and bleed!) she tilts a glance at Viktarkim and raises a querying eyebrow. "Really, you can if you'd like!" she says, in case it was missed before by her savage and protective shadow.

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

Lydia's eyes shift towards Viktarkim when Donella points him out. For a brief moment, her typically gregarious face falls flat and she says, "No." Then she brightens again, and gives Donella's hand a little tug. "Oh good, the pirates /are/ fighting! Let's go watch!" And she leads the Thraxian princess towards one of the tables.

Lydia has joined the Small Table.

Donella has joined the Small Table.


"I'll beat you up later, Vercyn," Darren chides the Duke, no titles here now, as he pulls away from Isolde and their table and turns back around. The shout from Donella earns her a look, though his eyes swing to Viktarkim after, the Prodigal studied... and then he shrugs. "You going to fight?" he asks the man, brows quirked. If he is afraid, he's certainly not showing it. Instead, he will down his whiskey cup and slam it onto the table with a chuckle, starting to stroll over towards the middle of the room as he unbuttons his shirt. Oh yes, the show's begin, the Prince is taking it off! Though, really, who fights with a shirt on? "Come on then, let's get to it!" he roars out to those willing, stripping out of the shirt and tossing it to the floor.

The confident swagger of the prince isn't so much pompous as it is determined. Abbas is not currently dressed like a prince; his arrival in the city is a recent affair. One that is rumored to have been surrounded in whispers and gossip -- the Thrax male peers under his dark eyes and he offers the barest of a smiles through the corners of his lips. And he finds himself arriving at the most entertaining of moments. And rather than making some grande entrance as he is new to the city. Likely recognized by his people but few else -- the seasoned menace of the seas moves off to the side to observe.

(OOC) Darren says: If you're fighting, page me.

Hugo smiles at the comment from Lydia. He was going to stay out of this, being more skilled with a blade than hand-to-hand, but now he felt like he had to step in. He steps up next to Salazar, and puts his hand on his shoulder. "I might as well get in on this too. I said I was looking for excitement."

After the initial toast, Barric contents himself with shoving food in his face and washing it down with ale and some whiskey now and again. Better to fight on a full stomach and better to socialize after one's been properly beaten up a little. At least fighting is easier than sitting around chatting. So when it's time to get swinging, Barric is on board. He's also willing to get his shirt off, which he does while moving toward the table with all the womenfolk. To say he's showing off would be only a slight exaggeration. When he's removed the silk shirt, he offers it to Isolde, "Since I've been recruited, your highness, perhaps you'll mind my shirt for me? You may admire my departing form as I head into battle. I've been told my back is my most flattering feature." that's a joke. Barric turns and moves toward Darren, ready to get his brawl on, confident and eager to get physical.


Viktarkim is almost finished with his light meal and sips his whiskey. He eyes the women over there that are staring at him and he'll boldly meet their eyes, but doesn't say anything to them. They are speaking themselves but he can hear them. The plate is set aside and he sips the whiskey as the others are getting themselves worked up and ready to go. The savage among them gives the Prince an up nod, "Aye, if anyone wants to fight me, I won't refuse." He's not exactly challenging Darren himself - others are more suited, surely. The glass of whiskey is knocked off and the empty glass set aside. Then Viktarkim takes off his bow case and quiver, as well as his word belt to hook them over the back of a chair as he readies himself. No pulling off his tunic, not unless that is required that they strip?

(OOC) Valencia is just fashionably late!

Isolde laughs brightly and takes Barric's shirt, rubbing her bared cheek against it. "And I shall keep it to inspire you, darling. To the last!"

(OOC) Viktarkim says: afk a min.

Donella is pulled along by Lydia, cup dangling in her fingertips. But as she is moved, her gaze passes over Abbas, and then immediately tracks back and sticks there. Her smile grows very wide. "Cousin!" she exclaims, delighted. "Have you come to throw fists about?"

Vercyn has joined the Pass Out Couch.

Silas seems pleased to hear Viktarkim was joining the impending brawl, even if the man seems more neutral about it than enthused. Abbas is given a curious glance when he struts in.

Dawn proves herself no match for the parade of disrobing men who venture by: she averts her eyes as the shirts begin to come off, using Lydia's quiet table side remarks as an excuse to look down the table at the other woman. A smile is given, and her voice lifts in an answering call. "Lady Lydia, always a pleasure. And Princess Donella as well. So good to see you! No, no guilt." If anything else is said, it's quieter and behind the rim of the glass she has in hand.

Viktarkim drops a plain and practical longsword.

Viktarkim drops a simple but elegant recurve bow.

Salazar drops a wickedly curved steel cutlass with plain knuckle guard.

Hugo drops Steel Short Cutlass.

Darren drops peaks of Farhaven white steel falchion edged in scarlet.

Hugo drops Light leather armor.

The Duke of Whitehold moves over to the fabled Pass Out Couch and seats himself with a regal air that's not the least bit serious, "As I'm not participating, I now declare this the Duchy of the Sidelines, and official neutral ground safe from brawling. This is also relying on His Grace and her highness Deva to not contradict me." Vercyn leans back and relaxes in his self-proclaimed duchy.

(OOC) Dawn says: A medieval strip show, all the weapons hitting the floor.

(OOC) Salazar says: TSA checkpoint.

(OOC) Donella says: Its gettign hot in heeere

(OOC) Silas throws silver. Fighters get bruised.

