Change of Course

Hedgehem Crossroads 

Taran is leaning against the outer wall of the tavern, cloak somewhat loosely wrapped around him; seems he's come outside to cool off from the heat of the tavern.

Thayndor Zahir steps out of a carriage, drawing his cloak close about him and straightening to his full height as he surveys the dreary township of Hedgehem. Moonlight casts him in silhouette; his expression looks to be all business. After a moment, he steps towards the tavern.

A dark shadow follows that of the Zahir from the carriage, the fair features and white blonde hair stark against the black obsidian ringmail. That found of the soldiers of Darkwater. A fair hair reaches up to brush the hair out of Celeste's eyes as she turns to face the Zahir. "We have arrived, your grace?"

Taran looks up as the nobles leave their carriage. "Be welcome to Hedgehem, milord, milady," he says quietly. "I was just clearing my head of smoke and noise in the cool; the locals will not go out of doors at night now."

Thayndor Zahir nods in answer to Celeste's question, though his eyes fall on the freelander greeting them. "Good evening, master bard," he replies to Taran. "No one out at night, hm? Yet you seem somewhat less ill at ease than they."

Celeste follows the gaze of that of the Zahir, inclining her head toward the freelander. "Master Taran, Light's Greetings," she calls out. Her hands crossing over the armor, an amused smile returning to her lips. "Hopefully, I will be able to hear more of your beautiful songs."

Taran laughs quietly. "My lord, I have told too many stories to bow to the whims of another. I will be frightened when my own eyes say I must be. And - milady, I'm afraid a bard must tailor his music to his venue; the locals would much prefer I sing less...suitable music for milady's ears."

"I see," Thayndor replies to Taran. "If you've cooled down to your liking, perhaps we could discuss it more in the tavern? I received your letter," he adds, cryptically. "I'd be interested to know how your research for your ballad has gone."

Celeste takes a step away from the Zahir, a laugh escaping her lips as she shakes her head. "How did I know there would be a song about the Great Count Thanydor," she raises her hand to her lips to hide the smile. "Shall we, your grace?" She waves her hand towards the door of the tavern.

The Nest 


 * Founded by Ouel Zahir two years after the rise of the Aegis wall, the Nest is a fairly nefarious establishment in the heart of Hedgehem. The main room is a sinuous chamber with rough gray stone walls and amber rushes strewn across the wooden floor, with about two dozen tables and a circular bar counter next to the cylindrical stone fireplace in the middle of the room. Vassals serve drinks and meals to patrons at all hours of the day and night. A twisting stairway leads up to the travelers' accommodations.

Taran walks into the tavern, taking a seat a reasonable distance from the blazing central fireplace. "Not about his lordship, milady," Taran answers Celeste. "About the creature in these hills - the Grinning Burus, they call him."

"Indeed," Thayndor replies, nodding to Taran as if he had provided proof. "I commissioned the bard to gather notes for a ballad. A horror story, if you will, about this Burus. How has Master Coolweather been as a travelling companion? You don't fear for your safety?" He asks, with a smirk.

"Ah yes," Celeste replies as she follows the freelander to the table he has chosen. Her eyes glancing over the assembled patrons tonight. Frowning as she hears his words, her gaze turns back to the Zahir. "He is not actually encountering the beast, is he?"

Taran looks quite bland. "...Not from the locals, my lord," he says with a wry twist to his lips. "But he has decided we must see this Burus for ourselves, and so I will be taking a carriage to Fanghill while carrying a piglet and no weapons at all, to see if we can draw him out."

"Let me spare you the trouble," Thayndor replies, with a chuckle. "I have seen him myself. He attempted to ambush my carriage; actually, did so a few days before I commissioned you to go here and begin your research. Knowing he was real was my primary motivation for sending you here."

Taran tilts his head. "Indeed, my lord?" he asks, curious. "Did he try to kill, or try to steal? Or was he simply being dramatic?" He pauses, thinking. "How *well* did you see him?"

Celeste leans back in the chair, less the stand of a noblewoman but more of a soldier at rest. The sea green eyes darkening at the mention of the attack. "If you know it exists, what can we do be rid of it?"

"He did exactly what he wanted to do," Thayndor replies with a smirk. "Chase me off. 'You're not welcome here,' or some such, were his words. Jumped off the roof of the tavern and ran towards my carriage. I decided discretion was the better part of valor that evening, but ... I immediately set about planning my revenge. Hence your presence here." He nods to Taran and Celeste. "Taran, you mentioned the Church was the last group to drive him from Fastheld."

