Harvey
Captain Valkrin Farensun
Maith Mansion 

"There's no forgiveness needed, many a man would die for the chance you might step on their toes in a dance." He winked his glass eye and smiled, as the pair began to dance to the best of his knowledge. "It's been many a year since I've danced myself, but as two of the most famous Terrime in the room, I've no doubt the others will keep their mouths shut if we mess up." 

The two continued the dance in silence for a moment, before Valkrin began to speak again. "I didn't know your father, nor did I know he'd been murdered by Kelwynd, but I am glad my actions gave closure to at least someone. Though if we're being honest, as liquor tends to make oneself, there are days I regret removing the bastard's head. Haven't had a purpose like that since it happened, it'd be nice to have purpose again." He shook his head at his own words, confused on why he even gave the information. 

"But enough of that shit, how are things in our homeland?"
Elissa
Peraz Dumagne 
The Ball, Maith Mansion

"Two of the most famous Terreme? You flatter me, Captain." Said Peraz, an almost amused expression taking over her as she relaxed into the conversation. The captain did not seem so legendary to be intimidating in the moment of conversation.

His next words were a little... Unnerving. To regret killing a monster like Vronti for the sake of having something to do felt a hollow reason, though she had many purposes in life and perhaps it was beyond her imagination to be without any.

"The only regret I have about it," She spoke as the strings of pearls from her kemenike clicked together with the movement of the dance,"Is that I was not the one to remove it myself. I was barely a whelp then, however."

"Northwind's army is amassing in the south and Falsa finds itself on the verge of an invasion. My fool of a brother-" Peraz's voice had started to rise before she caught herself and averted her eyes from the captain."I apologise once more. The drink has not made me myself. I do not mean to speak ill of my lord-Brother."
Harvey
Captain Valkrin Farensun 
The Ball, Maith Mansion

"You don't need to worry yourself with proper mannerisms, dear," Valkrin spoke softly as the pair continued to move about the floor, "You're in the Isles, among pirates and sellswords, and in the arms of a man barred from your nation. If none of that bothers you, I believe a truthful comment about your brother will go quite unnoticed." 

He stopped for a moment to take a drink from the bottle he'd stashed in his coat pocket, then resumed the dance. 

"Admittedly, I'd have paid a great deal to watch you cleave the head off that bastard. Beautiful as you are, I'm sure you'd look better with a sword in your hand." The Captain chuckled at his joke, scanning about the room before returning his gaze to Peraz's.
Elissa
Peraz Dumagne 
The Ball, Maith Mansion

Regardless of the captain's intentions and kind words, Peraz needed to remember herself. She was the eldest child of Baldarian Dumagne and she would not dishonour him by speaking ill of her family to others.

"I don't know if I look any better with a sword than without but i'd certainly feel a good deal safer." She admitted as their dance resumed. It had become a habit on Togaira to carry a sword on all manner of days, grabbing the hilt had become a thing of grounding in moments of paranoia or unrest. Besides, if she had brought her sword she would have been able to partake in the melee.

"Tell me, Captain. Do you miss Falsa? Or have you found the isles to be more of a home?" Peraz asked with an easy smile. It wasn't often she spoke with a Terreme who no longer lived in Terresol, and as one of the less well-travelled Dumagnes, she wanted to learn what she could of the world.
Emma
Carac the Butcher and Mallsrek Skaggerly 
Sixteen Rings, Tonate Proper

The grand melee had gone to hell. The guests were running from the barge in varying states of panic, as guards rushed in to replace them, the last two opponents standing in the barren arena, a wall of spears and shields ensuring the only way one would leave is when the other fell. King Bradai Maith had called for the capture of Mallsrek Skaggerly, and Carac the butcher had taken it upon himself to collect the brute. Mallsrek, for his part, was loath to refuse a chance to work out the last of his bloodlust. 

The lord of clan Skaggerly had in his hands a massive two-handed axe, blunted for the melee, but a deadly weapon in it's own right, as many this day had learned. There was little doubt he would be captured this day, but Mallsrek doubted it would be this armor-clad fool who would take him in. He had heard of the one they called "The Butcher of Feyshore", and he was less than impressed. A single castle of women and children put to sword and everyone thought he was some sort of monster? Mallsrek had killed ten times that, he would crack open this fool's armor and eat him raw.

Carac shifted his weight, holding his shield up and his mace at the ready. He knew all about clan Skaggerly, about their leader and the rivers of blood that trailed behind him, about his legend. *Legend*, that was why Carac had done this, not just the melee, but insisting on dueling Mallsrek on his own. He had come to this melee to win, to prove that the Butcher of Feyshore could not be defeated, to give truth to the legend. If he let these guards take away Skaggerly, the melee would end, and he would be forgotten as just another man shoved to the side as they dragged away this criminal. So he would stand and fight, pit his legend against another, and see whose was stronger.

