Robert
Prince Nickles Ramsalot
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

The prince had been drunk upon his own majesty, a state that no amount of blood wine could come close to providing. Not that wine ever had any effect on the boy. Yet, in that moment, he felt the most intoxicated he ever had in all his life. To his right sat the Pirate King; the bane of his existence, the fire of his loins. To his left, King Dennon; the brand new, red and plump apple of his eye. Prince Nickles turned his tearbright eyes up toward the heavens (in this case, up toward the painting of Queen Matilda's gaping cunt), and thanked the God of Plenty for blessing his night with promises of devoted and sensual enjoyment. 

He peeped coquettishly out from under the brim of his hat at the Pirate King. "I did not know that pigs could play instruments. What is next, I beg your pardon? Shitbloods being allowed to wear proper shoes?" Nickles cracked, giggling prettily. He placed his hand upon the Pirate King's knee and scratched at his pantleg, attempting to create some snags in the fabric. "Finely tailored and beautifully worn, you have outdressed us all." He untangled his jagged nails from the king's pants and turned his attention to One Dennon Bigsby. 

He leaned in, pushing his hat up to reveal his heavily makeuped face. His cheeks were bright with rouge and his lips looked beestung. They were, in fact, beestung. Prince Nickles believed staunchy that pain is beauty, and he absolutely refused to be seen at a royal dinner without full, red lips. "Have you seen what the Pirate King turned up in? Snaggly pants. Quite the statement. Perhaps... The wrong statement," He whispered urgently. He turned to glance quickly back at Maith. "Shh... We mustn't disturb the pig man. He is performing nicely for us all to see and hear." 

Prince Nickles folded his hands delicately in his lap and turned back to the musician, listening intently.
Kevin
Danico Felrantres
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Danico tilted his head with curiosity at her suggestion that the necklaces effect could be duplicated with a simple potion. It wasn't so much a matter of being schooled in the matter- he had known that the effect he mentioned could most certainly be replicated with a potion. It might take a while to brew but it could certainly be done. No, rather he had been rather impressed by the girls knowledge of herbalism. Learning basic principles and common procedures was one thing, but learning the uncommon material was another entirely. Curious.

"Interesting hypothesis." Dancio replied, letting the jade hang free as he takes another bite of the pork. "Though you could certainly recreate the effect as a elixir, the effect of such would only last so long. As such, you would be preparing the elixir time and time again, each time you had to travel through The Melsoh, and depending on the length of your stay, multiple times per trip. Potions do wear off as the body purges it from the system." Upon finishing the pork, the alchemist pushes his plate to the side, cutlery aligned neatly side by side in the centre of the plate as he too leans back in his chair, though all too happy to leave the blood wine where it is. "The effect of the necklace is, however, permanent. So long as I continue to wear it." His eyes follows the finger of the other as she plays with the goblets rim momentarily before returning to her eyes. "I must admit I do not fully understand the enchantment attached to this piece of jewellery, it was a gift from a friend after all."

Danico pauses as Serafina mentions being quiet during the bard's performance. *"A good idea."* He retorts quietly, casually crossing his arms as the performance plays. He watched as the bard played his song and did rather well at it. A performance fit for a feast meant for royalty. The host of this feast, however, did not look so pleased. Where most of the guests looked as though they were enjoying this song and its rather catchy tune, the king Grunewald himself looked as though he was about to simultaneously fall asleep and bury his boot up the bards behind. *"I wonder if his head will too end up a thorn bush."* Danico jested grimly and discretely and from the side of his mouth.
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah
Castle Grunewald, The feast

The shifter ignored the fainting duchess to her right, picking up one of the utensils used for eating before using it to poke at the roasted hog served in front of her. Her gaze shifted around towards the royals and nobles at the table, studying the way they ate before mimicking their etiquette. Something that turned out to be a lot easier than she had hoped. Returning her attention to Bradai, she raised a questioning brow before leaning forward to look around the pirate King. The child covered in pink was someone she did not recognise one bit, however the large brimmed hat he wore allowed most of his features to be seen. Leaning back in her chair, Cecilia began eating the hog with as much restraint she could muster. It was difficult to not use her hands or shove all the food into her mouth. "I don't travel with children." 

