The Trouble Twins strike again.. and get POTTED.

Rashar

Rashar stumbles in quickly, large Yeleni body sprawling on the floor to flop at Kerryn's feet. "Argh," he manages, clearly dying. 

Phendegwen frowns slightly as you collapses, muttering, "Well. . .that doesn't look too good at all. . ." 

"I just think that's the nature of events. People get to talking and then forget about the food." Kerryn pauses as you falls at her feet, "Are you alright?" she asks, setting the cake and candy on the nearest table before bending down and poking at your shoulder. "She woke up and potted you, didn't she?"

Rashar scowls for a moment, looking at Kerryn as if her suggestion was ludicrous. "Of course not," he snaps before recalling his imminent death. Again his head flops, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. If his eyes had any discernible detail to them, they would be rolled up into his head, and his foot twitches erratically. "I've clearly been slain. By something vicious."

You murmur to Phendegwen, "Pay attention, feller." You murmur to Phendegwen, "You're watching a master at work here!"

You conjure up the illusion: Before you floats a hovering form, a beautiful and ethereal looking angel. She radiates wisdom as she draws closer, and with a wave of her hand an image materializes: A dying man, laying helpless on a bed of silk. His wounds are grievous, and beyond the beautiful woman holding his hand stands a crowd of worried lookers. Phendegwen examines you, saying, "Really, he doesn't look too well there. . . although for a dead man, he seems to be able to speak rather well." He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly rather dubious about his condition. You conjure up the illusion: From somewhere out of sight approaches a second figure, a robed healer of great renown if the almost awe-filled expression of the lookers is any indication. He studies the fallen hero for a time, and then whispers something into the beautiful woman's ear. Phendegwen mutters to Kerryn, "Although, I do recall my daughter mentioning something about this here being. . .my grandson. Which means he's up to something, to be sure." Kerryn blinks slowly at you, a brief glance thrown to Phendegwen and she shrugs a little before refocusing her attention upon the man at her feet. "He's trouble." says aloud. "That what he is, trouble wrapped up in a sugar coating." Her eyes dart around her as if watching something unseen unfold before her, her lips turning down into a faint frown. 

You conjure up the illusion: Abruptly the woman leans forward, kissing the dying man once on each eye. As if resurrected from the dead, the fallen hero comes awake with a gasp, glancing around in confusion. His wounds close before your eyes, and the color returns to his flesh. The scene fades into shimmering motes of light as the man begins to rise. "Oooh," Rashar moans loudly, clearly very close to being dead. "Whatever will I do. I'm dyyyyyiiiinnnnnnng.." His eye cracks open, and he glances over at Kerryn. "Dyyyyyyyiiiinnnng." Kerryn says abruptly to Phendegwen, "I think you should kiss him." You conjure up the illusion: A stern voice echoes in your mind, "It must be a beautiful lady. Clearly, you weren't paying attention." Phendegwen gives a rumbling laugh, and says, "Ach, the lad's putting forth some effort. . . and I'm pretty sure it's for your sake." Kerryn shakes your shoulder lightly, "Shh.. you're dying remember?" Rashar's head immediately falls back, and his tongue sticks out a bit further. 

Kerryn rolls her eyes, "Alright, fine." she says to the room at large. Pale blue eyes focus upon you, "But you have to close your eyes." she says sternly. "No peeking." 

Rashar's eyes are already closed, but he squeezes them shut for dramatic affect.

Kerryn waits until your eyes are closed before looking to Phendegwen and holding a finger to her lips in the hopes of keeping him from warning you. All the while her hand reaches out to the table and pulls the cake to her, she hesitates a moment before suddenly smooshing it firmly against your face. Phendegwen manages to remain silent until the moment the cake meets your face, at which he lets out an immediate burst of booming laughter. Rashar rolls over to his side and brushes the cake from his face, nonchalantly explaining to Phendegwen as if holding a lecture, "And that, feller, is how you get fed cake by a beautiful lady." Grinning crookedly he adds, "Are there any questions about today's block of instruction?" Phendegwen shakes his head, still laughing. After a moment he tells you, "Ach, that's. . . one way I suppose. But, you should be cautious with that tactic- you were fortunate it was a cake. That might have been a pot- and she's got a very good arm." 

