IceAndWave/PartyatTideholme
Party at Tideholme
In which the many people are introduced, some secrets discovered, and a terrible stench issued...
The 1st Day of Ascending Wood, Realm Year 763
The opulent building known as the Iceflower Palace, the official residence of the Satrap of Tideholme, is abuzz with activity this evening. Cynis Asura is holding one of her parties, and every Dragon-blood in Tideholme has been invited. Formalwear is a must, and weapons, if worn at all, must be discreet - although an exception has been made for Gereth Emberheart, as the head of Tideholme's armies he is never unarmed.
Ragara Kerzoro, Saffron Iceflow and Sian Nerivus mingle with the other Terrestrial Exalted in the Kingdom, making eleven in total, surrounded by a veritable army of servants and slaves and music plays in the background, chilled food is carried around on silver trays, and other, more personal, services are strongly implied by the relative lack of clothing and physical attractiveness of the Cynis' people.
The conversation itself seems part gossip, part talking shop. Sesus Vaniya, the head of the local Immaculate mission, is engaged in an animated conversation with Ojia Windrider, an airship captain for the Haslanti, regarding the recent aggresiveness of the icewalkers and their raiding parties.
Saffron sips her icewine from a convenient spot a little away from the main knot of Dragonbloods. Not that she's a loner, no, but she's unused to dragging a train this long behind her. Her crystal glass of icewine has an olive floating in it in the Western style, already encrusted with a little halo of frost. Her violet-black hair is pulled back and up in a coif that has never felt more uncomfortable than now. It seems that every hairpin employed in its construction is sticking straight into her scalp. A form-fitting breastplate encases her torso, wrought so finely it appears to be a second skin, or the bodice of her gown until examined closer. A pattern of stormy seas has been inlaid into the black jade with lines of gold, storm clouds above, tempestuous wave in the middle, and Storm Mother's abode at the bottom of the sea floor.
A tall, lanky man with fiery red hair that adds another foot to his already considerable height walks up to Saffron, "I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Anithul, commonly called 'the Red'," he smiles, "Might I have your name, dear lady?" He makes a showy and very deep bow, revealing an instrument case strapped to his back, the top of a guqin sticking out.
Saffron studies Anithul over the rim of her glass, and smiles. "I am Saffron," she says, leaving her infamous family name off.
Asura seems to slide up behind Sian, brushing a long leg up against him and purring, "Well, hello again, Sian."
Sian, on the other hand, is sitting on a couch near the center of the proceedings, engaged in conversation with some of the local notables. He excuses himself to get some more wine, which is presumably when Asura ambushes him. "Ah, Asura... good to see you again." He shows a remarkable resistance to her advances. He is dressed simply, for the record; a pair of black pants and an open silk shirt are really all he needs. His blue-black hair is swept back from his forehead, and he wears no jewellery of any kind.
Asura slinks around Sian, her gown a sheer white that appears to cling through personal magnetism more than any law of tailoring, "It was a shame our meeting had to end so abruptly. I was enjoying it."
"The same goes here. You are quite pleasant company." He takes her hand and leans down to kiss it. "And beautiful, as always."
Kerzoro seems... distinctly out of place in the party, but this could be because he's used to having the weight of his blade on his back and he is not carrying it now. Other than that, the huge man is surprisingly friendly and discussing the fate of some raiders in the south that had the misfortune of crossing his path with a couple of ladies!
The conversation around Kerzoro stills slightly, and the air gets a noticable static element to it, as a woman in multi-coloured robes practically glides across the floor towards him, her white hair trailing along the floor behind her. "I am Cora'Esh," her voice has a sing-song element to it.
Kerzoro pauses in his tale, and looks towards the woman as she moves towards him. He nods slightly at the name, and then gives a bow. "Milady! I am Ragara Kerzoro, at your service."
Standing next to Anithul, Saffron has a fairly good view of his... arm, short as she is. The glass of icewine in her hand is developing icicles from its base, a sure sign it has been ignored too long. She takes another sip. Ahh. Paint thinner.
