shitlords!

[onefellswoop]

placeholder title above! hmmmm


1) Prelude: Ill-Natured Shrubbery.
2) The Party Gathers: If a Tree Burns in the Forest...
3) Death House Pt. 1: Family, If You Wish It.
4) Death House Pt. 2: Onward and Downward.
5) Awich: The Dead All Know, The Dead All Go.
6) Awich: Investigations.
7) Awich: After the Battle.
8) Loch Bien: Complications, Concerns, Frogs.
9) Loch Bien + Onward: Things Go Very, Very Wrong.
10) Through Forest, Into Mysos.

Comments

[onefellswoop]

Blissful, this morning, twining vines diaphanous, dream-struck, to actuality, to a hand upon a wrist, the resilient impress of a kiss, 'May I' and 'You may' and 'Now, Faolan,' and 'This, my Love, try this.'

Strange to find this disparate coalescence, this uncommon harmony at all, let alone here in Loch Bien, before the noble gathering Dmitri had half-dreaded, or here, after a night of Faolan's torment, of a man who returned looking flung to ash and lost. (They needed this, need this; both of them. It comes so easily, and they respond to one another with each breath and gesture, hand-in-hand in crossing grounds unknown, knowing no peril, knowing boundless joy and fluttered sights of pleasure as they move, so carefully, eyes kept with one another.)

Dmitri isn't pleased by the entry of the thieves, but there's no scowling, no attempt to shoo them out. (There is work to be done, like it or not.) (And the presence of Sen and Rin needn't mean an end to shared glances, twined hands, or his thumb brushed along Faolan's knuckles, Faolan's palm.) He shifts a little nearer to Faolan, once, again. And though Dima scarcely slept, he looks for all the world as if he's been revitalized, knows nothing of weariness, his eyes keen, the smiles he offers Faolan (his Fae!) (his Faolan, forever by his side, and it's hard not to feel his throat catch at the thought, the knowledge; hard not to know a subtle almost-burn behind his eyes) toned entirely in warmth.

(Strange, to feel alive again— Or for the first time. Strange to feel so shimmered and so certain through his nerves.)

He keeps Faolan's hand as the thieves speak, and as Dima asks what Sen and Rin have found, whether they've heard any word regarding Calabra or his now-absent retinue.

And, because they are the thieves they are, whether they've found luck in their lootings.

<.>

It's an opening Sen can't resist. Here in the privacy of an inn room, where he and Rin have been subjected to abject romantic oozing, the door has been opened. Faolan is only half-paying attention, anyhow: his eyes are on his hand in Dima's, and he smiles at the necromancer in a way that makes Sen think he lost the bet by one fucking day.

So, he hums and seems to consider the question of loot, then shrugs dismissively. "I never did have much luck in this gods-forsaken city. And - well. I've had to lie low, anyhow."

Another shrug, this time with feigned innocence. "Bounty. Absolutely appalling, how they treat their visitors."

"Ah! But!" he interrupts himself, apparently recalling something of interest. "Rin did happen across a ring, didn't you?"

<.>

Rin's fingers were beginning to itch, their eyes going to Dmitri's pockets, then Faolan's pockets, then Faolan's bag lying not so *very* far away. Because they've been waiting all morning! And Faolan and Dmitri have been up here for a very long time and were out of commission yesterday, and really that seems very selfish of both of them! Especially when Rin's pretty sure Dmitri kept his room warded or alarmed or fucking somethingvery wrapped up in Faolan's eyes right now.

And it is a nice ring, and he's let Rin drop it into his palm without too much thought. He holds the ring up, cants his head at it, holds it out toward Faolan, meaning for Fae to take a look, to examine it if he likes.

"What do you think, Fae? Does it please you?"

<.>

Sen freezes midway between eating a piece of bacon, his eyes wide and fixed on the lovebirds. Oh. Oh, this will go far better than he could ever have anticipated. Neither of them seems interested in why Rin would give it away - though to be fair, he and Rin have made a habit of sharing their spoils.

Faolan looks taken aback by the offer of the ring. He stares at it as though he can't believe it's real, then at Dima with soft adoration, with joy beyond words. (And. And if there ever did happen to be another ring, one of a different, more permanent meaning, the expression on his face would be similar.)

Tentatively, he takes the ring, then holds it in cupped palms as though it's precious, and in him there's a seed of fear that he might corrupt it. When he speaks, he does so to Dima - the only existence, the only person, the only world that matters. "You please me. Anything from your hands pleases me."

Sen glances at Rin and winks.

Trying not to seem too eager, Faolan slides the ring on the small finger of his right hand.

There's a heartbeat pause and a perplexed look on the druid's face, and then, with a burst of magical energy, Faolan is replaced by a giant frog.

Sen begins to laugh, starts to crack some terrible joke about princes turning into frogs, but the laughter turns into a very serious, very startled Oh, shit as the frog turns and snaps at him.

Everyone roll initiative.

[INIT
f: 5
s: 17
r: 19
d: 15

note: DIMA IS READY TO MURDER THIEVES

dm: Well Rin, what would you like to do with your new frog friend?]

<.>

Rin.

Is going to start by standing up and saying "Ribbit?"

And also tell Faolan the Frog they're very sorry they didn't know but ALSO, “Faolan you make a pretty cool frog!"

They are meanwhile reaching for frog wand no reason it's fine.

And if Fae Frog responds they will maybe do something more if they can; otherwise, that's their turn for now because '???' but also hey that's a cool ring and now they kind of want it back??

Messaging Sen: [ We could make so many frogs?? ]

<.>

Fae does NOT respond.

Sen, having been snapped at by Fae the Frog, is going to put some distance between himself and the frog - which is not much in even a generous inn room. So, he puts the bed between himself and the frog. He does this while swearing as his action.

<.>

Dima, horrified by the transformation thrust on Faolan (the transformation he played into by holding out the ring) (Fae had looked so happy, so near to blissful, and then this falls upon him?).

Dima is going to point at Rin and Sen and snap that he will fucking murder both of them, and if either of them touches Faolan, he'll resurrect them and murder them again.

He is then going to place a hand on Fae the Frog's head and try to give a soothing stroke, Messaging [ Faolan, Faolan, can you hear me? I'm here, Fae, I'm here. ]

Liv, from her perch nearby, is going to try to telepathically communicate with Fae the Frog through a series of images - a hearthfire, a pond, Dima, an image of Fae himself - whether Faolan is still Fae in there.

<.>

All telepathic communications are met with radio silence.

And I am so sorry Dima but you're in snapping distance.

The Frog snaps at Dima with a mouth that could theoretically take off his arm; when it misses, it begins to jump - off the floor, off the wall, off the floor again, using up its 30 feet in a blind rage.

<.>

Rin is going to cast Color Spray, and attempt to aim so it hits only Fae the Frog, though they're not opposed to catching Dima as well bc he seems pretty mad.

[r: 29

The frog, Sen, and Dima are all now blinded.

So circus music plays as the frog is ballistically jumping around the room and everyone is blind.]

Rin is going to use Dodge. And shouts out "Sorry Sen! ...alsosorryDmitriIguess."

<.>

Sen tries to shout, but is overruled by Mykola's buzzing cries of [ WE CAN NOT SEE WE CAN NOT SEE ].

Mykola casts tentacle of the deep right in the middle of the room. It takes a blind swipe with a reach that hits just about everywhere, so everyone make a dexterity saving throw.

[s: 3
f: 20
d: nat 1
r: 13
liv: 15]

So Rin, Sen, and Dima are all swiped at by the tentacle. Dima takes 2 points of cold damage and is slowed 10ft until the start of his next turn, Rin takes 3 and is likewise slowed.

And that'll do it for Sen, who is now trying to regain control of his own body.

<.>

Dima, who is blind and cursing Rin and Sen and Mykola between calling for Fae, is going to make an attempt that he doesn't necessarily expecT to work but figures it might be worth a try.

And Dima is going to speak in his In Control Not-Yet-Called-Daddy-but-Absolutely-is-Daddy voice, "Faolan. My— Frog. Stay still.”

<.>

The frog does not appear to heed commands.

<.>

Liv is about to cast Blindness on herself so she doesn't have to witness this. :/

What she wilL do is attempt to grab a blanket and drop it on Frogge.

<.>

Liv drops a blanket on the giant, angry, blinded frog.

And now we come to Fae, who is hopping around under a blanket like a ghost, feet tangling up in the fabric enough that he crashes.

[DEX save
s: 16
d: 9
r: 13
liv: 16]

Fae crashes into Dima and Rin; each of them takes 2 points of bludgeoning damage.

<.>

[q: what isss the highest surface in the room?
a: probably the washstand, although that’s not a stable surface, so, bed.]

Rin's going to stay where they are, engage Dodge, and try to use the frog wand on Dima.

[WIS save, d: 16; Dima is unaffected by the spell.]

Dima— Doesn't know what happened. Because I believe he is still blinded until his turn begins.

<.>

Sen’s up!

Sen's vision clears and he very quickly dispels the tentacle, shouting all the while at Mykola and trying to not get hit by the ballistic frog. And as he has nothing he can really do otherwise, he's going to cast Prestidigitation, attempting to create an illusory fly-looking object.

Which will do nothing as long as the blanket is on the frog, but you know. It's there.

<.>

Dima is going to back up as far as he can, and try to assess what is happening magically slash figure whether he knows anything about this kind of transformation slash whatever magic would have led to this and what to do abouT it.

[PERC, d: 16; Looking at the frog, Dima can see the ring is on one of the digits of its right front leg.]

Dima shouts, "Do something useful and get the ring. Right front foot you absolute shits."

Liv’s up and casts Guidance on Rin. More specifically, Liv swoops over and casts Guidance. Giving Rin an unnecessarily sharp beat of her wing.

<.>

Fae is still tripping around under his blanket, so everyone make another dex saving throw.

[s: 22
d: 14
liv: nat 1
r: also 22 high five sen!]