Hugo drops sailor's cap.


Striding out to the center of the room, and topless now, Darren will point to Barric, Hugo, Viktarkim and Salazar in turn, then to Deva at last. "I'm saving you for last, sister!" he jokes, then takes a fighter's stance. He's got his eye on Viktarkim afterward, likely going after the big guy first.

(OOC) Viktarkim did not remove his tunic ICly. Not stripping ladies, sorry. He has his reasons.

Hugo drops Cloth sea bag.

(OOC) Hugo says: who was the one boasting the most

(OOC) Barric says: Darren!

(OOC) Hugo says: Havign troubles scrolling up. Ok.

(OOC) Darren says: Ganging up on me again, just like the damn melee

"Well what fun is that?!" Deva gapes at Darren, frowning at him while both hands settle on her hips. "Fine. Fine. Uhh." Looking around at the competition, she takes a moment to pull her hair up into the messiest of ponytails. "I hope you don't mind fighting a woman," she tells Barric, giving him a nod. "This is an equal opportunity brawl, you see."

(OOC) Hugo says: so what do I do to contenue?

(OOC) Silas says: it's fun

(OOC) Isolde says: GDI I am not sober enough to pay attention to the stripping. More violence!

Shirt off, shoes off, this is a get down or get wrecked kinda brawl. Exactly the type of thing the privateers of the southern seas would see through. Salazar strips off his shirt. Sun-bronzed to a crisp and standing boldly against the elements, the Pirate with a Pedigree slowly steps onto the cleared area in the middle. When his brother does the same, Salazar gives a subtle nod at him, before incling his head towards the heavily tattooed Viktarkim. A click of his tongue against his teeth, a slow nod.

(OOC) Hugo says: also, I'm getting erorrs

Hugo drops Simple leather shoes.

Clothing is coming off and so Lydia is clearly distracted eyeing up the men in the center of the room (sorry Deva!) with a sly smile, while continuing to chat with the other ladies.

The dusky skinned Abbas leans with ease in an out of the way location. He is content to watch and observe rather than involve himself in the affairs of men in their quick adventures to forgo their shirts and pound their chests. And yet - blood calls out. So when he hears the words 'cousin' his obsidian gaze shifts over to see for whom the bell tolls. The prince offers the width of a familial smile; albeit brief. "Ah." He begins in a play at a regretful tone as he calls over to Donella, "I am only recently arrived and thus not properly prepared for such sport. I will, however - cheer on those who are boldy risking both blemish and sprain tonight." He offers as he continues to keep an eye upon the contestants. A critical look as his attention is rather divided at the moment.

Is the stripping done? Dawn finally steals a glance at the field of battle (what had been the Great Hall's dance floor) and then settles back in her chair to play her rank-appointed role as audience. "A thousand silver to every fighter of Grayson who bests someone!" she calls out. And yet her token went to Redrain. For /shame/, Lady.


    Fashionably late, the Princess Valencia has decided to crawl out of bed at the mention of a brawling escapade amongst the family members. She was perhaps a bit over dressed for the affair, a gown of silk draping her form though revealing a large section of her upper back, and a pair of silken slippers. She was also wearing a circlet that those here may have seen before, a light outline of kohl around her eyes to make their color pop but no other makeup beyond that. She uses her left hand to lift the gown slightly from the floor as she makes her way into the Grand Hall, a moment's pause as she watches the affairs, and then she makes her way over to the gathering group of women, though she raises her right hand in a slight wave to Vercyn before she reaches the other Ladies. "Good evening, it looks like have not missed the main event."

(OOC) Hugo says: it told me I Darren is already in a fight

(OOC) Barric says: So Viktarkim needs to attack someone?

(OOC) Darren says: You're typing attack right?

(OOC) Hugo says: yeah

(OOC) Viktarkim says: I hadn't yet. I was trying to matchup with somebody. I'll choose someone randomly.

Viktarkim inflicts moderate damage to Salazar.

Barric inflicts moderate damage to Hugo.

(OOC) Hugo says: I didn't think we were pairing off

(OOC) Donella says: Dark reflection in the hooooouse.

(OOC) Isolde says: Bae <3

(OOC) Hugo says: I thought it was just a brawl and we choose to attackwhoever

(OOC) Isolde says: </creepy Isolde>

(OOC) Barric says: It is, just fight fight fight!

Salazar inflicts moderate damage to Viktarkim.

(OOC) Viktarkim has no idea - is why I was asking. ;]

(OOC) Hugo says: also, wasn't trying to ignore you val, I'm getting a bit overwelmed by a few things happeing at once

Darren inflicts moderate damage to Viktarkim.

(OOC) Hugo says: here, and in RL

(OOC) Hugo says: so, what do i do to attack?

(OOC) Salazar says: Type 'attack <name>'

Hugo inflicts minor damage to Darren.

So much for her threats. Deva dives for Barric and... totally misses. Completely. She ends up whirling around in confusion, and a sheepish s mile on her lips. "You're fast," she exclaims with a surprised huff.

