The last words of Stasiak rang in Freya's ears, and she spun around and marched towards the man. Grasping him firmly by the shoulder, she hissed in his ear. "He may not have lived in a place such as you describe, but I have. So hear me now as an equal in suffering. I say, rules and rights have their proper places and times. Here and now, for instance."

She relinquished her grip slightly, "All the king has to do is flick a finger and we are all dead. Right now, his rules are keeping us alive. Don't be so quick to forget that." Freya glared at the man.

((OOC: will be out of town, may or may not be able to post until Monday))

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Married Artemis Fowl on July 16, 2007
[!+^$%=#?&]
The Seemingly Nice But Actually Really Nasty Nazgul
School ate my life. *sigh*

Roderick twisted his face in an odd way like an animal does when it suddenly has something thrust in front of his face. He thought his words through and then spoke.
"Sir, is there a problem with wanting to give your loyalty to something? And as for what does it get you, I do not particularly care about the pay. Yes it is nice. No, I am not going to threaten the King to give it to me before it is even a problem. For all of my life my family had been provided for by mainly the King and his court and there has never been a problem with our income."
He took a breath to calm him self and then continued.
" Whatever your opinion about names keep it I'm not going to argue about it. I have a different opinion and I am rightfully entitled to it as are you, but you cannot disagree that our area of work would be a helpful thing to know since it is up to us as a whole to come up with a plan of attack. What good would it do if we had five or six groups of people that had no clue how to use each other,"

Rory walked over to the area where there was enough room to walk without bothering others with his stir-crazy legs.

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"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes -- it approaches to cold-bloodedness"

Terrel listened, hands clenching tighter on his stick, as words behind him flew. Do they have no knowledge of how to act in front of a king? He was proper in all he said. And those men. How dare they introduce themselves to everyone, especially those of higher rank? And half acted as though the king wasn't even there, while the others gave rank demands. Of course the king would keep his word.

He knew how to barter, and he knew when one was just wasting hot air. To ask for assurances after they were already given was only jumping into a briar patch of trust. "Your Majesty." He again bowed. "As I see it, we have but one job, and that is to obey your orders. All other words are pointless bickering. I ask Your Majesty's leave to withdraw, to rest before the journey." Terrel turned and gave a nod to Fredric. The man may be a scribe, but he knew how to behave in court. On his way out, he approached Bronwyn. "My Lady," he murmured and bowed. Face steely and mouth tightening at the corners when he looked at the others, he made his way to the door.

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going on a journey through my old claims

A judiciously timed meow, just as Terrel was speaking, caught Elanna's attention, and with a muted exclamation - "Why, you smart kitty!" - she bent her knees for his leap. The Admiral settled himself, half on her shoulder and half on the case of her lyre, with feline smugness.

The next three things happened simultaneously. Terrel walked out, the irritated guard who had previously chastised her started forward, and Elanna judged that now was a most convenient time to get her own introductions over with.

Shrugging her lyre case into a more comfortable position, she brushed past the little girl-warrior, the one with the five daggers (Elanna wondered how she didn't jingle as well) with an, "Oh, do excuse me," and approached the young king's seat.

Drat and blast it, how did this go?

"Your Majesty," she started, judging this a good beginning point, "I'm Ela - oh, but you knew that. Well, I'm a scribe and a - oh, but you knew that too. Well." The good beginning had deteriorated. She didn't think he'd want to be introduced to her cat. "Be assured of my - loyalty, sire." She curtsied, wondering if that should have happened first. "I'll be pleased to, er, represent you."

The Admiral mewed loudly. He might have been agreeing, but Elanna would rather not have hazarded a guess.

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Despite her best efforts to remain quiet and calm, Lyrra was growing very impatient. Could we just get on with this already?! Usually, it took quite a bit to set off her temper, but the day had just started out all wrong. She had so many things to do around the cottage, and she certainly didn't want to pull herself to bed to come to this meeting. Now, all this bickering and arguing was really beginning to irk her.