When the duchess woke up, Cecilia felt a smirk pull at her lips towards the comment she spoke before King Gregor demanded silence in the room. She had barely dropped her fork as she continued to eat, looking towards the musician whose music soothes her ears before the child besides Bradai took her full attention. She continued to watch the Bard while listening to the pink abomination's rambling, doing her best to keep her laughter contained until she noticed in her peripheral the child took off her hat. She immediately turned towards the child before dropping her utensils in disgust. "I never thought I would ever say this but I'm officially not hungry anymore."
Kathleen
Amicia de Blanc
The streets of Vallen, Taemar

Amicia didn't like this at all. She was small enough that if things went sideways she could duck into a nearby alley and hide. But she was tired already today.

"I wasn't ah-attacked." Her tone sounded argumentative though her cadence seemed too flat for it. She rubbed at the cuts to show she was fine, though only succeeded in digging a small stone further in.

Wincing, she hid her arm behind her back and shouldered her bag on her other arm.
Edith
**Captain Retto Elbaroda**
**Vallen Taemar**

"What do you reckon's going on in there, Elbaroda?" Another Captain in Bradai's fleet asked the very bored Bard Captain. "Fuckin' eatin'? How am I supposed t' know?" His ship had arrived just a few days before the dinner, and he left it at port Sturm with the rest of the Maith ships and crews. It was a joy to see Lord Bradai's personal vessel, the *Man O' Wars* Again, for it was a beautiful ship. That, however, had been the only bright spot in that damnable country. The whole fucking country somehow smelled ranker than a crew's quarters after a month at sea, and the locals were no better. The islander had received nothing but slurs and grief the whole horseback ride to the capital. Fuckin' horses. That had to be the most uncomfortable trek he had ever experienced, every single jostle or bump from the creature made him wish even more to be on the seas. Finally, he was there in Castle Shithole, stark in the middle of Capitol Shithole of Shitholeville, miles from the sea. He wanted to sing a shanty to pass the time, but he supposed etiquette or something along those lines was stopping him. Ultimately what stopped him was his knowledge that Lord Bradai Maith had a lot to gain from the council, and he needed to be on his 'best behavior' during his stay. For a pirate at least. Certainly they wouldn't notice a few silver trinkets missing from their vast collections of wealth. He considered it compensation for him and his crew's hardships. "If Lord Maith didn' wan' me here, I'd be far away. I don' like bein' so far from th' sea. It feels unnatural, besides, they just stuck us in this side room and forgo' 'bout us. So much fer a warm welcome." He crossed his arms and looked crossly at the door to the main dining hall. "This shite better be done soon, else I'll lose me mind."
Rosa
The Pirate King Bradai Maith
Castle Grunewald, Vallen

Bradai paused when Cecilia said that she didn't travel with children. He turned to speak again to the little girl, and watched as her warped hand came across his thigh. The pallid hand was covered in a chalky white dust, but Bradai could see that beneath the glamour were splotchy rashes and bruises. The fingernails, long and warped, ripped at the fabric on his pantleg and for a brief moment he could feel the cartilage, sharp as the tongs of the fork in his hands, brushed up against the skin. At that, Bradai jerked his leg up, smashing the girl's hand between his knee and the table. The sudden movement yanked the girl's hand from the fabric of his pants, which now looked like it had been eaten by moths. Bradai gripped the back of his chair as his eyes widened. _Oh._ 

When the boy turned and leaned into Dennon Bigsby, Bradai turned towards Cecilia. "I will protect you vhis Council. Fuck tha man vhat paid ye, I will double it. I'll make sure you're protected." He looked down briefly at the hairpin between them as it found its point in the side of her dress, pressing lightly against the shifter's skin, only a thin layer of cloth dividing the two. 

"Oi," He said, smiling, "Look up 'ere." He directed her view away from the knife with his fingers, "I don't want to stab you in tha stomach and let everyone know you're 'ere. I was going to do vhat during dessert, I will be 'onest. But vhere are greater concerns now. _You_ might just become the luckiest bounty 'unter in tha world. I'm sitting next to tha Prince a' tha Isle of Rikkon, 'oo is currently responsible for murdering tha wife of tha King vhat owns vhis castle. If you give 'im as a Council gift? 'oose to say 'ow vhey'll reward you." He pulled away from her, but kept the hair stick firm against her.

Bradai watched as the bard spun above him. "Do tha smart fing for once, Lady—" Bradai pursed his lips, concealing a smirk, "_What_ is your name, my lady?"
Lawrence
Kallophon
Grunewald Castle, Taemar

Kallophon's head blissfully swayed to the music. His bore mask seemed locked in eternal porcine indignation, though one close enough to see his eyes in the candle-light could tell his expression underneath was one of utter serenity. For him, this song evoked beautiful memories. This was one of the tunes that Mother would play for him and Lais to soothe them into their night's rest. He could still see the faint smile that the music brought to her kind, elegant face. In moments like those, Kallophon had thought she looked more like a queen than even Romanov and Durkhan as he saw them now. A gentle, skilful queen, swaying gently to the divine sound she decanted from her brilliant mind into the sleepy heads of her children, swaying gently just like he was swaying now.