Liv takes 3 points of bludgeoning damage and is knocked to the ground. Dima takes 2 points of bludgeoning damage.

<.>

Rin’s up; they will take the hint and accepT this challenge. And dive in for an attempt to take that ring.

[ACR, r: 23]

<.>

Rin manages to grab hold of Fae's foreleg as he's struggling to get up from his recent trip on the blanket. Quickly, they yank the ring off. With a second burst of magical energy, the frog becomes Faolan again.

He is still tangled in the blanket and considered restrained.

<.>

Rin is going to very quickly attempt to stow the ring in a pocket.

<.>

Sen starts laughing hysterically.

Faolan starts shouting, "You assholes, get this off of me!"

<.>

Dima immediately diving to help Faolan untangle.

<.>

From outside the room, a pounding on the door begins; the innkeeper shouts, "What is going on in there?!"

<.>

Rin shouts "Private party, sorry!!"

In fact.

Rin slips over to the door. Cracks it open. Smiles very winningly!!

"Were we interrupting?? We must have gotten carried away very sorry shhh shh."

And shuts - attempts to shut - the door.

[DEC, r: 6]

<.>

The innkeeper is not fooled and forces his way in to see the room in shambles, Faolan and Dima on the floor with a blanket, Sen laughing hysterically, a raven on the ground, and Rin.

He looks apoplectic.

<.>

Liv hops uP immediately like you did not see thaT.

And Dima, who has been speaking to Fae "It's all right" and "I'm sorry" and "Please, Fae, please be still, I've got you" over and over, now looks up at the innkeeper and exhales through his teeth.

Hands not moving from Faolan, he speaks, "A prank gone awry.

"You'll be paid for everything; I assure you. And you will have the room back in one piece.

"On top of which. Our dynamic duo here—" Pointing at Sen and Rin "—Would be happy to provide an extra hour's entertainment for your guests. Tonight, and every night we remain."

[PERS, d: nat 1]

<.>

The innkeeper looks beyond the point of bribery. He shouts, "Get out of my inn or I'll have the guards drag you out!"

<.>

Dmitri is going to continue staring down the owner as he continues to untangle Fae.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Sen is going to try one more thing.

Having sobered up by now, he replies, "Certainly. We'll be sure to tell everyone we meet about your hospitality - and what the water in this cursed place did to our poor friend here. Turned him into a giant fucking frog.”

[DEC, s: 19]

The innkeeper blanches and seems to lose conviction; he looks from Sen to the others and back again, murmuring, "Now - let's don't be hasty here. I - Did it -?"

Sen nods and points to the ewer of water brought up with Faolan and Dmitri's breakfast.

There's a moment of fussing and fidgeting, and Sen - with a glance at Dima and Fae and a suppressed giggle - escorts the innkeeper out to discuss how to settle the situation.

Faolan, meanwhile, is glaring at Sen and Rin, one arm half around Dima protectively; when the innkeeper leaves, he holds out his hand to Rin. "Hand it over. You gave it to Dima, Dima gave it to me, I'm going to keep it."

Far, far out of Sen and Rin's reach, specifically.

<.>

Dima might just be melting into that hold a little (more than a little) (he's relieved, at least, that Faolan's still here, that Faolan seems to be at least physically unharmed) while tightening his own arms around Fae.

Rin begins to raise their hands and shoulders in a shrug, "No, I have no idea where it—"

Before sighing, looking at least a little bit chagrined, reaches for the ring. Then carefully, carefullyyyy, they slide over to Faolan, then quickly drop the ring into his palm. Withdrawing with a twitch of their tail, "Anyway, you gave me a bruise on the head. :/

"...But also. Let me watch next time someone turns into a frog?"

<.>

Faolan stares at them and counters - softly, with restrained outrage, "You all turned me into a giant fucking frog, blinded me, dropped a blanket on me, and I'm pretty sure Mykola tried to hit me with a tentacle. You're lucky I didn't try to eat you."

With that, he slides the ring into his pocket.

<.>

Rin looks at the ceiling. Looks at a wall. Looks at another wall. "Welllll... Okay but we didn't attacK you." They realize immediately that this is noT a very significant point, and start worrying their lip, then - leaning back against the wall - slump down to sit on the floor. "Okay, okay.

"Well you shouldn't eat me because I'd burn your tongue." They flicker their eyes a blazing blue fire, then start playing with their hair. "But I guess I could've tried someone else first." Never mind that they didn't know what was going to happen; Sen was right, because it was a good surprise until the snapping started.

"You make a badass frog, though."

Liviana, having fluttered to perch on the washstand, ducks her head and sends Faolan a message composed of a blanket first dropped with a note of shame, then draped around his shoulders in apology. She 'toks,' cants her head, and flies over to Dima's shoulder.

Dima, meanwhile, is running one hand along Faolan's arm, Faolan's shoulder. Brushes back Fae's hair to check for signs of wounding he may have missed. Nudges his forehead at Fae's temple and nuzzles, nuzzles, before turning to Rin with a glare. "We're going to have a talk. All of us, when Sen returns."

And, to Faolan, softly, "I ought to have checked, Faolan. I ought to have guessed." And, "How do you feel?"

<.>

Faolan stares hard at Rin for a moment, then shakes his head; he can't keep up the Angry Father act for long. (And Rin seems contrite, in their own Rin way.) (And, honestly: in a few weeks, he might find this funny.)

(It's not NOT nice to have friends who'll play a prank meant to be light-hearted, even if it turns out pretty godsdamned dangerous.)

"True, you didn't attack me," he replies.

He turns his attention to Dima, affording his own touch to caresses and gentle probing of wounds. He wears a rueful smile, turned mournful at the sight of a bruise or cut. When Dima asks how he feels, he pauses with his fingertips on the man's throat. A heartbeat of thought precedes, "They didn't mean any harm. Neither did you. Neither did Liv. Seems to me I fared better than any of you did."

Lowering his voice as he nudges near, he casts Cure Wounds.

Sen returns a moment later and has the good grace to look chagrined at Faolan as he sinks down beside Rin. "Before any of you lay into me, I didn't realize it would be a giant frog. Or that Dima would give the ring away."

He reaches over and strokes a hand along Rin's hair before continuing soberly, "I am sorry, though. And I've paid for the damages to the room and convinced our host to have a cleric out to bless the water."

His eyes flicker to Faolan and Dima and again, with a clearing of his throat, he says, "Truly. I'm sorry."

<.>

[INS, d: 11; Sen, as far as Dima can tell, is telling the truth about the innkeeper. Likewise, he seems to be genuinely contrite.]

Dima is not entirely surprised.

He's still angry, though, and he's going to glare daggers at Sen for a long moment before speaking, a voice hissed beneath his breath, "Shit's sake."

Then, "It seems to be the least you could do." Okay, maybe not precisely true. Maybe there is less Sen could have done, including not admit he knew anything about the ring, but really, really, he knew half of what the ring did and went ahead with the shit-minded plan anyway.

"Let this be a lesson to both of you: Never mess around with magic among travelling companions." And, with a sigh, "I should have known."

He's going to nudge Fae's head again - is going to think about fingertips against his throat, and let that image, that knowledge settle through him - and softly say, "Thank you, Fae."

Rin looks up at Sen, smiling, feeling brighter because he's stroking their hair and he did take care of things and really it was a very good prank, even if the results were a little unexpected.

And they look at Faolan, nod. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too."

And Liv is going to nudge Faolan's head with another little 'tok.'

<.>

As he reaches up to offer Liv a stroke of his fingers, Faolan catches Sen's eye and gives a little jerk of his head towards the door.

Out.

Sen takes the hint and rises, one hand held to Rin to help them up. As he's halfway out the door, Faolan says, "I know where you sleep, Sen."

Sen freezes, backs up a step into the room, and eyes Faolan with a raised brow. Then, seemingly impressed, he makes a "hm" sound and continues on out, tossing a casual, "Don't be too long. Lots to do in the wide world."

When the door's closed and Fae is alone with Dima and Liv, he leans back heavily against the wall and studies the pair. "So.

"That happened."

<.>

Rin's could to look at Sen as the door closes and offer, "It was a good idea. Best surprise up until he started biting, but no one can say it wasn't funny."

And, cocking their head. "Hey should we turn someone else into a frog? Just to like. Extra sell the water story?"

Dima is shaking his head, running a hand through his hair before he finds Fae's hand, twines his fingers through Faolan's. "We'll need to watch them closely. With those two, I suspect no lesson is ever truly learned."

And, with an irritated huff of breath, he stares at the ceiling for a moment - thinking again that he'd very, very much like to strangle the thieves - then looks to Fae. "I am sorry, Faolan. I'd like to give you something— Mm. Something I've chosen for you.

"I— You wouldn't dislike it?

"I swear to you it won't be godsdamned cursed."

<.>

Faolan leans in and presses a kiss to Dima's lips as if to shush him, lingers a moment with a tender smile, then, turning his head just slightly to catch a glimpse of Liv, blows a kiss at her, as well.

When he settles back again, he reaches invitingly for Dima to join him. "I don't need much. Even - before. I didn't need more than what I gave to my family." A beat here, then Faolan presses another kiss, this time to Dima's hair. "I wouldn't dislike it, no, but I suppose its meaning -"

He huffs a wry laugh and hesitates.

"Whatever you mean by it would matter most."

Sen, meanwhile, looks positively gleeful at the prospect of continuing their frog-riddled mayhem. "Oh yes. Let's."

<.>

Oh.

Well.

Dima does in fact fall into silence, a feel of sun's warmth wrapping him around, grown from the press of Fae's kiss, Fae's smile. (Everything will be all right.) (The thieves tripped everyone onto their godsdamned asses, and still, everything will be all right.) (And Dima will see - Dima is determined to see - a ring slipped onto Faolan's hand.

One ring sooner than not, and another - yes, please; yes, he thinks it might be possible, thinks Faolan might not shy from it - in the not very distant future.)

