Meetup: Knights! Part 2
Log Info
- Title: Meetup: Knights! Part 2
- Emitter: Faranmidahn
- Characters: Faranmidahn, Paenitia, Soup, Smythly, Karelin
- Place: A16: Nobility District - Xankaloz, a premier feasthall
- Time: Wednesday, January 27, 2021, 8:22 PM
- Summary: The gathering of the Knightly Orders continues, with Faranmidahn acting the hostess and her new acquaintance Paenitia mingling with the other knights. Manny and Soup drift off into the crowd, while several more knights arrive fashionably late. Sir Smythly, Timekeeper Alaziel, Sir Bertelemi the Devoted, Dame Yaerhiel Zyrinfier, Lady Mirielda the Fair, Sir Urag Stonecutter the Betrayer, Yowyss Highsoar. Several of the late arrivals are notorious in some way, but greeted enthusiastically by Faranmidan and Paenitia, even if the others give a cold reception. A few invitees send regrets and the evening goes well.
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The splendor of the technology, bustle and eclectic energy of the city and nation of Alexandria all seem to point towards the towering structures and constant thrum of activity in the Castle District. The Castle District contains the vast majority of the government offices, guild headquartrs, noble quarters and political functions of the city. The very air seems energized with this level of importance. The architecture is pompous and enormous, consisting largely of multi-leveled edifices and great jutting towers and buildings that seem to grow out of the mountains with hanging gardens and brightly colored banners and mana lamps strewn about. Everything seems to be aiming upwards here and pointing towards the freedom of the skies beyond. The grand towers and structures reaching heavenwards and activity in the skies above a constant happening with ships of all sizes from air-cabs to great merchant vessels moving through the Skygates and Griffon Riders moving through their patrols as they pass through and above the many bridges and walkways that connect the towers, buildings and walls.
Ever-easterward stands the fortress-castle of Castellum Alexandrae and a large bulk of both ground and air traffic seems focused in that direction.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Sirs Appearing at the Gathering =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman in black leather armor with a BIG spider Manny 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male Knight of the Blue Rose Soup 3'4" 40 Lb Gnome Male 3'4" of GLORY! DARING DO! Has a DIRECORGI! HUZZAH! Paenitia 3'0" 34 Lb Halfling Female A Lucht knight, dark skinned in bold feathery finery. Smythly 2'6" 30 Lb Goblin Male Stone faced Goblin. With a big hammer. Alaziel 6'2" 316 Lb Oruch Male Knight of Iron, Servant of the Raven -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Sirs Arriving Fashionably Late -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Sir Bertelemi the Devoted Khazadi Male Knight of the Seal, Son of Orsk Trueheart of Clan Stonesmasher Dame Yaerhiel Zyrinfier Shadow-Elf Female Knight of the Cockatrice, Oathbreaker Lady Mirielda the Fair Halfling Female Knight of the Hymn, the Egotist Sir Tenzacatetl the Stern Sith-Makar Male Knight of the Pillar, former squire Urag Stonecutter the Betrayer Orc Male Knight of the Sunken Tower, Order of the Dragon Yowyss Highsoar Egalrin Female Knight of the Tome, Stalwart of the Skies -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Sending Regrets =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Seldan 5'11" 187 Lb Human Male Ginger-blonde human in armor wearing Eluna's symbol. Serene 6'2" 175 Lb Eldanar/Charn Female Glacier meets granite meets strawberries. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
Previously
The invitations were well scripted, and formal, giving the time and date to come dine and rub shoulders with arrayed peers of local and some errant Knighthood.
The place? Xankaloz, a premier feasthall, one capable of handling a significant number of patrons. After the well attired Gnome at the door takes down one's formal introduction, the arriving knights are introduced to any of a handful of similarly well appointed Heralds.
These, in turn, will formally introduce each to the hall that they may be recognized.
Many knights have already arrived, been introduced, and entered the feasthall to join with their fellows. They gather according to Order, partaking of food and familiarity with their friends, despite the hostess' encouragement to intermingle. A hum of conversatoin dominates the room, snippets and snatches of some more easily overheard. An answer regarding one knight's motivations for joining his order is one such thing.
Manny takes a look to everyone while he begins to speak with Paenitia, "Ah, I want to be diplomatic and peaceful, to bring people all together. I am tired of the war outside of walls, I want to be a change."
Now
Paenitia grins and slaps the human knight on the thigh, "It is good to be the peacebringer. You have chosen a good calling."