She was the reason that Kallophon was in that dining room. This sentiment his heart held with certainty. She'd held his hand every step of the way. The last words they shared were what drove him to finally seize his destiny. Her unseen, unfelt hand had rested on his shoulder every time he was dreading the audience's scrutiny from offstage. She had guided him through every motion. Whenever he sang, he could hear her sweet harmony joining his voice. Every time he'd fallen asleep in some rough inn on the road here, she'd been sitting at his bedside, watching over him. It was half-pagan to think of her as still being with him; if all that the Wisdoms preached was true, she'd surely moved on to a higher place in life, and yet he could not deny the feeling that her spirit was always with him. The idea of her, if nothing else. Knowing that someone so perfect could exist was all he needed to make it through.

Reality roused him. Kallophon's fingers pulled a final descending ripple of notes, then struck the last three notes out from the lyre. That was it. The essence of the tune hung in the air for a moment and weighed him down onto the table. He reached up to pull his mask off of his face, and his eyes were glistening. He smiled, however. He felt accomplished. He knew this was only one step in his quest, but the hardest part was out of the way. Kallophon bowed, still sitting. "Kallophon of Milo dearly thanks his audience."

Kallophon blew a quick, happy sigh as he turned and moved to dismount the table. His eyes landed on Gregor's face. He'd entirely forgotten that the man was sitting behind him, and though he tried to hide it, a sharp stab of anxiety struck his heart as he tried to process the king's expression.

Oh well, he thought to himself, at least I'll be a pleasant-smelling meal. In the haze of his apprehension, he found himself wondering if roses even grew in Taemar.
Robert
King Gregor Grunewald
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

The King grunted as the man finished his song. He continuously rubbed his chin, eyes upon the expectant musician. The hall was dead silent, save for the scratchiness of Gregor's beard. 

"Well," Gregor said, a smile breaking his lips, "That was quite a performance. But was it worth interrupting our dinner?" He mused. He swept his arms out, eyeing the guests. "Let them decide! Should we string this lad up after that performance? AYE or NAY?!" 

"AYE!" Cried Kenmath from the corner, his eyes glistening in hunger. 

"Nay," Princess Wilhelmina said quietly. 

"AYEEEE!" Prince Nickles screamed, wagging his newly injured hand in the air. 

"WHAT DO THE REST OF YE SAY?!" King Gregor demanded. "Two to one thus far is *Not* In his favor! Perhaps we'll get a proper Hog Dangle, after all."

"Nay," Heath said, leaning back in his chair. 

"Nay," Queen Elle and King Daniel echoed. 

"Aye!" Lord Aleksandr called from his side table, a smirk playing at his lips.
Katherine
Astorian party 
Taemar

Angelica raised a brow at the call for a vote. "Nay."

Mikhail hadn't had time to respond to Heath or Elle before the vote was called, and he and his mother both echoed an "Nay!", Lest the poor man be strung up.
Kathleen
Valentine Godwin
Taemar

"Nay!" Valentine called out, momentarily stopping her conversation,"He's just a boy!"
Rosa
The Islanders
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

Gitten had hardly looked at the poor bastard and had gone for a piss during his performance, but on account of the fact that he was a mainlander and for no other reason at all, made the solemn decision to string him up like a hog. "Aye." She shook her head in mock mourning. "And may 'e rest in peace." 

The Pirate King sighed, cutting Gitten off. "Gitten, vhat is a _bard._ 'is job is to write songs vhat people will sing for centuries. You want the legacy uff our 'ouse to be defined by random bard killings? Fuck off. Nay. Nay for boff uff us, my sister is drunk on bloodwine, she knows not what she means." 

Ollie, who really was drunk on bloodwine, looked up briefly from his cold slab of pork, "Don't string him up unless he supported the Kelwynd rebellion. Otherwise, you should do it."
Robert
Princess Walburga Grunewald
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

"*Ouaaaa*," Walburga groaned, slumping forward into her bowl of nettle soup. 