Kerryn rolls her eyes at you, "You are impossible." she says with a laugh, "Even with supervision you're trouble." she says as she stands, offering a hand to help you up, "Let me get you a towel to clean off with." she says gently. 

 Rashar wags his eyebrow and says, "She knows better than to hit me." The large man rolls again, bringing himself to his hands and knees before rocking back and standing up smoothly. "Like it too much," he explains as he turns and extends his hand out to Phendegwen. "Rashar," he says, "Saw you at the sermon last month, but I don't think we've met."

 Phendegwen contemplates the cake-smeared visage of you, saying, "We've not- but I've heard mention of you from my daughter." He shakes your hand with his thickly-webbed one, saying, "From what she tells me, I'm your grandfather." You have emoted: Rashar tilts his head to the side. "Huh," he muses. "Well, yes. I suppose so, if you're Ninette's father. Her and Elim seem to have scooped me up, it seems, though I haven't seen either of them in quite a while." Kerryn turns and pulls a small washcloth from her pack and hands it to you, "Here, clean yourself up a bit." she smiles faintly. Phendegwen says, "I'm called Phendegwen- but Phen is just fine." His smirk indicates that he clearly prefers the short version. "And aye, it would appear that you are my grandson- Ninette's my daughter. By adoption, obviously, as, Elorin and I have no natural children, quite impossible. But you're clearly of the Tanarian strain nonetheless. Troublesome folk, we often are." 

: Rashar takes the cloth with a mischievous grin at Kerryn. "I ought to kiss -you- and smear this stuff everywhere." His eyes are dancing with laughter as he brings the rag up to wipe his face clean. A sidelong glance is cast at Phendegwen and he murmurs, "Most likely going to call you feller, to be honest." 

Kerryn gasps at you, "You wouldn't dare." she says, pale eyes narrowing as she takes a half step back from you. Kerryn levels a finger at you, "I will tell your brother." she warns. Turning back to the lady, Rashar says, "I'm fairly certain if I dare to drop a poster off at the gates of Bloodloch, I dare to do just about whatever I want, hmm?" His head dips forward. "And my brother wouldn't stop me anyway. He knows a lady has to bereminded of the proper order of things every once in a while." Despite the bold words, he immediately turns and makes a casual stroll around the room, conveniently placing himself behind Phendegwen. 

"Speaking of," Rashar grins, shaking his head at Phendegwen's offer. "Did you -see- this tapestry, feller?" Cackling to himself, he opens his pack and begins rummaging around in it. 

Around the edges of the tapestry is a small border of blue paint, ending at each corner to give way for the little designs in each corner. The top left and bottom right holds a small image of multi-coloured coral, where as the opposite corners hold an image of a small shark, its jaws open looking for prey. Directly in the center of the tapestry is a very detailed image of the top half of a man. The eyes of this man are grey, and stare out directly at you under a mass of disheveled grey hair. The man is topless, and fine lines have been painted over his tanned skin to show his rather muscular form. A stern, yet alluring look is set upon the man's features. The man's left arm is raised, and he is pointing directly out, as if pointing at you. Under the image of the man, in large painted blue letters, are the words "I WANT YOU." Directly under this phrase, in smaller blue letters, are the words, "To join Lord Slyphe." Phendegwen turns to you, asking, "Tapestry?" Pale blue eyes follow you as he moves about the room, 'Proper place?' Kerryn mouths silently to herself. A delicate eyebrow lifts as she narrows her eyes at you. "And just - what- pray tell is that place, hmm?" she asks, clearly challenging you.

"The kitchen," Rashar explains conversationally. "Where all good things occur." Phendegwen smirks as he looks over the tapestry, saying, "Hrm. . .not the worst idea. Recruitment tapestries. . . still just can't get used to this Slyphe though. Used to be a lady back when I was in the Order. It's been what, twohudred years now. . . but still." Rashar grins at Phendegwen. "I put those tapestries all over the place. A couple in Enorian, one in Delos. Another in the Black Flagon. A few in Spinesreach, one in Bloodloch." "Phen, stand aside, I'm getting my pot!" Kerryn says loudly as she reaches for her pack. 