Celeste nods her head, her eyes intent upon the Zahir as he recounts the events. "So...it speaks?" Her voice soft, commanding but cast low to be unintrusive.

Taran nods. "Yes, milord," he says. "My conversational companion said that long ago the Church used the powers of Light to drive the Burus out of Fastheld. He believed that with the Church's sundering came the Burus' return - the ending of some protection, perhaps. But he could tell me nothing of how this driving forth was done, nor did he think it could be done again." He looks down. "Unless 'enough of the old Scourges were brought together', he said, but I think that may be extreme." He nods to Celeste. "Oh yes, he speaks. He refers to himself as the Duke of Shadows, or the Duke of Darkness, it seems."

Thayndor Zahir nods. "It speaks," Thayndor confirms. "Celeste, is there any chance of you being able to find out about this portion of our history through one library or another? Anywhere you believe you may be able to get access to records of this?"

"I can return to the libraries of the Stanchion," Celeste concedes. Her eyes dancing between the two men. "Yes, I will return and see what can be found in the libraries."

Taran looks thoughtful. "My lord, a question that I have considered...what if this Burus is a mage?"

"Would you need an assistant?" Thayndor asks, looking tellingly from Celeste to Taran and back. He seems about to say something more, but Taran's question stops him short. He taps his chin. "Hmm." There's a pause. "He looked a bit young and spry to me ... yes, I expect it could very well be a mage, with the ability to craft an illusory guise about his person. But one wonders why a mage, in this new and enlightened era, must stoop to terrorizing villagers and stealing livestock when the ability to walk in the daytime without fear of reprisal is right within grasp."

"Shadow is not always so noble or sane," Celeste replies darkly. "There are those I have seen embrace the darkness, allow it to grow in their hearts. To chase away the Light, they wish only the power...and cannot see beyond. They only know the -power-."

"Actually, my lord," says Taran carefully, "I was thinking 'a mage with the power to change his shape'. Between, say, human and animal? The people here have tried to find the Burus, and have had no success at all. What if he were something else, when they look for him? I know nothing of such processes, but if he were human and animal...well, that might explain his appearance, his claim to be master of Shadow, and...his tendency to come down from above?"

"It is not so hard to get up on a roof," Thayndor replies. "And I took note of his abilities, master bard. I was traveling in a laden carriage. If he was more than a man, he would have been able to reach the carriage before I was able to effect an escape. The power to become animal, if my shapeshifting friends are any indication, would confer animalistic abilities." The Zahir smiles a small smile. "What's more, he resembled no sort of animal I've ever seen. If he is not indeed a Shadow creature, than I am inclined to believe he is the product of an illusion."

"Illusion?" Celeste inquires, a blonde brow arching at the Zahir. "As for help, were you thinking to send your Darkwater knights to help me? I would need brains, not brawn...nor do I think there will be an attack within the walls. If you have another in mind, then I would be interested, your grace."

Taran nods. "I did say I knew nothing of such processes," he says. "But the locals say the Burus has only taken livestock and attacked carriages so far."

"No," Thayndor replies to Celeste. "I thought to send with you the Bard who needs more historical context for his current project. And who happens to be the current expert on contemporary Burus lore." His eyes settle on Taran.

Celeste turns her attention to the freelander. "If you would not be uncomfortable within the walls of the Stanchion, or my company. Then the assistance would be greatly appreciated."

Taran smiles. "Milady, it would be difficult to be uncomfortable in your most pleasant company. Unless you would prefer to hear me sing such tavern songs as our locals prefer to hear. And when would I see such books as must be there? Most of my lore is -" he gestures around them, "The school of 'everybody knows'."

"Just follow Lady Celeste's lead," Thayndor replies to Taran. "And learn whatever you can."

"Of course, Master bard," Celeste concedes her gaze returning to the Zahir. "Shall I send word when we have completed our research, your grace?"

Thayndor Zahir, Taran, and Celeste sit around a table near the fire, talking. "I will defer to Celeste as to that," he replies. "She is better versed in the etiquette of the Stanchion than I. Remember that your goal is to assist Celeste in learning of how Burus was last driven from Fastheld, and do nothing -- nothing -- to compromise her standing with the Stanchion or her ability to do so. If that requires you to do some thumb-twiddling when you could be looking through old books, I'm afraid you'll have to."