Anithul bows again, just as showily as before, "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Saffron," he gestures to his back, "I am, as you can probably tell, a musician - an artist of some note I like to think, and I travel Creation to learn more about the sounds of the world."
"That's interesting," she says, with genuine interest. "Alas, my ears are unlearned. Unless you would count the sound of a sail snapping taut in a headwind as music." She shrugs a little and the wide rolled collar of dark-blue mantle she wears over her gown slips down, exposing her fair shoulders.
Asura smiles at Sian, "You're too kind." She slinks around some more, making sure to accidentally press a thigh or arm against him, "What have you been up to since your last visit, if I might ask?"
"Same as always... travelling back and forth between the courts, dealing with unruly spirits." He touches his glass to her cheek momentarily, enjoying the slight blush it brings. "Just the usual."
Asura smiles, the chill of Sian's glass having other, more visible effects upon her physique, "I would love to accompany you on one of your secret diplomatic missions, if my duties here did not keep me tied up so much."
Sian decides that considering Asura 'tied up' is not good for his health, so quashes the thought with a sip of frosty alcohol. "Well, should you ever find the time, I would be glad to have you. Most of my trips are unexciting, I am afraid... nothing but ice and snow in every direction, then a short and uneventful discussion with whoever I am sent to meet."
Cora'Esh smiles slightly, her whole body crackling with static on the edge of visibility - an effect with makes the hairs on Kerzoro's arms and neck stand up. "Might one ask what one such as you seeks in these chilly climes?"
"Ah, milady, I seek the same thing in all Creation... grand adventures! Danger and exitement! If you may forgive my ego, I pride myself as an excellent swordman, and I always seek to try my skill with the blade against the dangers these lands have to offer!"
Cora'Esh smiles again, thinly this time, "One has had pleasure in meeting with you, Ragara Kerzoro. Perhaps we shall meet again, the Dragons willing?" she glides off, the others giving her a definite bubble of personal space as she talks to a fat man on a couch molesting a pair of slaves.
Kerzoro gives a small nod. "Dragon's willing, yes..." He then looks away. He does not care much for watching what people do with slaves.
Saffron still does not move from her spot. She doesn't want to impale the hem of her expensive skirts on the heeled boots she is wearing for this evening. The only saving grace, she guesses, is the fact that she managed to convince the seamstress to slit her skirts, something considered rather scandalous... but then she has always prized mobility over supposed decorum.
Anithul beams, the expression coming rapidly to his face, "A sailor then? Or a captain, perhaps? Alas, my journies have never required an extended stay upon the water's bosom."
"A captain," she says after a while, plucking the ice-encased olive out of her glass on a toothpick and sucking on it to melt the ice. "I am afraid my hands are ungentle," she says as she takes Anithul's proffered arm. That can't be seen under the supple gloves she wears, of course, but both her palms have been hardened by making oakum and holystoning the deck, the dues she paid as a midshipman. Simple pearl earrings catch the light as she shakes her head - the pearls are irregular and unmatched, the Sea Lord's bounty.
Anithul smiles warmly, setting his case down on a couch before leading Saffron into a dance, something slow and stately but with an enigmatic air, "I learned to dance at the feet of gods, you know. My home of Great Forks is filled with wonders."
Smiling broadly, her cheeks slightly flushed, Asura whispers, "I am sure that it is more interesting than you let on." She looks over his shoulder, and then slides away, "I hope you will forgive me, dear Sian, but an old friend of mine wants me." She moves slightly too fast for decorum across the room to the Haslanti captain, and the two lock arms and begin talking quietly.
Sian simply raises his glass in her direction, before returning to his former discussion with the nobles.
"I have never been there." Saffron leaves her plundered glass on the tray held by a servant as she passes. "And Storm Mothers do not dance, I am afraid." She will let him lead. The last time she tried to dance, her older brother Obsidian gave up teaching her after two broken toes.
