(1874-03-18) Celebratory Drinking
Celebratory Drinking
Summary: Ludovic invites others to join him at the Lucky Lady in 'End of War' celebratory drinking after court.
Date: 18th Mar 2018
Related: None
NPCs: {$npc}
Players:
Ludovic  Hraelfmir  Myrana  Zahara  Altair  

Aequor - Lyioness - Laughing Lady Inn
Draughts of strong sweet meads and summerwine are favourites here; the woman that runs the Laughing Lady Inn is famous for her sweet-tooth and her sweet nature. Bright murals cover the walls and paintings hang over the tables and up the stairwell, often tendered to her in place of payment for meals by the many artists that frequent this place. It is very lively, and the food is very good, with fresh baked bread and wonderful sardine pies and strawberries from her secret greenhouse.
18th of Marse, 1874

Whilst it's pretty obvious that Ludovic is a noble he has forgone a lot of the details that mark him out as being of any significant rank. His beautifully embroidered courtly attire has been replaced with the same old dense-wool knee-length coat, in a dark yellow, that all of his men wear as part of their uniform and he's alone but for the random, drink-guzzling, sycophants that always show up when free drinks are available. Right now he's sat at one of the corner tables, with a carafe of expensive wine on the table and his hand clasped around the wrist of one of the barmaids. He is grinning at her, trying to sweet-talk her into joining him at the table, but obviously not doing all that well as she keeps trying to pull away.

A stranger arrives, just another one with so many in the city at the moment. His complection is a little dark for this far north, dusky with black hair and dark eyes. A shadow of a beard graces his lower jaw and upper lip, neatly trimmed. Hraelfmir looks around and removes his wide brimmed hat with a very Southern large, soft feather plume.

He begins to move towards a small table along the wall near to where Ludovic is seated that is not yet claimed. The Southern looking man is dressed very nicely, lordly even. He wears a deep blue velvet coat trimmed in silver with artfully carved silver buttons. Subtle, dark embroidary up the back features the wrything tenticles of a great kraken. Medium grey breeches are tucked into high black leather boots set with silver buckles. A crisp white shirt is bloused with a lighter grey silk cravat set with a large pearl. A pair of hand cannons are tucked into a black sash around his waiste and a long, thin blade and dagger from his black leather swordbelt. The Captain has a golden ring on his left hand set with a deep blood red ruby carved in the shape of a human skull. A moment later, Hraelfmir takes a seat and eyes the crowded establishment before tossing his hat onto the small table and waiting for a server.

Ludovic doesn't quite let Hraelfmir reach his seat. The barmaid laughs and escapes and then he spies Hraelfmir "HEY!" he calls across about three times more loudly than is strictly required. "Join me! A toast!" he shoves a cup three-quarters filled with some red wine at the stranger. "The end of the west-war and the start of the east!"

The wide brimmed hat with it's fancy Southern plume hits the table, yet ere Hraelmir might settle into his seat, the shout turns his head and arrests his movement. Dark eyes study Ludovic as he turns to face the other man. "Why not? What are you drinking, and how should I address you?" Despite his dusky skin, his accent seems to be of Four Corners. The chair is shifted to better present to Ludovic's table, yet remain slightly apart to claim the smaller table for his own where his hat now resides. "I shall require a cup." Hraelf glances to the pretty wrench and smiles, "If someone would be so kind as to bring me one to be filled." Then he takes his seat, his left hand to keep his sword scabbard free of the chair.

Ohhh sardine pie.

Myrana holds the small crispling crackling flakey golden steaming pie close to her face, using the corners of her blue cavalier's cloak to keep her hands from getting burnt as she lifts it till the crust almost smooshes her face, eyes closed and chest swelling in anticipation. That smell! So beautifull briney, with several little sardines poking their heads out near the edges of the crust itself like pinetrees thrust out of a cliff. It's so bad for you. So greasy.

IT MUST BE HERS.

Dressed smartly as a Cavalier in tight shiny leather breeches and a fantastic tricorn with a brilliant maroon plume with a gold pin, Myrana uses the sea-blue cavalier's cloak with its slits for her arms in shirtsleeves to disguise herself. As short as she is, the hat does wonders for this purpose, and its her favorite guise. Her deep maroon silk shirt is belted and blousing out everywhere, and there's a cutlass slung low at her hip, most cocksure! Tall boots with HEELS. They thump on the floorboards of the Laughing Lady as she paces away from the bar, carrying the pie carefully and focusing on finding a seat to eat, now that she's lost her babysitters.