Through the cold night comes the swinging of a door and the thumping of boots. These herald the arrival of Lucius Nepos, who enters the nest with a pipe perched in his mouth, as yet unlit. He takes a glance around the room tentatively.

"I'm sure he will be fine," Celeste casts an appraising eye to the freelander, then returning to the Zahir. "Thank you for your concern, though it will not be all thrills and dangers. More of lots of reading and research. The Libraries are vast, and will take some time. Hopefully, we will collect the information before we leave."

Taran simply nods. "Of course, my lord," he says, serious. "I would certainly wish at all cost to avoid the Stanchion's ire. And, milady, I thank you for your presumption of my courage - but I would rather tell a tale than live as the hero of one. My best behavior and most devout assistance, I assure you."

Thayndor Zahir nods, with a small smile. "Good," he says. "I'm pleased. Thank you both for your aid. Oh, and Master Taran." He reaches into his cloak and comes out with a pouch, sliding it towards the bard. "Another advance for your expenses."

Lucius Nepos spots three people that he knows and decides to go and rile things up. Obviously, he doesn't realize that he is interrupting business. Nevertheless he walks on towards Thayndor, Celeste and Taran with a smile.

Celeste shakes her head as the bag is pushed across the table. The black obsidian ringmail stark against her fair features and blonde hair. The emblem of Darkwater across the chest. "Is there anything else you would like me to research while I'm there, your grace?"

Taran accepts the advance, briefly stunned before he gets himself together again and bows in his seat. "Thank you, my lord," he says. "I will do my best."

"Access to the Stanchion archives," Thayndor muses. "I will consider what else to call to your attention, Celeste, and talk with you about it before you leave." At approaching bootsteps, Thayndor turns to face Lucius. "Master Nepos," he greets the Sweetwater guardian. "What brings you to my ancestral homeland?"

Lucius Nepos offers a wry smirk which replaces his former smile, reaching down to flick a piece of flint against a little wooden stick which he then uses to light his pipe's contents. "M'lord." He offers a bow from the neck. "I heard some talk of a Grinning Burus and was encouraged to take a look for myself. Also.. I'm going to be running drills tommorow for all of the fighters coming on the trip. And running a trial for Milora Lomasa, who will hopefully be coming along as well."

"Milora," Celeste's surprise almost palpable. "Will there be any other surprises, Master Nepos?" Her tone trying to sound teasing but the sea green gaze darkens as she watches the freelander.

Taran falls silent, expression turning rueful as the talk turns to the trip.

"Right," Thayndor replies. "I will be interested to see if you really believe Lady Milora has what it takes. Where did you plan to hold the trial?"

Lucius Nepos cants his head to the side as Celeste talks, giving her a further bow from the neck. "Lady Celeste. I suppose we'll just have to see about that. I'm told I'm full of surprises. Master Taran, how do you do?" Now he turns to Thayndor, eyes meeting the nobleman's. "Sweetwater has a variety of very good locations for it. It's cold outside. Trials and drills should be carried out in the most unforgiving of environments. However, a better place could perhaps be arranged."

Celeste sits back and seems to regard the freelander with a veiled expression, her hands twitching as if to hold a mug. With a sigh, she leans forward her attention returning towards Taran, "when will you be avaiable? The research will take a great deal of time, and I will still need to speak with my cousin...shall I send word for you? If not, I stay at the Hawk and Dove if you would prefer to seek me out."

"I am free whenever my lord Zahir says I am," shrugs Taran, his tone pleasantly ces-la-vie. "As well to research there as here; tis all part of the greater story, is it not?"

Thayndor Zahir frowns. "I see," Thayndor says. "Yes, I suppose Sweetwater would be a good location," he replies. "What kind of drills did you have in mind?"

"If we could train at Darkwater, that would be equally as good, m'lord, though of course it is at your discretion. You seem rather displeased at my choice, which is understandable. Please, if you wish it to be done at Darkwater or elsewhere, tell me. Your training facilities are better than a field, I must assume." Lucius answers quickly, ignoring the other two as their conversation spins off to the side. He puffs on his pipe, the smell of the herb rising up sweetly into the air. "Firstly, familiarization with eachother's talents, weakness and preferences as far as combat goes. Some one on one sparring for a little bit for melee and target practice for missile. Then we will drill in formations tailoring to such specificities. That's a rough outline, for now. If we've time, I'd like to have an opposing force fight against us with mock wooden weapons."