When the brawl begins, Barric looks about at his competition and, rather than go straight for Darren - likely a popular target - he picks someone at random. That someone happens to be Hugo over whom Barric has a considerable size advantage. Surely, that's not a consideration! No. Before he stalks into the fray, he places his fingers to his lips and blows an overly dramatic kiss in Isolde's direction. Then he's advancing on the smaller man and sending a big, balled up fist at him. The blow connects with a satisfying thump and the Sword of Bastion lets out a triumphant laugh. He catches Deva's assault at the last minute and sidesteps her, making it look easy and offering her a nod and smile, "Of course I am!"


Silas clicks his tongue at Dawn. "Aw, -now- you say that." He pretends to look more forlorn than he actually is, but his eyes remain on the fighters circling each other and throwing fists. "But two entrees is good."

(OOC) Hugo says: what does it mean hit continue?

(OOC) Hugo says: choose who we're attacking? And should I emote my last attack?

Lydia leans forward eagerly as the brawl begins. For a few seconds she watches the initial maneuvering with bright eyes and then her eyes dart upwards as Valencia comes down. "Lady Valencia! Come join us! I was just about to wager 500 that a Redrain would be left standing at the end of this brawl."

(OOC) Barric says: Just type it and the round goes on, I think.

(OOC) Darren says: It means to type attack <character> again. And yes


Well, it's a free for all! Viktarkim is a bit slow to pair off but he finally goes after Salazar whom he lands a fair hit upon - and Salazar tags him right back! The two go at it and then the Prince joins in, wading into the tattooed Prodigal with a sound punch! Ouch, that had to hurt. Vik staggers under that blow when he's got two men on him at once! He bares his teeth and sucks in a breath, trying to keep moving so he's not pinched between them! But hell, he doesn't look like he has regrets at joining the fray! Not yet. The Shav tries to get away from Darren but goes after Salazar again.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: You all are pounding me.

It's probably clear that Viktarkim noticed Salazar's click-of-tongue and nod - unsubtle sign language - to gang up on the biggest, most tattooed bad-ass on the table. I mean, it's only fair, hm? But the moment he's about to spring for it, Viktarkim apparent gets to the punch first. He glances over his shoulder at his kid brother, but Hugo's busy with his problems - namely the Thirteenth-forsaken Grayson Prince of olde, with fist and foot at ready. He staggers back before swinging with a quick, decisive jab outwards, apparently focused on a more devious type of attack.

Hugo suddenly lunnges to Darren, to his face. Darren steps back, but not quick enough to get grazed by the hit.


Darren pushes his boots into the groupd and lunges toward Viktarkim, turning at the last second to nail him right in the gut as the Prodigal goes for Salazar. It's a pretty dirty move, considering the Prodigal was involved in a fight already, but he jabs quick and true and then dodges away, letting out a low chuckle as he bounces around. It was likely all that bouncing that makes him hard to hit, Hugo's punch grazing his face but that's about it. "Whoa there, I'm over here," he whistles at Hugo, taunting him.

Dawn uncurls a finger from the whiskey glass and uses it to point at Silas. "You, sir, ought not to be greedy. How many competitions have you won now, against a host of others?" The question has the sound of good-natured ribbing, and no matter the difference between their respective stations. In spite of her aversion to watching while the fighters were disrobing, she's locked on the scrum now, pale eyes flicking here and there to track the action of Graysons and token-bearer all. No wincing: she might not be a brawler but neither does she cringe from violence.

(OOC) Salazar says: Viktarkim! Attack moi. <3

"None!" He technically tied for second in the last. Who cares about second!? But Dawn's point seems to be well taken. His lips tug downward softly as he watches the fight while enjoying his meal. "They ought to coordinate together, if they can manage to..."

Darren inflicts moderate damage to Viktarkim.

Barric inflicts minor damage to Hugo.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Sorry, got pulled afk there.

Deva inflicts moderate damage to Barric.

As Salazar sweeps past for the second round, he gets ready to fend off Viktarkim's hit. The big, tattooed shav manages to get punches in, but he watches as a flash of red hair - Deva's mane, a Redrain princess - flies past, and he starts rearing up to fend the large Prodigal off him. But he does notice one thing, and it's the Grayson Prince putting the hurt on his baby brother. Feinting a hit at Viktarkim, Salazar breezes past (and with a shout - "Hold fast, Stormborn!") sends a flying clothesline at the larger Barric.

Salazar inflicts minor damage to Barric.


    Valencia smiles warmly at Lydia, "I have no doubt, our men are of the stiffest stock. My dear would you be kind enough to fetch me a glass of wine and bring it to me on the Duchy's new neutral zone?" A slight grin to her lip as she says it, a slight dip in her chin to the other Ladies watching the fight. "And perhaps you could join us?" She says before she moves and makes way to settle upon the furniture beside Vercyn, "Good evening Duke, I do hope I am not intruding upon your new stake of land?" She giggles lightly as she lifts her gown just enough to cross her legs at the knee without catching the fabric between them.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: OMG spam. We need a less spammy system.

(OOC) Barric says: This is discriminatory against people who have no clothes.

(OOC) Deva says: Put some pants on, gawd.

(OOC) Hugo says: yeah, I can't see what happened in my round

(OOC) Barric says: RESPECT MY LIFE DECISIONS

(OOC) Dawn says: It's a trade off, thrill the ladies VS taking a punch.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: I have clothes on and I'm getting my ass kicked. No whining. ;]


Darren's quick on his feet, dodging blows from Hugo before wheeling towards Viktarkim again. This time, he balls his hand into a fist and goes straight for the man's face, knocking him in the mouth with a quick one-two-jab before he bounces back again. A flash of a grin goes to Isolde as he dances about the floor, his knuckles bloody but no other damage on him. "Spent your silver on the wrong man," he teases in a shout to Isolde, before he bounces on the heels of his feet towards Hugo, beckoning the man in. "Just you and me now, since you want some so badly," he'll taunt.