Anithul catches on quickly, and leads in a slightly less complicated dance - a couple of stepped-on toes a strong hint. "So tell me, dear Saffron. From whence do you hail?"
"From a wretched hive of scum and villainy," she says, managing to keep up this time.
A stocky, muscular man with long, ragged red-brown hair and a beard to match greets Kerzoro, the paired swords on his back and the strong armour marking him out as Gereth Emberheart, general of the armies of Tideholme. "You have the look of a warrior about you, as well as someone who is as out-of-place here as I am."
Kerzoro regards Gereth, and laughs a bit, crossing his arms. "Ah, indeed. I am more confortable in the field of battle with a sword in my hand than in a party such as this... even if the ladies are quite beautiful."
Gereth nods, "Yes, they are. Although I would be careful of some," he point at Asura, currently deep in conversation with another Dragon-blood, her close-cropped hair a bright blue, "Particularly that one. The rose has thorns."
"... I see. I shall keep that in mind then. Roses such as that should be dealt with care."
A large figure bumps into Sian, nudging him off his feet slightly. "Excuse me," a rumbly voice that comes from a rotund man says. The figure grabs two glasses, downing one and slamming it back onto the table before sipping at the other one and belching loudly.
Sian adopts a politely neutral expression. "You're excused."
"Gosul's the name, V'Neef Gosul," the man says apparently ignorant of his behaviour. "I've seen you about before, haven't I? Almost a year ago..."
I hope not, you fat pig. "It is a possibility, my lord."
Anithul nods, "The finest rose can grow from the coarsest dirt, or so they say." The dance ends and he fetches another pair of glasses, passing one to Saffron before clinking them together and sipping gently.
"So it can be said," she says as she starts sipping her slushy-consistency icewine. Just right, cold enough you taste it only after you swallow.
Saffron would love to sit sometime, she thinks. Her feet are killing her. She keeps her face neutral, however, and continues drinking her icewine. And maybe she'll snag a chilled delicacy when a servant passes by, to take the edge off the strong stuff she's been drinking. "So, tell me more about Great Forks," she says to Anithul with genuine interest. New ports fascinate her, but she would never sail to Nexus lest she find the Osprey pillaged in the berth.
Anithul slides the guqin from its case and sits down on a couch, idly plucking the strings and testing the tuning. "Great Forks is a wonderful city. Before I left I never considered that other cities wouldn't have such a close relationship with their gods." He strums an short ditty, "It could be dangerous, of course, but only to visitors. The native-born all learn the ways of the gods."
Gosul continues, "Yes. You were here, alright. I know who you are - you work for the Syndics." He belches again, his food-stained silken shirt rippling, "I could use a man like you."
"Could you? How nice. I'm afraid my job is somewhat all-encompassing, though; a lifestyle, rather than a career, you see."
Gosul chuckles crudely, "I am sure that some arrangement could be reached regarding compensation for your time. I am not entirely without resources," the copious amounts of gold jewelry on his fat fingers and around his neck give the truth of that statement.
Sian has having visions of himself in this man's position, and whilst the money is inviting, the blubbery rudeness is not. "I will keep it in mind, my lord, but as I said, my duties are extensive."
Gereth nods towards Kerzoro, "They must definitely should. Some would argue that it is better to not try and pluck them at all."
"Indeed... there's also the chance they might get burned afterwards, and that's always a shame and a thing to avoid... but enough of that! Tell me, do you see much action in these lands?"
Gereth nods, "Too much. The Fell keeps my army busy, even with the defences of Bulwark the roaming Dead attack outlying towns and villages too often. Only two nights ago I fought a swarm of hungry ghosts that had just slaughtered a hamlet." He sighs, "Life is hard."