"Dovi." Ludovic smirks across at Hraelfmir. "Thats what I want to be called tonight." He taps the heel of one of his thigh-high cavalier boots on the floor. Making the spurs jangle. "Horned Knight." Unlike Hraelfmir he's not wearing a sword but that isnt to say that he's unarmed. A Horseman's pick style warhammer has been hooked to his belt. Very unusually the metal parts are made of lightsilver. "So. Now thats done. Who're you?"

Myrana's disguise totally works. Unfortunately that means that Ludovic spots her, notes that she's interesting, and decides to suck her into his drinking party too. "Hey! Cavalier! Yes. You! Join us!"

Hraelfmir gives a slight inclination of his head for acknowledgement, "Sir Dovi, then. You may call me Hraelfmir. I am a humble ship's Captain." Aye, the gleam of the light silver catches his discerning eye. Then his gaze flicks up, attracted to the movement of a woman that also catches Ludovic's attention.

There are a FEW Cavaliers in this place, as it is a very popular tavern place. But Myrana freezes when she hears a familiar voice, and it's- OH! She's passing as a Cavalier! She feels an immediate and totally ridiculous swell of pleasure and pride, like: HA! Take THAT, everyone who said my disguise skills are garbage! But then reality follows: Wait, no, it would except that her luck is so abyssmally bad that it's someone she knows who was fooled.

"Success is transient," she grumbles. "Oh fishy pie why can't we just be alo-OH NO." She turns around. It's Ludovic. He's drunk. And a stranger.

"Uh-" She coughs, and makes her voice a little more grumbly even and masculine than it normally is, and sits down jerkily. "Th-Thanks!" She keeps her hat down.

Ludovic looks back at Hraelfmir and gives a dramatic sigh. "Gonna be like that huh?" he asks, raising an eyebrow at Hraelfmir. "Was hoping to skip all the pomp and ceremony but, fine, fine. It's Ludovic. Ludovic d'Korbina. Would rather you use Dovi though." He flicks the carafe with a fingernail. "This is d'Juliano's red. Won't run out." He grins widely. "Not unless we drink the inns stocks dry anyhow." His attention goes back to Myrana and his grin only widens as he realises who it is under that hat. "Love the hat. Reckon it could use some liripipes though. Maybe some rabbit fur." He pats his knee in an obvious suggestion that she settle there although his grin suggests that he's more likely to get punched than have her actually do it. "Come over here honey. Sit down. Share that pie, and, I'll not tell our friend here, Hraelfmir, all about the Fiore."

A certain sea Captain may or may not have met Myrana years ago in Four Corners, but if he ever did, a lot has happened since then. Hraelfmir certainly doesn't know her in her 'disguise'. A nod is given to Ludovic, "Dovi, then, aye." A goblet is acquired and given unto him and Hraelfmir helps himself to the red wine when it's offered, "Thank you." The wine cup is lifted in salute to the woman who joins them, "Good even, my lady." Be she a noble or not. Harelf tastes the wine and finds it acceptable.

Myrana says, "Good evening," says Myrana, exasperated immedaitely and looking up from his pat on the knee to his face.

Three seconds later she swings a leg over the bench and DROPS down as hard as she can so that her ass probably bruises the side of Ludovic's leg or pinches it on the way down.

"Whoops. I missed."

"Good evening, Captain," she smiles to Hraeflmir before booping her butt a scooch over so she's not pinching Ludovic's thigh in terrible Armaz-style justice. "I'm glad to share, if you like stargazey. I can never get anyone to make it for me at home."

Ludovic gets a pained look on his face when Myrana does her best to hurt him. "Careful girl." He pushes a cup in Myrana's direction. Not appearing to have taken the slightest bit of offense at her refusing to do what he asked. Instead he looks to Hraelfmir. "Myr.. Our Cavalier friend here. She's got this story 'bout how she fought a dozen pirates off for a sword." He reaches to claim some of the pie. "Gonna tell it honey?" The look he gives Myrana makes it obvious that he is trying to torment her. "Or should I start for you?" He grins back to Hraelfmir. "You should like this being a captain and all. My stories are good, yeah, but most of them are about horses, and my cousin tells me to shut up every ten minutes when i start up. So they must.. well.." A wide grin. "She is just the sort of woman that tells a man to shut up every five minutes. What can you do? Aint like I can toss an admiral overboard."