He lifts Faolan's hand - glows at the sight of their hands kept in holding - and places a kiss upon it. Then finds Fae's eyes again, his own smile warm, "Oh, my Fae. Its meaning will be utmost.

"It, and any other item, any further ring that I will give you."

Rin's giving a toothy grin now, settling a hand at the pocket that holds their wand. "OkaY!

"I say we find... Maybe a halfling? A gnome? Someone not so tall, so it makes sense that they're not a giant frog.

"...Also maybe someone not so smart. I think that helps."

And Rin is ready to find a likely frog!

<.>

The implication staggers Faolan; the way Dima looks at their joined hands, the way he kisses, the words he offers. He doesn't seem the sort of man to be incautious with his speech.

Dima wants to -

(The weight of the notion, the size of it, it almost unbearable. What good would he ever bring to Dima that way? How would it look, and what would people say of him - an unending litany of speculation because Faolan is no nobleman.

Didn't he learn that, that day at the Voronins' party? He's no nobleman, not worthy of even the dream of rising equal to one. He was a whore, and now - nothing but a pauper in the woods, pretending at druidcraft.)

"Dima-" he begins shakily, a line forming between his brows.

(But. Look how earnest. Look how happy Dima is.) (It'll go badly for him. He'll realize in a year, in two years, Faolan is not worthy or equal.)

Dima can afford to envision that future.

Faolan smiles sadly and clasps both his hands around Dima's, then draws it to his lips. He draws a breath, a false start, then gently continues, "You know that won't happen. Further rings and further meanings -"

He falters, then blinks back the wet sting in his eyes. Then forces his smile in place again. "I learned something very valuable that day, you know. I learned to keep my dreams small. Hope only for what I can grasp with my own hands and don't -"

Another faltering; Faolan leans his head back against the wall and fixes his eyes on the ceiling. "Don't trust - don't hope that someone else will pull me to a larger dream. So much can get in the way; one day, you might remember noblemen don't give 'further rings' to peasants and whores."

<.>

Another shatter of his heart, like bleeding, breaking raw.

What Faolan's been barraged with from the world - from Dima's peers; at the aid of Dima's own ignorance, his accord in his brother's declamations - is nothing less than abominable. (And commonplace, isn't it? The way nobility, the way anyone of title or coin can trample anyone of lesser means, can rearrange their world to ruin with a word, or with their silence.)

As Faolan speaks, Dima watches steadily, refusing to look away, refusing to leave Faolan alone in his years-deep spoken sorrow. He flexes his finger between Fae's hands; he settles his free hand on Faolan's wrist and slowly, slowly caresses. Knowing that for all the ache he himself feels, Faolan must be caught in torments sharper by a thousandfold, in losses, betrayals, anguishes marked deep upon his being.

It's remarkable, really, that Faolan's allowed Dima to touch him, to draw near to him at all.

And when Faolan's finished speaking, Dima moves his hand once more from Fae's wrist to card through his hair. Watching with blue ice eyes remarkably soft; speaking quietly, voiced toned with sadness, with pride, with adoration and with a not-dissolving note of hope.

"You're very brave, my Fae.

"With me, and apart from me: What you are is admirable. What you are is nothing short of astonishing.

"Faolan. I move ahead of sensitivity. Oh, not at all ahead of my wanting or my truth, but I know it's nothing small I say to you. I understand it's nothing you've been given grounds to trust. It is— I find it very easy to forget how recently we met. I feel you as though you've been beside me always, or as if I have always been awaiting your arrival."

"But I understand, Dearest, that you've known coldness at the end of seeming hope. I— Do know. That my family was not removed from the worst of harms dealt to you.

"And I don't expect you to believe in something lasting without cause.

"No pulling, then, and no demands—" There's a cant of his head, the smallest flicker of a half-smirk as he runs his thumb behind Fae's ear. "Though perhaps a command or two, hm?"

Then, growing sober again, still warm, "I can be patient, my Fae. And I'll hold onto hope, hold onto dreaming for you. Until I've shown myself more fully. Until you know my love is more than passing; that my desires are more than words.

"Please, Faolan, know this: Whatever others may have cried, you are astonishing. You are a far, far better man than any one of them could claim to be. You are a far better than passable druid, and a man whose heart will turn the world to flame."

If Faolan's eyes have settled elsewhere, Dima will try to urge them toward meeting his own. If Faolan is watching, Dima's hand will simply settle, settle, stroke along his jaw, brush his cheek with tender subtlety. "And you are my Fae.

"No matter what has happened. No matter what anyone might think, or say— And Faolan, Faolan, I will rend anyone who speaks against you, anyone who dares to look at you askance.

"No matter what, you are my Fae, held in my admiration and my love alike.

"Only give me time to show you, Dearest. And I'll bless you for every moment."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

At the end of Dima's speech - after Faolan's eyes have drifted away and been summoned back, after his head has inclined to Dima's touch and sorry moved in traceable waves through his expression - Faolan thinks Dima is trying to understand.

Just as Faolan is trying.

But the channel between himself and what Dima wants is vast and full of treacherous waters, and surely all the belief in the world won't be enough to alter this particular fate.

He shifts closer and leans his head against Dima's, breathing in the scent of him, of Liviana, of the three of them together. It's enough; it will be enough for him, he thinks. Just this.

"You have my time, my love. All my days ahead. Better to use it blessing the moments that are, rather than wishing for something different. I'll be here at your side; I'll be content as your companion, your lover, your consort. Your friend."

He draws the other man into his arms, careful not to jostle Liviana, or careful to allow her time to flutter to a different perch, and when they've settled comfortably, he sighs. "What will you do? Give up your title and follow me into the woods, hm? Live in a little hut with me, when you could just as well have me in a fine estate, all over the matter of a ring?"

Slowly, his own hand cards through Dima's hair. "Have you considered you might be worth more than that to me? That I'm willing to trade my pride to be beside you, so long as I am beside you?"

<.>

He melts into Faolan’s embrace, heart fluttered in its beating, heart thawed by this tenderness, offered in the midst of what must be fraught feelings, the jagged edges left by hopes torn from their roots, by lacerations rendered in violent rejections. Again, he thinks, ‘You’re braver than you know.’ And Dmitri knows himself so endlessly fortunate, to have even this moment, which is worlds within itself. How, how could he abandon this man, or what they have together?

Equally: How could Faolan trust to anything beyond, or to permanence? It’s a wonder - it’s a gift - that he should entertain the thought of Dima at all, or keep him held in sound assurance, offering love, speaking gently in spite of everything he’s learned.

And though Dima looks bewildered by Fae’s questions - though he feels side-swiped by all the hollows they suggest - he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t draw a breath from Fae’s embrace. Only leans his head into Faolan’s touch. Only lets his own hand trace the line of Faolan’s collarbone, his shoulder, his throat. A study in wonder; another step in learning, learning all the planes and parts of what this man is, and holds, and will yet be.

Eyes unwavering - though blinking, slightly, slightly, against a burn he hasn’t noted - he huffs a breath, the trace of a sad laugh, and shakes his head, careful not to disturb the course of Faolan’s touch. “I’d never ask that of you.

“I wouldn’t want that for you, or for myself. A life beside me, as anything less than my equal. A life at my side, but never in my name?

“Faolan. I want you as my own; I want others to know you as my own. I want what’s mine to be your own just as well, and I wish to be known as yours.

“I want for you to live freely, to blaze as brilliant as you can, without a shadow cast upon your worth— To me, or in the whole of what you are.

“Let every being in Morovsk know your name. Let them quell before you. Let them bow, hm?

“Or let them never see my face again.

“My concern is for you— What the words of offending nobles, before I can sever their tongues, might do to you. The advantage to being what I am, the advantage of the title I hold and my own stubbornness, is not giving a damn what anyone might believe or call for. Is not needing to give a damn, so long the city stays in function. But I wouldn’t ask you to live in discomfort. I won’t demand what leaves you feeling less.

“Dearest, I would gladly choose a life apart from all the world, in the deepest wild or in a yet-to-be haven of the undead, so long as I had you. You and I - with Liviana, with your wolf, with Rose and Thorn… and yes, with the thieves, if they like - is the utmost of what I ask.

“The only existence that can thrill, or satisfy my soul.”

Leaning upward, slightly, his movement a graceful elision that never leaves Faolan’s side, Dima settles a kiss to Faolan’s jaw— Then another to the man’s cheek, where Dima nestles, nuzzles his own after.

“Know that so long as I am yours, I will be content to live anywhere, in any means. We can set the world alight just as easily from forest glens as from a city’s center.

“And know that for now, I am dreadfully, dreadfully pleased, and happier than I have ever known myself, to settle here in your embrace, finding there is more to life than I had ever guessed.”

<.>

Faolan lapses into silence, determining there's no sense in continuing to argue with Dima about this when he knows time will prove him right in the end. For the next hour or so, they linger in contented embrace, talking of Rose and Thorn and of the Nightmare Market, both of them unaware that downstairs, chaos has broken out in the form of a localized plague of frogs.

A cleric is called to bless the water, but - to the innkeeper's delight - everyone refuses to drink it for the remainder of the day and instead turns to the safer (and more costly) option of ale.

The centennial celebration spans the course of several days; the afternoon of the frog incident, there are diplomatic obligations which call Dima alone, leaving Sen, Rin, and Faolan to wander the city together while he endures a small court gathering, Lord Alfrig presiding over an informal meeting of the city's nobility, and the barons and clan chiefs of Loch Bien who have traveled from their villages.

Everyone is unaware that Dmitri has been traveling in Faolan's company. Although Faolan has some infamy in Loch Bien, he has been so long gone that he's been replaced by more interesting scandal. The incident with Fedir and Faolan at the Voronin's party is known, but not discussed.

As for Dima: the gathered nobles know his family's name, but know him only as a dignitary from Morovsk and treat him with careful, distant courtesy.

So! What would everyone like to do?