"... ah, hungry ghosts... yes, they are always a pest. I am thankful that the Dragons have given me ways to deal with them... although I will confess I have some trouble trying to find them when they choose to not be seen." --- Saffron joins him on the couch, giving her feet a break, remembering just in time to cross her legs decorously at the ankles. "That sounds like the relationship most children of the West have with the Sea., she remarks. A servant approaches and hands them both porcelain teacups filled with silky steamed egg and caviar. The spoon on the saucer has been laden with several translucent slices of smoked fish. A little high-concept for her, she thinks
Anithul's long, delicate fingers begin plucking and strumming again, a melody of sorts drifting out of the random sounds. "Really? I can see how that would be the case."
"The Sea is like a woman, some old sailors say," she continues, having a bite of steamed egg. "She is beautiful, and very kind, but the moon affects her as it would a woman, and if she does wild and desperate things, it cannot be helped. Whole islands have been swallowed by a tide that does not go down."
Anithul continues to play, a low, sweeping tune playing now, the other musicians silent as their better demonstrates his skill. "I must say, if you don't think it forward, but I am quite inspired by you."
"Really." She wonders idly how the Cynis even get a decent meal around her. Their finger foods are delicious, but all flavor and virtually no substance.
A very loud, and very wrong note, suddenly rings through the chamber. Anithul looks mortified, and then a rush of anger clouds his face as a soft snigger is heard.
Kerzoro winces slightly at the loud and wrong note.
Standing up abruptly, Anithul collects his instrument, with a perfunctory bow towards Saffron, storms out of the room, the snigger louder this time, and coming from the fat merchant talking to Sian.
Gosul grins, "They say he was kicked out of Great Forks. Something about fluffing a performance in front of the city's gods. I can well believe it."
"He seemed quite skilled to me," Sian notes, "I don't think it's fair to punish him for a small mistake."
Saffron pats her hair back into shape bemusedly, and watches the musician's stormy exit. Maybe one day he'll have a reason to travel on the Osprey, and then they will continue their conversation. For now, however, she is content to stand up again and nurse her drink, drifting softly towards the other knots of Dragonbloods with her icicle-festooned drink in hand.
Heralded by static that tries to make Saffron's pinned-back hair stand on end, the thin woman who calls herself Cora'Esh approaches, "One could not help but overhear. You own a ship?"
"I do indeed," Saffron says, pausing by a convenient pillar.
Cora'Esh practically crackles at that news and she smiles, her pale face almost cracking at the width of the expression. "One is curious, is your business purely seaborne?"
Gereth continues, "Hungry ghosts, the ravages of the Fair Folk, the icewalkers. There is plenty of work for a man who knows his way around a sword here. I mean, look at me - here barely forty years and now I control an entire army."
"Hmm! It does sound like you see plenty of action, yes. But then again, that is what a Warrior seeks, isn't it?"
"It can be," Gereth notes, "But there is something to be said for the quiet life, a life at home..." He sighs suddenly and shakes his head, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Kerzoro," he shakes your hand warmly before leaving the chamber entirely.
Gosul grimaces, and a foul smell suddenly emanates from him, "Perhaps. But the masters of Great Forks are strange and cruel, they say. He's a weak one, anyway - no stomach."
Sian takes an unobtrusive step away from the man. "Indeed." He is very glad his self-control is strong.
"No," Saffron continues, draining her icewine. "The Osprey is also available for fast runs over the ice plains." She does not look for a new glass of alcohol. Four glasses of icewine is enough for the evening. She wrinkles her nose as the ... aroma reaches her, looking all in the world as though she had bitten into a spoiled pear.
Cora'Esh' face, normally a very pale colour, turns a noticeable green as the smell reaches her nostrils, and her hair turns spiky as electricity crackles off it in sheets, spilling out onto the floor and shattering several nearby glasses.
"Maybe we could continue our conversation at one of the balconies?" Saffron suggests to Cora'Esh, snagging two small platters of fruit, cheese and more smoked delicacies as she leads the way. The promise of fresh air beckons even in the chill of the evening.
She nods, "One agrees with the excellent suggestion," and glides up the stairs, her long robes giving not a single hint as to the movement of her legs.
Asura, her previously perfect hair somewhat mussed and her face more than usually flushed slides up to Gosul and, with every appearance of friendliness leans down to whisper into his sweaty ear. Gosul's face turns an angry red and he looks about to speak when he bites his tongue and waddles away from the crowd.