Mallsrek made the first move, charging towards his armored opponent with a roar, bringing down the axe with incredible force. Carac moved his shield up to stop the blow, intercepting the blade with a resounding clang that echoed throughout the Sixteen Rings. Mallsrek was undeterred, swinging again and again, his blade a blur as it rained down blow after blow on Carac's shield. The Lord of Clan Skaggerly yelled with blood-rage, he could smell his victory approaching, and the blood of this fool would soon be spilled. 
Carac kept his shield up as the sound of metal on metal echoed within his helmet. He was at a disadvantage, Mallsrek's large axe gave him reach that allowed him to remain out of range of Carac's mace as long as Carac kept his shield up. He considered putting his shield down, but he could feel the force of the blows from his opponent, and if one hit correctly, even Carac might fall. But he couldn't hide behind his shield forever, he had to attack soon, or he'd end up butchered himself.

Mallsrek raised his axe above his head, preparing to break through this tin soldier's defenses and gut him like the worthless fool he was. They might drag him before the King of the Isles, but he would go there on his terms, coated in blood and smelling of death. But as his axe reached its apex, his opponent charged forwards, slamming the shield into his gut and pushing him across the arena, slamming him into the rail of the ship, the only part of the arena that wasn't coated with Maith guards. 
Carac felt his opponent's body collide with the wooden railing, and pulled back, raising his mace and using the opportunity to swing at his opponent's head. That was all he needed, one good blow on the Skaggerly's unarmored head and this would all be over. But as the mace neared it's target, Mallsrek's axe moved to intercept, shoving the mace downwards and causing the weapon to slam into the Skaggerly's armored rib cage instead of his skull. Carac didn't have time to curse before Mallsrek slammed the butt of his axe into Carac's face, sending the larger man reeling backwards as Mallsrek followed up by swinging his blade upwards, catching Carac in the chest and sending him flying backwards, landing face up on the wooden deck with a thundering crash. 

Mallsrek laughed, raising his axe in the air to show all who watched what he was capable of. No man could stand before him, he was the bloody fist of clan Skaggerly, death made flesh, the butcher of the butcher of feyshore. He would gouge out their eyes and devour their hearts, and when the 'Pirate King' looked upon him, even in chains he would make sure he knew fear. 
"I'll cut off your head and mount it on my fucking wall." He declared, leveling his axe at Carac, still lying on the ground.

"And the rest of you! Who wants to be the first to die? Your King wants me? He can get me himself! I'll kill all of you, then throw your heads at his feet! Who thinks they can take me, eh? Who wants to be the first to die at my hands?!" He waited for an answer, watching the fear creep across the stoic faces of the guards. Mallsrek smiled to himself.
Then Carac stood.

Carac slowly rose to his feet, a small dent in his chest armor from where the axe hit. He had been going about this wrong. Mallsrek had an advantage here, his weapons gave him an edge that Carac would have trouble overcoming, so he would refer to the first rule of warfare, one he learned long ago. When your enemy has an advantage, take it away. Carac rolled his shoulders, readied his weapons, and then tossed his mace and shield to the side. Mallsrek looked at him, confused, as Carac raised up his fists and beckoned his opponent to take his best shot. 
Mallsrek laughed at the sight, "HAH! So you've decided to die stupider than most? Good, I could use a laugh!" 
The Lord of clan Skaggerly roared and charged, bringing his axe over his head and bringing it down with terrifying force towards his opponent, prepared to watch this fool die. Yet as the blade fell, instead of the sound of rending flesh, there was only the clang of metal on metal as Carac moved with surprising speed, shifting to the side and turning a blow meant for his head into one that merely glanced his armored shoulder. One of Carac's hands went directly upwards, grabbing onto the haft of the axe, right below the head, and ripping it out of Mallsrek's hands, tossing it behind him and into the crowd. His other hand formed a fist and rose towards it's target, Mallsrek's chin. Gauntlet and flesh collided with a satisfying crunch as Mallsrek fell backwards, blood spewing from a split lip and a red gash on his chin.

Carac stood over his opponent, looking down at his fallen foe as he rose, dazed and confused. Skaggerly was a deadly warrior, true, but he was also a Lord, and that was his weakness. He had been given warriors and training, he had been allowed to kill and butcher as he liked, because his birth gave him the privilege to do so. He had fought every battle he had because he wanted to, because he had always been nothing more than a bloodthirsty little shit. Carac had learned to love the bloodshed, he had been forced into this life, fighting for his survival with no banners at his side or armies at his command. Mallsrek had inherited his legend, Carac had written his own. 

