Tammy
Lord Radgore Skagerlly 
Hallowed Halls of the Weeping Pit, Reaper's Skull 

He contemplated a moment, appearing as if the gears stopped turning a moment. He studied both of them, before reaching for another horn of ale Fat Tongue had been holding readily for his father. He downed almost the whole thing, gulping as if he were a man who had gone a full week without water in the poisonous deserts of Amoroth. "Fine," He breathed as he finished, wiping his mouth off, liquid flying everywhere. "Soggy bollocks," He pointed to Jyrol, "I entrust that your paranoid and fretful demeanour will be enough to ensure my castle doesn't become a ruin. You have command of the Weeping Pit in my absence." He stumbled up dais back to his highchair as Kelsafyr departed. 

"You... You honour me, father," Jyrol sounded utterly astonished. 

"Yeah yeah," He slurred, slumping onto a chair a thud. The Lord of the Weeping Pit's weight echoed across the entire hall. 

"You are mostly a disappointment ta me, Jyrol. My ilk scare runs through you. You do not have the tenacity of Mallsrek, Shaydrin or Kelsafyr," Radgore spoke aloud. 

"My humblest apologies, My Lord. My greatest fear is to leave you disappointed." Jyrol joined his hands beneath his baggy undershirt, appearing almost like a scholar. 

Lord Radgore laughed. "But I will give it ta you, ya aren't an idiot. Always a bright boy, yes. I remember. But us Skagerllys have not made our names by writing books or reading books or proposing new profound ways in which this whoreson of world works. We know how it works. Fear and blood. But you could never strike either." His loud and monstrous demeanour had become subdued, perhaps by the gallons of ale he'd consumed.

"Some of us are born to fight, others are born to think," Jyrol retorted. 

"Hmm," Lord Radgore groaned, "The Skagerllys were born to fight. Manufactured to crush all who dare stand in our way. Not *Talk* About it. You talk a lot, boy. Always butting in and contradicting me... I suppose in that regard you're worth more to me than any of these fockin' slack-jawed, vacant-eyed *Shits."* The malice just oozed out of him. "Ya aren't afraid ta tell your Lord Father he's wrong for the sake of the House." 

"The prosperity of my House is everything to me, My Lord," Was all he had to say. 

"Yet now that I commend you on your efforts, ya don't have much ta say," Radgore sniffed, and spat. 

Jyrol Skagerlly actually moved to ascend the dais, walking methodically up to meet what looked like overlord of all evil, slumped in his throne of skull and bones which Kelsafyr had described to him so eloquently. Jyrol's siblings and half-siblings looked on with utter terror, their slack-jawed, vacant-eyed expression became filled with terror. Jyrol leaned in to his father, who was breathing like a stuffed boar, "Because you will not remember a single word of this conversation on the morrow. So why would I waste my breath?" Jyrol's words sure as steel. 

Radgore scowled up at him, bringing teeth, broken and missing teeth together in a provocative grimace. "Oh you're so sure, are you boy? You think I-...," The Lord struggled to perch himself up to meet his son's gaze, "You think I'm an oaf, hmm, a *Drunkard?"* He tried to reach up with his bear's paw to throttle his son once again. Jyrol simply stepped backwards. 

"You've had enough ale to paralyse a mammoth," He commented. 

"You think I forget so much?!" He bellowed. "You think my memory fails me so?" He looked down at his spawn, hardly any of their names came to mind. 

"I've been studying you since I could walk, father. I know your hubris."

"I remember the things that fockin' matter," He began, "In all my years a Lord, I've had more Ladies at my side than I can count on two hands. Though I suppose they made it more difficult ta count when one of them cut my digit off," Lord Radgore gave a hearty laugh, holding up his meaty paw to his son, missing a ring finger. Suddenly it hit him and his amused expression departed. "This was your mother...,"

"You threatened to have her raped by a pack of hounds." 

"Well she was a difficult fockin' woman!" Lord Radgore insisted. "Always wanting more and more... The verbal lashing and public attempts at eradicating my manhood weren't half as bad as the melancholy. Her moods would drive any sane man in to wanting to kill himself." 

"Is that why you gave her to the Weeping Pit?" Jyrol imparted. "Or was it because she wasn't Lady Liona?" 

That caused Radgore to not lash out like a wild beast and bludgeon his son, but to slump back further into his highchair in contemplation. His swollen hands traced over his mouth thoughtfully. "You know in all my years of whoring and debauchery, that was the one," He said finally. "I was never unfaithful to her. She never gave me a reason to. She was a good woman. I..," He rose once again, standing like a giant. "I cared for her like nothing else. Until...," His eyes fixated on the ground, seemingly in a trance. 

"Until what?" Jyrol asked. 

Lord Radgore's gut made a queer sound, like the rumbling of an ancient, cursed tomb that should never to be disturbed. Suddenly he groaned like a dying pig, as he spewed all the contents of his stomach lining over the dais, on the stairs, even reaching some of his children. He fell forward, smacking his face on the stone with a thud. 

"Good night, father." Jyrol left him there, and ushered his siblings from the hall. 