Faolan, for his part, would like to buy some new clothing, as well as some sort of finery and a mask for the masquerade in honor of the centennial and Alfrig's champion.

Sen is content to follow Rin and Fae around, occasionally busking and pickpocketing as they move through the city. He has used Disguise Self just in case anyone gets any funny ideas about bounties.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

In the Loch Bien castle great hall, a table has been laid with strong, warm drinks, wines, foods that can be eaten quickly and without utensils. No one seems to be touching any of the food; most have a servant near at hand to test the ale and wine before they drink. Dima may reasonably have hired someone or taken on one of the castle's servants to do this, unless he has a spell that tests for poison.

When not active, the servants line the walls, some of them talking, some of them staring straight ahead, depending on where they hail from.

Music plays, dour somehow despite the instruments' lightness. The windows allow in light enough that candles needn't be lit, but the entire castle seems to be built for warmth in the bitterly cold winters.

At the "head" of the room, two thrones are positioned side by side; an older man occupies one. He has a body that speaks of recent illness: loose skin suggesting a loss of weight, thinning hair, a slight tremor when he gestures. Beside him stands a man around thirty years of age, well-built and healthy, with brown hair combed neatly. He smiles dazzlingly at anyone who approaches and steps forward to greet them. At his side is a golden broadsword in an elaborate scabbard.

The other throne is unoccupied.

[q: Does Dima recognize the younger man, or would he have cause to surmise who he is (which is to say mostly would he likely be a son or whatnot)?
a: He doesn't recognize the younger man, but given the way he seems particularly familiar with the man on the throne - whom Dima can surmise is Alfrig - this would be either a son or the much-lauded champion.

q: is there a particular mode of greeting that would be used in a courtly loch bien situation? i assume Dima would know slash would have learned on finding out he'd be coming here
a: Aside from bowing to the lord, there's a curious kind of informality in Loch Bien that one might associate with Scandinavian or Scottish cultures - or rather, whatever the "rules" are, Dima probably doesn't grok them and behaves with formality one associates with Morovsk culture. Everyone here is a little more rough, more survivalist, and might seem crude to Dima and others from Morovsk.

some further qs—
q: is anyone else from morovsk present?
a: There are a few individuals from Morovsk whom he knew would be in attendance, but fewer than expected.

q: is anyone dima would recognize from mysos present?
a: There's no one he recognizes from Mysos.

q: is the baron of riversdown present?
a: The baron of Riversdown is not present.

q: how familiar would dima be with lord alfrig, or tbh with anyone present?
a: Dima has never met Alfrig, though he's familiar with, either personally or by reputation, maybe thirty to forty percent of the people here.

q: has dima been told of any particular mm agenda for this informal meeting, or is there one he might be likely to expect/suspect?
a: Dima would know this kind of gathering is the equivalent of a modern icebreaker.]]

<.>

Before leaving the inn, Dmitri prepared himself by washing and by changing into more strictly formal attire. He asked Liviana to follow wherever Faolan and the thieves might go, keeping an eye on them, and asked that she find him if they should run into any dire trouble.

He would yes have hired a servant to test whatever he might drink; either would have done a little looking into it upon arrival in the city, or would have arranged for something in advance of reaching Di Loch Bien.

He absolutely gave Faolan a cheek kiss - and, if Fae permitted, a kiss-kiss - before departing.

[note: Faolan thoroughly enjoyed a kiss-kiss thank you.

A very nice boost for Dima, who did not particularly want to attend this event, though he recognizes both its necessity and hopes for some use in it.]

Once in the hall, he sends the hired servant to remain at the room's outskirts, but within view. He notes the relative absence of others from Morovsk. Offers subtle nods to a few of the nobles he recognizes, and though he plans on checking in with the others from Morovsk, he'll begin by approaching the man he takes to be Alfrig, and whoever the man with that godsdamned overenthusiastic smile might be.

If/when he is able to approach, if he isn't introduced by anyone else, Dima will bow to Alfrig and introduced himself as Lord Dmitri Aubric Voronin of Morovskgorod, and say that it is a pleasure to at last witness Di Loch Bien for himself.

<.>

He doesn't get close enough. About ten feet from Alfrig, a tall, middle-aged man with a polite smile steps into his path and, with a voice to match his expression, says, "Lord Alfrig offers his deepest apologies, but while he is well enough to attend, his constitution prohibits him from conversing with his guests."

By the sound of the man's voice, accent, and formality, he isn't from Loch Bien, though he dresses in similar fashion and wears a badge marking him as an advisor to the court.

Before Dmitri can introduce himself, the advisor bows with a hand pressed to his chest and continues, "But how may I be of service, Lord Voronin?"

<.>

Dmitri isn't pleased by this intervention; he also takes it in stride, offering no shift in mien and letting his eyes rest on this advisor with calm circumspection. After the man has spoken, Dima looks toward Alfrig, then back to the advisor with a minor nod.

"Convey my regards to Lord Alfrig, if you would, as well as my appreciation for his attendance in the face of adverse circumstances. Illness befalls us one and all, and cares little for its timing."

He cants his head slightly at the stranger. "Forgive me; you recognize me, and yet I cannot offer the same recognition. May I have your name?"

[q: is Dima able to place the man's possible origin based on voice/accent/formality?
INV: 14

a: Dima can't say for certain, but it seems to him that the man's accent and manners are reminiscent of the nobility that once ruled Striker's Bay. If so, it would make sense that he's here, as he might have been a transplant after the downfall of the Rosewall family.

It would also make sense that his accent would be neither here nor there, as this was a good fifteen years ago; he's had time to adapt to Loch Bien society and adopt some mannerisms.]

<.>

The advisor's smile turns crooked, genuinely - and amiably - amused. "Forgive me. It seems I've lost the habit of self-introduction. I am Anicetus Spence, First-" He abruptly stops, his eyes flickering to some point above Dima's head, then clears his throat and fixes his smile more firmly - and far less warm. "Second. Advisor to his Lordship."

As if to move past his mistake, he continues, "As for recognition: it is my duty, after all, to know the names and faces of all in attendance. However, I believe we met - oh, it must have been nearly fifteen years ago, at your sister's first wedding. I was part of Emissary Merrow's assemblage. Oh, I suppose that wasn't a particularly cheerful affair for anyone involved; I don't expect you to remember me."

As he speaks, Anicetus has gently placed a hand on Dima's arm and ushered him away from Alfrig. "But nevermind. She is most happy now with her new bride, I understand, so why speak of such distant unpleasantness? Tell me, how are you finding Loch Bien?"

[q: would dima recognize the name or surname at all? or recall anything about merrow?
HIST, 16

a: Dima is beginning to recall several things: Emissary Merrow was the high elf ambassador sent to Morovsk for his sister's wedding on behalf of the Rosewalls, who were in the midst of political turmoil at the time. He may faaaaintly recall a much younger Anicetus.

He also recalls that it was around the time of his sister's wedding that Striker's Bay fell and the Rosewalls were all rumored to have been brutally assassinated.]

<.>

The pieces do in fact fall into place, the image of this man returning in dim but placeable form. Dima doesn't protest Spence's hand, or the movement away. He keeps his eyes on the man, while keeping peripheral note of any movements, any individuals passing nearby.

That fucking wedding, though. (And the gall to speak of it this way. A reference noted, and to be kept in mind.)

"As I understand, it was as cheerful as any such ceremony might be. Nor should any situation's gaiety form a barrier to memory. I do recall your face now, however distantly; and I am pleased to see you once more well-established." A pause as he glances over Spence's expression. "There has been some recent shuffling of the ranks, then?"

And. "Regrettably, I have had little time to experience the city. Duties rise ever-eternal, hm? I hope to see more for myself soon enough."

<.>

Anicetus blinks, seemingly perplexed by the retort about the Voronin wedding, but for the moment lets it pass. He glances toward Alfrig's throne and smiles with polite wryness. "Ah - well. Duties rise ever-eternal, but not favor. I'm certain my replacement will fulfill his obligations to all our highest expectations, hm?"

And, seeming to dismiss his own demotion, he circles back to, "Forgive me, Lord Voronin, but I seem to have caused insult where none was intended. When I spoke of unpleasantness - I would never deign to make assumptions about your sister's wedding. Her happiness now would, of course, be in contrast to the sorrow of widowhood, which - forgive me for mentioning the matter, but the death of a spouse is tumultuous at best."

He gestures, waving one hand delicately to dismiss that particular subject. "No, I mean the loss of the Rosewalls. It was unpleasant to attempt to return home from such gaiety, as you describe it, to find there was no home waiting."

The same hand presses to his chest. "Truly, I intended no insinuation or discourtesy."

<.>

Dima isn't particularly inclined to accept Spence's explanation, though he nods, offers the appearance of earnest, if restrained, appreciation. "Then I ask your forgiveness in kind; it is a regrettable habit, to anticipate insinuation where no such shadow exists.

"Regrettable, as well, to permit my misconceptions to blind me from acknowledgment of your substantial loss. Of course that would have been harrowing. It must be a fraught subject, still. Well. Let it never be said that any of us among the nobility are given to compassion." He exhales, a sound that might be touched with laughter, might almost suggest regret.

"On which note, I'm afraid I must ask the name of this newly made Advisor. It seems much has changed since last I heard word of Di Loch Bien."

<.>

Anicetus graciously nods as if to say, Think nothing of it, then seems to grow discomfited by the mention of the new First Advisor. "Ah. That would be Sir Caddick Lathom."

With tension at the corners of his eyes, he glances toward Alfrig and gestures. "The gentleman beside his Lordship has more renown as his Champion - the guest of honor at the Centennial masquerade."

He folds his hands behind his back, his eyes lingering on the pair. "It's no fault to yourself that you were unaware of the changing of the guard, as it were. It was rather recent."

Cutting a glance at Dima, Anicetus breathes a laugh that seems chagrined and amused. "This morning, as a matter of fact."