Barric sends another swing in Hugo's direction and then gets thwacked by Deva. With a grin and a shake of his head, he leaves the poor man alone and turns on the Redrain Voice, "Very well, your highness, I shall face you now. You are persistent! Now prepare to face my...well, it's not wrath. So, my good-natured and friendly beating!"


Donella rises herself up from the table, at the coppery scent of the proverbial blood in the water. The sound flesh makes, crashing against active bare flesh. She gnaws her lip, pausing, distracted as she goes to greet Abbas. "Our lion returns to berth... Has Himself seen you yet?"

(OOC) Deva says: oh my god

(OOC) Barric says: wow, that one was crazy

(OOC) Barric says: omg, hit continue and save us!

Maybe not the strongest of the bunch, Deva nevertheless seems to be having a grand time. Even if she can't always hit. Somehow, miraculously, she does manage to finally land one on Barric with a clutched fist and a laugh. There's a flash of a smile for Salazar as she slips past him. "Hurry up, Darren!" she calls out unnecessarily. "Good natured, for sure!" she promises Barric. "It'll be fun."

"I don't know about that, Prince Darren... perhaps my man is just waiting to impress me!" Isolde laughs, though she sends Jaxon off to go fetch her bag of healing supplies, sighing softly. "Men."

(OOC) Darren says: holy balls Salazar, ACT man lol

Donella has left the Small Table.

Lydia pushes up from her seat at that point. "Excuse me, ladies, I should take care of this, but..." Lydia pauses to eye up Isolde, "My bet stands." Then she straightens, and turns to follow after Valencia fetching a glass of wine as she does so. When she reaches the princess and the Duke, she holds the glass out to Valencia and settles in alongside them. "Did you see some pirates are fighting? Not that it will keep us from dominating - still, exciting!"

(OOC) Barric says: Just type continue immediately, omg! :)

Valencia has joined the Pass Out Couch.

Lydia has left the Small Table.

Lydia has joined the Pass Out Couch.


A succubus's tits! What just /hit/ him?! Darren's fist must be made of iron! Viktarkim takes the hit in the mouth and damn if he doesn't get half spun around by the blow - but he manages to keep his feet. He spits and it's only blood, not teeth thankfully. Something flashes in his eyes and with Salazar moving off, the Prodigal suddenly wants a piece of the Prince! Problem is whether he can get any or not, but he shakes off the blow, bruised already. Eyes intent he wades right back into the free for all - the tribesman is good for a few more licks.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Sal?

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Do something man. You are spamming the crap out of us. ;]

(OOC) Salazar says: Sorry!

(OOC) Salazar says: My girlfriend made me a sandwich and said, 'YOU HAVE TO EAT THE SANDWICH.'

(OOC) Deva says: You can auto attack umm with...

(OOC) Barric says: Tell her you're busy!!

Deva inflicts moderate damage to Barric.

(OOC) Barric :)

(OOC) Deva says: +help +autoattack

Dawn raises her glass to salute those ladies who depart for the Duchy of the Sidelines. Her smile flashes out to mark those at that place but the fight soon draws her attention back to the brawl. Without looking away from the action, she blindly gropes about for the nearest source of whiskey to refresh her glass with.

Viktarkim inflicts minor damage to Darren.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: It won't let me change my attack to someone else.

Salazar inflicts moderate damage to Darren.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Nevermind, it worked.

Hugo inflicts moderate damage to Darren.

(OOC) Barric says: Let's just go until someone dies then pose the funeral. I can't even. This spam!

(OOC) Lydia says: This seems worse than it's been in the past.

    As the fighting begins the dread captain Abbas watches with a discerning eye and assesses the flow. The Prince does not watch those who are the most aggressive. Instead he observes for tactics. His gaze falling on those who strategize and utilize their wits in the affair and he watches for behaviors and tells much like a hawk might in a field of starving mice. Legendary deep and dark eyes narrow as he moves from his position and circles the periphery of the contest in order to get better angles to observe. Deft of movement and agile he finds the best position possible for observation within the Great Hall. As he finds himself near his blood the prince offers; eyes glued upon the fray, "Darkness and I are one, and wind. And nagging thunder, brothers all. My Mother was a storm I call. And shorten your way with speed to me. I am Love and Hate and the terrible mind. Of vicious gods, but more am I. I am the pride in the lover's eye. I am the epic of the sea." He offers her as she meets him and the lion of the dark tides turns his attention a moment to Donella. "Not as of yet; but I am here now. And I am here for no small measure of time. Our will shall unfurl upon the winds and in the troubled waters we shall rise like the tide."

(OOC) Darren says: Yeah I think I'm gonna end the code

(OOC) Darren says: We can take it to dice, guys, this is ridic

(OOC) Deva says: Yeah that's cool oh my god.

(OOC) Hugo says: I have no idea what's actualy happening in combat

(OOC) Barric quits the game and never comes back

(OOC) Darren says: hit +end_combat

(OOC) Hugo says: I'm missing all the actuall attacks

(OOC) Viktarkim says: What's the command to stop?