"That's an Aye from my daughter!" Gregor bellowed, laughing jovially.
Michael
Wisdom Serafina
Castle Grunewald

Serafina listened to the Alchemist speak, his biggest critique of her suggestion being that one would need to mix the elixir consistently depending upon how long one planned on staying in The Melsoh. What Serafina didn't understand was why the man seemed so attached to a necklace who's supposed only function was in a particular area. If that was the case, why wear it constantly? His admittance of the enchantment answered her question partly, though she remained unconvinced. "I see. Pardon my ignorance, it was only a suggestion and certainly not one based in practicality as I've never had to use a potion in that manner myself."

The bards melody fell upon a quiet hall and Serafina watched the bard sway to the music. While the nobility didn't seem overwhelmingly impressed by the performance, the Wisdom found her eyes closed and head swaying as the harmonies flitted around her head, through her ears, and into her memories. He was masterful at his craft and Serafina appreciated the respite from the droll of conversation, much as she enjoyed it. As the song finished her eyes flitted open and she smiled at the bard, though it was unlikely he could see her. Her smile quickly faded as Gregor called for a vote over whether the man should live or die and she found herself grow irritated. 'No King, especially that pig, should have a say on a worshiper of Emin's life.' Even if the bard wasn't aware of Emin, his music was something she would look favourably upon and denying the world its beauty would only add to his Mourning. She smirked for a moment, a flash of contemptment in her eyes. 'Perhaps that wouldn't be such a bad thing.'

"Nay!" She called out from their table in the back sending up a prayer to Saris for his protection whether it be by vote or striking down of the hog-noble that requested the vote to begin with.
Heather
Cecilia Lyanah 
Taemar, Castle Grunewald

Cecilia followed Bradai's gaze towards the hairpin before returning them back to his eyes with annoyance as he continued with his proposition. She did her best to withhold a growl once he finished, knowing it would only bring about the attention of others if they weren't currently distracted by the music. 

"So I understand you correctly. You're threatening me *And* Giving me an offer only an idiot would refuse?" She shook her head before leaning back against the chair, deciding whether or not to accept his proposal. Since Bradai had threatened her, Cecilia was currently leaning towards accepting his offer and before turning on him when he least expected it. However as she thought on it further, parts of her memory that hadn't vanished during her death began to resurface. She couldn't remember most details when it came to her past with Bradai yet she could remember the many times he helped her. If she was to accept his offer without the betrayal, he might be able to help her in return. 

The sudden silence brought Cecilia's attention back towards the table after finally deciding what she would do. She waited until everyone spoke their thoughts on the fate of the Bard, tempted to say Aye herself but remained silent until the pirate king answered Gregor with his and his sister's answer. 

"You should really work on your negotiation skills since threats don't work with me. Lucky for you, I will gladly accept but if anyone under your watch attempts anything towards me that I don't like, I will slaughter them like a dangled hog and you cannot get upset at me for doing so."
Lawrence
Kallophon
Grunewald Castle, Taemar

Kallophon was stunned. Was the king truly putting his life at the mercy of a vote? He looked with a bewildered expression at each person who gave their answer, one by one. 

"I don't! *Damn* Kelwynd!" He barked in response to Olaevar. That question had ignited something in him, but it shortly flickered out, and the morose smoke swelled into his head and made him frown. He sighed pityingly at Walburga as her father laughed at her suffering, then turned a sad smile on Wilhelmina. "One of them, at least. Thank you for your clemency, Your Highness." He gave her a nod, and then another to the Romanovs. Kallophon's eyes fell to the table. He arched an eyebrow and pouted slightly, awaiting the final judgement with a darkly contemplative expression.
Wyatt
**Judas Merrilweather
Castle Grunewald, Vallen.**

If you wanted honesty, well Judas hadn't really paid any attention to the performance, at all. Even despite the bard being right next to him - he stared at the blood-wine in his cup as if he was in a trance. The liquid reflected the mask on his face like a crimson mirror. A mirror to reflect a face that was not his, rather a face that was designed to hide his own. Such a peculiar thing it was - so delicately crafted and put together, at times he touched the face of the mask in order to differentiate the feeling of the skin from his own. It felt cold and deathly - it was not the same. 

When Gregor called for a vote, Judas snapped out of the trance and looked up at the others. Aye's here, Nay's there - Judas had no idea what the performance was like, so he just shrugged. "My vote remains neutral, for music is something I rarely pay attention too. Let the others decide." His voice was soft and monotone unlike it had been before. A strange and peculiar adjustment to his previous demeanor, as if he was someone else completely. Perhaps it had something to do with the skin if the mask, the covering to shield Judas from the world and convince others in false truths and horrid lies. It was hard to tell.
Rosa
The Islanders
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

The Pirate King raised his hand, "Damn Kelwynd." Bradai echoed. "Some of you would vote to string up a man 'oo voted tha same as us, last Council, on a whim. Vhis is folly."