So, in a quiet voice, laden with irritability, she said, "May I ask what good all this talking is doing for anyone?" Feeling more bold than normal, she looked around at all the faces in the room, the annoyance plain on her face. "We know our mission. What is left but for us to get on with it?" Lyrra knew she had probably spoken out of turn. After all, it was not her's but the king's place to send them off, but it seemed that they would never begin this, and she was eager to be away.

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I'm back!

After Stasiak's words, Kyne had leaned further back into his chair, and rather wearily massaged his temples. But then the Lady Bronwyn had jumped on him, and Fredric had actually paused his incessant reading for a moment to state a few relevant facts. And then had came a regular flurry of responses, voices overlapping voices, passionate and heated. All concluding in the rather tense departure of one, and the sworn fidelity of the young scribe and - was that a cat?

The king blinked.

"Thank you," he said to the girl, nodding once. He looked towards the impatient girl who'd just spoken, allowing himself a hint of a smile. "Eagerness is desirable. But don't you think it would be good to rest for a night before undertaking such a journey?" He turned to the rest of the group, and just for a moment questioned his sanity in such choices.

But no. They were the best, exceptional at the one skill which might be needed. Arrogance, unfortunately, often came with such talent. Kyne felt sure that between their pride and curiosity, not one would choose to abandon the mission. Their loyalties... well, that could be dealt with. After all, he had placed his best spy in their midst.

The king stood this time to address them. His mulled his words over in his head, feeling it his duty to put this man in his place, and yet unwilling to make things any more heated.

"Many of you, as children, heard stories and legends of when man first began to use the longbow. But few realize that there actually was a time when something so vital today to our lives was both strange and novel.

"Can you imagine the world before it? Cruder weapons, harsher lifestyles?

"If nothing else, do not forget what this weapon <i>is</i>. What it means to Throstate, to us."

He watched them, almost curiously, such a vast difference between every face. A dozen worlds, all thrown together. They would have to bond, become a team, learn to respect their differences as well as their shared uniqueness. And yet... Kyne wondered bemusedly how could they ever learn to respect one another, when some couldn't even find in themselves respect to show him, their crowned king?

"There is no more to discuss, I think. I have given you all the information necessary, and your companions can fill you in on anything else. Ifen and Lorne," he gestured to the two, "know a good deal about Celsean protocol, which I'm sure you would find useful to learn before you're off. And my Master Archivist knows a good deal about <i>any</i> topic in which you find yourself unknowing.

"And now, I must ask you all to please adjourn to your private rooms for the night, or a small dining hall in which there has been prepared an evening meal for you. There will be horses saddled for your departure at dawn. I will see you off."

The king raised his palm, and guards moved in to see any who might be willing to leave out of the room.

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Roderick listened to the king's speech intently. He thought about what the king was saying as he beat up on himself on the inside for Losing his temper and showing his pride.
After the king dismissed the group Rory slowly walked towards the door and picked up the hat he carelessly dropped on the floor. He walked towards the king and meekly said, he head turned towards the ground.
" Sir, may I ask to be shown to your stables. I rode here on my own horse, and although I would be happy to ride one of your provided horses I really have this horse trained to do all of the things that put me where I am at this moment." He raised his young, dark, brown eyes to the king for half a moment.
" Sir I also know that your horses are the best in the land. in fact I believe our stock started from a handful of your great grandfather's stallions. I would just really love it if I could see these horses everyone is riding." he bowed graciously not exactly sure what to do after having made a bold such a bold request.

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"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes -- it approaches to cold-bloodedness"

Name: Fionn Blyst
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Occupation: Soldier/Scout/Professional Distraction
Appearance: Brown hair, grey eyes, average height and build. Fairly average looking, in essence. Excellent physical condition, though.
Personality: Read and find out.
History: RAFO
Specialty Creating 'large-scale' diversions during or before a battle or raid. And scouting out hostile territory.