(OOC) Darren says: +end_combat

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Thank you.

(OOC) Deva says: That was wild!

(OOC) Silas doesn't recall it being that bad last time...

(OOC) Hugo says: the errors I was getting didn't help the spam

(OOC) Hugo says: is anyone else getting errors?

(OOC) Salazar says: Viktarkim, I only singled you out because you're a dirty shav. <3

(OOC) Hugo says: I was going to help you out, Sal, but then you came over to me. :P

(OOC) Viktarkim laughs, "No offence taken OOCly. Do what you have to ICly. I'm good."

Salazar picks up a wickedly curved steel cutlass with plain knuckle guard.

Salazar wields a wickedly curved steel cutlass with plain knuckle guard.

(OOC) Hugo says: I might be having to go suddenly, for dinner

(OOC) Hugo says: well, I gotta go to dinner, so I'll bow out

(OOC) Hugo says: you can say he fought valiently but went down quickly

(OOC) Hugo says: later all

(OOC) Deva says: Bye Hugo, thanks for coming!

(OOC) Valencia says: bye Hugo!

(OOC) Silas says: Have a nice eat!

(OOC) Lydia says: Bye Hugo!

(OOC) Darren says: I think we figured out how we're goign to do this without the combat code. SORRY GUYS and whoever reads this log later :/

Dawn may or may not have forgotten that she's a lady. The fight rages on, and she tucks fingers into the corner of her mouth to give a woodman's whistle of approval. Who is she cheering for by this point? It's impossible to tell!


    The Northern Fox accepts the glass of wine and lowers her chin again in a respectful nod to Lydia, "Thank you my dear, you may stick around if you choose or return to those with whom you were speaking, this should be all I need for this evening." A warm smile as she brings the cup to her lips and sips the wine. She returns her attention to the Duke she is sat beside, waiting for his reaction to her greeting and presence.

Donella pats the captain upon the elbow, "We'll talk at home, when you've run out of verse, and gotten your land legs back. That one that is almost naked, there, is your host." She ruffles her fingers in the air, and hotfoots it back to the table.

Lydia passes over the wine with a nod of her head, and then rises to melt back into the crowd.

With a sweep of his hand, Duke Vercyn gestures at his realm of the one couch and comments to Valencia, "Your highness, you can just this once invade the Duchy of the Sidelines, but know that there may be a terrible price at some point. I can't, of course, reveal what this is, since it is the perogative of dukes to hide their evil schemes and what they hope to gain for the most inopportune moments." He then asks her, "So this is the first I've seen you in a long while, just how much did you miss us all? Feel free to reinerpret that all about me, of course."

(OOC) Lydia's also going to take this small interlude to duck out, because it's 11 and my week has caught up with me!

(OOC) Barric waves!

Lydia has left the Pass Out Couch.

(OOC) Valencia says: Good night Lydia! Thanks for the wine ;)

    Abbas splits his attention from his cousin but a moment to catch up on those he has marked to observe. He is silent for a time as his observant eyes watch the tactics of the contestants and once he has had his fill the man take the time to indulge in the conversation with his cousin, "That would be best. And thank you for the information." His attention then shifts to his host. The man makes his way around to the tables and he stands there silent and observing.


    After the initial brawl, the fighters have - it seems - paired up. Darren hits Hugo in a single punch and knocks him valiently to the floor, before he turns on Viktarkim. There's a sneer before he leaps into the man, and obviously used most of his power knocking Hugo out cold - given that he barely touches the Prodigal, who manages to dodge right past him. Darren won't be so lucky. Viktarkim's punch will leave him staggering forward, but he recovers with a wry chuckle. "/Finally/ you can hit," he grins, the smile bloody.

(OOC) Deva says: Sorry I have like two rolls going simultaneously and I am so lost.

(OOC) Barric says: Me too.

Silas finishes his hearty meal, leaving the plate all but barren. He gives the whistling lady an impressed look before he embarks on a search for wine. "PUNCH HIM IN THE TEETH!" He hollers at no one in particular.


Man, this Prodigal Shav has already taken a beating but damned if Viktarkim's giving up. He evades most of Darren's blow this time and gives a solid hit back! Viktarkim keeps moving, sucking for breath, "I'm warmed up now, Your Grace!" There's some blood in his mouth but he's keeping an eye on what's going on around them. No getting gained up on by more than one at once yet again, if he can help it. Focused and wary of the Prince who's clearly has a fiercesome blow, the tattooed warrior does his best to stay light on his feet and watch for an opening he can exploit.

Donella has joined the Small Table.

Isolde props her chin on her hand, her elbow on the table, watching the violence with practically adoring eyes.

(OOC) Deva says: my cat literally spilled water all over my desk so uh sec

(OOC) Barric says: Damn cats

Dipping down on one knee, Salazar helps get Hugo off the floor. There's two pairs of fighters on the floor - Princess Deva squaring off with the Grayson Prince, and Darren Redrain against Viktarkim. He starts to stalk towards the host of the party - after all, he'd knocked Hugo out of the running - but stops when he notices the fight between Deva and Barric. "Hold fast, Stormborn," he shouts with a great roar and slaps one fist on his chest before closing in on the two exchanging blows. He takes his sweet time, though, as he closes in.