[q: has dima heard anything of caddick lathom beyond being alfrig's champ?
INS: 12
a: Dima has heard startlingly little about Caddick.]

<.>

A thing about Dmitri Aubric 'Fuck Off With Your Nonsense' Voronin is that sometimes he just does not. Pay particular attention to certain strains of rumor. Or official business that he takes as 'not his problem' irritants. So the revelation of Alfrig's Champion is a surprise; he knows nothing of the man, sees little to the man (sees that godsdamned smile, and Dima has never put much trust in anyone who smiles so much) (he was fucking right about Wythall, after all!), and lets his expression turn briefly bemused - brow slightly furrowed - as he glances toward Lathom.

"Champion and Advisor both— One might consider him fates-blessed." Or a man who signed his name to the right place at the right time. "As I understand, the confluence of such responsibilities is rare, as is the individual who might bear both." Dmitri's tone - casually observant - might speak anything from surprise to faint esteem to subtle disbelief. He turns his eyes toward Lathom - and, briefly, Alfrig - then back toward Anicetus as he adds, "Is Lathom indisposed, as well, or simply disinclined to mingle among guests?"

<.>

Anicetus only hums a response to the comment regarding Lathom's blessings. His smile doesn't waver and his eyes don't leave the pair, but it's clear his attention is on Dmitri.

The final question seems to draw genuine amusement from him, but he schools himself and draws one hand forward, the other remaining behind his back. He brushes at something on his robes that might be lint. "My Lord, as his Lordship's Champion, Sir Caddick is always indisposed."

There's a pause following this statement before he - apparently - clarifies, "His duties to Lord Alfrig are chiefest among his concerns. You'll rarely see him leave his Lordship's side, save to ensure no one approaches and overtaxes him with conversation."

<.>

"Such devotion is to be admired." Dima's tone suggests - lightly, but not indiscernibly - that he might not subscribe to this view. Then again, Dmitri has rarely tolerated the presence of advisors for longer than an hour or two, and has counted even the most ostensibly trustworthy to be questionable. "Your Lord has found fortune in him, it seems."

Fortune that - clearly - has done little for Alfrig's health.

The whole arrangement is not *not* suspect, though Dima's expression has regained its cool neutrality, and his focus now keeps fixed on Anicetus. He bows his head slightly. "Advisor, you have my appreciation for your insights, and I suspect Lord Alfrig finds fortune in you, as well.

"If I may trouble you for one further request: Newcomer to Di Loch Bien that I am, is there any location within the city that I simply must visit before my departure?"

<.>

Anicetus again bows, then pauses a moment to consider the question - and why Dmitri might be asking. When he arrives at no particular conclusion, he counters, "That depends on your interests. If you long for the company of your fellow nobles, the gardens in the Cloud District are tranquil, and the Eagle's Crest is the finest dining a tavern can afford."

He seems to be aware that this might not be the answer Dima is seeking, so he goes on, "Tomorrow is a market day outside the castle grounds; a bit of the 'local flavor' for you. An academic such as yourself - I do recall correctly, I'm certain - would enjoy the lyceum and library. You'll find them west of here. They are the only other towers in Loch Bien, so you can't miss them."

Whether by design or accident, he doesn't mention the romantic view from the cliff overlooks - or the beaches.

<.>

In fact, Dmitri had*been thinking that he would rather soak his right hand in acid than seek out the company of his 'fellow nobles.' And while he hadn't necessarily been seeking any particular answer - while this may have been more a question for the sake of asking a nearly neutral question - he does appreciate the rest of Anicetus's suggestions. (He also, knowing nothing of the cliffs, can find no cause for feeling slighted by their noninclusion.)

He seems to consider these options, and - for the first time - affords Spence the trace of a smile. "Those will do nicely."

Now Dmitri offers the hint of a bow. "If you'll excuse me, I have conversations to keep. Your introduction has been invaluable, Advisor— And you may believe that I will not forget your face again."

If Anicetus makes no move to stall him, Dima will scan the room for others from Morovsk, and move to speak with whoever among them - a single delegate, or preferably a small cluster - is unengaged with others.

<.>

[onefellswoop]

Anicetus affords him a courteous departure and returns to his duties deflecting guests from Alfrig.

Dmitri can find a group of Morovsk nobles having themselves a somewhat muted laugh about a recent scandal to do with the Neilos family; they shift to make room for him in their circle, though a husband and wife do seem to tense with his arrival. He might recognize them as guests from his recent "dinner".

Dima favors the pair with a mild expression, a slight raising of his eyebrows. It isn't (it could be) a challenge; he considers it a recognition, an 'I know your thoughts; speak them as you please, and if you dare.'

(He isn't going to think about that particular dinner. Not far; not at the moment. And the two of them had better not have spoken what they saw into gossip. A warning he's certain Derzhena must have issued. A warning that, really, ought to have no need of being spoken.)

He nods to the group in general, letting conversation continue, taking notice of the speakers and their moods before deciding to speak.

<.>

[questions!
q: what would dima know about the neilos scandal?

a: Probably nothing; in passing, it's superficial at best, and the Neilos family isn't one he would concern himself with.


q: over the next minute or two, does the convo around dima include anything else?
PERC: 16
There's nothing particularly interesting here, but behind Dima, he catches a snatch of whispered conversation.

"-obscene he isn't here."
"Probably humiliated with the old man fawning over -"
"Shh."
"Mm. I'm only saying, it's no wonder. You'd be fouled, too, if your father was sticking it to your best m-"
"Both of you, shut it.”

Turning around, he'll see a group of servants clustered against the wall. One of them is resuming her position with a scowl; this was clearly the last speaker who ended the conversation.


q: what DOES seem to be the mood/tone/vibe/bearing of the people in the group? does anyone's mood/bearing stand out?

The general vibe of the group seems to be boredom and discomfort with the chill weather of Loch Bien. Morovsk is warmer and much more opulent (and wealthier), and this is something of a step down for all of them. They're ready to get this trip over with.


q: is there anyone here dima would know particularly well... or if not well, maybe would he know them better than the others?

He knows all of them relatively well, having grown up in the same circles. If he was ever prone to friendship, he might have called Vitaly Kozak a friend; in his own words, he probably calls him 'endurable' or 'not a complete shithead'.

Of the group, Magnus Bode is probably avoiding eye contact, having been one of Dima's 'conquests'.

Ruska and Yevhen Bohdana are the married couple.

Juliya Ruvim is the one he's least acquainted with, but he knows by reputation that she's particularly intelligent, not prone to scandal, and that her family is especially devout in their worship of Pelor.


q: since it was noted that there are fewer folks from morovsk than dima would have expected, is there anyone in particular he would have expected to see but now finds no trace of?

He probably didn't know specifics on who would be in attendance, but Taras Savenko and Nelya Kushnir are almost always in attendance at notable occasions like this. Neither appears to be present.


q: anything dima would know about them particularly, or should i shall i try find out as i go along?

I'm going to say Nelya is the sister of the 'gentleman' from Dima's beach and rose bad memory.]

<.>

He shouldn’t, really, have anticipated anything beyond idle gossip; more than three nobles to a group almost always ends in asininity, and Dmitri doesn’t have the patience to endure it very long. He lets another minute or two pass before nodding to the group and offering his congratulations for the successful completion of their arduous journey (thinking it’s odd, isn’t it, that certain notable members aren’t gathered in this cluster, and don’t appear to be present at all), with a more particular, “Ruska, Yevhen, you’re looking well.”

The glance he affords Vitaly Kozak is a clear signal to follow as Dmitri draws apart from the group. There may be words for others among them - for Ruvim, at least, who appears to hold some modicum of a brain - but just now, Kozak's likely to prove the most useful, and Dima is almost, almost just a little bit relieved to find the man in attendance.

He continues walking as he speaks, scanning the room, scarcely looking at Vitaly. "Did my sister send you."

<.>

Vitaly excuses himself from the group with some humor in his formality, then, catching up to Dima, in one graceful movement he grasps arm in arm with the other man and muses in low tones, "Did your sister send me. Across the country, to the bitterest ass-end of nowhere, to watch these Lochmen fawn over their sovereign’s, ahem, Champion?”

He gives Dima a look askance, pulls a face, and draws away to pluck a glass of wine from the table as they pass. "Deza couldn't compel me here for all the money, worry, and torture in the world."

Then, having taken a drink, he pauses with what appears to be epiphany. "Why? Did she send you?”

<.>

He.

Walked directly into that.

Set the tripwire without thinking about it, and the sour look that crosses Dima's face tells that yes, yes, in fact, Derzhena did send him.

Fuck's shitting name, he could use a drink of his own. And he beckons the hired servant to bring a glass of wine.

The tone of his voice verges at the edge of surly, though there's no irritation toward Kozak. "My presence was requested." By Derzhena. As she was ushering him from the city and pointing out how many excess and uncalled for duties she would need to cover in his absence. "We'll say I owe my sister a favor."

The servant approaches to present the wine, test a sip, and pass the glass to Dmitri before retreating once more. The drink smells— Not much at all to his liking, but it should serve well enough. Looking now at Vitaly, his expression composed once more, Dima raises the glass. "What did bring you to the burnt ass-end of nowhere? It can't have been the dazzled favor of the Champion's grin."

<.>

Vitaly watches the servant retreat with a thoughtful expression, then returns his attention to Dima. With a quirked smile, he clinks rim against rim, then drinks once more. At the question, however, his expression turns sober and he clears his throat. "You recall I was in Riversdown, trying to make some headway with plans for a more direct trade route? Stubborn bastards in the borderlands, all of them."

He continues carefully, "Let's say there was some trouble on the high road. Nothing fit to speak of in such fine company, if you get my drift."

He seems to be eyeing Anicetus - or, perhaps, the man speaking with him.

Exchanging his now-drained glass for a new one, Vitaly brightens. "Where are you staying? We'll visit tomorrow before they drag us to another of these - delightful gatherings.”