Things continue apace, with the Spider Knight doing some more gentle, if slightly clumsy coaxing to get the Orders to mix up some more.
She returns, little white fluffy spider pawing at the side of her jaw as she coaches the frustration out of her smile an she gestures expansively to the group that is actually serving the spirit of the event, "How are you all getting along, friends?" she wonders. Almost as soon as the words leave her mouth, the Lucht albino is reaching gently hands up to try and scritch under Malfeasance's jaw, even as little Zephyr tucks in under her hair, just in case.
The strong voice of the herald cuts through the conversations in the feasthall. "Announcing Sir Bertelemi the Devoted! Son of Orsk Trueheart of Clan Stonesmasher, Knight of the Seal."
The Khazad stands proudly, surveying the room. The Order of the Seal has fractured, evolving multiple traditions, they stand now against the void. Sir Bertelemi is a notorious member, there is a fiendish aspect about him suggesting some taint in his heritage, though by all accounts his childhood was uneventful and he is known for his ferocious defense of Animus and all former followers. There are also whispers that the devilish knight is quite popular among the ladies, with hints of regular trysts amongst lovers former and current.
It's possible he may make another conquest this night. Having posed long enough, he descends and mingles.
Paenitia finds a chair and is swiftly atop it. She peers across the crowd at the newest arrival. Sir Bertelemi is taller than her, but easily lost in the crowd once he descends. The dark Lucht laughs, "Ha, his face is almost the same as the Smiling Man's. I think we shall be friends."
She turns back to the others, holding the chairback and making it rock from side to side.
Faranmidahn's devotions to the large canid produce much fluffy joy, before her requests of the waitstaff arrive from off to the side and she surrepitously gestures for the more heavily laden soul to set up in the corner, then a subtle indication for Sir Silsoupi to lead Malfeasance over that way, while the other server replaces a meal lost to the mount's appetite.
Now, while that is handled, she looks to Paenitia as she settles in, then looks toward the doorway for the most confident KHazadi to display himself. Hmm. She considers the young Knight, Manny, then, as he seems uncertain, then, "What does sweet Ramirez eat? I don't know if you stabled him at hand or not, Sister Paenitia. I had to leave Torrent at the Chapterhouse, but I bought him a pig, so he's pretty happy with the world right now."
Manny seems to be looking to meet new people while he walks about the place, and takes a drink from whatever he can find while he watches. "An interesting place, it's all a little... Crazy."
"Oh Ramirez! He is crazy." Paenitia's eyes light up behind her mask, and her hidden smile is almost as wide as her mask's. "He thinks, 'I am of the sky, I eat as eagles and gryphons do'."
She stamps her chair in emphasis, "Always, this meal makes him sick. The meat. The peacock eats fruit, berries, grains, small mammals, reptiles, small snakes and insects. They like the bugs. Also, they eat seeds, grass, plants and flower petals and berries as part of their diet. The horse, seeds, grass, plants and berries."
"Ramirez, he try eat them all, but the meat is only for treats. Small bites. A pig, he would be sleep the day." She waves in a general direction, "He stables at the Temple of Tarien. He has much love for their roof."
The artful lilt of the herald rings out once more, calling to attention the arrival of, "Dame Yaerhiel Zyrinfier, Knight of the Cockatrice!"
There are some susperating whispers, murmurs and more as the comparatively tall and lithe Mul'niessa steps into the hall, giving the place a slow, surveyance buoyed from hawklike by the carny barker's smile that had grown as her fallback expression. Some say her mother was some sort of acrobat of a troupe that travelled the woodland roads. A mynx, likely, as no word of a father ever manifested, such is the talk as the knight gets three steps in before she 'remembers' to peacebond her ivory hilted rapier.
Other voices hiss the word 'Oathbreaker', almost to choruses of 'Sellsword', though not infrequently met with note that significant sums of gold have come from that affair, to be diverted to Hospices and Orphanages to nearly every city surrounding the exansive woodlands of Alexandros. To what greetings and rebukes the evening holds, the Dame wades in...
Faran smiles thoughtfully behind her hand, but nods, "On occaision, our dear friends' quirks do become a challenge." she concedes, "I could speak with the staff and perhaps have a feed bag made for him, under your direction if you feel it best, of course."
She turns then, to watch Manny brave his way amongst his more senior peers with approval, though there is a certain... subtle edge in her expression at something about the newest entrant.