Celeste's attention is drawn back to the Constable, "would it be difficult for us to be able to reach your keep, Count Zahir? It did seem an adequate place to train, though as Master Nepos said, it would be at your discretion."

Taran laughs quietly. "Such talk of warfare," he says. "Someday perhaps I should ask for training in the quarterstaff; it seems about my speed, should I ever need the use of a weapon. I am likely the only one here with no skill in such things at all."

"It's difficult to reach for anyone who doesn't have a boat," Thayndor replies with a chuckle. "And Darkwater's training facilities are limited. We fight in close quarters or with ranged weapons at fast-moving targets -- all we need to practice is our courtyard, a few targets for marksmanship practice, and occasionally test combats on boats. You make it sound like you'll be teaching maneuvers that require a bit more space."

Lucius's cheeks rise upward, causing his eyes to look like they're squinting as he grins. He asides to Taran, "Oh, there's no shame in that. It was simply my livelyhood. All of ours, I think. If most people were soldiers then we'd have a problem, I think." He chuckles as well, turning back to Thayndor. "Some of the maneuvers will require more space, as some of our fighting, if we do encounter any, will be on land. Others will not, because we will be on ship for an extended period of time and will have to drill for that as well. An open area would do well then. Maybe Duke Lomasa could lend us his keep for this."

"If you ever need protection, Master bard," Celeste asides to the bard, "then you can always hire me." She turns her head back to the constable, "it truly is up to Count Zahir. But if I could make a suggestion?" She inquires, but continues without pause. "Sweetwater is centrally located between the two lands. Easy to arrive by boat as well as by horse. Riverhold is a bit more remote, so perhaps we -should- try Sweetwater, only a suggestion though." She bows her head to the Zahir, "though truly your descretion, your grace."

"I would never disgrace your ladyship's honor by hiring you for protection," says Taran, quite surprised. "I would not regard your ladyship as any sort of mercenary."

"Duly noted, Celeste," Thayndor replies. "And yes -- Sweetwater has a dock more handy to a field large enough for your purposes. I suppose I shall have to ask Lady Sahna if we may make use of her space."

Lucius Nepos's grin becomes more gentle and relaxed, losing some of its intensity. In fact, it's replaced more by a jovial smile. "I don't think that will be necessary, m'lord. She's given me discretion to do as I must as far as using Sweetwater for training and such purposes, as her Constable and guard Captain."

Celeste's attention seems sated by the constables respone, her returns her attention to the bard. "Not mercenary, only protecting our seeker of lore....a scholar. "

Taran laughs. "I'm flattered you think so, milady. Tales are not the same as history, however; too many would confuse the two."

Thayndor Zahir nods to Lucius. "Yes," he says. "Just the same ..." He tilts his head. "I assume Sahna sent you here to ask after the Grinning Burus, as well?"

After his pipe's smoke has gone out, Lucius lifts the same wooden stick, strikes it alight and reignites the herbs oncemore. He eyes Thayndor for a moment, a gloved hand offering a stroke of the chin. "One could perhaps say that. Encouraged would be a better term, I'd suspect."

Celeste laughs softly between the freelander and the Count. "There is still so much we need to learn, even returning to the information that can be sought from before the sundering of the Church." She smiles at the constable, "would you say that you would help me to research as well?"

"He seems to have other concerns?" asks Taran, confused

"I see," Thayndor replies. "Ah, yes, I'm sure Lucius here has his hands full with preparing for the expedition. And I feel that we have matters well in hand, at any rate."

"I could perhaps help you out to that end, since the Countess did suggest me to such an end and the Church likely has the answer. They did chase this creature out before, they say." Ponders Lucius, looking thoughtfully at Celeste then upwards, in thought. "It'd be a great chance for my new Deputy to help run the village while I'm still in Fastheld and can help if he needs. Better than throwing him headfirst into the duties without any experience." He turns to Thay. "Preparations are coming along nicely, and now that the initial deals are closed I've got Wheat supervising much of the progress. I'm okay to be helping with this, perhaps. I had a few questions for you, Count Thayndor. Firstmost.. will we be carrying live animals on the boat for slaughter, or smoked salted meat instead? I'd advise on the later, personally. Lighter, no feed required and keeps longer. I'm ordering pickled vegetables and such, as well. I've another question, too."