Both Ludovic and Myrana are observed as Hraelfmir leans back in his chair and sips his wine. There is a lot of noise in here and it's crowded, and he has to reach back and keep someone else from taking the spare chair at his small table. Or the table for that matter, and loosing his claim upon it. "This one is taken. I'm expecting someone." His attention goes back to Dovi and the young woman.

A dark brow is raised at 'Myr', "Does she now? I'd be liking to hear that story, if either of you would oblige me." Hraelmir quirks his mouth into a half grin, "Women are like that, like'n to be in control. Sometimes it's easier to let them." Yet it is Myrana that he gives a wink. "I nae be wanting to hear about horses anyway. They aren't my favorite subject."

"I'm here for my true love right here," Myrana produces an enameled fork and her campknife from a little hard leather sheath on her belt. But because they've both recognized her and seem to be fine with her being here 'in disguise', she shares the stargazey pie, which is known everywhere as excellent drunk food. Fat slices of crispy salty goodness are set before the other two, which leaves the third for Myrana and the tin empty. "May I have some wine, please? Yeah, I… I fought some pirates," she laughs, relaxing. A somewhat embarrassed grin tugs at her lips. "You might not believe this story, but if you like, you can ask Deverot; for what that's worth." Taking a big bite, she is transported with transcendant joy, and closes her eyes, pausing in what she's saying to sort of bliss out, fork with flakes of pastry still stuck to the three tines waving like a slow conductor's wand and the toes of her boots ticking up and down under the table.

"I needed to find lightsilver… but you can't just find lightsilver, you know. The church keeps too tight a control on it." She hmms in pleasure and taps her fork down onto the plate before carving it into the slice of pie again, taking her time. "So I asked around and heard about an alchemist that might be able to help me." She smiles wrily. "I wanted to give the lightsilver to someone, as a gift… anyway." Looking back up, she pushes her tricorn back a little and continues: "Tavi found me down there on the docks, way down in the smuggler's dock rows. He tried to dissuade me, saying that the man I was looking for was bad news and I should turn baaack and blah blah blah." She mimics a duck beak with her hand like quack quack quack, rolling her eyes. "He's always being a pain in the ass."

Ludovic bites at his pie and pulls a face. "That does not work with the wine." Another grimace and he twists to find the serving wench. "Two more pies!" he demands "And some better drink!" He twists back in his seat, pushing the pitcher of very expensive wine at a couple of nearby freeloaders as he waits for the replacement. "Describes her well." he grins. "And all the other ladies that used to be in my life." he finds he wants the wine again, sloshing some back into his cup so he can raise it in a toast. "To all those women who aren't here anymore." The wine is slugged back and then he leans back enough to enable him to easily watch Myrana tell her story.

He watches Myrana expectantly for a good while after she's stopped talking and delved into eating instead. "That it?" He queries, brow-lift punctuating his question. He pouts a bit, drinking his wine and staring at Myrana until she has finished her food-gazm and started up with the story. As the story starts he settles and for a while at least stops talking.

"But you've met Deverot-" She points her fork at the two men. It might not be true of Hraelfmir, but she has a feeling that, owning a boat, he has probably cursed the man once or twice, especially before he became a Cavalier. "You can't just listen to that guy. I love him like a brother, but I have a lot of brothers. I don't listen to them, either."

"He followed me, and it's a good thing he did. The ship I was looking for was The Blackened Isle, and I met its captain, Ursus Black. He tried dragging me on board, but Tavi drew his pistols and prevented it. So we ended up fighting Captain Black's men, and the Captain said that if we won, we'd get the lightsilver."

Myrana says, "If we lost, well…"

Myrana twirls the fork soberly. "The 'wager' wasn't serious, it was just that man boasting. We had no choice but to fight them, for we couldn't hope to outrun them."

Ludovic gets his two pies and pitcher of sardine appropriate liquor and immediately starts to eat one of them right out of its pot. Evidently he isn't really planning to share. Pausing inbetween his first bite and the rest he asks "Seemed a good way to hedge his bets. If he lost you'd be honor bound to let him go."

Myrana pauses in helping herself to some of the cider and looks at Ludovic incredulously. "He sent down twenty men. He wasn't hedging anything. Tavi was injured badly; we were even until then, but one of the bastards got him here," She slaps her thigh with her free hand. "I thought they were going to kill him and drag me on board, but I killed twelve of them and while the others were scrambling over the sides to jump down at us, I challenged the captain's word and asked if he was going to have enough to sail his ugly damn ship after long."