Paenitia's attention follows Faran's to regard the lithe mul'niessa with the false smile. She remains silent, hearing the unfriendly greetings of the others. "She is the same order as Sir Silisoupi, yes? The warm greeting, it is lacking."
"Yes, the feed bag for Ramirez is good. He will be need the present or he will be jealous I am not with him."
Faranmidahn seems thoughtful for some moments and nods, "She is, yes." She smiles a little oddly, but turns to her fellow Lucht proper, "I'll speak to the staff, then, and arrange that you can pick suitables for him when you feel the need to depart." She considers the dark elf, the Khazad, then, "But, first, I should also greet our new arrivals personally. PLease, enjoy yourself."
A hostess' duty never ends, and so the Purple Rose ventures doorward....
Where did that Reosian Goblin come form!?
Smythly just arrived, somewhere along the line, without even so much as an intrduction. A goblin in plate, actually, and this just makes him stand oiut more than anything else. He's smiling cheerfully, though, at the ongoing process...
An embarassed herald chases after the goblin, bowing. Perhaps in deference to the hostess' height, gnomes were preferred for the task. In any case, the herald is on Smythly's level and his obeisance bends him low.
"Apologies Sir, I was meant to announce you, any titles or triumphs you wish me to convey, I shall to overcome this terrible oversight. I am sorry." He remains bent and staring at the floor.
"Hola!" Paenitia waves at the goblin in plate, easily spotted as she's standing on a chair, and her red armour and dark curls stand out. Her strange rusted mask adds to the effect. "You can join us."
The pale Lucht, hair neatly braided for the festivities, does approach the chamber entrance to intercept the Khazadi and Mul'niessa, "Ahh, well met, Sir Bertelemi, Dame Zyrinfier, welcome to our gathering for the evening. I am Sir Faranmidahn Waywalker, of the Order of the Purple Rose, it is my honor to greet you, and hope that the gathered Orders can find common ground and comradeship, at least in start, tonight. I have arranged for a selection of meals and spirits to the chosen, with what remains at the end to be donated to the Temples for charitable dispersal."
The resplendent Goblin in armor, as well as the Gnomish Herald's oversight, draws her attention for a moment until the Khazad speaks first, drawing her eye, "Hmmm, yes, this is quite the selection of delights." he says with a smile, considering the Knights close to hand.
The Mul, her voice young and rich behind the artful smile intrudes upon that thought with, "You honor me with your invitation, Sir(/)" she seems somewhat disarmed by that, but mushes on, "Waywalker, let's hope the night proceeds to your wishes." Though she, personally, has doubts someone won't have to taste of comeuppance, "By your pardon, Sirs." and she gracefully ventures deeper in for what awaits her in all respects.
With a respectful bow and a regretful, "Pardon, Sir, I should see to this, I think. Please, be welcome and enjoy!" so the pale Knight ventures that way.
"Well, that's hardly YOUR fault," says Smyhtly to the Herald, "I sort of snuck by you!" How he managed that in plate armor is anyone's guess. "I am Smythly, a Reosian Forge!" And a goblin. A Reosian Goblin paladin. Somewhere, there's a Khazadi sobbing into their beer. Possibly right here.
"Of course Sir, thank you, Sir" The herald straightens from his bow. He has great projection, "Annoucing Forge Smythly! Paladin of Reos!"
The Knights nearby turn to stare, the local conversation ebbing for a moment. The herald returns to the station with the others, sotto voice, "a thousand pardons again sir. Enjoy the event."
A different herald than the one which spoke to Smythly steps up and calls out in clear tones. "Announcing Lady Mirielda the Fair, Knight of the Hymn."
An elderly Lucht Siuil knight stands in the entrance. She is not wearing armour, instead she has an elaborate feathered dress. She is known as a steadfast and good knight, but never escaped the tragedy of her past. Her family, travelling as Luchts are known to do, were caught in the Jade Isles during a hurricane. Already poor, barely living better than serfs, the loss of their caravan led to lean times.
It is rumoured that Lady Mirielda stole from children. While there is a little truth, it has grown over time. She fought over bread, not gold, but her extravagance and vanity have caused her to acquire another title that's used behind her back. Lady Mirielda the Egotiste.
Carefully, she walks on frail legs, pausing briefly to raise a hand in greeting to Faran.