Sian lets out his held breath. "Thank you, Asura. You have no idea how hard that was."
She smiles, "Gosul is a pig, but he's a rich pig." She sighs, "He owns half of Tideholme."
"Unfortunate. It always seems that people like him end up in positions of power... excepting your glorious self, of course." Sian grins, reaching up with a finger to brush her hair back into place. "Enjoying the festivities, I see?"
There are seats at the open casements half hidden by huge drapes, normally nooks for - well, one would suppose lovers. Saffron seats herself in a soft rustle of skirt and mantle, placing her small plate on her lap.
Cora'Esh stands, or floats - it's difficult to tell, to one side, "One has occasional need for transportion. If you would be willing to provide such a service one is sure adequate remuneration could be arranged."
"I am sure that could be arranged. I do take passengers on occasion, as my ship is too small to carry any but the smallest -" and most valuable, she does not add "- cargoes." There is a pang of longing at that. Saffron misses her ship, and the quality of the liquor or the eatables in this fine palace does not make up for that. The scent of the sea air coming inland just reinforces that.
A nod, "One understands completely. Does the prospect of travel into the Fell affect your willingness to sail?"
Kerzoro shakes Gereth's hand firmly and with a nod, and crosses his arms as he watches him go... and then gives a small cough as the smell reaches him.
A small slave boy carrying a silver tray half-filled with various food bites walks past Kerzoro, and a dark-skinned hand reaches out and snags two small crackers topped with what looks like some kind of fish. "Try one," the hand's owner says, "They're delicious."
Kerzoro quickly glances up at the hand's owner. "... oh! Well, I just might!"
A dark face nods guardedly at Kerzoro, "My name is Milo, by the way. I am a scholar, in a variety of subjects, mostly local cultures and customs."
Kerzoro smiles. "Ragara Kerzoro, adventurer extraordinare, at your service."
Asura smiles and has the grace to not even hint at blushing, "Whatever do you mean? I just rushed over to ask him to leave before he made everyone else leave."
"Ah, of course. Whatever was I thinking?" His grin just gets a little wider.
Asura returns the grin, "I am sure I have no idea what you were thinking. But if you'll excuse me once again," she darts away, heading back towards to blue-haired Dragon-blood, whose head back be seen peeking out from behind a curtain.
Sian just waves to the woman, before sitting heavily on the couch and downing another glass of icewine.
"Not at all," Saffron replies, "It might affect the speed of our travel, though. Tarrying in the area past sundown is rather... unwise."
"Of course. The Fell after dark is unsettling. One speaks from personal experience." Cora'Esh' personal electrical field seems to have faded almost completely as she speaks, "But there are wonders within it that cannot be described. Lost cities from the First Age, knowledge beyond compare. Some small risk can be worth the prize, one feels."
"That's true enough."
Cora'Esh drifts towards the balcony, seemingly breathing deeply of the night air, "The Dead can be dealt with, either by force or by... other means. One has some small power at one's disposal, for either goal."
Milo nods at Kerzoro, "An adventurer, eh?" He smiles, "The only adventure you'll find here is between the thighs of some young lovely, and most of them are either too mortal, too strange or too pre-occupied, I feel."
"Whiiiile I certainly don't mind that sort of adventure (for, indeed, they can be quite fun), I tend to focus on more... ahem... violent ones. I understand this area has plenty of danger about."
Milo looks at Kerzoro, purple eyes glittering strangely against his dark skin, "I see. Well, Tideholme certainly sees those, although to really whet your appetite I hear that Bulwark is the place to go. Right on the edge of Marama's Fell, it's attacked almost weekly."
"Yes, yes, so I hear... the dead, barbarians, and the Fair Folk, right? I haven't dealt with the latter all that much myself..."
"So you would be planning for an expedition to seek lost ruins within the Fell?" Saffron rises, leaving the platter for the servants to deal with, and stares out through the casement.