Phendegwen murmurs to Kerryn, "He's about to get the pot, isn't he. . . well. . . pretty sure his mother would approve of it if she heard that." Phendegwen smirks at Kerryn, and pointedly steps aside, moving near the wall so that you would find it rather difficult to use his bulk as a shield. Rashar frowns slightly. "Bloodloch put a bounty on my head. For littering. " He ducks nimbly aside and back and wags a finger at Kerryn. "The pot! Brought straight from the KITCHEN, I bet." Back to Phendegwen, "Littering! Spinesreach just mushroomed them all. I'm still considering charging them for the flame sigils I used." Phendegwen says, "Wait. . .you put those in Bloodloch and Spines?" He bursts out laughing, telling Kerryn, "Thats -almost- worth a reprieve from the pot. . . .almost." 

Kerryn gasps at you, "Oh, you are so in over your head." she says pulling the pot out of her pack and advancing upon you. "Almost." she agrees with Phendegwen. "Almost." she repeats.

*** INSERT 50 PEOPLE ***

Trager peers around intently, "Woah, dearest, what is with the potting of my poor brother?" Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "I came for the show. I was told there was to be a show."

Kerryn holds the pot up as she points at you, "HE.. he said that a woman's -proper- place is the kitchen." Trager's eyes flash towards you, narrowing slightly. He turns finally to Kerryn, a single eyebrow raising up innocently, "Is it not?" Rashar waves back and forth, looking caught between fleeing and attacking. "Sage advice," he agrees. Phendegwen chuckles bemusedly, saying, "It appears many will learn what it means to fear Kerryn's pot. A good lesson for all." Sister Ayanala Silverain says to Auspicious Legacy, Abbess Kerryn Cardinalis, "Calm yourself, your grip on that pot is all wrong." Meyvitch reaches out and slams his hand up against the back of Trager's head. Phendegwen smirks at Ayanala, saying, "No it's not. . .pretty sure that's the same grip she used on me. It's effective enough!" Fox of the Rhythm, Meyvitch Qefin-Yaslana says to Trager Del'baeth, "I know plenty of men that cook." 

Rashar places his hands on his hips and glares at Meyvitch. "Just whose side are you on here, feller?" 

Meyvitch points accusingly at Kerryn. 

"Yeller bellied -coward-," Rashar spits. 

Sister Ayanala Silverain says to Phendegwen Tanarian, The Engineer, "Oh, trust me, certain grips of hers make the difference between ringing ears and a trip to the Halls." 

Kerryn continues her advance on you, that is till she hears Trager's comment. Suddenly she spins to face him, pot leveled at him, "What?" she demands.

 Phendegwen smiles bemusedly as he tells you, "Trust me- if you just get it over with, it's not quite as bad. Pretty sure she'll hit a bit harder for every moment you let her wind up. . ." Meyvitch draws himself up to his full height with a low growl. "I am NOT a coward!" he snaps, eyebrows drawing together as he advances on you. Ayanala hums softly to herself as she non-chalantly shuts the only exit. Rashar glares at the growing crowd until Kerryn turns. As soon as she does he hops forward, indicating to Trager with a broad, miming gesture that he is about to slap Kerryn on the rear. Trager takes a cautious step towards Kerryn, holding out his arm in hopes of fending off some yet to be thrown blow. "Dear, dear," he rumbles softly, "Let us relax here, yes? We can go find somewhere quiet to speak, and you can whip me up something tasty while I listen to this -entire- story." He arches a single eyebrow, finishing with, "Does that not sound nice?" Meyvitch shoots Trager a disbelieving look. "Kerryn, m'darling, do you have a spare pot?" Phendegwen says, "Starting to sound like it might be a double-potting here. . ." and takes another drag off his cigarette as he settles himself into a nearby chair. Kerryn gasps, clearly in disbelief, "You're next!" she says to Trager, "Just you wait your turn." she says in a huff as she moves to turn back and face you. Meyvitch glances about the room, then his gaze falls on a statue of a satyr. Moving over to it, he wraps his hands around the wineskin and shoulder of the wooden thing, muscles straining as he tries to lift it. 