Faranmidahn steps closer to the Reossian and she smiles benignly and in cheer, "Well met and welcome, Sir Smythly, I am Sir Faranmidahn Waywalker, your hostess for the evening. Thank you very much for coming, tonight." She gives a bow of respect and goes on, "Please, make yourself comfortable, I've arranged a selection of dinners and spirits, and hope through this we can soothe any old grudges between the orders, and strengthen the potential for good we can do as a whole."
Her attention is turned, then to the elderly Lucht and she bows again to Smythly, "You pardon, Sir." She approaches the older woman. there is a very respectful bow to her senior, "Welcome, Lady Mirielda, it is an honor to meet you...." because she hasn't quite heard the stories, yet. Mother may have some murmurs to issue forth later, but for now, she steps forward with an unspoken, if discrete offer of assitance should the Knight of the Hymn require it. She doesn't want to shame anyone for her difficulties. It's... a quagmire, but she stands close, regardless, as she gives her welcoming shpiel.
Paenitia hops off her regular sized chair to go and greet the new arrivals. She passes by Sir Bertelmi, then Dame Yaernhiel, offering them a 'hola', her name and titles and an enthusiastic laugh before she calls them friends and moves on.
The Red Knight introduces herself in a similar way to Lady Mirielda right after Faranmidahn does, then spends a little longer speaking with them in the halfling language. To all appearances, Paenitia is either as ignorant of the other knight's indiscretions as Faran, or gives no weight to the rumours. She is friendly, also interested in jolly cooperation between the orders, and thrilled to be among so many.
She peels off and approaches the well-plated Goblin, "Hola! It is Sir Smythly? I am Sister Paenitia Snapdragon del Haranna, Knight of the Pillar and Paladin of Tarien. Well met. There is food, drink, grand celebration!"
The festivities are still underway, and being fashionably late has ever been a priviledge, has it not?
The invitation of Sir Waywalker was to the feasthall XanKaloz, where a well appointed Gnomish doorman takes down one's credentials and assigns one of a handful of resplendent Heralds to announce each guest with their name and Order, occaisionally some anectdote of their deeds, such as Slayer of Gurgleswine the Terrible.
Largely, the gathered knights are feasting, gathered largely by their orders, though some brave few are attempting to follow Faranmidahns intent and mingling.
The hostess herself, as well as the Crimson Knight Paenitia are attending an elderly Lucht woman in a fine gown, while a magnificent Goblin Paladin stands close to hand.
A new challenger has appeared! The elegant yrch stops at the door and hands over credentials to the doorgnome. He nods once with dignity, and gathers himself, shooting the cuffs of his tailored jacket. "Timekeeper Alaziel, Knight of Iron, Servant of the Raven." He holds out one hand, palm down, and sweeps into the party.
You know, Smythly has been quiet for the time being, enjoying the sights of the various introduced knights. So many that he is unfamiliar with! The elderly lucht is getting the biggest, toothy smile from him at the moment, because of *course* she is.
With the Herald's voice ringing forth anew, the arrival of another Knight has been declared, "Sir Tenzacatetl the Stern Rebuke of Am'shere, former squire to Centeotl Swordsplinter, and Knight of the Pillar!"
So preceeded, he proceeds.
A Sith Makar, supplementing fearsome burnt blood scales and proud horns carved with humble devotions, via ritually annointed hides of the great beasts of the hard, verdant land that claimed his clutchmates and parents both.
Too poor to do more than serve, and too soft for the monsters that so dwell.
That is the story, one that befits the comparatively lean, rangy frame for one of such blood, the overdeveloped power of clawed hand and jaw, the gait of a warrior who has oft been forced to rely truly on natural gifts to survive.
Some rumors put forth, tell of a failure to a friend, a hesitance driven by holy writ, that burns like embers in the hidden underbelly of his soul to this day. One that drove him to redouble his life's work to defend those living bereft of means and hope, to stand against injustice in all it's forms.
Unhearing, or unheeding the whisperings amongst the throng, the tall knight ventures in to mingle and try not to let his mentor's example not go to waste...
Paenitia returns to Smythly's side with two flagons of ale, offering him one. She is ever-smiling, at least, the metal mask that covers her face to the edges of her dark curls does. Wild, untrammelled, they fall to mid back. Only lower on her legs has the Lucht tamed her locks, with red bows that match the colour of her crimson armour.