Hraelfmir listens to Myrana begin her tale, though in fact he does not know who she is despite Ludovic calling her 'Myra'. He tastes his red wine, content with it as he listens to her begin her story.

At Dovi's toast, Hraelf twists his mouth into a smile and lifts his glass, "Aye, to all those women who aren't with us anymore. I will drink to that." And he does so! A quirked brow at her pointing her fork at /him/ and saying he's met this man she names, "Not I. I know not a Deverot, me thinks." She gets a small laugh out of him though at mention of not listening to this man, and mention of her brothers! Hraelmir sobers however at mention of the ship's name, and her Captain.

When the server comes by with Ludovic's pies, Hraelfmir snags her sleave, "Please bring me two spicy meat rolls, bread, and an apple." Her arm he keeps long enough to produce a couple of silver coins from his belt pouch which he kindly tucks down the front of her bussom. She giggles and goes off, while Hraelf's attention returns to the story. Wait, what? "You personally killed twelve of them?" He might be dubious.

"Think of the alternative," Myrana intones. "Look at me, friend, and tell me if you were me, you wouldn't've fought with god's own blessing for stamina in that situation."

"It is a bit far fetched." Ludovic waggles his fork. "But I figured hey, its a story, why not twelve." he grins at Hraelfmir. "I killed twenty in one of mine once. Course I was quite a bit drunker and the lass was quite a bit curvier." He grins at Myrana "Not like you didn't put yourself in the pot 'Honey'" Apparantly he's decided that is Myrana's name for the night.

"If you keep calling me that, LUDO, you're going to have a fat lip!" Myrana announces, thumping her cup.

Ludovic's comment catches him while he's drinking wine and Hraelfmir almost snorts it! Tyvm mother frakker. He wipes his mouth and looks back to Myra with a chuckle, "I've been in a few tight spots myself and fought like I had a devil in my pants. Can't say that any of the Gods bless me in my times of need." The Captain leans back in his chair, languid and comfortable, "Pray do carry on with your tale!"

"You bruise me up tonight." Ludovic points out to Myrana with a wide grin. "And I'll miss the duel. Will just be me looking like I've been dragged through a hedge trying to explain to all those nobles why I wasnt strong enough to show up. You've seen how good a liar I am. So you know i'd just end up spilling how you did this one trying to get on my lap." He pats his thigh. "And this one because I called you honey." a tap of his lip. A triumphant smirk is cast at Myrana and then he asks. "So is that the it then? You killed twelve, called the captain out and then he just folded?"

"Well, if you want to go flashing your thighs at everyone who asks, you go right ahead," Myrana huffs. "No! I made him look like a coward sending so many men after two people, and one of them injured." She relaxes though and laughs, shaking her head. "More cider please. So yes! The captain tossed the ingot of lightsilver down at me and warned me to stay off the docks. I dragged Tavi to an Inn and the Inkeep's son sewed him up."

Myrana nods at Hraeflmir. "If I had to fight one more of them, I'm sure I would've been overcome. It was terrifying."

His wine cup is now empty, alas. But there's cider and that shall do! Hraelfmir's platter of food arrives, spicy meat wrapped in thin pancakes with vegetables, a small loaf of fresh baked bread, sharp cheese, and the requested apple. A green one. His dark eyes follow the pretty wench for a moment and he gives her a smile before he redirects his attention back to the table.

"Duel? Someone has challenged you to a duel, Dovi?" Yes, tell him more about this entertainment. Hraelf pours himself cider into his cup before he draws his dagger from his belt. He begins to slice the apple with it. To Myra, Hraelfmir says, "That's it? He sent men against you and then simply gave you the ingot of lightsilver? Mayhap -I- should go looking for this Captain Black. Do you think he's liable to obtain more?"

"Oh, definitely," Myra laughs. "You should go ask him for some."

Ludovic snickers at Myrana's thigh flashing comment. "Reckon that would go down a treat. Be the most talked about duel in ages, thats for sure."

To Hraeflmir he grins and declares "Indeed! Duchess al'Arran hereself. She's all offended because she tried to punch me and lost. Wasn't even my fault, you know? She told me I could tell her to go away and then when I did it she got all growly on me." He rolls his eyes dramatically. "Women!" a sideways glance to Myrana, duchess al'Arran. "So unfair Little Cavalier. So Unfair." A sly grin. "Dont you agree?"