Taran smiles brightly. "Well, master Nepos," he says, "If you wish to hunt the Burus, I have some assistant bait to lend you."

Thayndor Zahir snorts. "No, Lucius, there will be no live animals. You've -seen- the Pride, correct? There won't be room. As for your other question, please, what is it?" The Zahir, Nepos, Celeste and Taran are sitting at a table along one wall near the fire.

"Good. I hoped you'd say that, though I wasn't sure so I wanted to confirm as such with you. Like I said I prefer smoked meat anyways, because there's no way we can salt and smoke it on the boat and it keeps much longer." Lucius pauses for a small moment, smoking his pipe. "Coolwater. I told you he and I had a minor confrontation a few weeks ago but left it at that. I trust he came to see you about it? What happened?"

A tall man, wrapped in a leather jacket enters The Nest, instantly searching out a warm chair. Overhearing his name, he turns to locate the source, peering about a bit before locating Lucius. He scowls, and does a double-take when noting Zahir and Taran seated with him. He slowly walks toward the table, rubbing his hands together.

"Coolwater?" Celeste inquires as she tries to catch the Zahir's eye. "I have heard that name before, may I inquire as to who that is?" She crosses her hands over the obsidian black ringmail, the emblem of Darkwater across the chest.

"That's me, lass," interrupts Cyneray, pulling a chair from a nearby table and sliding into it, next to Celeste. He looks at her, withdrawing a wooden pipe from his jacket pocket, examinging it momentarily, before looking back at Mikin. "You should know," he says, half grinning, "that the legends y'heard about me... all true."

Taran just gives Cyneray a politely bland look, and then calls a serving girl over to order a spiced wine.

"I spoke with him about it," Thayndor replies. "He knows you act with my authority, and knows the extent to which you may extract your own penalties from him if needs be." As the door opens and Coolweather enters, the Zahir turns. He favors Cyneray with a nod. "Speak of the Shadow," he mutters. Aside, to Celeste: "It's Coolweather, not Coolwater. He is a laborer in my employ, a dockworker, though as you see he shows potential for something ... other than his present station. Master Coolweather, perhaps you couldn't tell upon first glance: but you are addressing Baroness Celeste Mikin, aiding Darkwater in the present effort. Lady Celeste may yet join the keep as a spiritual advisor."

Lucius Nepos sits back and smirks with a bit of a nod, regarding Coolweather with an amused look on his face. He continues to smoke his own pipe, metal clad arms crossing over his cuirass.

Celeste's arches a blonde brow to Cyneray as he pulls up a chair next to her own. The black obsidian ringmail of Darkwater glittering from the flames of the fireplace. "I've heard you could be a right bastard, Master Coolweather. I would hope that isn't -completely- true." Her arms crossing over her chest as she leans back to inspect the freelander. "Do you think you could take spiritual advice from a fanatic?" The last words spoken in a jovial tone towards Cyneray.

Cyneray smirks. "If she be one to down the rum," he shoots back, raising an arm to wave down a server. "One for you," he says, shooting a glance back at Thayndor, "m'lady?" he finishes, in a right proper tone.

Taran sips at his wine, and asks, "Will master Coolweather also be assisting the research?"

Thayndor Zahir leans back, sense of propriety apparently satisfied. "Oh no," Thayndor replies with a shake of his head and a small smirk. "Master Coolweather will not be going anywhere near anything I cannot afford to pay for in the event he breaks it."

"That's because Master Coolweather has a slight problem with reflex. He's a little bit clumsy, sometimes." Chimes Lucius in as he rises up. "I'm going to the chamberpot. I'll be back in a moment or two." Leaving his pipe on the table, he heads towards the relieving area.

"Are you buying, Master Coolweather?" Celeste replies with a wry smile. "As for drinking you should ask my favorite drinking companion. Master Temple has not -yet- been able to out-drink me...though on a few occasions, he's tried. " She waves a hand to Lucius as he lives, her attention returning to that of the Zahir. "I think that I shall be fine with Master Taran's assistance, we truly do not wish a cadre of scholars stomping about the libraries, your grace," an amused smile returning to her fair features

Cyneray takes offense at Lucius' comment, snorting. Waiting a moment for him to clear earshot. Turning to Taran, but not exactly speaking at the man, he speaks "There go' a right squattin' pisser." Glaring at Nepos as he saunters away, he adds "Y'aughta write the song about the common man who thought he was noble, but lack'n the heart of th' lowest peasant." Attracting the attentions of a serving girl, he gathers a smile pile of imperials in front oh him, and holds up four fingers to the servant, who nods knowingly. Turning to Celeste, Cyneray shakes his head in agreement. "Ill be paying... one way or the other."