She watches as Tenzacatetl enters the room, "Another friend dragon! I fought well with one. In the Felwood, in the Ruined Tower." She holds the flagon out to Smythly, "I wish to know about your mount. Do you ride the big doggie as Sir Silisoupi does?"
She looks up at Timekeeper Alaziel passes near, no hands free to wave.
The elderly Lucht accepts the attention of the younger Knights with grace and surrepititiously accepts the discrete aid(Escort!) of Sir Waywalker toward a table, the ladies chatting in the mother tongue of the Lucht Siuil. With so many introductions, she's glad she's put so much into the event, tonight, this promises to be spectacular in one manner or another. She quietly elaborates on the arrangements, and by her guests's leave, returns to the entrance to welcome the two arrivals.
"Well met, and welcome Sir Knights!" she offers with a warm smile, "I am Sir Faranmidahn waywalker, Knight of the Purple Rose, and your hostess for what I hope to be a grand evening of dining, drinking, story telling and forming bonds of comraderie betwixt our assorted orders, that we can organize a more coordinated effort toward the greater good of the world about us. Do, please, come in and be comfortable. I have made arrangements for a selection fine courses and libations."
"I really *ought* to have a seat," says Smythly after a moment. Of courwse, he's not sitting down., Instea,d he simply adjusts his stance and places his hands together behind his backj as he turns towards Faranmidahn, giving her awarm smile in turn.
AFter all, she's the one talking. He's just being a big old smiler. "You've done well," he adds.
Alaziel inclines his head towards Paenitia, tusks gleaming as acknowledges the Crimson Knight. Then, he listens to Faranmidahn and acknowledges her with a short bow, before moving towards the spread.
From noble savage to civilized-- and back again, as the dark-armored form enters in brutal array. Helm held in the crook of his elbow, he awaits.
"Announcing Sir Urag Stonecutter, Knight of the Sunken Tower, Order of the Dragon!"
Smoother features betray him as not a full orc; else, he wears his tusks with pride, striding in with the confidence of an earthquake. One of many, he displays the unique emblem proudly on his chest-- simple and golden, announcing a battle veteran of Sendor.
Some stories whisper of the orc clan that gathers around where the Tower once stood, and he has obviously put proof to the tale with his lineage. And proof also of the Clan's stubborn defiance in the face of adversity-- when a Lord Marshal from with the city tried to sacrifice the Tower and its defenders to hold back the oncoming onslaught, the Stonecutters worked against overwhelming odds to hold as long as they could and more. After the Battle of Sendor, the Marshall was 'forcibly retired'-- but ensured with his last politcal acumen that the blame for the Tower's fall rested solely on those 'heathen orcs' rather than his own flawed plan.
It is a blemish that still follows to this day; in some circles, Urag is called (in whispers behind his back) as the Betrayer.
Faranmidahn turns to the goblin, with a bow of the head and a stripe of rose across the span of her cheeks, "Most kind, Sir. I... certainly hoped to."
The little Lucht blinks up at the Iron Knight as he bows and moves on, returning the bow in kind before watching the redscale survey the place, "I.... trust things are well?" she ventures, "I hold a whitescale dear to my heart, Sir, as my own clutchmate, we have an abundance of fish and meats for your delight. Please, be welcome and I hope you take this chance to know more of the Knights at large."
The rangey Sith Makar bows his head and focuses his golden eyes on the munchable knights before him (A little Dragon humor, there) "Haill" he rumbles in a voice like granite trying to breed, "and well met, Sssir Waywalker. Thiss onne iss much honorrred to rescieve your grassciouss invitassshun. Thiss one offerss gratitude and deszire for ssolid comradeszz."
The Knight of Spiders smiles and bows, "So is my wish too, friend, come, and be fondly welcomed. The attendants can see to your needs." The arrival of the last Knight draws her back to focusing on the door and she regards him for a moment in uncertainty. Graciously, she steps forward and gives a short bow, "Well met, Sir, I am...." and that begins again.
Paenitia is drawn off towards Sir Tenzacatetl the Stern, filling the role of the next munchable, attracted by his red scales and encouraged by her experiences with Hunter Tenoc. Experiences that left her with a good awareness of sith'makar tail danger and being underfoot. Her happy tones are clear as she introduces herself, then describes with vigorous arm gestures how she battled with the other sith'makar against statues, gnolls, imps, spiders and finally even a gnome-zombie in a maze of blood. All culminating in the narrow escape from the collapsing tower.
Because the best thing to do when meeting someone is talk about someone else.
