Goading the Seamel

The Wailing Wench Tavern: Tavern Hall.

 * ''The Wailing Wench Tavern stands as one of the largest publican services in the Empire, acting as both a Tavern and Inn for those who wish to partake of that which it offers. A four-level structure if one counts the basement, the Wailing Wench features the main tavern hall on the ground floor, private lodging and rooms on the second floor, an as-yet unconverted loft for storage and the occasional private deal (or proverbial roll in the hay), and the previously mentioned basement, which is sealed via an exceptionally complicated lock that can only be opened by the owner, though very rarely is.


 * ''The tavern hall itself is a mostly "L" shaped affair, split between the large and equally spacious rectangular tavern itself, and the segregated kitchen area hidden in a room at to the right of the bar. That bar rests at the southern end of the "L", features a rich and polished redwood surface and counter, complete with bar stools and an elegant display of hanging mugs and tankards. An uncountable number of bottles rest in wine racks that span the length of the wall behind the bar, while barrels of ale and mead stand off to the sides.


 * ''Wooden beams the shade of ecru yellow comprise the well-trodden floor, while khaki-shaded granite forms the walls, with the upper halves being paneled in wood that exists as the same colour as the floor. Redwood support beams and highlights finalize the colour scheme, giving the Wailing Wench a very rustic and inviting feel to it. Redwood tables and chairs span the length of the hall, while benches and booths line the walls to provide extra seating to those that want it.


 * ''A redwood staircase ascends in a "T" shape to the second floor via the eastern wall just next to the bar, while a performance stage ingresses from the middle of the western wall to the left of the main door that rests in the northeast of the "L".


 * ''Paintings of various busty maidens and wenches on the walls contrast against the real things that serve ale and various other pleasures - some of the flesh - to those that desire them, regardless of gender or class. Cleavage is on tap here as much as the ale, as are periods of high spirits and entertainment, and quieter times of subtle conversation and tale-spinning. Stained glass windows prevent the troubles of the world from getting into the establishment.

"In any case... speaking like this is just paranoia right now," Gefrey notes. He and Tor sit together at a table, with a number of dirty dishes around.

"Yes. The situation must be contained," agrees Tor. "I will speak to Duchess Nillu. Ask if she knows where the Firelights may be fond."

Gefrey Seamel licks his lips thoughtfully. "And now we go around in circles. Where will you start off going, tomorrow?"

"To both East Leg and Wedgecrest," Tor muses. "Perhaps I will go through Freehaven at some point as well, to drop some stuff off."

Gefrey Seamel grimaces faintly. "East Leg," he says. "I'll still have to go by there myself, for Master Thatcher. Perhaps to pin down the insufferable prick and find out just why he feels the need to try tormenting me every time we meet."

Tor Nillu blinks at Gefrey. "Is he that bad?" he queries.

"Every last time we meet," he says with a grimace. "Yes, quite that bad."

Tor Nillu sighs. "And what has he done?"

Gefrey Seamel grins a bit sheepishly. "I'll sound stupid saying it. Largely just... torment."

Who should enter through the doorway but the very Baron Lomasa attired in an exquisite suit of steel plate. Not only heavily armed, the Lomasa knight has two guardsmen in tow as he walks inside the Tavern. The Baron does not seem to be in particularly jovial spirits today as he scans the room, a dour and stern grimace across his fine features. "Secure us a table, Rodolf. I want you to stay on your guard here - this rotten Township is on the verge of anarchy," Godric mutters to the younger man who raps his knuckles against his forehead and heads off to find a table.

Gefrey Seamel bristles as he notices the Lomasa walk in. "You'll likely see an example soon," he says, before calling over, "Baron Lomasa, I thought you would be tending to East Leg now. It would need your help, wouldn't it, hmm?"

Tor Nillu blinks at Gefrey and sighs, turning his attention to the Lomasa. "My Lord," he greets neutrally.