(OOC) Deva says: literally the best night, fml

(OOC) Salazar needs a new warcry. Steals Redrain's. TO THE LAST.


Darren will spit blood on the floor before laughing at Viktarkim, breathing a little heavily now as he starts creeping around the Prodigal Shav, stance low and looking almost predatory. He's focused, and will leap, managing an elbow to Viktarkim's gut that likely doesn't do much of anything except give him a stomach ache. "Fuck me," he growls, "You're like a fucking brick wall," he crudely cusses, trying to get another jab in but the man's a little too quick for him.

Donella cups a hand around her mouth and shouts, "Impress us! We want to be impressed!"


    The Princess Valencia smiles warmly at her company on the Duchy of the Sidelines, giggling in a low tone at his words, "I shan't overstay my welcome then least I pay the consequences." Another sip from her glass of wine as a hand comes up to dust the bangs away from her eyes and over an ear, "Oh yes, quite some time I am afraid, and I am sorry I did not beseech your company sooner my dear Duke, but I was feeling quite under the weather upon my return. I went to go visit some family in the south after my disposition, I need some time to think."

Deva dances around with Barric for a while. And by dancing, they're punching each other. There is, of course, plenty of movement involved. She's light on her feet, but there's just not the same power behind her blows. While she gets a swipe in, Barric's last catches her completely off guard and she falls to her ass on the ground. "Good one!" she says, although it's muffled because both hands lift to try and stop her nose from bleeding.

Dawn's eyes flick between Darren and Viktarkim, narrowing slightly, her lips pursing in apparent thought. Or analysis.

Viktarkim tries to move and he's fast, pretty fast but not always fast enough - he gets it in the gut but twists even as the air is knocked out of him! It doesn't get up under his diaphram though nor break any ribs so with an effort, he's able to draw a hard, ragged breath. But not before he's spun around and uses the moment of his turn to slam a surprisingly hard hit right into the Prince's /EYE/ with a blow that's audible throughout the Redrain Great Hall! SMACK goes bone and flesh solidly. Viktarkim can feel that all up through his hand bones and up his arm to jolt his shoulder. Breathing laboured from his efforts, sweat glistens upon his tattooed ruddy brown skin, strands of his black hair sticking. The Prodigal at once brings his guard back up to keep going - if Darren doesn't hit the floor.

Punching is a type of dance! Barric isn't the most skilled fist fighter, but he's very blessed with incredible physical gifts. This helps carry him through the brawl with the persistent and fearless Redrain princess. The last punch landed, Barric takes a second to catch his breath, "Very good, your highness. I'm winded! And more than a little sore." victorious, he lifts a hand in Isolde's direction, fist closed to signal his mighty victory over Deva. In actuality, he's beaten up and a bit worse for the wear but he keeps his spirits up. Turning, he sees Salazar and then lifts his fists, "Your turn! Or my turn. To get beaten, that is. Let's get on with it, friend!" he calls cheerfully and then closes in on Salazar.


Isolde lifts Barric's shirt to her cheek and sighs, though she definitely starts laughing very hard afterward.

    "To the Last!" Vercyn shouts at Deva and Darren, "You can't disappoint us, we know you're born for this!" He then turns towards Valencia, "Well, for my part, I'm just glad the North has you back. The Lyceum doesn't deserve you, and we are only to happy to claim you and see you properly back where you belong. You did miss much, and we should talk in private about it at some point." He then drops his voice.

"Duke Vercyn! Don't you say such blasphemy about my cousin! The Lyceum are poorer without her!" Isolde laughs and wiggles her fingers at her cousin. "Tea soo, darling!"


    It was a lucky shot, really. Viktarkim's fist turns to iron, Darren's head snapping back with that single lucky blow. Not even the quick-footed prince could dodge that one - and it not only staggers him, it sends him right down to the ground. He's not unconscious, but it's certainly the kind of hit that leaves somebody seeing /stars/. At least Darren's going to have a huge black eye, which will look pretty neat in the end. "Ah fuck me, fuck me, fucckkk.." he growls, but Darren's out for the count, barely able to stand back up again let alone try to hit Viktarkim again.

"That makes me feel better," Deva laughs in reply for Barric, hands still near her face. "Hey uh, can someone toss me a napkin?" she requests, tilting her head back and searching for a passing servant. Slowly, carefully, she pries herself up off the floor to get out of the way.

And there goes her appointed champion for the evening! To a man sworn to Grayson! It would be diplomatic here for Dawn to hunker down and make no comment. Instead, possibly as the result of the whiskey, she cries out, "Well fought!" in a voice that's trained to carry, and does well in acoustics such as these. At least it's an observation that could be said to praise both of them?

Silas cringes at the very audible hit Viktarkim lands on Darren. It doesn't surprise him to see the Redrain prince fall like a sack of bricks shortly afterward. He plucks a napkin from one of the tables and moves to hand it to Deva. "You did well," Silas compliments, before backing off to give Deva some room.

(OOC) Barric says: Who is still in?


Whoa. Viktarkim is as surprised as the Redrain Prince that Darren finds himself down on the floor and dazed enough that he's not able to regain his feet at once. Viktarkim backs up a step to give the other man room, but when he's not getting up, the tattooed savage steps back in to offer a hand, "You fight like a Lion, Lord Prince. I've never paired with a finer man, I think." The Prodigal is bloodied and bruised but if Darren will accept the offered arm, Viktarkim will help pull him back to his feet.