"To seek? No. One knows the location of several sites from previous expedititions, however the means to fully explore them have always eluded one until recently."
"Ahh. I see. That sounds - interesting."
Cora'Esh whispers, almost on the edge of hearing, "Oh, it's more than interesting..." She turns to face Saffron, "Might one enquire as to the name of your vessel. Should one need to contact you, this would make it a simpler proposition."
Gereth walks strangely quitely for a man dressed in full armour, and stands behind Sian, "I'd leave her alone, my young friend. Asura's beautiful, but more trouble than she's worth."
"So I've noticed." He tilts his head back to see who it is.
Gereth looks at the curtain that Asura disappeared behind, "Also, at least currently, she seems far more interested in that fetching Haslanti." He shakes his head and extends his hand, "Forgive me. I am Gereth Emberheart."
Sian shakes it warmly. "Well, her tastes seem to change quickly. I'm not complaining. And, Sian Nerivus, of the Whitewall Syndics."
Milo grins suddenly, his teeth shockingly white, "Of course, you must have heard all that already. Well, I, as I said, am a scholar, and the adventures I am most interested in are expeditions into the stacks of a library, seeking out ancient and forgotten books. ABout the worst injury I have recieved on my adventures is a papercut, which can sting mightily though."
Kerzoro nods gravely, crossing his arms. "Aah, papercuts... I once got plenty of those when my sister threw a book at me. Books are vastly underestimated weapons." He pauses, and then grins. "I'm afraid I wouldn't do well in a library myself. Paper doesn't deal well with people like me."
"You might be surprised."
"Oh, well, you know, let your anima get out of control for a second and fwoosh!, there goes the library."
Milo's eyes open wide, and he shudders, "Please tell me you didn't..." he cringes away from Kerzoro at the mere thought.
Kerzoro chuckles. "No, nooonononono. Don't worry. I stay away from libraries." he leans forward a bit. "but there are... stories..."
"I am Saffron Iceflow, captain of the Osprey. You may find her currently berthed at the Low Port."
"One hopes that we could both profit from a mutual endeavour. Perhaps soon," Cora'Esh nods.
Saffron has started to exit stage left, business dealings and polite talk concluded. She wonders if Silver would be up for a huge supper once she gets back to the Osprey. Skipping lunch and dinner so she could be pinned into this gown was clearly not the best idea.
Cora'Esh looks out over the city, the clear sky filled with stars, "One bids you farewell, Saffron Iceflow, captain of the Osprey." With those words she rises up from the balcony and flies off northwesterly, her long robe and hair streaming out behind the strange woman.
The party, which has gone on through the night, is beginning to show signs of winding down. The food and drink, once plentiful, are beginning to run dry - Sesus Vaniya is laying passed out on a couch, surrounded by several empty glasses and the remains of a bottle of icewine, and the hostess hasn't been seen for almost an hour now.
Sian is pleasantly drunk on the couch, an impressively attractive slave draped across his lap. Half-asleep.
Asura appears suddenly at the centre of the chamber, looking for all the world as if she had just stepped out from behind the maid's mirror - not a hair is out of place, and her sheer dress clings as it should to her curves. She bows slightly, "My friends! While I hate to seem churlish or rude, it is long past the time when any of us would normally be asleep. And I feel sure that we all have things to attend to in the morning. I bid you all farewell, and hope to see each of you soon."
Sian wakes enough to hear this goodbye, sliding out from beneath the servant and bowing (with only a slight wobble).
The servants and slaves begin the delicate process of ushering and encouraging a group of elemental demi-gods to leave food and alcohol behind. A group of five carefully pick Vaniya up from her drunken stupor and carry her out through one of the side entrances.
Kerzoro looks towards the host as she bids them farewell. "... Ah, well. That's my cue then... good evening!" He gives a small bow and moves to step out (and recover his blade, because it just doesn't feel right)
Sian is the last to leave, his unsteady gait requiring a small amount of servant-based aid to support.