"How I /dread/ his nasal voice," Godric remarks to Eidan, the remark is muttered and hardly distinguishable across the room. The nobleman forces a thin, mirthless smile as he walks toward the Seamel and the Nillu. He bows stifly, the plate folding around his body, and accords the two of them the proper formalities. "Baron Gefrey," he dryly greets the Seamel. "My Lord," Godric says to the unknown Nillu. His eyebrows arch at Gefrey's words. "You should see the roads, Lord Baron," he retorts. "Half of the ragged wastrels fleeing this Township of yours bear your House colours! A right fine mess and disgrace you have allowed to fester here I should say." He does not look pleased: not murderous, but definitely not pleased.

Rodolf seems to have instructed the staff to prepare a table and, conscious that his master is otherwise preoccupied, moves to flirt with a buxom and fat maid.

"You know as well as I do that this /mess/ here is due to circumstances that were entirely beyond our control," Gefrey says in clipped tones to Godric. "Have a seat, Lord Godric, if you would. I would very much like to have a few civil words with you, to try and work out just exactly /what/ is your problem."

Tor Nillu winces a little, but it isn't long before his smooth tongue has taken over his mouth. "Well then, my Lord, since these ragged wastrels are being accepted by your House, perhaps your service will be required there, on the chance that East Leg should be infected."

"I thank you for your invitation, my Lord," Godric says stiffly. Looking between Gefrey and Tor, he seems to await an introduction. The netural expression he has hitherto accorded Tor seems to wane a little, but the Lomasa keeps up his civil air. "I do not believe we have been properly introduced, my Lord. I am the Baron Lord Godric Lomasa, Knight of the Silver Tankard and - as you have guessed - charged with the protection of East Leg... amongst other lands." His eyes drift back to Gefrey. "My /problem/, my Lord Seamel, seems to be with the utter catastrophe that seems to have affected this Township and the seemingly incomprehensible ineptitude that has allowed it to fester."

Eidan, the Lomasa guard standing behind his master, seems to blanche at those words. He looks as if he has previously experienced this ill-humour. Rodolf, the other, is currently flirting with a fat barmaid across the room. Gefrey and Tor are seated at a table and Godric is standing above them.

Gefrey Seamel frowns, pursing his lips. "And this is the Baron Tor Nillu," he says, nodding over to Tor. "And as I said before, Lord Lomasa, you know as well as I do that it was not ineptitude that created this situation in the least. If it had happened in Zahir, Nillu, or even Lomasa lands it would have been just as bad." He folds his hands before him. "What we have here is the Regent's prison, for him to use to pick out mages for the wildlings. This is what caused this situation. But now I want to know this. Why, precisely, do you seem to hate me so, that you torment me every last time we meet?"

Tor Nillu sucks in his breath and just listens.

The Lomasa knight knits his brows into a frown. "I judge men by their character, my Lord." His answer is straight-forward and stern. "Hide behind your guards if you wish," Godric adds with a sniff. "Should a gargoyle or any fell beast or villain attack a Zahir nobleman in /my/ lands, you shall be certain I will /not/ cower behind a wagon and linger about men dressed in my livery: no matter how dashing and becoming it happens to be." Proud at his fashionable tabard, Eidan puffs out his chest at his master's remark. His face nonetheless betrays a dumb expression.

"And as to whether this madness would run rampant in /our/ lands?" Godric's voice drops; his tone is cold. "Remember the first Horselord of Fastheld was a Lomasa, and our history as guardians and defenders of the Empire!"

Gefrey Seamel groans, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand. "I did /not/ hide behind a wagon at any point. I was pulling on my chainmail, which was in my wagon, Lord Lomasa." He sighs. "In any case, in that situation, no, I did not crowd around in front of the Count Zahir. There was little point to, my weapon was of little use against stone beasts, and more people there would have impeded his escape if it became necessary. The crossbow men, in complete honesty, were the best equipped to handle the situation."

Tor Nillu stiffens noticably. Still quiet though.