    Valencia's eyes were on her cousin Isolde, giving her a warm smile and a return wriggle of her fingers with a nod to the suggestion of tea, but her attention was on the Duke to her side, the chocolate brown orbs shifting to look at him from the corner of her eyes, a slight blush upon the cinnamon sun-kissed skin of her cheeks, "Oh my dearest Duke, I don't think such words are neccisary in such polite company." She says in response to his words, though a soft subtle nod is given. "I couldn't agree more however, I think my time away was far too long, and I am looking forward to returning to my duties." She sips from her wine glass as her eyes tilt to the battle field in the center of the chamber, watching with a bemused grin in silence for the moment.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: I

Isolde stands from her table, looking at Dawn and Donella. "Excuse me, my dears. Let me go tend to our champions, so they can fight again." She motions for Jaxon to follow her, and heads toward the combatants. "Well fought, all of you. Now let me get you all patched up, hm?"

It's without much honor and quite a bit of Lycene manipulation that Salazar closes in and throws a flying haymaker, despite all talk of a knight's chivalry and whatnot. He overcalculates and misses, however and as a result of his first over-swing, spends the rest of his brawl with Barric on the ropes, fighting defensively. It's clear neither would be nominated for martial artist of the year, but after a few blows exchanged, Sal takes one to the jaw and sends him skittering across the floor. He spits out blood, but no teeth, and holds both hands up in surrender, a scowl on his face. He pulls himself to his feet and steps out of bounds, towards Vercyn's Duchy of the Sidelines, however and looks on with amusement.

(OOC) Viktarkim is pretty beat up.

(OOC) Barric says: We're not done, Isolde!

(OOC) Isolde says: GOD

(OOC) Barric says: Right!?

(OOC) Barric says: I'm still in

(OOC) Barric says: Me and shav!?

(OOC) Deva says: This is the brawl that doesn't end. Yes it goes on and on my friends. Some people started punching it not knowing what it was and they'll continue punching it because

(OOC) Salazar says: Kill the pri--shav!

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Just drink more!

(OOC) Dawn says: Hey, that's my shav. No killing.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: And bet money.

(OOC) Salazar says: Your head will clear.

"100 silver on the Grayson prince," Salazar roars, rising to his feet and holding up a cloth pouch liberated from his shirtless waist. "Who will match me on the shav?"


"Like a bear, actually," Darren grunts, but he'll grab hold of Viktarkim's hand and pulls himself to his feet. His eye is bleeding and bruised shut, but he still manages a weak grin for Viktarkim. "Well fought, my man," he acknowledges, before stumbling himself right over to Dawn and Isolde's table. "I've failed you, my lady," he dramatically groans, before pouring himself into a seat between the Princess and the lady, covering his eye with the palm of his hand. "That man has fists of iron. But I got a couple of good hits on him. Look at 'im over there, /bleeding/," he scoffs. Clearly his ego hasn't been wounded as much as his face has been.

The fight between Argento and Grayson goes back and forth, each man taking swings, hitting and missing. In the end, the final punch lands with more luck than skill, a solid fist to the jaw and Salazar goes down. Barric is now bent over, hands on his knees as he sucks air and digs deep to continue the brawl. Rising, he looks around and sees only Viktarkim left. "All right, you and me. Who are you again? I'm a bit addled, I think, and the whiskey is now starting to go to my head. All right...ready?"


Vercyn holds a hand to his chest in a mock expression of outrage, a wolfish grin returning to his face, "I would never suggest anything that I believed to be wildly inappropriate. Somewhat inappropriate, perhaps. A little inappropriate, certainly. Maybe a touch scandalous but extremely entertaining, that one could wager on. But wildly inappropriate? Never, your highness." He shakes his head with a mournful expression, "Now, since I have clearly offended, you simply must let me make it up to you. Honor demands it. Nothing else will do."

"Thanks, Silas," Deva is grateful for the offer, and holds a hand out to accept the fabric offered to her by the Mercier. "You didn't want to fight?" she asks him, still sounding muffled, while holding the napkin to her face and shifting enough to stop her face from being a fountain.

"Or we could just push ale at them, and let them shift for themselves," Dawn asides to Isolde. Heartless creature, for all that she /does/ finally wince when Darren drops into a chair at their table. "Lou tends to hire on for ability and temperament both. I might have failed you for not warning you but I hadn't actually -seen- him fight before." And she doesn't sound particularly apologetic. Though she does try to nudge that glass of whiskey into his hand before looking to the fighters again. "And your sister out as well... gods' breath." Prince versus Prodigal? Even she looks a little nervous at this.

Isolde laughs and shakes her head at Darren, tsking. "Money well spent, I think." She laughs, crouching beside the Redrain Prince to start to look over his wounds critically and apply salves and bandages, murmuring.


The strangely tattooed and scarred man newly arrived to serve House Grayson wipes his brow and eyes to clear them of sweat. Viktarkim watches Darren go to the tables, then focuses his attention to study Barric as that man straightens from his lean to suck breath. His baritone is oddly flavoured with his obscure tribal dialec, still low in volume rather than loud and boasting, "I am Viktarkim, warrior and scout for House Grayson, and Princess Lou. And yourself?" He eyes the other man, assessing Barric's condition, weight, reach...

Donella has left the Small Table.