As Kerryn faces Trager, Rashar winds up dramatically two or three times, his arm swinging in lazy circles almost as wide as the grin that shows the row of brilliant white teeth. Even as Kerryn begins to spin he is stepping forward, bringing his palm into her rear with a *SMACK* "AHA. I'll see that pot, dear Abbess!" Phendegwen peers at Meyvitch and snaps, "No fighting with the furniture! Elorin would be hitting me with pots, if he knew I was allowing such. . ." Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Did... Did you just..." Meyvitch lets go of the larger-than-him statue, red-faced from exertion. "Bah," he replies, in time to catch the smack of Rashar's hand against Kerryn's ass. His ears shoot up, quivering as he watches Kerryn with a horrified expression. "RASHAR!" Trager's eyes widen instantly, the only emotion across his entire demeanor, shock. "Y-.." he rumbles with a stutter, "Did y-you..?" Kerryn lets out a squeal of surprise and outrage as your hand makes contact with her rear. Quickly she spins her arm around in an attempt to hit your head with the cast-iron pot. 

Meyvitch sneers and his eyes lose focus for a moment. Curving almost in pain, he grows a thick pelt of fur, and the muscles on his body snap and re-grow larger in size. Shaking his head, Meyvitch straightens himself, fully transformed into his Werewolf self. Phendegwen shakes his head at you as he exhales another cloud of weed-scented smoke. "Now, that might just have earned him a shattered skull there. . . ".

Rashar's eyes grow wide immediately, as if just now realizing what he's done. So wide, in fact, that they miss entirely the pot whirling directly into his skull. *CRACK*. "Oh," he rumbles, looking very confused. Trager quickly snaps out of his shock-induced trance, moving forward quickly. "Give me that," he growls, reaching for the pot as Kerryn surges forward and clocks you against the head, "I'll be giving him another." Meyvitch charges you with a bellow to shake the room, plowing into him broadside. Rashar doesn't seem to notice Meyvitch, and he was likely already on his way to the floor when the smaller man strikes him. Together they topple, the larger Yeleni looking much like a sack of bones being tossed to the floor. 

Still in shock as to what has just happened, Kerryn doesn't realize Trager's taken her pot from her till he's walked a few steps past her, "Hey!" she exclaims, "I need that to pot you!" she scowls, her head turning to look at Ayanala, "Did he really smack my ass?" she asks in disbelief. Ayanala nods her head at Kerryn. Elwyn nods her head at Kerryn. Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Full, broad hand smack to your backside." Trager takes the pot quickly and acts as if to move towards his fallen brother. Suddenly, he dips quickly, twisting around while his already open hand whistles through the air towards Kerryn's other cheek. *SMACK*, the sound rings out once more. Already turned and running, he yells out quickly, "RUN, BROTHER!" Meyvitch drops most of his weight on your back, grabbing the back of his head and shaking it rapidly from side to side. Meyvitch drops most of his weight on your back, grabbing the back of Rashar's head with his mouth and shaking it rapidly from side to side. Fox of the Rhythm, Meyvitch Qefin-Yaslana exclaims, in a feral tongue, "RAWWWRrrRRRrRrRRR!" Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Ah..." Trager stops to grab at the prone Yeleni's pant leg and begins dragging him towards the exit. Unfortunately, he is stopped by the the very daunting form of another woman. Trager Del'baeth says to Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah, "MOVE!" Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah says, "Time to face your fate." 