"The same men that are skulking out the gates of Northreach?" Godric adds without humour. Everything about his tone and body-language indicate an immense degree of annoyance. "I do apologise that you have been subjected to this display, my Lord Nillu," the Lomasa says suddenly turning to Tor. His eyes drift back to Gefrey, and narrow a bit as he looks at him. "Defend your actions in whatever degree you see fit, my Lord. Only now I am left to clean up the mess from your table." Godric does not go so far as to point at the dirty plates and dishes strewn across their table, but his allusion is pretty blunt.

"No, not all the same men," Gefrey says, looking tired now. "If you are going to insist on interpreting all of this in the worst possible way for me, I can't do anything about that, now, can I? Just know that I stand by what I say as truth. There were more souls and less capable of defending themselves than Lord Zahir that night. I do not cower."

Tor Nillu blinks just a little at Gefrey before his brows snap together in a frown as he looks up at Godric. "Perhaps you should leave, my Lord. Your words are harsh upon my ears, with no provocation whatsoever. Perhaps you require a lesson in decorum before you be allowed to interact with civilised people again."

"If you find yourself of that mind, my Lord Nillu," the Lomasa remarks to Tor, "Perhaps you ought to consider your present company. I should think that as a scion of your House, you would find yourself concerned with the care and safety of your Matriarch." If he does not like the look of the wispy nobleman, Godric does well concealing it. An excessively polite bow - not a blow! - is his final address to the man. "Then may the Light be with you, Baron."

"By those who know me, my Lord Seamel, I am known as an open and well-natured man. My displeasure is not easy to earn and, I should say, well warranted. If you are capable of any duties, perhaps you could arrange an audience with His Grace the Duke Seamel. I have urgent business on behalf of my Duke for him that - considering the state-of-affairs in Northreach - I doubt is worth keeping any longer. We have tarried at this pointless exchange for too long."

Gefrey Seamel closes his eyes. "Good night, Lord Lomasa," he says quietly. "Good night. Your displeasure, I still say, is based on misunderstandings, but I will hold you no longer."

"Indeed it may," Tor says, standing. "And with you, Baron." Turns to look at Gef, bowing lightly. "Good night, my Lord. Rest well."

Gefrey and Tor are still at the table, the Nillu having just risen. Godric still stands before them, looking rather annoyed and dour-faced, with a middle-aged guardsman standing behind him. The other guard is still hitting on the barmaid - his success is anyone's guess.

"And as to His Grace the Duke?" Godric pointedly asks of Gefrey. "I should say my business is rather -urgent- my Lord." The Lomasa almost goes so far as to tap his foot!

"If he chooses to show himself," Gefrey says quietly, "I will be /certain/ to mention you to him. However, it may be more expedient to give me whatever message you are delivering, if it is this urgent."

Tor Nillu wanders off towards the stairs, a thoughtfully annoyed look on his face as he goes.

Celeste slips in through the doorway. Hair tussled and the cause... the woman's hand continuing to comb its way through such abuse. Even the combs have been removed to allow the terrible fate. Though the armor is pristine despite her appearance. She steps about a group of guards, and heads off for the bar.

"My message is to be personally delivered to His Grace, my Lord Baron," Godric stiffly replies. "I shall not have it neglected in your care." The Lomasa knight looks sternly upon Gefrey. He glances over his shoulder at Eidan. "Fetch Rodolf," he matter-of-factly orders the guardsman. Eidan heads toward the bar to find his comrade, receiving an angry glare from Rodolf and the fat barmaid. "If you are no use to me, Seamel, I will leave you to your cups. Send notice to East Leg if you have bred any horses worthy of a knight, and I shall send you a bag of Imperial crowns for your efforts." Godric turns his back on the nobleman, and starts to pace toward the door. His heavy step is interrupted by the appearance of Celeste.