"What was t-" 
Carac didn't give him time to finish, bringing down another fist on Mallsrek's face, sending him skidding across the floor, this time with a broken nose. He was quicker to rise this time, charging at Carac and swinging a punch of his own at his enemy, but the blow seemed to do little to the Butcher, who merely grabbed the fist in mid-air, and twisted Mallsrek's arm at an uncomfortable angle, forcing the man to contort to keep his arm from breaking.

Carac swung again, hitting Skaggerly across the face, holding onto his arm to ensure he would stay still as he punched again and again, the sound of the punches slowly turning into dull, wet thumps as blood stained Carac's gauntlets. He finally let go, dropping a barely conscious Mallsrek to the ground. The only sound that left Skaggerly's mouth was a gurgle as he turned his head to the side, spitting out a mixture of blood and teeth. 
Carac looked back at Katholou, then turned and walked towards the exit, the Maith guards parting before him like a sea as the Butcher of Feyshore made his way off the Sixteen Rings and towards the Palace. He could go for a drink right now.
Alice
**Katholou Of Clan Drase,
The Melee, Sixteen Rings**
All of the guards stared in awe as the two mighty combatants exchanged mighty blows that would be enough to put a normal man out of commission in mere seconds. Even Katholou, who usually was never quite impressed by anything had to admit that the pure display of skill, speed and strength was indeed an amazing sight to behold. Of course he also took the occasion to carefully study how both of them fought, making sure to take in any piece of information that may give him an edge in a potential fight as you never know when fates may put men against one another. The fight continued on and no one dared move a muscle as if a sacred dome had been created around the combatants. Only when Carac seemed to be losing did the members of Bradai's Shield hint at being just about to rush in and finish this once and for all, only to quickly change their own mind as The Butcher rose and continued to fight, defeating the member of the Skaggerly family soon after. 

"Impressive"

The leader of Clan Drase muttered, sending a glance and a nod towards Carac as he walked away. He would make sure to tell Bradai exactly what had transpired as he did not want to gain his King's favour through lies and deceit. He then turned towards the wounded man that was now strewn across the floor of the arena and walked towards him. 

"You should have known better than to challenge a man fighting to build his own legacy. Seize him!"

He then shouted, immediately causing four guards to approach and put shackles on the criminal before escorting him to the palace with Katholou and his second in command clearing a path through the crowd that had now once again begun forming at the entrances of the arena. 

"That Carac... He seems like someone that we should try and recruit"

Godswill said as he walked up to Katholou's side

"If not to have him as an ally at the very least to make sure that he does not become a foe"

He added.

"Perhaps you're right. But nevertheless as long as he does not threaten our mighty liege i would not want to lose the chance to have a good duel with him. It's been a long while since i've met a worthy opponent"

Katholou looked back at the extremely beat up Skaggerly

"Also for some reason i believe that the strain that attempting to control him would put upon our coffins is not something we can currently afford"

The prisoner is brought to Galt Drake and before being tossed into the darkest cell that could be found in the capital city
Harvey
Captain Valkrin Farensun 
The Ball, Maith Mansion

The Kingslayer took a moment to answer, almost avoiding the question entirely. "I don't remember what Falsa looks like, honestly, so I've never considered it home. And though I've spent the last few years here in Tonate, I can't find any reason to stay besides there's nowhere else for me to go." A man bumped into him from behind, and he almost reached for the hilt of his sword, instead giving the man a glare. 

"The *Sun's End* Has been my only home, the one thing that still hasn't changed after all these years. You and I could board tonight and leave this harbor, and I'd likely never think of these Isles or their people again."
Rhonda
The Sapphire Seneschal, Silas Asgarov
The Banyan Tree, The Water Gardens


"You _have_ no place taking risks, my young Samsom. I could—" 

_I could break your sword hand. I could cut if off, if you'd let me._
_I could kill that brother for you, and your sisters as well._ 
_I could drink you. Waking._

He exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Well, just about _anything_ could trigger your natural progression, but it seems as if some..." He snapped his fingers and in an instant another cigarette was in his mouth. He rattled off a quick succession of choppy Azaryan words, curses, as a manicured hand spun idly in the air above him. "...Some common vagabond Mainlander _hags_ have gotten to you first." 

He wanted to place a hand on the boy's shoulder, to tell him to stay far away from Mages beyond The Walls of Azarya, but then, of course, _he_ was a Mage beyond The Walls. But then his eyes narrowed, and in an instant, the cigarette was out between two pale fingers, in a hand resting idly against the side of the warped roots of the banyan tree. The end burst in a flickering blue spark, and a slow column of smoke rose from the ember, twisting in on itself like a column of grey silk. 