Oh the betrayal! Kerryn's eyes widen at Trager, "YOU!" she screams as her ass is swatted once more. With her fists clenched at her sides, she sets her sights on Trager, pale eyes narrowing. Ever so slowly she begins to advance upon Trager. Phendegwen watches Meyvitch a logn moment, drinking from his tankard. After a time he snaps, "Probably good enough there, Meyvitch- my grandson and all that. Can't learn too much from this whole experince if he's manged to death." Trager turns, seeing opposition all around him. Finally, he seems to accept his fate, wheeling around with pot in hand, holding it out in front of him with a protective stance. "Rashar, get -up!" he wails out, fixing the still prone man with a swift kick. Rashar begins to stir, pulling himself from the savage maw of whatever feral creature is attempting to murder him. "The Pit?" he groans, looking confused to see the floor sliding away beneath him. He yanks his leg from Trager's grip and stumbles his way upright, glancing quickly for the exits. "Quick," he says to Trager, "Get over here." He reaches out and snags Trager by the arm, pulling the man close while raising up his buckler. "Back, you Slyphe be damned beasts!" Meyvitch gets doinked in the head with the pot as Trager spins around with it in hand. Surprised, and a little bit pained, he stops where he is, ears flattening. A loud growl rumbles in his chest. Phendegwen mutters, "Or, perhaps he hasn't learned quite enough yet. . . ach, if his mother hears about this, he's a dead man anyway, I suppose." Ayanala sneaking in behind Trager, she quickly wrenches the pot from Trager's grasp and tosses it to #Kerryn. "Abbess! Yer pot!" she shouts before skipping back to the door. Kerryn comes to a stop before Trager and you, her anger fading ever so slightly. "Do you remember how I warned you both about telepaths?" she says, a slow smile pulling at her lips. You have emoted: "Oh, Pit," Rashar rumbles, glancing at Trager.

 "Betrayer," Rashar hisses at Elwyn. "You're not getting -shit- for Celesmas next year." Elwyn tips her gaze over at you, head tilting to the left as if to say you brought this upon yourself. Trager's hands clutch at your figure, his hands shaking out an amusing looking tempo as he taps you rapidly. "This is your fault," he murmurs at a dead whisper, his eyes locked on the tiny, yet obviously daunting, woman. With a quick shove, he sends you forward with a cry, "Take him, dearest of the dear, I was -kidding-!" Phendegwen Tanarian, The Engineer says to you, "See- goes much, much easier if you just let her hit you with the pot. It's going to happen anyway, and once it's over, it's over. The anticipation is worse. . .well. . . no, actually the headache'll last for days. But, you can get to drinking quicker, if you don't avoid it." Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Been a good while since I've seen a good potting, and now that you've royally pissed her off. Well, that's just icing on the cake." Kerryn strolls towards Elwyn, Her hand lifting to tap a finger against her cheek, "I'm thinking Rashar should speak chicken for the next day." she says to Elwyn, "What do you think, to harsh, not enough?" Rashar looks absolutely floored as Trager shoves him forward, and he has to catch himself from toppling into Kerryn. Immediately his hands fall to his sides, and he begins to shift back and forth. "Listen," he rumbles smoothly, "I think we should probably just talk about this." One shoulder hitches, and he adopts the expression of a man pleading a case before the magistrate. "Clearly, what I -meant- was that the kitchen is your place.. because it is -everyone's- place. Why.." He glances around, desperately seeking a bit of support. "Don't we -all- spend our days standing around the kitchen? You know.. sipping some ale, having a snack.. Right? Right?" 

Now, Elwyn tips her gaze at Kerryn. "Chicken, duck, I'm quite fond of duck," she says idly. Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Or perhaps make him act as a woman for the next day or so.. ." Rashar glares at Meyvitch. "You just -wait- until these women aren't here to save you, you little feh!" "Duck it is." Kerryn says smiling to Elwyn, "I can make him waddle too, want to see?" she asks with a playful grin. As you is quickly passed, Trager surges forward once more, grabbing onto the man to pull him up. "I was kidding brother, we gots to stick together, yeah? Yeah?" You suddenly feel the overwhelming need to begin quacking for no apparent reason. Halfway through helping you up, Trager hears Kerryn's words and quickly forsakes the man once more, pushing him back to the ground. "Oh fuck that, you're on your own. I don't plan on being a duck." With that, he quickly moves to the back of the room, hurriedly seeking another exit.

 "Quack," Rashar rumbles, the sound bit off almost immediately with a confused look on his face. "Quack quaaat the fuck is this?" Meyvitch sits down, curling his tail around his feet and listening to you with a delighted expression on his muzzle. As you begins to quack, Kerryn smiles and turns her sights on Trager, "Oh, no dear. You are a -sheep-." she says gently.