"My Lady Mikin," the Baron greets her, bowing. His miserable expression is forcibly altered by an affected smile. Gefrey is at a table cluttered with dirty plates. Celeste is heading toward the bar. Two Lomasa guardsmen are at it: one is flirting with a fat barmaid, and the other is trying to get him away.

Gefrey Seamel twitches slightly, then stands up, beckoning a serving girl over to clean up the table. "Please, Lord Lomasa. Remind me some time why I even try to get you to act as if we are peers here. Another man, perhaps, might wish a duel over these words. This man, however, merely wishes for some willingness to listen to what he says, instead of going off and assuming the worst just because he can." He pauses a moment, lets out a breath and murmurs, "Thank you, Duchess Nillu," before continuing. "If you wish the full story of that night? There was no cowardice, and it was as I said. There were other potential targets for the gargoyle, and having everyone cluster around the Count Zahir would have left the Sunkissed man there vulnerable, and he without means to protect himself.

"As for the situation here in Northreach, do not pretend that it is of my doing, or that you could have done ja.. Anything to prevent it, had it occurred elsewhere." He narrows his eyes. "If I find an ass, I will send it directly to you, especially if this behavior continues." With this rant out of his system, he turns to the Viscountess and gives her a slightly harried smile and bow. "Good evening, my Lady."

Celeste pauses in her pursuit of the mighty ale to look over first one baron and then the next. "May I inquire as to what in the Light have I just walked into?" She first to Godric and then Gefrey, once more and it's clear she's seeking... something. "And what gargoyle are you speaking of, my lord?"

"My words and my opinions of Lord Seamel are not fitting for present company," Godric remarks to Celeste. He tries to warm upon seeing her, but his exchange with the Seamel has left the Baron in a sour mood. "The Count Zahir was attacked outside the Stables yesterday, Viscountess," the Lomasa knight answers. Crow's feet show themselves as his eyes narrow; the Lomasa turning to face the Seamel. "Should you wish to call upon me, my Lord Baron, know that I reside at Riverhold Keep. I should be happy to offer you satisfaction where and when you wish it!" Curt and to the point, his words are defiant: the attitude toward Gefrey almost haughty.

Gefrey Seamel closes his eyes. "There is great... irritating, and rather willful misunderstanding here," he says. "And I just don't give a damn anymore, if it is going to keep up in circles like this.

Celeste raises a hand to try and stay the Seamel. "See me as a mediator then, but I've watched too much passion and pain in the last few days. Could we not speak calmly on what has upset you both?" Not that she'd jump in the way of either men, only a subtle shift in her body language to a subtle defensive stance.

"I do believe there is nothing to mediate, Viscountess," Godric primly replies. "I am of a certain mind; the Lord Baron is another. My complaint with him is an affair I do not believe would do well to involve the House Mikin." The last remark is made with a pointed /look/ at Gefrey. Godric glances about for his guardsmen. Rodolf is being lead away from the fat barmaid, who looks angry and offended, by Eidan. The pair of House Lomasa guards approach their master and dutifully salute.

"I wish to be done with this, practically," Gefrey says, before turning to Celeste. "If you truly believe you can accomplish this, then I accept your mediation gratefully," the nobleman says, looking more weary than anything. "I am tired of this, Lord Godric."

"There are many times it takes but a simple telling of each side, bereft of emotion, to bring understanding." Celeste takes a step to the side. "But I would wish a better understanding of your thoughts on what has happened between the gargoyle and wildlings, Lord Godric."

"Your tact and courtesy are appreciated in the spirit they are offered, and for the genteel manner of your expression, my Lady Mikin," the Lomasa answers Celeste, his tone filled with propriety. "Though I should be disposed to futher decry the character of the Lord Seamel, not to mention the state general disarray in Northreach, I have urgent business with His Grace the Duke Seamel. I do not believe it would do well to delay it on account of one Baron's qualms with the actions of another."

Gefrey Seamel closes his eyes, taking a few slow breaths, before turning to walk out the door.

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