The Red Knight tries to salvage the conversation with some hearty assurances, "I hope we become strong allies, my friend. Come, this way is the fish."
"...sunken tower? That's interesting," says Smythly, attention drawn there for a moment. The orc holds it for a few sec onds before the Goblin bows in their direction, then again in Faranmagdan's. A nod follows.
Then he seems to recall something and turns to the Knigoht of Spiders.
Because ... knight ...
... of spiders.
"Excuse me," he begins, "but how did you come by the title?"
Faranmidahn smiles brightly at the Reossian's question, the sort of beaming smile that briefly closes the eyes and she cants her head to one side, "Zephyr? Come on out, sweetie, it's ok..." she croons gently. A white, kinda fluffy spider the size of a human woman's first sprinkled with coconut flakes, crawls out from under her hair to her cloak-bared shoulder, "Sir Smythly, this is Zephyr, my familiar and very dear friend. My steed, Torrent, is also a spider, but... his dining habits are... troubling for most people, so he is back at the Chapterhouse." Of course, there's also the little facial gens she's glued on, the spiderwebed everything...
For her part, after pivoting on the Lucht's shoulder to regard her mistress a minute, pivots and waves a foreleg to the Goblin paladin.
The herald strikes his heavy staff butt on the marble floor, practiced basso voice rumbling through the noise of the gathered. "Announcing: Yowyss Highsoar of the Lonely March, Knight of the Tome! Stalwart of the Skies."
Guardian of the far reaches, she is the rarest of rare creatures: an Egalrin Cavalier. A watcher of the far mountains. Often acts as protector and guide for those travelling the difficult, ill-marked passes, warding pilgrims as they journey to a small shrine hidden within the brooding peaks. Often accepting the charity of others and sharing of knowledge, whether religious or mystic, she and her companion Griffon are ft seen patrolling the airways of the peaks.
What is not known-- kobolds lair in the mountains, protected by hiding in plain sight-- Yowyss guides unknowing travellers away from cavern warrens, departing her path only at the behest of her old, revered Shaman. Following his direction, she can sometimes be seen soaring out into the world, gathering odds and ends of certain arcane knowledge ofr the tribes. Often timed for when the passes are closed due to winter frost, the ploy has worked for years. The actual numbers of jobolds in the mountains are beyond what any woulkd expect; Yowyss herself tends not to share the other, more common fear among her race-- she has few qualms against entering tight space, wings shrouded to herself as she works through cavern or underworld.
Alaziel surveys the spread, eventually selecting light fare. Turning, he looks again across the crowd.
The redscale follows the yrch-blooded Knight of Iron for some paces, holding outside of challenge radius and holds up a hand, palm forward, "Hail, Sssirrr." he rumbles, "And well met."
Paenitia makes her way through the crowd, to greet Sir Urag, then Yowyss, her loud introductions making up for her lack of stature. Her title is shared, then she asks similar questions of them as she has of other knights, inquiring after their mounts, motivations and deeds of note.
So satisfied, she returns to Faranmidahn's side. "I will get Ramirez's meal, then go. I may return. If he is unhappy, I will be longer. I have much enjoyed this. Thank you."
One last thing before she goes, the dark Lucht jumps up on a table then barks something loudly. It's understood only by those who know Gnoll, which are few and far between among knights. She laughs loudly, hands on her hips, "I had hopes, but it seems the answer is no. Farewell my friends. Ask, I will be by your side."
With that the Knight of the Pillar meets with the culinary staff to arrange a feast for her very picky peacock.
Faranmidahn gently clapses the Crimson Knight's shoulder and gives her a warm smile, "Of course, ride with honor and glory in the Hunter's favored winds, Sister Paenitia, thank you for coming!"
She watches her new friends antics with a curious air, a slightly less owlish appraisal than that given by the Elgarin Knight, who, with the albino Knight turn back toward Smythly to see what he thinks.
The Mul'niessa seems to be having some sort of animated conversation in the corner with another Cockatrice or looming stature and leering countenance she faces without shrinking.
The elderly Lucht joins some of the elder Knights in some fort of political debate, though there yet lingers a strain in the air betwixt them.
All the while, well paid servants bring forth spirits and meals, or face the damnable charms of the Khazadi Knight.