See? I got it up. A little belatedly, true, but it's up, andn I'm in. ^_^

EDIT: Since Ellie did give me a slight opening (I didn't see it the first time I read his post) and nobody else is posting, I might as well...

----

Fionn glanced up as the first of the thieves entered the dining room. Out of unbreakable habit, he had put his chair near one of the pedestals supporting an ornate vase. Should anything happen, it would make a delightful ruckus if he simply kicked the pedestal, and he was rather good at fleeing from attention drawn his way. In theory, it would give the guards a chance to strike while the threat was distracted, but having watched them for a few minutes, he doubted that they could do much with it. Especially not against the man who had walked in--he strolled with an air of confidence that few men would feel when surrounded by so many guards and being of such a trade.

He gave a smile that he did not mean--he had years of practice at that, originating with family holidays--and took another bite of the apple he had nicked from the table. "This food's not poisoned, so you can relax," he said, making a guess at what an assassin might be worried about in a strange place. "Of course, you might be unlucky enough to eat something that is poisoned and which I don't know about, and then all of your skill will be for naught," he added. It wouldn't do to make the man too comfortable--the less he and the others ate, the more Fionn could enjoy himself. Food was one of the more interesting and enjoyable aspects of life, and since in his line of work he could easily make a fatal mistake, he preferred to enjoy life as much as he could.

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Lyrra let out a long, slow sigh of relief as the crowd began filing out of the meeting room. How long had it been since she'd been around so many people? Since her parents died and she left the refuge of her cousin's home so many years ago, she had had little contact with others. The only time she ever went into town was to stock up on supplies, and since she did her own hunting and grew the other things she needed, that wasn't often. She took a few moments to lean against the wall now that it was quiet. Lyrra closed her eyes, reveling in the silence and solitude.

Her stomach rumbled lowdly, interrupting her thoughts. How long had it been since she'd eaten? She pushed herself off the wall with a shrug. Well, since I'm now a guest of the king, I might as well take advantage of my brief access to the finer things in life. She knew she had seen some of the others head toward the dining hall. How much more delicious would a meal like this be than the ones she could provide. Lyrra might be able to hunt down just about any game available, but unfortunately her cooking skills were... lacking. Eagerly, she trotted through the doors towards the dining hall.

Upon entering the hall, she found that two of her "companions" had already found their way to the food. Lyrra noticed that one was the rather arrogant man who had been so outspoken during the meeting. She gave both men a cool nod before sitting down to enjoy her food.

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I'm back!

Alenia blinked indignantly as the assassin ignored her and moved on to the dining hall. He could have done better if he had slapped her. Her personal pride wounded, she released some of her frustration by pinching the pocket of one of the guards. She moved silently and delicately, smoothly gliding towards him and inserting her hand when his gaze was away. She decided to count the meager amount when she retired. She put the purse further into her sleeve as she walked towards the dining hall. And there he was, the assassin. Inspecting the food in his bouts of paranoia. A couple others were there as well, others who remained anonymous to her. While she was determined to find out what the assassin knew about her, she was equally determined to avenge her pride. However, the exact process was still being debated.

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I was cured all right.

Once the entire group of ragtag, mismatched heroes-to-be had entered the dining hall and seated themselves before the spotless array of dishware, and the white places on the table where the steaming platters of food weren't had begun to be disconcerting rather than promising, Elanna had a thought.

She would have shared this thought with the Admiral, except that he was hiding beneath her chair, and it would have been a feat of human flexibility to lean underneath and mutter it to him. This particular brainwave was not of the brilliant sort, nor was it pleasure at the thought of a meal she hadn't had to earn and cook herself - and Elanna cooking was an education in what one did NOT do - even though that thought had occurred. No, this thought was of a more abstract and philosophical nature.

So she sat there and shared her own thought, and it was - which fork do I use? For arrayed on the table were no less than five, with varying purposes and appearances, and Elanna was fairly certain that she would select exactly the wrong one, and -

"It's the one on the left first, my dear."