Going back to the stories he says. "So now thats done. Who's next? I have a story about being attacked by a whole host of dead people. The little cavalier here was even there. Or I could tell you about how I tried to save an imperial from the Qatunax."

"I. Don't. Know!" Myrana says over her cup. "She sounds pretty Reasonable!" And the cup tilts UP! And goes down empty, click! "More please."

Myrana shoves the cup towards Ludovic, making it clear that he is paying her drink tab.

The apple sliced, Hraelfmir cleans his dagger and sheathes it. He begins to eat a spicy meat roll, picking up and trying not to make a mess with it. A look to Myra, trying to judge if she's being sarcastic about looking for this Captain Black or not. A huffed breath is not quite a laugh, "Doesn't sound much like a duel to me. More like sparring." Not mind you that he's aware that Myra /is/ this Duchess al'Arran!

A napkin is picked up to keep things reasonably tidy. A sip of cider to wash it down. Hraelfmir stops and looks at Ludovic, "Attacked by dead people?"

Ludovic picks up the pitcher and tops up Myrana's cup, not stopping until the drink is sloshing at the rim. He tops up Hraelfmir and his own cups whilst he's at it. "Started on a cold winters day, as many of these things do. We'd gone down to the fallowlands where we'd sworn we'd help the winter offensive against Kentaire and Rikton. Thing is, nothing good ever happened in Galenthia. My petite friend, my centurion friend and I were all there together, doing some boring meeting or another when we spotted some black smoke off on the horizon. Being the helpful, generous souls we are, we went to see if we could offer assistance. Instead we found an odd sight. A campfire with a rabbit burning on its spit surrounded by the dead still wrapped in their blankets. Had that tingly feeling. You know the one? The one that says Dovi sumnmats not quite right but then a baby started crying and all the women, almost as one, started running down there like their underwear had been set alight."

Ludovic is at a table with Myrana (who's dressed as a blue cavalier) and Hraelfrir with two pies in front of him (partially eaten), a rediculous amount of alcohol which is apparantly being liberally shared, talking. By the looks of his gestures he's telling a story or maybe boasting.

Yes, the very first thing Altair did was get out of his Courtly get-up. More comfortably dressed in black linen and leather that plays about the powerful musculature underneath, the towering warrior slips into the Inn, looking about perhaps for a bite to eat. Zahara is not far behind, his hand engulfing hers rather gently. As his eyes scans the room, they stop at Myrana and just stay there, narrowing somewhat, the courners of his mouth drawing downwards a touch.

Ludovic is thanked first for the cider refill, then threatened with a slice of apple in Hraelfmir's hand. The gold ring set with the bloody red ruby carved in the likeness of a human skull catches the light. "How did you know they were dead and not simply injured and filthy? Tingly feelings aside." He doesn't quite sound mocking and disbelieving, but curious - and maybe taking this tale with a liberal grain of salt.

Dressed in a deep blue velvet coat with other finery, and armed with both blades and hand cannons, the dusky skinned ship Captain sits with both Lodovic and Myra at table. The place is very crowded and busy. Hraelfmir has a plate of spicy meat rolls with fresh bread, cheese, and an apple he's sliced with his dagger and a pitcher of cider on their table.

While Altair might have had the opportunity to change immediately after slipping away from courtly matters, Zahara must have stayed for a bit to mingle with the other noblewomen. Something like that, at least. Still attired in blacks and golds, she at least matches the taller and much paler husband that has her hand firmly in hers. "Do you know that there are quite a few nobles who are eager to request some of my more brews…" Pausing a moment, she asks curiously with a look to Altair and then peers around his shoulder in blatant interest. "What?"

Myrana is in disguise. It was working really well too, except that she ran into Ludovic, who recognized her despite the trousers and cocked hat and equally cockily low-slung cutlass at her hip. She has a sardine pie in front of her and Ludovic is overfilling her man-sized tankard with cider. She looks irritated, but also rather mesmerized by the way the foam spills over the edge of the /very tall indeed/ cup. It is a look that says 'well what bad could possibly happen?'. But mostly she is listening to Ludovic's story as she reaches for the cup and makes free with his drink tab.

"Hohoho," she murmurs to herself, a canny smile tugging at her lips and a conspiratorial tone overcoming her. "Foolish man, I will beggar you," and she slides the cup to the edge of the table to sip at it without getting it everywhere.