Rashar

Stand by for part two!

Rashar

As you begins to quack, Kerryn smiles and turns her sights on Trager, "Oh, no dear. You are a -sheep-." she says gently. "To follow your brother so blindly." 

Phendegwen glances at Trager, saying, "Just the one way out, I'm afraid- and it's through the ladies. I promise you, it's inevitable." 

Trager turns, obviously finding no exit. "But, bu-baaaaah!" Instantly his hands fly up, clapping over his mouth.

Rashar's eyes grow wide as he watches Trager, and then he bursts into laughter. "Baaaaaah," he teases, pointing now at the only slightly smaller man. "That shit's funny." Trager slowly lowers his hands slightly, eyes narrowing on you, "Fu-baaaaaaah you, bro- aaaaahaha, always ge-baaaaah me into tro-baaaahah." [ This is quite possibly the funniest part of the entire log.] Kerryn crosses her arms as she watches you and Trager, clearly somewhat satisfied. "What else should I do to them?" she asks Elwyn and Ayanala. Rashar glares at Kerryn. "Absolutely nothing!" "Oooo!" Ayanala enthuses. "Kiss?" Serrice suggests innocently. Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah asks Auspicious Legacy, Abbess Kerryn Cardinalis, "Ballroom dancing?" Sister Ayanala Silverain says to Auspicious Legacy, Abbess Kerryn Cardinalis, "Make them slap each others ass!" Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Repeatedly." Rashar throws his hands up and says, "You fellers are -EVIL-." Abruptly he settles, considering Trager. "There's only one way to keep them from doing horrible things to each other," he says ominously. Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "While one waddles like a duck and the other bounds around like a sheep!" Kerryn brightens at Serrice's suggestion, "Didn't you want a kiss earlier?" she asks you. She pauses to wink at Elwyn, "Always wondered if ducks could dance." Phendegwen says to Kerryn, "Sounds like an important area of study, that. . ." Trager's eyes shoot open, almost impossibly wider as the suggestions are called out. Carefully he opens his mouth, offering up a soft, "Hello?" With his speech returned, he flashes a quick, beaming look towards you he calls out, "What is that brother?" "This is for you, my dearest brother," Rashar says. Abruptly, he pulls an arm back and takes a pair of sideways crow-hops, lashing his fist forward to bludgeon Trager right in the side of the head. Rashar turns back to Kerryn. "You can take me, but you'll not have Trager dancing like a duck!" Lights out. In a slow, inevitable fall, Trager finally slams onto the floor, thoroughly dazed. 

With Trager falling, Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah says to Auspicious Legacy, Abbess Kerryn Cardinalis, "Well, I did need a new person to transfer the nickname Duckie too." Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "Ah, if only I were good at writing..." "Hnghh," Trager moans, his locked up form still sprawled across the floor. Sister Ayanala Silverain says to Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah, "This would have made a great play." 