Elanna's reaction was exactly described by the grating yowl of the cat beneath her chair. She twisted, after having jumped a mile into the air, and managed to neatly sweep the collection of forks into a heap on the floor with her sleeve.

However, there was a conspicuous lack of anyone occupying the empty air behind her seat.

She turned back around, and at that moment realized the plight of the five forks.

"Well, you've made a royal mess of it now."

This time she did not imagine the booming voice. Standing, arms spread wide as though he had just thrust open the great double doors of the hall, was a most eccentric figure.

Elanna blinked. She wanted to rub her eyes, but felt it might be rude.

As he strode past the long windows, through their squares of rich sunset light, every step an exercise in leisure, he began to speak again. "And I mean that for all of you. Not only the girl with the cat. Pardon me. Elanna."

She blinked again, and with one elaborate flourish of white robes emblazoned with runes and a whirl that made the bits of glittering rock tied into his beard sparkle, the figure ascended majestically to the center of their empty table and settled each of his hands in the opposite sleeve.

He considered them, head cocked at an angle, small deep-set eyes flickering from seat to seat. Like a bird, he stood motionless, exactly like that, for precisely twenty seconds. Elanna jumped again when he straightened and took a step forward, rattling the dishes only marginally and making not a bootmark on the white tablecloth. The edges of his robe trailed in the plates, and their spotless surfaces reflected the runes.

"Born Elanna Cartwright, if I am not mistaken," he added. She jumped for the third time. "Not so nervous, generally speaking, but then" - a sigh as he raised his eyes - "this is a special occasion."

Elanna would not have been surprised by anything, after this.

"As for the royal mess," he continued, and fixed all of them in turn with that birdlike stare - a process taking a rather long time, as they were many - "I mean that very literally. You!" This time the dishes rattled. "In the future, cease to pickpocket the guards." He turned away from Alenia. One of the goblets trembled and started to fall. He righted it without looking down. His hands disappeared back into his sleeves. Devin was the next unfortunate target.

"Arkhelm, I believe. Were you aware that humility is a virtue, my boy, one you lack? Do better in the future. Also, this, in your pockets -" small vials began to appear in the old man's hands, seemingly from thin air - "Sloppy. This one in particular." He selected one of the vials of poison and tossed it over his shoulder. It vanished. "Efficiency is more deadly than arrogance. Cease to strut, my boy. Perhaps your disposition will improve. Now. Where was I?"

Neatly avoiding several more goblets, all of which had somehow filled with wine in the interim, he strode down the length of the table. "Ah yes. You! Did your mother spit upon patriotism frequently while you were in the womb? Then you have some excuse for its being ingrained." He shook a finger at Stasiak. "I might repeat my advice to the boy with the poison. You may ask him about it later. Oh! And another thing!"

With a flourish, he bowed, hair and beard hanging down almost until they dipped into one of the goblets of wine. "My name is Fladnag. You may refer to me as Flad. Now, isn't that an eternity easier than 'the geezer in the robe' or 'that talented man who prepared dinner?'"

On cue, steaming platters appeared with muted pops all the way down the table, and with great dignity, the newly introduced Fladnag swept down to a spot at the end, where he beckoned a chair. "You may begin at your leisure. Forks on the left first, please." He'd halfway sat down before he paused. Bird eyes twinkled at Devin.

"Oh, and I do hate to spoil your efforts, but this is prepared privately. Never touched the kitchen. Enjoy your meal!"

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There were only a few moments that Lorne was caught off his guard, staring open-mouthed in shock.

Evidently he just <i>thought</i> he'd known what was going on. At this point, with the addition of the wild-haired wonder, he wondered if he hadn't gotten in way over his head. He blinked rapidly at the rather eccentric figure, and then quickly composed himself.

<i>Adapt</i>, he told himself. It was the first rule of being an efficient spy.