And so, entering in from the cold of Hedgehem's crossroads, is the tall form of a Lomasa Knight - atleast, that's as obvious as the assumption could go, given the fact he's wearing a suit of obsidian half-plate armor and a Lomasa tabard. He takes a curious glance around the tavern, his cloak swaying at his sabatons as he comes to the sudden stop, before noticing an empty table in the corner of the room and walking right toward it. Other than the jingle of chainmail and shifting of plate, his footsteps remain light and eased despite his armored form.

Thayndor Zahir nods. "Indeed, Lady Celeste," he agrees. "Which is why I was surprised you asked Lucius to go. Just you and Taran should be sufficient, and I really would rather have you and the bard go soon, leaving Lucius to tend to the preparations. Which reminds me -- you asked me earlier if I'd like you to research anything else while you're at the Stanchion. Much as I would, we are operating on something of a tight schedule. We owe it to Hedgehem and Fanghill to work as fast as reasonably possible, and so I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to limit your research to the present topic."

Taran just blinks. "Should I ask what the history is?" he asks Cyneray. "But if I am to go with Lady Celeste, would you like to keep this pig?"

Celeste's attention seems to falter mid-nod to the Zahir at the topic of the pig, her gaze turning to Taran with an amused smile. "You bought the pig first, Master Taran?" A hid of amused increduility as she shakes her head. Her attention once more drawn to the Zahir, "yes...I was intending to the have that as my foremost thought. Though I felt, if my research went well...that you may wish me to return to the Stanchion later, this is all, your grace."

"What!?" Cyneray say, shocked. "Going? No! - you and your friend 'er takin' a ride to Fang'ill," he says, not comprehending the change of plans.

"I believe, Master Coolweather," Thayndor replies regally, totally stone-faced, "that you will have to tend to this pig you have apparently purchased while Taran and Lady Celeste go to the Stanchion to look for records of the last time Burus was driven away."

The armored Lomasa takes his seat at the corner table, removing the scabbard from his back and leaning the sheathed claymore reverently against the table beside him. Settling in to his chair, emerald eyes look curiously over the other patrons.

"I had to, milady, so as to have something - ah, edible - on hand that wasn't me," Taran explains. "I'll leave the piglet with you, master Coolweather - I can't imagine it would be welcome in the Stanchion, except possibly as a meal."

Cyneray groans loudly, and glares back at Zahir. He stands, and with a yell violently kicks his chair, sending it skittering into a nearby table. This ends numerous private conversations taking place elsewhere in the tavern, as many take note of his outburst. Cyneray just stands there, huffing. "Politica'n," he mutters several times, drawing the word out. He turns and walks back to the table, jaw squarely set. "Gimme that!" he shouts, grabbing for the piglet.

Celeste's eyes turn from the Zahir, amusement still sparkling in the sea green eyes as she catches sight of the Lomasa. The smile flickers for a moment before returning to the bard, "will you be accompanying me, master Taran or shall I send word for when I return to the Stanchion?" Her gaze flickering to Cyneray and his outburst. "And that would be why I -won't- be taking you with me, Master Coolweather. Perhaps we can speak of such behaviors at a later time." She rises to her feet, casting a wan smile to the Zahir. "Count Zahir, we can also continue our discussion later, when I return the armor?"

"I'm not paying for another piglet," Thayndor replies to Coolweather, not missing a beat. "Be sure to keep that one alive and healthy, so as to be attractive bait." The Zahir tilts his head at the little beast. "It seems that you'll be getting well-acquainted with the animal, Master Coolweather. Perhaps you should give it a name. I'm sure the two of you will come to have a wonderful relationship." He nods to Celeste. "We can continue our discussion another time."

Lucius Nepos is just in time to see the outburst over a piglet, which the Constable watches rather ambivalently. "Huh. Who knew he liked porc so much?" He says to himself, before moving to take a seat at the table again.

Norran, of course, takes quite obvious note of the outburst. With an amused chuckle, he rises from his seat to take up his claymore by the scabbard and begin his slow walk toward the crowded table in question.