An Islander guard moved from his post on the wall, speaking to his fellow countrymen. 
 "Damn 'ouse Kelwynd. Terresol 'as not been a friend to tha Isles since 'is arrival." The armored men began to discuss among themselves. Whispers of "Nay" Were heard from them. Ollie spoke up for them, "We vote nay. The bard speaks rightly."
Robert
Queen Elsinore Romanov
Castle Grunewald, Taemar

"Bold to speak ill of the dead in front of his widow," Queen Elle said, raising a brow upon the Islanders' proclamation.
Katherine
Anyanka Durkhan
Taemar

The woman events at the cheer from the Islanders as they spoke out against House Kelwynd, and get gaze moved to Charity, ready to pull her away should she need to be excused.
John
**Ibethiel crowd
The Dinner**

Dennon nodded along at Nickles's whispers to him, glancing briefly at the Pirate King's pant leg.

. . .

"Nay." Said Kirk.

"Nay." Said Leah and James from the side.

"Nay." Said Dennon.

"I personally found it rather annoying..." Said the Ibethiel Queen.

"Lucrezia!" Called out Dennon.

"Fine, nay."
Lawrence
Kallopon
Grunewald Castle, Taemar

Kallophon looked up, brows scrunched. Was that three to nine in his favour? Or four? Numbers were not his strong point. It sounded like it was going his way, at any rate. Queen Elsinore seemed to be reacting poorly to the heated anti-Kelwynd sentiment, however. He wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or only to the men in the trenchcoats, but he wanted to avoid losing any favour with her. He held up a hand and interposed, "A pause! I ask that my sharpness be pardoned." He looked off, pouting. "Kelwynd was undoubtedly a man fit to be ... Debated upon ... However, I cannot proclaim my queen to be aught but a just and humble ruler." He gestured towards her. "Long live the Queen." 

He glanced at Charity with ambiguous eyes, then flashed a smile at the king, before looking between the two coherent Grunewald children. He was sure he just hadn't heard Auburn speak his disapproval. Or perhaps the boy feared to displease his father. That was something Kallophon could sympathise with all too well. They seemed like a pleasant pair, at least, and perhaps more like him in youthful fresh-mindedness than the old, darkened royals and courtiers all around them. He focused his friendly gaze on the son. A bit of conversation would take his soft, ongoing brush with gruesome doom off his mind. "You know, Your Highness ... Auburn, isn't it?"
Kendall
Lord Eric Stafford
Vallen, Taemar

"Nay." Eric said, loud enough to be heard, turnning his full attention to the center table. Then to Anya, ready to act in accordance to her in response to the rising anti-Terresol sentiment from the islanders.

_Why are they here? They aren't Even from Marin._
Sarah
Arin Cragton
Vallen

Arin grinned as the hog was laid in front of him. The delightful smell made its way through his senses and left his mouth watering. He hungrily dug in, but slowed when Gregor called for silence. He raised an eyebrow, juice dripping off his chin. He wiped it off and looked up as the musician began to perform. He felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier as the man sang, but had it not been for the plate of food lying in front of him he would have fallen asleep on the spot. He grit his teeth for a moment and dragged the sharp blade across his pinky. The sudden pain cleared his mind and he sat up, wiping his eyes and snapped to attention. 

"Nay. As much shit that has happened tonight I wouldn't enjoy seeing another death, even if they sing as beautifully as this one does." He said, speaking for himself for one of the first times of that night.
Maricela
Edward Cyneward
The streets of Vallen, Taemar

Edward withdrew his hand back to his side, moving the cloak away momentarily to reveal a lack of weapons by his waist. "See, I'm unarmed, miss. No need to fear, I won't harm you."

The man was persistent enough to still try helping out. "At the very least, take the salve that I make for you." The man lowered himself to the ground and knelt down as he began to untie the bindle from the stick. Once the bindle was loose, he set it in front of Amicia. He gently unraveled the cloth and sorted the contents. "I've been traveling in the countryside for some time now and helping whoever I can. There's a plague going around. Don't worry though, I'm not sick."

The bindle contained a small clay bowl with a few herbs, ranging ever so slightly in size and color. There were also some scraps of linen and a small, round stone. The man picked most of the herbs out of the bowl and crushed the remainder with his stone. "I managed to pick these in the bog. If you place this salve on your cuts, they should avoid infection."

The man picked up the bowl with the salve and offered it towards the lady. "Don't be shy."