"Well I didnt know anything at that point." Ludovic tells Hraelfmir with a grin. "Could just have been sleeping for all we knew. They looked like they'd just rolled up in their blankets and fallen asleep afterall." He shakes his head. "Never did get to check those guys. I was following the women down the hill, wondering if they were all about to get ambushed in their crazy charge to rescue a baby that might not even have been in danger, when the real enemy arrived…" He leaves a dramatic pause, drinking half his cup of cider and then refilling it. "They were underneath us. One moment everything was fine and next there were hands reaching up from out of the dirt. Skin flayed away by their digging, fingertips little more than bones poking through the skin…"

Again he does the dramatic pause thing only this time he grins to Altair and Zahara and waves for them to join the table "Then they struck! I managed to get my musket free and BOOM! The first one went down with a hole this big.." He draws out a melon sized shape with his hands, spilling some of his cider in the process. "But he wasn't alone. I went to reload and thats when I noticed that the little Lady here."

He gestures at Myrana. "Was already in the middle of them all, hacking and slashing with that fancy sword, as they all gathered around. It was obvious Myr.. uh the little Lady was about to become a snack. So being the gentleman I am I tossed my musket aside, drew my hammer" He pats the hammer looped onto his belt. "And went in to save her."

Myrana grumbles between sips: "Hrrmgh-" ulp "ghbhgrhgh" ulp.

The sloshed cider is evaded, if Hraelfmir can avoid it. He's dressed too nicely to be the object of Ludovic's sloppy embraces. The Captain is about half way through his meal as he listens, "Up through the earth… that would be unsettling." And a glance to the weapon, "I see." Not a hammer he'd care to have planted in his own skull, to be certain.

Another taste of his own cider, then Hraelfmir glances up to the two who approach the table when Ludovic hails them. The man gets his attention first because Altair looks strange, but then it's Zahara that grabs Hraelf's attention. He studies her for a long moment.

Altair approaches the table slowly, addine one sideline comment to the story. "I suspect that the 'little Lady' didn't have her bigger brother with her, either…" he notes, looking to Myra. His arms cross over his chest, some of the leather components of his clothing actually complaining audibly against his musculature. It's all he says, going on to listen to Ludovic, otherwise not interrupting, saving introductions until the take is done. He looks back to Zahara, a hand slipping into the small of her back.

Zahara inclines her head towards Ludovic, and those with him - who obtain a slight nod of her head before feeling Altair's shoulders tense. "Do not put on such a display," she murmurs towards his ear, having to go on tip-toe in order to hopefully be heard. Since he did reach behind her, she instead takes his hand before hauling him along on her approach to those gathered at a non-hurried pace. "My apologies for his… mostly silent fuming. Was the wave an open invitation to join?"

"I did well to start with." Ludovic continues. "They were easy to kill, clumsy and fragile, but they shook off injuries like they didnt matter. There was this one with his arm hanging on with nothing but sinew and good intentions." He shakes his head. "And I slowly closed the gap between me and the little cavalier, foe by foe. For everyone one we killed three more clawed up out of the earth. It was starting to look like a bad bad day. Then this giant parted the crowd before me. For a moment I was relieved. Surely such a monster was on our side?" he gestures to Altair. "He was big as Altair, broad and pale haired, with an exe that even I'd struggle to heft." A long pause. "He was also very, very, dead. Not that that stopped him trying to kill me. I fought hard, trying to avoid his blows as I returned my own, but my strikes… strikes that would see any of us screaming on the ground, went unnoticed. I started thinking I might be in trouble and then he raised that mighty axe and swung for me and I.. I slipped. I was on my knees watching the axe fall.."

His gaze finds Myrana's as he lets that sink in and reaches to once again top up his cup. Sadly it doesn't all end up in the cup. The combination of him drowning part of his sardine pie in cider and the arrival of Altair and Zahara sees him call "Another pitcher for my friends!" A quick grin for Zahara. "Course you are. More the merrier." So.. where.. Ah yeah. I'm on my knees watching the axe drop when this one." he taps Myrana's wrist. "Leaps at him like a ferret after a rabbit. Saved my life she did."

Ludovic says, "ferret? Weasel. Ferrets are too big."

Myrana's cheeks are burning. "Hello Altair, Zahara," she says politely and not entirely without remorse for being caught out in cavalier's clothes and drinking. "It was a scouting mission, you know."