    A smirk crosses the Northern Fox's lips as she tilts her head back to look at the Duke sitting beside her. A raise of her wine glass slightly, "Oh and what do you have in mind my dearest of vassals?" More wine for the princess as she drinks steadily from the glass.

Silas quirks a grin back at Deva. "Oh, I was going to if there was no one else around who could throw punches for Grayson." He peers back at the two Grayson combatants. "But obviously we have more than enough in our corner. I'm fine with competing in the tournaments."


    "At least I know now he's good enough to protect you," Darren grunts to Dawn, his chuckles low but there's still levity there in spite of his hurts. "Maybe I'll pay him double and convince him to fight on my side," he grins, then leans his head back, squinting at Isolde with his good eye while she fusses over him with healing stuffs. He will, however, shoo away the bandages, and instead take her hand and put it right there on the bone under his eye. "None of that stuff, just put your hand /right/ here. It's cold," he chuckles weakly, "And I want the black eye. Gotta have something to remember this night by."

Vercyn grins wolfishly at Valencia as he stands, "And for that, your highness, you'll have to wait till we next meet. But I imagine you'll like what I have to say." He then bows to all in the room, "Darren, Deva, I believe in you both. Honest!" And strides out.

Vercyn has left the Pass Out Couch.

"Ah, well, no one'd bet against a prince," Salazar says, securing his pouch back on before slipping out the back. He passes by Darren, gives him a pat on his shoulder, thanking him for the hospitality, before digging his brother out of the food tables and disappearing once more.

Hugo shakes his head as he wakes up, in the corner he was dragged to out of the way by Salazar. "Huh?" He rubs his face "Oh, yeah. A lucky hit" He pulls himself up and takes a flask of whiskey from the table, takes a drink and nods to Salazar. "That's better."

(OOC) Barric says: sorry, need a short afk. wife aggro. trying to finish rolls with Vik

(OOC) Barric says: He wins

(OOC) Barric says: OK, brb!

(OOC) Hugo says: wrote that before seeing Sal's pos

"Well, I believe he's meant to protect -Lou-, but..." That doesn't actually match up with what's been truly happening. Dawn might need to interrogate her dear cousin to see if Viktarkim has been given secret orders. Sneaky family. The Lady pauses here to dip a nod after Donella, to mark the pirates' departure with a brief study. And then her eyes return to the floor and the pair still squared off there. "I'm not sure if I should cheer or cover my eyes," comes her idle remark.

(OOC) Hugo says: assume that happens just before Sal's narration

Deva gives a small salute for Vercyn as he leaves. Meanwhile, she has finished cleaning herself up and resumed the most fun part: drinking. "Fair enough. I'm sure you've got quite the punch, though. Next time?" she gives Silas a slight grin, glancing between him and the pair left to square off with each other.

The Thrax prince finishes watching and queitly slips out. Abbas drifts out like a fish in the strong current.


Blood has stained Viktarkim's mouth where Darren had hit him most soundly. It stains his teeth if he should bare them, making him look even more vicious and perhaps cannibal, but he only smiles a little as the last two of them pair off to see which man will be left standing. It's given him time at least to get his breath back. Dark eyes are intent upon Barric, watching how the man balances himself, how he moves, what he's looking at. The Prodigal's nostrels flare slightly as if he were taking in the scent of the other man before they suddenly move, coming at each other! Viktarkim tries to feint, going in high with a punch with his right hand for Barric's face but it's actually his left that jabs hard for the other man's diaphram just below the sternum!

Isolde pats Darren's shoulder, as she moves to Deva next, to bandage and patch her up as well. The Princess, despite her expensive clothing, doesn't seem phases by bloodshed.

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Oops, did you pose again yet Barric?

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Pardon if I jumped.

(OOC) Darren says: Barric ran afk, you can pose victory so I can end this log :P

(OOC) Viktarkim says: We had one more round to roll - he said he'd brb.

Silas returns to the glass of wine he just procured for himself. He gives the Redrain princess a nod. "Sure, next time. Perhaps Prince Fergus will be around next time, too. I wonder how good he is with his fists." He settles back into his seat.


    People watching was now on the agenda as the still recovering Valencia looks over the ladies, and then back to the duo squaring off, sipping at her wine as she shifts the gown's lay across her legs and wriggles her hips into a more comfortable position. Eyes flick to Isolde and Deva for a few moments before back to the action at hand.

(OOC) Darren says: Nah he said you win

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Ah. Shall we emit something then?

(OOC) Barric says: You won twice, so no point doing a third!

(OOC) Valencia says: Well I made it in time to see fist fighting! I call that a win

(OOC) Deva says: Yeah!

(OOC) Dawn says: You guys fought hard enough to break the code!

(OOC) Barric says: OK, afk a little more, brb

(OOC) Viktarkim says: Sorry about that code breaking.


"Did he win?" Darren grunts, frowning just a hint as Isolde leaves his side to tend to others, but he recovers enough to throw himself into a lean over the table. He fishes the hanky out of his pocket, pushing it against his bad eye as he squints at the center of the room, watching as Barric hits the floor from Viktarkim's punches. There's no surprise, and he manages a whoop for the Prodigal shav, who stands victorious. "Good show, Viktarkim! You definitely deserve teh win," he chuckles, "I'll get you next time!"

(OOC) Darren says: I'm goign to close the log. But feel free to keep playing.