————

Lord Radgore Skagerlly
The Vivayn Camps outside Castle Barrmount, the Iron Plaines 

Lord Radgore led the pack as his fierce black stallion trotted forward. The banners of House Skagerlly flapped in the cold winds as they neared their destination. The albino alligator, cold blooded, on a crimson red field. The smoke from the campfires roared above the scene, with clouds meeting here and there up through the infamous pine forests of the Iron Plaines. Terrain that Lord Radgore was oh so familiar with and did not have fond memories of. 

His black stallion gave a whiney as they came up on retainers and attendants. "The horses all go queer this far east," He said to his daughter Kelsafyr, who rode beside him. "Old ancient Barrmount witchcraft. That's why they took the Armoured Horse for their sigil," He proposed. Though the validity of that statement was up for debate. "They'll use any underhanded tactics made available ta them. I've been fightin' them since I was a boy," He stepped down from the stirrups, handing the reigns to a stable boy. "Go and find your brothers. I'd have words with them," He instructed her.
Shirley
**Lady Kelsafyr Skagerlly**
**The Vivayn Encampment outside Castle Barrmount, The Iron Plains**

"Perhaps they can sense your unease, father. It's been a while since you were here, is it not?" Commented Kelsafyr with little thought, the droning sound of hooves ambling along dirt roads filling her ears. It was a cherished respite from whatever conversation her father attempted to have with her. Lord Radgore Skagerlly wasn't known for his conversational skills. She tightened her grip upon the reigns of her mare, shifting within the saddle. She wondered how Shaydrin would react to her presence within the campsite, would he be angry? No, she thought, he'd likely be sick with worry for her safety in a place like this. Lost in reflection, the rest of the journey blurred, until she seemed to blink and they had arrived at their destination. 

She swung her legs off of the side of her saddle and accepted the hand of a nearby stablehand, her thick heeled leather boots thudding against the ground as she dropped off of her horse. "I'll find them right away." She reassured her father, tugging her riding gloves from her hands and tucking them into the belt of her leather pants. "Take me to my brother." She commanded the stablehand, who quickly nodded his head and began to escort Kelsafyr throughout the campsite. 

Her stomach was in knots, her gaze wandering along the faces of the Skagerlly and Vivayn retinues as she traipsed throughout the bivouac. Hard, weathered, rugged faces greeted her, with lingering gazes that eyed her as if she were a chunk of meat. She swallowed a lump that had formed in her throat and rested a hand on the hilt of her dagger that she had strapped to her hip, exhaling a sharp breath from her nose. A voice drew her attention, the stablehand that was escorting her had paused just outside a tent.
—

—
"Just a momen', m'lady. Oi'll tell y'brother of y'and y'fathers arrival." He grumbled, scurrying into the flaps of the canvas. Clearing his throat, his gaze landed upon Shaydrin. "Sorry t'interrupt, m'lord, but y'sister is here, along w'ya father. They're awatin' y'self and Lord Mallsrek."
Stephen
Evangeline Luronsque
House Batten

She jumped at the sound of Remus' voice coming from behind the door. She realized she hadn't been paying attention, this entire time, and her eyes widened at the news. She popped up from the chair and walked swiftly to the door, pulling it open and peeking her head out.

"He is? Does he want to see me? Wait, does he *Know*? Who's going to tell him? I'm not going to introduce myself as his fiancée if he doesn't even know he has one..." Her mind was obviously racing. She was even a little flushed. He *Was* Handsome after all. She swallowed a little, looking at Remus with wide eyes. "How much time do I have?"
Mary
General Knights and Servants of House Batten: Remus Carvan
House Batten

Watching Evangiline's head poke out from the door the sudden rush of questions gave him slight pause. He made note of her expression, the wide eye stare making it hard to settle on the right words to set her at ease. Taking a deep breath in, Remus tried to give a soft and reassuring smile. He probably wasn't the best person to give all of these answers, he was just a knight after all not anyone who could speak with any certainty for those above him. However perhaps he could make sure she was as prepared as she needed to be. 

"He just entered through the front gates minutes ago, I'd imagine after the rain from this morning he's more interested in a bath than meeting anyone. I'd imagine after he is presentable Lady Batten will wish to have some words with him about the arrangement, and once all that has been completed it won't be long before you meet properly. Take as much time as you need, first impressions are important." 

As he spoke he noticed her flushed demeanor and how as he spoke she seemed to be deep in thought. He recalled how not long ago she had been quiet, reserved, and almost scared of the estate and its people.He hopped this was a change for the better over the worse, maybe this is just what she needs to open up to this place.
Stephen
Evangeline Luronsque
House Batten

"Right... Right." She took a fee deep breaths and lowered her eyes. "Could you please send in a maid to help me?" She already was reigning in her nerves as best she could, trying to look at it all a tad more logical than what she wanted to. 

She couldn't help but want to impress Caius, although she hadn't laid eyes on his face, if he was to marry her the last thing she wanted was for him to be disappointed in who he was stuck with. She smiled a little at Remus, mouthing the words *Thank you*, and slowly closed the door, leaving it unlocked for a maid to enter with ease.

Walking over to one of her cases, she opened it and began to look through her dresses methodically, trying to close up her pesky thoughts and feelings and hypothetically work on putting one foot in front of the other.