He slid into a seat at the table, next to the one the king had identified as Ifen. "Well," he remarked in undertones, "That was a bit... unexpected. Assuming of course I'm not the only one in the dark here. Perhaps I just wasn't listening when our crowned king introduced this... Flad?" He looked at Ifen and grinned a little, before helping himself to a passing dish of stuffed eggs. "Although I suppose 'the geezer in the robe' is a bit more descriptive. Oh and... correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you introduced as one who'd actually been to Celsea? Might I inquire as to the part of the country in which you traveled to?"

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<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Bronwyn gave a small curtsy to the king, as was customary for women to do in front of royalty and inclined her head with a curve of her lips. "I shall take my leave as well, my king." With that she gave the man a once over, her black eyes far sharper and more judgmental than a woman of her station should posses.

Another nod indicated that she was done with her review. What she found from this look was that the man, although young and perhaps inexperienced held a determination that she found promising.

She exited the room to join the rest of her would be companions and took a seat near the end of the table near Lorne and Ifan - she had decided that their knowledge of Celsea would be the most useful to her job. It was better to start research now than wait until they were almost there.

"My lords," Bronwyn greeted the two men while pushing herself closer to the table and taking a fork in hand.

Her attention veered to Ifan as Lorne spoke of the introductions and she immediately was interested - not her false interest in which she would nod and smile.The intense interest where her body held still so that she might take in the information given to her.

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

Bronwyn gave a small curtsy to the king, as was customary for women to do in front of royalty and inclined her head with a curve of her lips. "I shall take my leave as well, my king." With that she gave the man a once over, her black eyes far sharper and more judgmental than a woman of her station should posses.

Another nod indicated that she was done with her review. What she found from this look was that the man, although young and perhaps inexperienced held a determination that she found promising.

She exited the room to join the rest of her would be companions and took a seat near the end of the table near Lorne and Ifan - she had decided that their knowledge of Celsea would be the most useful to her job. It was better to start research now than wait until they were almost there.

"My lords," Bronwyn greeted the two men while pushing herself closer to the table and taking a fork in hand.

Her attention veered to Ifan as Lorne spoke of the introductions and she immediately was interested - not her false interest in which she would nod and smile.The intense interest where her body held still so that she might take in the information given to her.

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Heavens no. Hell Yeah.


Set 1: Nurr | Set 2: Me

Ifan smiled thinly at Lorne. “You’re not the only one in the dark. He is an interesting fellow, isn’t he?” Taking a few pieces of ham from a platter, he sliced off a bite. “He makes good food, in any case.”

He nodded to Bronwyn as she sat down, raising an eyebrow slightly as she addressed him as ‘lord’. His own position was nowhere near as high as her own, but he let it pass. “My lady,” he murmured.

Turning back to Lorne, he said, “I’ve been to several parts of Celsea, but most of my business was with the ruling clan, near the southern edge of the country. I have travelled farther north on several occasions, but I never have covered the whole country or met all the clans. Of course, it has been several years since I was last there – it could be completely different from what I remember. Things change quickly there.” He paused to take a sip of wine. Delicious stuff. “Have you been there more recently? What is it like these days?”

Terrel, having left the group before the king's final words, stood in the hallway attempting to decide which corridor to take. The guards were less than helpful, of course, merely standing at the door giving each other amused smirks. Terrel was sure those had nothing to do with him. After all, it was normal for a person to take some time, see the layout of each hall. He was still contemplating when the other members of the group began leaving the room. With a glance and a smile at the guard, who still had a thinly veiled one of his own, Terrel followed the others down the left corridor. He was planning on going that way anyway.

Upon entering, Terrel was making his way toward the high ranking lady (who was the only one fit for his company) when the odd geezer appeared. Standing stock still, Terrel watched in amazement as the man proffered knowledge and advice. He was gratified as some people got a talking down after they had shown such disrespect to the king. Still wondering about the man, Terrel sat near Bronwyn.

"My lady," he said with a nod of his head. He attempted to ignore the two obviously lower class men, but they were talking of Celsea. He knew the country a little, towns more so, due to his trade.

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going on a journey through my old claims