"Who are they?" In the flickering blue light of the candleglobe, his eyes became venomous slits. "Some coven of hill dwellers that chose to send a bastard to treat with _me?_" He puffed out his chest and shook his head, "No. I speak only to you, and only because of your mother. But I will say this of them, and nothing more..."

Silas slipped the cigarette into his mouth and placed his hand on the warped roots of the banyan tree, slipping around the corner.

"These... Terresol _Mages,_" The word was a curse, "They do not know my King. They could not presume to understand his attitudes towards my magic, and the higher arts. But if they had not sent you all the way down here, who else could they turn to? Will they pin their hopes for freedom on the Pantheists? The Northerners? _You?_ Should they send for that whore, Anyanka Durkhan, to save them? As if they had ever _been_ to Astoria." 


The Senechal fell from sight, but his shrill, light laugh still emanated through the misty gardens, and puffs of smoke passed over the labyrinth of roots.

"It seems they made their choice by sending you down here. My King does not love mages. He does not love anyone, save for desperate men. If you find your back against a wall, and you have nowhere else to turn? Then he is yours."

Then silence.

He was gone, with only the smoke of his cigarette to mark where he had been. But by then, the party-goers had begun to seep down the stairs and into the gardens, where sorbet, fine wine, and chilled fruits were being handed out. Samsom was once again in the middle of the party, albeit still sat on the roots of a tree.
Elissa
Peraz Dumagne 
The Ball, Maith Mansion

"I'm sorry to hear that. Falsa has always been home to me, I couldn't imagine any other." She said, jolting a bit as Valkrin was bumped into and then her in turn. 

"Why, Captain Valkrin, that's scandalous!" She joked at his words, though with all the arguing she'd done with her brother tonight the thought of returning to her own boat shot the quick pain of a headache through her skull,"I do envy your worldliness, I admit. The island culture is so vibrant in comparison to home."

As they danced, her eyes momentarily searched for her brothers, a habit. Samsom was still nowhere to be seen and she could make out Lutur's head over the sea of dancers and dining nobles.
Erik
**Galt-Drake Geare
Maith Mansion, Southern Isles**

Galt-Drake was awaiting a response from the main Skagerlly family, tapping his foot somewhat impatiently, when he received a tap on his shoulder from one of the guards he'd sent out to retrieve Mallsrek Skagerlly. The guard acted calm in his movements and actions, tapping Galt-Drake on the shoulder and whispering something in his ear.

"We've collected Mallsrek for ya, Captain Galt," The guard quietly stated. He continued, "We'd like ya ta assess his condition and tha quality of the job done, if ya wouldn't mind."

Galt-Drake calmly nodded, delivered a brief hand signal to his men indicating them to hold the position at the Skagerlly family's table, and then walked outside of the Mansion. A group of other guards were waiting, carrying a man who was wrapped up and given what appeared to be basic treatment, but was still at least breathing. It was none other than Mallsrek. Galt-Drake raised a brow and lifted up the tarp that was covering up Mallsrek. When he saw the horrid state Mallsrek was in, his face and body bashed to hell, Galt-Drake couldn't hold back a brief bit of laughter.

"Well, I suppose it's on me for failing ta specify what condition I wanted him brought in," Galt-Drake declared, calm and somewhat humorous as ever. He then continued, "Take him to tha tower cell once I'm done lookin' this bastard over. Tha rest of his family will join him."

Galt-Drake held up the tarp for a little longer, investigating the comatose Skagerlly's injuries closely. There was no doubt about it; this giant, bald man had been beaten nearly to death. Likely a consequence of a bout in the melee, unless the guards got to him first.

"Well, my big brutish friend, it seems you've been trounced. I like your haircut, at least," Galt-Drake casually stated before giving Mallsrek a light slap on the top of his shiny, bald head. Such a slap was incredibly light and inconsequential, since Galt-Drake didn't want to injure the Skagerlly any further. Galt-Drake then put the tarp back over Mallsrek and waved his hand dismissively, letting the guards know that it was time to bring Mallsrek to the cell. Mallsrek was then transported to the tower cell that was awaiting all the Skagerllies. It was an incredibly comfortable and pleasant dwelling, with plenty of room and amenities to accommodate for the entire family. Mallsrek was put in a separate room with a bed large enough to fit his large frame, followed by some medical staff being called in to make sure his recovery from his mini-coma went well. Galt-Drake returned to the inside of the mansion, taking his place back in front of his crew, where he repeated his question to the rest of the Skagerllies, but with a slight twist.

"I've got one of yer own waiting for ya in yer temporary new residence, my good Skagerllies. I'll just repeat meself," Galt-Drake calmly, and somewhat coldly, stated. He then continued with his question, "Would ya kindly join me lads and I as we escort ya? I give ya my word that no harm shall come to any of yer ilk from me men and I. We have our standards."