His tone turns chipper and near-fawning; it seems some noblemen have veered too close for his comfort in disparaging the gathering.

<.>

[q: does dima recognize the man speaking with anicetus rn?
a: nope]

Briefly, Dima's eyes flash a sharp look of query, quelled quickly as Vitaly shifts his tone, as a group of noblemen walk past in their own subdued clamor. Dima watches after them as he nods, manages to keep his tone from falling flat as he nods, "Isn't it just." Just. Simply. Delightful.

The reference to Riversdown - and to the endless fucking headache of trade routes and the borderlands - cycles within Dima's thoughts as he lets his attention trace the room's expanse. He speaks in a murmur, "The gods know how I love and long to waste my days in milling about before a disinvolved lord.

"What for fuck's sake is the point.”

A restrained sigh, another sip of wine, and he returns his eyes to Kozak. "I don't know that I should recommend the inn; it's been struck with a plague of frogs. Something to do with the drinking water, apparently.” The minor shake of his head suggests that Dmitri knows very well what was at the heart of the frog incident, and that it had nothing to do with water.

Dima does, however, given the name of the inn, noting that while it isn't the nearest to what facsimile of luxury Di Loch Bien has to offer, it's proven suitable for conversation of all qualities. "If nothing else, I can guarantee a sealed room."

There are questions Dmitri wants to ask, names he'd like to raise, but those are best left silent for the moment. Instead, "Have you met the lauded Champion?"

<.>

It seems to surprise Vitaly to hear that Dima is in substandard accommodations. He begins to respond, perhaps even to question, but the redirect has him turning his head and snorting in a very ungentlemanly fashion.

"Him? Oh, I met him on the approach to Lord Alfrig. It seems his Champion believes the man's to be protected from everyone.” Relenting a little, "But, I'll give him this: he's an amiable one. Exactly what you'd expect from a home-grown hero. Oozes goodness and benevolence and possibly his Lordship's com-panionship’s best influence. Lucky indeed, that he should have risen to such esteem through his own heroic eff- oh, for fuck's sake, I hate it here."

<.>

He'd anticipated the querying look in Kozak's face, and feels no irritation against it. It's no well known fact that Dmitri, in his solitary expeditions, tends toward places less travelled by the nobility. It's an honest to gods boon during 'festivities' like this; if he has to endure irksome company through seeming-endless gatherings, he can at least keep his evenings in private.

(Well. Not entirely private this time around, but Faolan's company - even the company of the thieves - is a different story entirely, and Dima warms with the thought.) (When he's through here, he can return to Faolan, and spend the evening in his company. That's something to make this event endurable. It's a promise he can live on.)

There's a laugh - more a sharp-exhaled huff through Dima's nose - at Vitaly's minor outburst. "The clumsy subterfuge and over-mellowed pinot grigio isn't to your liking?

"Patience, Vitaly, patience; you'll be free of this place soon enough. ...Mm. You will be free of it eventually, in any case.

"And you have one up on me; I found myself intercepted before so much as approaching the ooze and his lord. Is it custom, do you think, to play the voyeur while your party stagnates before you?" Dima shakes his head. "Lord Alfrig will expire of sheer boredom at this rate, though I'm sure he'll pass amiably.

"From whence did he pluck this home-grown hero?" And why, for shit's sake, has anyone been called to 'marvel' at the spectacle.

<.>

Vitaly shrugs, because instead of focusing on Alfrig and Caddick, he is making a perception check against Dima's let's say deception.

[DEC, d: 15
PERC, v: 6]

Still, he thinks he saw something odd in Dima's expression; it could just be Dima thinking of murder, though. Per usual. He goes back to his wine and refocuses his attention on the Champion in question.

"From what I understand - mostly from the quartet of servants behind us - Sir Caddick was the bosom friend of Lord Alfrig's son. He may still be, for all I know. You pulled us away before I could eavesdrop further."

Vitaly turns and lays a gentle but firm hand on a passing servant's arm. "You there. What's your name, Son?"

"I - er - Peddyr, m'lord - I -" The boy motions feebly towards the Lady he's meant to be serving.

"Peddyr. That's a nice name, isn't it, Dima? And - yes, we see you! Blame me, not the boy! He'll be along with your wine just as soon as I've finished harassing him!" he calls back to the noblewoman, who huffs and turns away. "Now, Peddyr. Listen to me. Do you see this ring?"

He indicates a gold ring that he has just twisted from his finger; it seems he has Peddyr's attention now. The boy nods.

"Very good. This ring is yours if you bring us something stronger to drink just as quick as you can. Is there a good, strong whiskey somewhere hiding in this castle?"

The boy cuts a glance at Anicetus, then slowly nods.

"If you find it and bring it here for us, the ring is yours and whatever Lord Voronin here will contribute to your heroic quest. Go, go!"

<.>

The look Dmitri throws to Vitaly - eyebrows raised, head cocked - at once speaks an exasperated 'Really?' and a not-unamused acquiescence. Enduring this day - enduring this entire 'celebration' - is going to require drink with an honest bite to it. And Dima hasn't decided whether Alfrig's lackluster drink offerings is better termed an oversight or a slight. It's ill-managed, either way. And not particularly fair; by the looks of it, if Alfrig isn't deep into drink of his own, he's coasting high on something.

(Oh, that— A brief bit of high. Just one round, one cut; that wouldn't go amiss just now.)

(It absolutely would, or one hit's liable to slope toward mischance, and Dmitri knows better - mostly - than to entertain the possibility.)

(He hasn't touched any of it in a month. Hasn't so much as inquired about it. He—

Is not going to fucking think about that.)

He's begun to rub his thumb along his index finger, and Dmitri shakes his head. "Let's hope our little savior pulls through; this wine becomes more repugnant with each taste. It's a marvel, really."

And, after a glance toward Caddick and Alfrig, "Is that what they were rustling about? The cause behind the empty throne.

"It seems Lord Alfrig has developed a habit of replacing those nearest to him. His Advisor, his son—" A shrug, and Dima makes the mistake of taking another sip of wine. Gives himself a moment to let the taste pass, then, "Or perhaps he wants a man for all seasons."

<.>

Vitaly watches as the boy hurries to see to his primary duty, then vanishes out a side door of the hall. When he looks back at Dmitri, then follows his glance, he hums noncommittally. "You're assuming it's Alfrig who's doing the replacing. You and I both know a man under thrall will do a good many things -"

He laughs with faint chagrin, hearkening back to his wife's indiscretions.

There's a reason she lives in Novorometz, and he in Morovskgorod.

"Nevermind. Here, now, tell me why you're staying in some second rate inn? I've let a house for the month; come stay with me. At least when we aren't here, we'll have good company, and each of us can tell Deza we watched the other."

<.>

[onefellswoop]

“Tsk. Take care with what you offer.” Dmitri lifts an eyebrow, shakes his head with a huffed laugh. "You ought to know I make an abhorrent houseguest. My patience, Vitaly, is limited at the best of times. And this— Charming city manages to be middling.

“Don’t believe that I fail to appreciate your proposition. But I’m pleased precisely where I am, frogs and all.” There’s a hum, an easy cant of his head. “It doesn’t hurt that I am in no danger of running into and of our ‘colleagues.’”

And, of course, it helps worlds, provides heart-thawed ease, to have Faolan so close at hand. The thought of which draws the slightest hint of a smile before he continues—

“As for Alfrig and his Champion, I assume very little. Though lifting the boy by the scruff of his neck into acclaim would be a not entirely unreasonable means of securing ‘Sir Caddick’s’ affections.”

<.>

[DEC, d: 19
PERC, v: nat 1]

Vitaly looks again perplexed; the smile that flickers across Dima's face is so out-of-place with this conversation. But - the boy is back, with whiskey in tow, the entire bottle handed off to Dima's servant. Peddyr slips away one gold ring wealthier and Vitaly has a glass of whiskey in hand when he answers, "Are you so sure Caddick didn't offer his scruff for the lifting?"

He snuffs with a suppressed smile and turns away from the unapproachable pair, his eyes moving over the crowd for more interesting diversion; they pause briefly on a few faces here and there, sometimes lingering longer than others.

As though nothing happened, he settles his focus on Dima.

"So, Dima. Tell me. The last time I saw you - before that lovely, if morbid, dinner party - you were in the company of Sasha Polyak. Occasionally. Whenever he came sniffing around. I suppose that's done with now?"

<.>

Dima sends five gold pieces with the boy, and does take a glass for himself, though for the moment he only holds it, watching the liquid settle (thinking of amber like honey) (thinking honey like wide eyes, at once yielding and fire-struck). Half-thinking to respond regarding Caddick's scruff - it seems not at all unlikely that the 'Champion' is a dyed-in-the-heart opportunist; well, who here isn't? - but he watches the liquor and thinks of Faolan, is thinking of Faolan when Vitaly speaks again and—

"What?" For a moment, Dima doesn't register what Kozak's said, or it's that his thought rebels against the name. (Fuck's sake, why would he want to think of Sasha 'Can't Leave Well Enough Alone' Polyak.) (It seems criminal, really, to let thought of that name exist anywhere near Faolan's.)

There's a sharp exhale, a brief smirk flashing teeth. "Gods. Sasha. There isn't anything to be done with. One might think he'd have learned his lesson the first go-round, but the shit keeps crawling back.

"Well. He'll need to heed his education from here on out." Dima doesn't expand on the why of this. Perhaps it's only that he's had what minor amusement he could glean from Polyak, and has wearied of the man. Perhaps he means to cease entertaining the company of men who want what he won't grant; who can only ever provide Dmitri with passing entertainment, he leading them on pursuits ending nowhere save their dismissal, their humiliation.

Perhaps it's that Dmitri has found something, someone far better than any mere amusement. Perhaps he's found someone he can, would like to, has already well begun to attach himself to.

"The boy is a leech. Moderately entertaining for a time, but I've no more use for him or for his ilk." He takes a sip of the whiskey now, and thank fuck, this at least is better than tolerable.