Dramatis Personae
Smythly
Smythly is handsome for a gobber. His features are symmetric almost to a fault. His big eyes are deep, dark, rich brown. His sharp ears stand outward from his head almost parallel to the ground, neither top nor bottom jagged. His nose cuts a reasonable angle, despite looking like it's been broken in the past. It is small for a gobber nose and is ever so slightly hooked, giving his face an exotic quality. His sharp teeth are neatly aligned, and his strong, angular jawline isn't obnoxious or jutting. His smooth, olive-green skin is unmarred by warts or blemishes. Clean, black, flowing hair full of body flows back to his neckline, where it is neatly trimmed.
All in all, he closer fits the standards of non-gobber beauty than he does the standards of other gobbers. Not only is he more classically handsome, but his expression often betrays a seriousness and conviction many goblins don't share.
He's not particularly tall, even for a Gobber, not quite reaching three and a half feet tall. Beneath whatever armor he wears, he has clearly worked to improve his strength, his short form muscular and fit. His three-fingered hands are calloused and strong, as one who works for a living.
He is presently dressed in well-polished plate armor. Emblazoned upon the breastplate is the symbol of the God of the forge, Reos. Atop his head rests a crown of flowers, though the delicate petals of each flower has been crafted out of shining steel.
Faranmidahn
A tallish Lucht about 3'3" with a wide, heart shaped face of moon-eyed countenance, she bears the marks of an albino, with skin a pinkish cream, and pate of full, ankle length hair of ivory and bone. Her eyes are a peculiar shade of rose beneath somewhat thick ivory brows, with long silvery lashes, to which she's added two matching rows of round tourmaline settings starting at her brow and tapering down her cheeks to her jawline. Like her people, she prefers to feel the ground beneath her bare feet, though she's manifested the Clydesdale like shag of ivory more uncommon than unheard of among her people. Her voice is high and light enough to be almost troublingly cute when she intends to be anything but, though her posture is straight and proud.
She's taken her spider affectation to a functional extreme, probably more due to a certain amount of reality checks than a true forbearance of eccentricity. Black spiderweb lace sheaths her limbs, emerging from the sculpted black kilted breastplate; an embossed sigil of violet, lavender and green proclaims her to be of the Order of the Purple Rose from the left of her heart, framed by an intricate spiderweb of inlaid silver that expand outward in random sparsity around the armor. Over this, a matching, sculpted broach pins a violet, web-embroidered cloak to her shoulders. A fluted helm matching her armor is completed by a visor of evenly spaced bars that, when it is worn, adds shadow enough to aid the suggestion of spiders' eyes her jewerly is meant to project. Silver traceries of asymetrical webs bring contrast to the black,scalloped poleyns that protect her knees.
At the right side of her waist is a comparitively long sword for her stature, blackened steel with a red hourglass on the pear-shaped pommel, rests in a lacquered sheath opposite an array of pouches that no doubt contain an array of adventurer's tools, while a matching Lucht Traveler's blade is strapped to her left thigh. Occaisionally riding a baldric accomodated through some trick of her cloak is what might be a Lucht Siuil greatsword, quillion tips and pommel tempered and polished to an iridescent blue-violet and carved into blooming roses.
On many occaisions, she has a round, white spider about the size of a human fist covered in white fluffiness riding about her shoulders, or sometimes riding in her hair when her helm is absent. Similarly, she travels with a glossy black Huntsman spider about the size of a Well fed Mastiff, clad in silver studded glossy leather barding, and full knightly tack as well as curious earth hued wrappings around the center four of his legs.
<OOC> Smythly says, "Love it, folks :)"
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "ty hope we're not overdoing it with the npc guest list. we wound a background generator and had a blast rolling soem up"
<OOC> Paenitia says, "it was like a mini-game"
<OOC> Smythly says, "No, I love it :D"
<OOC> Serene sighs. I'm so sorry everyone. This looks like it was alot of fun and I wish I'd been up to joining. Kudos to you all for setting it up and running it and I'm sorry to disappoint.
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "There's a logger up :) It's basically an invitation to cavaliers/paladins knights to a feasthall to wine and dine and rub shoulders, hopefully smooth out relations between the orders, allow the knights to network IC (ooc, if people want to rp socially maybe experiemnt with an alt idea without committing, or just s-n-g) There's a Gnome who greets everyone at the door, takes in their credentials itle/nam/order maybe a catchy subtitle like 'slayer of grizzlebeetz the treat' where a fancy herald will announce their arrival to the rest"
<OOC> Morgan says, "I came good attion to play but I am sleepy have fun"