Taran says nothing at all - whether because he's trying not to look upset, or trying not to laugh, is up for debate. He pays strict attention to careful sips of his spiced wine, as Cyneray charges after the little piglet.

Cyneray takes the small pig, grasping it tighly with two hands around the ribs, holding it to his face as the creature squeels and squirms. "Well ain't you the familiar face," he curses, shaking the piglet. "It'll be pity when the Burus be rippin' ya' limbs from limbs, won' it? You know that's what's gonna happen, right? Of course you don't," he says, voice rising. "Cos' your a brainless bloody pig!" he shouts.

It's at this time that his earlier order is filled by the serving maid - four small cups of a dark golden rum. Cyneray returns to table, pinning the piglet under one arm. He glances at the others at the table with an odd look on his face. "I'm payin, an' I'm drinkin," he states, reaching for the cup with his free arm.

Celeste shakes her head, as she stands. A fair hand resting against the back of the chair as she looks towards the Lomasa to find him steadily approaching. Her gaze trying to catch that of the attention of the Duke, before finally returning to Cyneray. Reaching for the mug, she brings it to her lips to drink deeply. Sea green eyes dance with amusement as she turns to look at the Zahir again. "Well, you -do- keep him on his toes, your grace."

"Mostly," Thayndor admits, "I keep him around because he's completely insane." The Zahir leans forward for one of the other glasses. "To our decoy, Master Coolweather," he says, lifting it in the air.

Lucius Nepos grabsh is pipe off the table and tucks it into his pouch. "I better be taking my leave. I've got to make sure the last watch shift switches smoothly and make my rounds in town. I hope I'll all see you tommorow in Sweetwater." He looks over to Norran. "You too, Norran. We're drilling tommorow evening in Sweetwater." Then his green blue eyes shift to Cyneray, finally, making contact with the bearded man's own. "You comin' on the expedition with us, Coolweather? If y'are, then come down to Sweetwater tommorow, too."

"Of course I will," declares the Lomasa aloud as he nears, peering for a moment as he stares at the man and the piglet before smiling faintly off toward Celeste. "I'd like to speak to you sometime when you've the time, Baroness. Preferrably before the drills, but I'll see you there as well."

"So...where shall I go from here, milady?" asks Taran of Celeste. "And when?" Cyneray slams the small cup on the table, empty. He reaches for the next, raising it into the air. "Anyone else?" he asks wildly, hardly waiting for a response before tilting it back and just as quickly downing it.

"It seems that all has been resolved for the moment," Thayndor says, and downs his own drink as quickly as Cyneray. Setting it down and rising as he exhales, the Zahir adjusts his cloak. "With that, I will make my way to a room for the evening. Light keep you all, and I will see those of you going on the expedition at Sweetwater tomorrow for drilling." He nods shortly, looking as if the harsh liquor did not disturb his as-always-placid disposition, and continues towards the door.

"Alright. You're not coming on the expedition. Looks like yah still haven't grown a pair of stones enough to talk to me directly. It's okay, really, to be mediocre. Plenty of other people do it, Coolweather." Lucius turns to Celeste first, then Norran, then Taran and finally Thayndor. "Norran. Lady Mikin. Taran, hope to catch up with you properly soon enough. Lord Darkwater, I will see you tommorow. Light keep, everyone." He too heads out, slinging his wolfskin cloak over his body.

Celeste's eyes returning to that of Cyneray, she quickly lowers the mug to the table. "Another time, Master Coolweather. Perhaps when I return to Darkwater to speak with the Count." Her gaze returning to that of the Zahir as she says this, slowly leaving his face to meet the gaze of the Lomasa. "You know you always have my ear, Duke Lomasa," Celeste replies softly. The comraderie slipping from her soft alto, "sadly, I need to rest..and change clothes. Do you wish to escort me back to the market or shall we just speak before the drills?"

"I'll gladly take you back, should be a short enough ride," answers Norran, his smile brightening a moment as he returns the scabbard to his back and begins to walk off toward the doorway as well, glancing back to wait for the Mikin.

Celeste inclines her head to the remaining occupants of the table, "Light Keep you, and Taran...I will send word by courier to give you a few days to prepare, as for myself...I shall be returning there in the morning until needed for the drills." With her final words still hanging in the air, she pivots on her foot to follow the Lomasa.