While he's drinking the whiskey, Dima's going to give the room another scan, looking for any Developing Situations or newly arrived faces. He's also going to take another glance at Alfrig and Caddick, just to gauge how they seem to be interacting, and keep an eye out for whatever Anicetus might be up to.

<.>

Vitaly hums, picking at stray words and lingering looks Dima spends on his whiskey, and really it might be nothing to remark upon just now, but something's twinging as odd. (The whiskey he drinks burns his curiosity away.)

"Well. Someone has use for him," he says after another long draw from his glass. He gestures with the same hand, indicating over Dima's shoulder. "I'm sure the fact that he managed to ride Casimir all the way from Morovsk has nothing to do with you."

When Dima looks, he'll see Casimir Ozrim is standing with Sasha on his arm; Sasha is pressed too close, behaving with overt familiarity - and drawing attention from nearby guests.

<.>

Dmitri mutters something beneath his breath that sounds suspiciously like 'should have stabbed the bastard when I had the chance.'

Dmitri might, just briefly, be considering stabbing the bastard right now. Because of all the fucking irritations, of all the clearly-not-coincidences, why for shit's sake should Sasha have worked (ingratiated) (and yes, likely fucked) his way here.

(There's a flickered warning suffusing slowly through his nerves. An awareness of how godsdamned much of a show the boy is making. An awareness of just how tenacious he could be in his asinine pursuits, and how little mind he gave to 'no' and 'never.' (Never mind that after those first encounters, after 'no' and 'never' failed to impact, Dima had begun to dangle false promises, the way he's done with several insufferable would-be-suitors, absolute parasites. Never mind that he's done this on... Mm. On more occasions than he currently recalls.))

It isn't a fucking problem. It won't be. Dmitri will pay the boy no mind; he'll behave as if the little shit isn't here; he'll move along if Sasha so much as attempts to approach. There isn't any problem, and Dmitri has more crucial matters to focus on.

Even so, it takes a moment to ease the trace of wary sourness from his expression. Even so, he has to remind himself to ease the curl of this lip. Another sip of whiskey - a drink of whiskey - helps. And Dima rolls his eyes, returning his attention pointedly to Vitaly.

"Precisely what this rancid celebration needs: Another double-dyed shit-stain. If the bastard bears any hopes, he'll find them dashed soon enough.

"Or perhaps Casimir will manage to maintain his attention. It'd be the first useful thing the man's ever done."

Then, speaking lower, a slightly growl entering his voice: "If he so much as moves in my direction, I won't be kept responsible for my actions."

[q: what does dima know about Ozrim?
HIST, 24

a: Casimir is the third son of a family of relatively decent status in Exningley. His father is a merchant class tradesman who amassed a fortune that will be passed to Casimir's eldest brother, leaving Casimir a dependent, his trust fund controlled by said brother. Likewise, the middle brother is in that situation.

Casimir is known for being vain and needing constant fawning, likely owed to the situation with his dependency status. He likes to feel he's in control, and Dima is probably aware Casimir has been known to play at dominance in the bedroom.]

<.>

Vitaly scoffs. "You don't really believe Casimir will keep him entertained for long, do you? He's too willing; I'll bet the rest of our whiskey that Sasha only chases you because he can't catch you."

A pitying smile is cast Sasha and Casimir's way; Vitaly doesn't bother to hide it. "If he moves in your direction, perhaps Casimir will challenge you to a duel. Now, that would be entertaining. You're still dabbling in the arcane, aren't you?"

As an afterthought, he adds, "Don't worry. He only carries that tacky gods-forsaken rapier to distract from what's lacking. Monetary or phallic; you decide."

It may be apparent by now that Vitaly, who likes many people, does not like Casimir.

<.>

"Too willing, and lacking strength of will." He doesn't bother to hide the derision that ghosts his expression as he spares a solitary glance toward Ozrim (and doesn't let that glance touch the chronic dangler on his arm). To Dima's mind, Casimir shares a sphere of kinship with Daniil; the both of them obsequious, surrounding themselves with men of equal temperaments, equal hungers that exceed their capabilities or means.

And, yes, Dmitri's heard of Casimir's uninspired efforts toward dominance. (Years ago, he'd known men of Casimir's stripe closer than he cares to think.)

And, no, he isn't particularly convinced that Ozrim will keep Sasha's interest. Dima's not that lucky. Sasha's not so readily satisfied.

There's a fresh pour of whiskey for Dmitri, who casts his eyes toward the ceiling. "I'm not foolhardy enough to take that bet of yours.

"And as much as I might welcome the distraction of a duel - as humorous as it might be to watch Casimir inevitably stumble onto his own blade - I fear the ensuing scandal would send Lord Alfrig into cardiac arrest. While, yes, I do still 'dabble in the arcane,' raising an undead lord to cognizance—" Dmitri glances toward Alfrig, looks back to Vitaly with a shake of his head. "—semi-cognizance, is currently beyond my skill."

Gods, though, it's tempting: The thought of cutting down the overweening shithead here and now, and the thought of wiping Sasha from existence while he's at it. The trouble is, there's little good in hashing out Morovsk's troubles in another territory's court.

And. "Consider as well: My sister would murder both of us," tilting his glass toward Kozak, "at the first opportunity."

<.>

Vitaly tsks. "Deza loves me. She might murder you, but surely with your 'skillset', that shouldn't be any sort of consideration at all."

He begins to say something further, but abruptly changes tack. "Oh, gods, they've seen us. Leave it Casimir to think it's anything but comical to be sporting your leavings like last year's fashions."

He grasps Dima by the elbow and steers him towards a small congregation of people nearer the doors. "Dima, have you met Tacita? Exarch Wesh is from the southlands, and do you know, Tacita, I was just telling Dima here that Casimir Ozrim positively hates you and won't come within thirty feet of you, which means you are the safest harbor in this room."

Tacita Wesh stares at the men with raised brows, then lets her gaze settle on the bottle Vitaly is now carrying. She angles her head to see Casimir faltering in his step and whispering to Sasha, motioning to someone-or-the-other. Then, returning her stony expression to Dima and Vitaly, she holds out her glass and taps it with one long fingernail.

"Exarch, should you be indulging?" Vitaly gasps, feigning shock.

"Should you be requesting sanctuary without a donation to the church, Vitaly?" As Vitaly pours, she examines Dima with a reserved gaze. "It's Lord Voronin, is it? Or Dima Stolarz - no, you're not him. He's dead now, isn't he?"

<.>

"Loathe though I am to encourage any act of tithing, I take this as a minor price to pay." And, with an incline of his head toward Kozak, "I'll bring you a bottle tomorrow. Call it my gratitude."

To Tacita, he bows his head, straightens. "Exarch, you have my envy: The gods know I would like to possess half your power in warding off Ozrim." Dima is not looking back toward the shitstain and his parasitic jag. He's perfectly content not to think about either of them again. (Should he, though? Think about their presence in this city.) (No, no; there's nothing either of them can mangle, and if Dima plays his socializing right, it shouldn't take too terribly much to keep free of them. If nothing else, he'll have to have Kozak run interference— For a further bottle or two of gratitude.)

"It is Lord Voronin, yes—Dmitri." Then, with a faux-scowl toward Vitaly, "'Dima' to the more reckless among us.

"Regrettably alive, in either name." While Kozak is in the business of pouring, Dima's going to hold out his glass, because after that near-miss he damned well deserves another drink, please and thank you very much.

"I trust you're enjoying yourself." He trusts - and his voice says he trusts - to no such thing. "It seems we've all come quite a way to witness this Champion's—" He waves a hand slightly, dismissive. "—Show of, as Kozak says, ooze and amiability."

<.>

Tacita sips her whiskey exactly as she might a glass of wine, her eyes once more tracking Casimir's progress. It's Vitaly who speaks first.

"It can't be proven that I said any such thing, and I'll thank you not to paraphrase me to the good church authorities, lest they say something I might later regret."

Tacita doesn't look at either man, but she speaks in a low, dismissive tone. "Who would listen?"

The two younger clerics in the group seem to be her companions - or apprentices. She glances at them and says neutrally, "Walk away, and ponder the mysteries of Waukeen. Quietly."

The pair departs and Tacita sighs, her shoulders relaxing just a little. "They begged to accompany me. Most of the youths taking the mantle have never been north of Mysos. I might be destroying their illusions of pious Exarch Wesh somewhat; prolonged company will do that."

"Extorting for whiskey does leave a stain on the reputation," Vitaly drawls.

"Extortion is only extortion if you have no other options," she counters in a patronizing tone. "You could both have departed. It's not as though there's anything here but irritated nobles and whatever that is."

'That' being Alfrig and his Champion.

[q: would dima know anything about Waukeen, however vague?
REL, 15
a: Dima generally knows Waukeen is the goddess of trade. He's able to recognize the holy symbol of an upright coin bearing Waukeen's profile.]

<.>

questions and answers abound!

[onefellswoop]

it’s time for another round of dima questions! (with ability checks including INV: 16, PERC: 15, HIST: 13, ARC: nat 20)

-what would dima have noticed about the way alfrig interactions with/looks at/shares presence with caddick?

Alfrig clearly looks like he's thirsting after Caddick, for lack of a better word. Caddick seems aware of this and either genuinely interested and therefore flirting, or at least playing into it.


-does alfrig look as if he's under the influence of any kind of magic?

Alfrig doesn't appear to be under the influence of magic of any kind. If anything, he does seem alert.


-has anyone managed to approach alfrig/caddick?

The entire time Dima has been present in the hall, not one person has approached Alfrig or Caddick except for a pair of servants and Anicetus. Successfully, anyway.


-what has anicetus been doing during this time?

Anicetus has been schmoozing. Since talking to Dima, he's made his way through about ten people.


-is the food still untouched? what does the food look like/seem to include?

The food is relatively untouched, mostly because Loch Bien is not known for its culinary arts. It's nothing anyone is going out of their way to eat.