About to be moved by Ludovic telling a story of her heroics (or so it seems to be turning into!), she gasps and sits up straighter. "WEASEL!?"

Hraelfmir studied Zahara for a moment and then takes his time eying Altair in turn. Not too many seven foot tall albino-ish looking men walking around that he's seen. His meal is ignored while he takes in details of the two strangers. Zahara's polite nod is returned by the dark haired man as he watches them ere Hraelfmir spares a glance back to Ludovic and his story. It's getting to a good part!

There is amusement in his dark eyes for Myra's input into the story now. Yes, Hraelfmir is trying not to laugh! Perhaps it is better if he focuses on finishing his meal, which he does so that the platter may be removed and set onto the smaller table, ready to take away. Some of the bread, apple and cheese remains. A flicker of his gaze around to Altair and Zahara, then back to the other two, "You all seem to know one another."

Altair raises a brow at the otburst from Myra, before he begins to smirk a bit. "Well, you certainly know how to weasel your way out of things, like guards…" he says, affirming the description before looking to Ludovic. "Sounds something vaguely like the Legend of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog…" he notes idly before turning his attention to Hraelfmir. "I am Lord Altair d'Armaz and this is my wife, Lady Zahara. We've known Viscount d'Korbina for a while, now. And Myra here, she's my…" He looks back to Myra, his eyes harrowing, a slow and mischievous grin appearing on his lips. "Besides being a pain in my side…?" he says, never quite completing the thought as he considers outing her.

"Oh come on now Myrana." Ludovic replies. "He was huge! And look how tiny you are!" He looks at the others for support. "Isnt she tiny?!"

His story is merely paused though and he's soon delving back into it, gesturing as he explains. "She jumped at this man that was at least as big as Altair! She's a brave little thing and the flash of her sword in his eyes is the only thing that stopped him from killing me. I still had my shield but I wasnt sure, not sure at all, that it would be enough to save me from a direct blow. She swept a blade at him and he recoiled and in that moment I managed to find my feet. She went left, I went right, and I found that sweet spot and caved his skull in. Between us we beat him down." He gives Myrana a grin and then goes back to his serious drama face. "But we never got a chance to enjoy our victory. As soon as he went down we realised that the undead army had multiplied in number. Even with my woman, Olivia, keeping all the others off our backs we were in desperate trouble. And trust me, she was magnificent that day, she must have killed twenty of them all by herself, so you know how serious things were. We fought and fought but slowly they pressed us back and back until we brushed against each other with every move we made. There were hundreds and hundreds of the beasts around us and each time one fell two replaced it. It must have been days that we fought like that! Merely surviving. But finally, when things were truly, truly, desperate a horn sounded and the cavalry arrived, sweeping them away. And that. That is how our battle with the undead went and also why you shouldn't go to the fallowlands of a winter. It's also the only time i'm ever likely to be pleased to see a pagan charge a horse towards me."

Zahara agreeably answers to the affirmative when asked whether the three, no four know each other. "I suppose you could say so. You seem to outfit yourself not as an Aequorian, sir," she says, copper eyes shifting over to Hraelfmir with interest in his clothing. "As to the nature of this story, I am sure that there are many things which cannot be explained. Much like men as tall as Altair." Outting Myra? Nonsense. "But then again, there should be little surprise that we know each other when my husband goes off fighting in various locales. Paths are bound to be crossed."

Ludovic has no trouble getting support from Hraelfmir, "She is tiny, and rather adorable, but fierce." Apparently. Oh, oh! Aye, Altair's slip as to 'Dovi's identity isn't missed. The Captain quietly allows his gaze to roam among them as he leans back, drinking his cider now his meal is mostly finished. It seems, the stories are good enough to keep Hraelfmir amused. "Which calvery, if you named them pagans? I do not know where these fallowlands are located."

Zahara draws his gaze back. Hraelf sets his cup down, "I am not Aequorian, nae, my lady." For the sake of politeness, he moves to stand and bows slightly and adds a fourish with his left hand, the ruby glinting. "I am a Privateer ship's Captain out of Four Corners. My name is Hraelfmir." He seems to be surrounded by nobility at this table, yet though he be a commoner (Four Corners not having a noble class) he doesn't seem to be uncomfortable among them.

Myrana looks like she's trying to do that terrifying thing that bad guys do in stories, where they smash a glass in their hand out of total rage while staring dead ahead. But. It will never in a million years happen, since she has to use the handle to pick up the too tall glass anyway without spilling on herself, so she's got both hands locked on the thing in silent, very thinly 'calm' concentration. "Tiny, tiny, tiny," she's muttering at her cider, furious and glowing through her handsome black wool tricorn hat. "Tiny, tiny, tiny-" Come on darn it, break!

The insult cycles for a while under her breath, like she's in total disbelief that this is being applied to her, by some men, who are not being SET ON FIRE. What is the point of having goons when they don't set people who call you rude and untrue things in public on fire??

Then it hits her. This is why she's supposed to keep her bodyguards around her.

"UGH." She puts her forehead on the table, defeated. She cannot be embarrassed by praise and murderously angry at insults at the same time. It is too much.

Altair looks to Zahara and just smiles, shaking his head before he steps over to Myrana, his hand touching her shoulder in a familiar, loving way. "You are the fiercest of them all, my sister. I will never deny you that. I only ask that, if no other, you at least take me along with you when you can. Back your fierceness with my brute strength."

He then looks to Hraelfmir and nods. "I am also originally from Four Corners, an orphan adopted by Duke d'Armaz after doing my duty in his defense. My wife is originally from Partharia, by way of Four Corners."

Ludovic pushes himself heavily up to his feet and waves his cup towards Hraelfmir. "My friend! Let us go find a good brothel!" He fishes in his coat and finds a couple of crowns to drop on the tabletop. "Myrana plans to kill me in the morning so tonight I need to live."

"A ship's captain?" Already, Zahara's mind is setting things into organization within her internal who's who and possible importance. "Are you familiar with the Yassin family then? Merchants, if that helps by any means," she begins to say, having settled into a nearby chair just in time to hear Ludovic's exclamation that draws an 'oh really' look towards the aforementioned tiny lady. "I see that there are a few things that failed to be mentioned in murmurs after court. But if you two must be off to the brothels, then you must. It may be prudent to stay entirely out of the matter, myself."

Still standing after giving his introduction, Hraelfmir moves to retake his seat just in time for 'Dovi' to stand up and slap coins on the table. A somewhat surprised look comes to the Captain's face. "Brothels … aren't usually my style. I have no difficulty inviting young ladies to my ship, without need to pay for their very fine company. Perhaps you should go and enjoy yourself without me, though I am pleased to be meeting you, Sir. Thank you for the wine, the cider, and the company." There /might/ be a glance to see where that pretty young serving wench went off to, until Altair and Zahara have each spoken.

Hraelfmir resumes his seat for the moment to finish his drink. A nod to Altair, and then to Zahara. "I am a merchant Privateer. I own an armed sloop and am in Lyioness shopping perhaps for another, stouter vessel." A pause to consider, "I believe I have heard of the family, though I have not dealt with them myself. I've been … busy with the wars. Profitably."

"Bah." Ludovic mutters in response to Hraelfmir's refusal. "Aint like I can't find my own women neither. Just, sometimes, you need a sure thing." He puts his cup down and starts sort of tidying up his outfit. Sort of. "Aint no fun alone anyway." He hunts around for a few moments, muttering. "Wheres my hat?" before finally being rescued by the tavern wench pushing it into his hands. "Thanks." He copies Hraelfmir's trick of sticking a coin down her bodice only he uses large denomination coins. Mostly because he's too drunk to notice to be fair. "Goodnight."

Myrana takes off her tricorn hat and rises from the table, sighing. "Yes, I will try," she says in response to trying to take Altair on dangerous missions. She watches these methods of payment and looks totally mystified.

"That is quite enough to know that you have heard of them," Zahara states, not giving anything more than that as everyone moves to depart for the night's activities. "We should be off as well. Finery for court should likely not be worn until all hours," she remarks, moving to stand as Altair does the same. "Good night."

Back in the days when Hraelfmir was a poor ship's Captain and didn't even own his own ship, he would have offered to help that poor serving girl fish those coins out that /Ludovic/ so RUDELY put down her cleavage! Tsk. Instead he merely watches, amused, as 'Dovi' mimics his own behavior. Good lad. As everyone else is departing, he finishes off his drink and stands, picking up his own hat. "I have … spent a measure of time down Parthaia way myself, my lady. It's my business to keep track of things, best I may. I bid you a good night." Hraelfmir inclines his head to the nobles and might, just for his own entertainment, follow Ludovic to see what mischief the other gets into trying to navigate the street outside.

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