-does dima notice anyone who seems to be keeping a particular eye on him?

Dima is aware now that Sasha is watching him intently. Anicetus has also kept tabs on him. There are a few nobles present who mark him, but don't follow him too closely.


-does anicetus seem to be watching everyone else as closely, or other particular people?

Anicetus is watching several people moderately; no one with particular intent.


-does dima see anyone who fits the description faolan gave of the noble with the filigree ring?

There are several redheaded men in the room; it's a common genotype in Loch Bien, unfortunately. He might need Fae with him to pick out the man in question.


-what happened to the kid who brought the whiskey?

Peddyr is back to working for the woman who hired him, who has bribed him in much the same way for 'better wine'.


-are there any tapestries, paintings, carvings, coats of arms etc on the walls? if so, what might dima recognize about them?

Several tapestries and coats of arms line the walls. Dima doesn't recognize any of them, and honestly probably doesn't care.


-are there any particularly boisterous groups of nobles?

Everyone here seems to be a seasoned politician; the rural lords might have been boisterous but are too busy being bored. The liveliest people in this room are Vitaly, Tacita...and Sasha and Casimir.


-are there any groups of nobles or individual nobles who are clearly keeping to themselves?

People seem to be grouping up by place of origin, and otherwise not really...icebreaking. Without someone to lead the function, no one's stepping outside their comfort zone.


-who particularly in the crowd seems to be paying particular attention to sasha and casimir?

Most people are trying not to look at the display of overt flirting and entirely too much petting for a public political function.


-what precisely arE these days of celebration for? or i mean mmm what does it mean to celebrate alfrig's champion, and what is a champion slash is that a widely known title/designation/standard? what would dima know or think to expect from the celebration as a whole?

The celebration is for the fifth centennial of Loch Bien's founding; Dima (and everyone else) would be aware that Alfrig appears to have hijacked the celebration to honor Caddick for his recent heroic deeds. (Sort of like the President turning the 4th of July into a celebration for Tiger Woods.)

A champion here is a looser term more commonly associated with someone who engages in combat either as a sport or in defense of the country/kingdom, and when he/she does so, claims to do so in honor of someone. So, Caddick heroed and basically said 'I do this in honor of Alfrig!'

And then, Alfrig started sending him to do heroic things and fight in tournaments.

And now he gets a Caddick Party.


-do other leading lords take/claim champions? are champions a usual thing for loch bien?

Dima has probably had people champion for him several times. But none got to the point of being honored with a celebration.

Another note: champions are the individuals a noble might send to fight on their behalf in, say, a duel.


-does alfrig have a spouse?

Alfrig does have a spouse. She is markedly absent from this gathering. Wonder why.


-what would dima know or have heard about alfrig's son?

Dima has heard Alfrig's son isn't present, and has caught snatches of conversation that would suggest he's upset because Caddick is his best friend.


-who would usually be leading this kind of icebreaker day of joy?

Alfrig would usually be more engaged and making rounds, trying to network people and generally set an example. In his stead, his...son. Would be doing this. Or his wife.


-are there visible guards around? are any of them limping?

There are guards, mostly for effect. None of them are walking around much, so it's hard to say if anyone is limping.


-of the attendees dima is familiar with, are many of them typically involved with trade negotiations? are there other commonalities?

There are quite a few people here who are engaged in trade. However, as trade is the primary source of wealth, particularly the shipping industry, it's not surprising that so many nobles here would have a history of merchanting. The major commonality is that everyone here is a high-ranking noble or ambassador. But that's also not surprising to Dima.


-do the nobles gathered seem uhhh dressed to impress?

No one's really 'dressed to impress'. They're dressed to attend.


-does alfrig or caddick seem to be watching anyone in particular in the crowd?

Alfrig and Caddick are watching Alfrig and Caddick.


-how many of the attendees are clearly armed (with ceremonial weaponry or otherwise)?

Roughly half of the nobles in the room are visibly armed, and there are likely more who are not so visibly armed. It's easy to see that some of the hired servants are also bodyguards.


-aside from anicetus, is there anyone here who dima would recognize as having some kind of tie to rosewall?

There's no one else from Striker's Bay that Dima recognizes; in fact, Anicetus is probably the first high-ranking person he's seen from the Rosewall's era in many, many years.


-is anyone from the current ruling group of striker's bay present?

That is an interesting question. No, no one from Striker's Bay is present.


-has anyone from mysos showed up?

One or two people from Mysos have trickled in; they're recognizable by their clothing, which is suitable for warmer climates. They've layered in an effort to stave off the chill.


-is there anyone dima would recognize as having studied in novorometz?

There aren't many from Novorometz present, or if there are, they aren't mentioning it. Necromancy is still frowned upon in most circles; Dima gets away with it because Dima has m o n e y.


-anyone wearing any rings of particular noticeability/note?

No rings of interest to Dima after the incident this morning.


-what gods are most commonly worshipped in loch bien, if any?

Pelor and Waukeen are the predominant gods in the continent; however, other gods have their centers of worship. Dima wouldn't know specifics beyond that.


-what would dima know about loch bien's history and founding? is alfrig's line tied far back, slash how does holding + transfer of power work in loch bien?

History check: Di Loch Bien used to be the primary port to the north, with overland trade routes leading down through the continent. Dima, coming from Morovsk, would know that the building of the Mysos canal - much like the Panama Canal - changed the face of the shipping trade; routes changed. Loch Bien was no longer a port of call, which bankrupted a large portion of the merchant class.

Dima would know that Morovsk nearly suffered the same fate, but fell back on its pearl and rare gem trade, which actually improved its situation as a nation. Loch Bien had no such fallback and is considered a waning power.

With that in mind, everyone in attendance is here out of formality, but there's an air of pity amongst those from other nations, and thinly veiled displeasure from most of the Loch Bien nobility; Dima might conjecture this entire affair is a waste of money Loch Bien can ill afford to spend.

Alfrig's line goes back about three generations. Power transfers to his spouse or son in the event of his death. Notably, Loch Bien is the only nation *not* ruled by a council or circle of ministers.

…well. Striker's Bay is also not ruled by a council. Striker's Bay isn't really 'ruled'.


-what woulD dima know about mm, like striker's bay's current structure/existence? (HIST, disadv: 10)

Dima knows that fifteen years ago, the Rosewall family and every last person in their ruling class and ministerial cabinet was dragged from their beds in the middle of the night and 'shelled' - the thing Jannos threatened to watch done to Calabra.

He knows not many people made it out alive; Anicetus is an exception, as he was in Morovsk at the time.

He knows that there are a lot of fantastical rumors about what became of the port, and he knows sailing in that direction is generally hazardous because of threats of piracy. The last time someone from Morovsk was sent in an ambassadorial function, he disappeared. Four months later, a messenger was sent from the borderlands with a book that had been bound with tanned human skin. The ambassador's wife recognized his tattoo on the back 'cover'.

The rumors suggest that Striker's Bay is a lawless and dangerous place, and most people have written it off for lost.

One more thing: Striker's Bay was once called Wydon; the new name is more rumor than known fact, but the rumor took hold well enough that people just sort of. Accepted it.


-what's the situation with vitaly's wife? :O? or what would dima know?

Vitaly married a much younger woman against everyone's advice. As it turns out, they were all right, and she is living in Novorometz with the necromancer she ran off with.


-tbh this is also mostly for general knowledge but would vitaly have been acquainted with darzh?

He probably knows Darzh as well as Dima knows Darzh, having been a childhood acquaintance/friend?

note: makes sense to me! and yes, vitaly would have been as close to friend as child dima had.


-is there anyone present as this ice-not-really-breaking event that dima knows has vied for or tried to get their relatives into vying for the hand of either of calabra's daughters?

That's a very interesting question. Dima should ask around.


-what would dima knows about the southlands?

The Southlands is a general term for all points south - kind of like calling the southern US the 'South', but not as nasty racist. Dima knows the territories down that way, and may have been once or twice, but it's a difficult journey through jungle and mountains and pretty goddamn unpleasant. Poor Tacita.


-are most of the attendees here human?

Most of the attendees are human, dwarven, or half-elf. There are startlingly few elves; most of them seem to be part of the staff or Anicetus. Dima doesn't see any other races accounted for here, and might be keenly aware that he is one of maybe three half-elves.

Dima would also be aware that Loch Bien is a primarily human city, and they have a cough cough history of being not the most hospitable to other races.


-does this 'hijack 5th centennial celebration' behavior seem in line with alfrig's usual behavior or uncharacteristic? or ig would dima have any sense of this?

Dima doesn't really have a sense of whether this is characteristic for Alfrig; no one seems to have remarked on the act itself, but there's plenty of derision about Caddick.


-how viable would it be to, say, if someone got it in his head to try, sneak out of the room to have a look around? that is, are there doors/etc. that might be slipped into?

There are doors. Dima is certainly welcome to try.


-how oldish is alfrig/how long has he been in his position? ....actually how oldish also is calabra?

Calabra and Alfrig are both in their late fifties / early sixties. Alfrig has been Lord of LB since he was thirty.


-what happened to the book that was once an ambassador from morovsk?

...You tell me.
note: dima took it for 'safekeeping' and 'examination' ofc. it now lives in dima’s special collection!


-when/how long ago was the mysos canal built?

The Mysos canal was built over several generations, actually; it began as an irrigation system by the farmers in the area, and eventually someone got the bright idea to see if they could just make a whole canal from on side of the continent to the other. It's been complete for, eh, twenty or thirty years.


-does loch bien regularly or ever send ambassadors to morovskgorod?

Loch Bien does send ambassadors, but it's less frequent than it used to be, particular over the last decade.


-has any reason - truth or otherwise - been given for the dwindling of loch bien ambassadors to morovsk?

No; the rate of decline has been slow enough that people may not have noticed until recently.


-does dima have any knowledge or sense or heard rumors of caddick's origins?

Dima has yet to hear anything about Caddick's origins.