Telvi Mor, Elwyn Taziyah says to Sister Ayanala Silverain, "Aye, something to be performed at the next Eireachdus party." Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "The Fall of Rashar and Trager." Ayanala nods her head sagely. Kerryn's eyebrow lifts at Elwyn, "Rashar 'Duckie' Del'baeth?" she asks. Moments later she looks to you, "You'll take his punishment?" she asks as she steps forward to check on Trager who remains sprawled upon the floor. Kneeling down she touches her hand to his forehead. Phendegwen Tanarian, The Engineer says, "A good educational fable, which all could do well to learn from." Rashar crosses his arms stubbornly. "Sure will," he rumbles. Trager turns a wobbly gaze up towards Kerryn, stammering out a drawled, "Hello there, beautiful," his eyes glancing quickly around the room. "Wh-where are we?" Kerryn beams suddenly, "Good!" she glances to the room at large, "Duckie needs an apron, who can find one?" Sister Ayanala Silverain says, "On it." Kerryn pats Trager on the head, "There, there, dear." she smiles reassuringly to Trager. Rashar looks worried. His gaze flicks back and forth between Ayanala and Kerryn and then down to Trager. "On second thought," he rumbles hesitantly, "I think Trager is looking pretty swell, really." Trager's features scrunch up for a moment, attempting to discern the actions around him. Finally, the thoughts come rushing back and he hurriedly scrambles away from Kerryn with a shaky, "No more sheep, no more sheep!" Kerryn smiles at Trager, "No more sheep, your lovely brother has agreed to shoulder your punishment." she explains only to have you rescind his offer, "Well.. he did." Trager reaches for Kerryn's hand, taking it between his two as he hurriedly switches tactics, "Dearest Kerryn," he drawls slowly, "You know I was just kidding, right beautiful?" He glances up at her face, hope etched across features. "The friendliest of jests," Rashar seconds. Kerryn looks between Trager and you, clearly contemplating something. "Is that all it was?" she asks, "Do you feel I've been to harsh?" she asks, doubt crossing her features as she squeezes Trager's hand. Trager continues gazing up at Kerryn, his eyes flashing sweetly, "That brother of mine should be punished, his behavior so abysmal!" Lightly he taps a finger against his own lips, the action begging a kiss, "Forgive me?" he murmurs innocently. Sister Ayanala Silverain mutters, "Could hear that smack all the ..y .. Enorian, I'm sure. " Rashar glares at Trager. "You son of a-," he begins, and for the second time he adopts a betrayed expression. His arms come out, one pointing at Trager and the other at Kerryn. "Hardly the attitude of a leader, hmm? Deflecting blame? Attempting to work himself out of trouble? Why, if I were -you-, Abbess, I'd take him for some corrective training." "Ignore him, sweets," Trager chides softly, still attempting to appeal to Kerryn with sweet words and countenance. Ayanala sadly shakes her head. Turning to Elwyn, she asks, "How far do you think they've dug themselves?" Kerryn bites her lower lip, "I don't know." she sighs dramatically, "I mean if I forgive you so easily now, this is just going to be repeated. For you'll never respect me." she says as she pulls away from Trager, shaking her head sadly. "I'm sorry, dear. But you've made your bed, you're going to have to lie in it." she looks to you, "Both of you." "Pretty deep, not even Xavin has dug himself so far in the almost two hundred years I've known him," Elwyn says to Ayanala in a grave tone. Rashar immediately brings his arm back in and then points at Trager. "He is the one who slapped you the second time. You're not supposed to live in the past, Kerryn! Let's not concern ourselves with old injuries, yes?" Trager's features fall dramatically, crestfallen and melancholy. "B-but.." he stammers, that hint of fear showing up in his eyes once more. Kerryn ignores you for the moment, turning to Phendegwen, "May we borrow the kitchen here, please?" she asks with a smile. "With so many people here, it's only right to offer refreshments. Refreshments I'm -sure-" she looks over her shoulder to give Trager and you a stern look. "Will be happy to make for everyone. Right?" "I'm not refreshing shit," Rashar says stubbornly. "Right?" His eyes shift to Trager. Trager finally scrambles to his feet, returning the man a stubborn nod, "Not a chance!" 

"Baaah!" Trager blurts out quickly, and his once more clamp down to cover his mouth with alarm. "Quack!" Trager's eyes scour the crowd, finally alighting on Koari. "Little b-aahah!" he gushes quickly, "You won't let the lady hurt me, will you?" he calls out hopefully. "Ha!" Rashar barks, laughing immediately at Trager. "You soaaack." He blinks. "Quaack. Quack." Kerryn shakes her head sadly, addressing Elwyn, "Apparently not." she says sighing as she crosses her arms, settling her gaze upon Trager and you. 

Phendegwen smiles at each of the women in turn, saying, "Keep well, ladies." Turning to you and Trager he says, "You too- and don't forget this lesson. There's no fate more dire in all the realm than an angry woman." Trager slinks over to stand beside his brother, reaching up to clasp his shoulder as he gazes around the room defiantly, "Obviously our antics are not appreciated here," he rumbles stiffly. Turning to gaze at you he says, "Shall we, brother?" 

"Oh, Pit," Rashar says abruptly. "Fellers, we're going to have to continue this later. I do believe.." he glances down, brushing a finger across the pendant that is wound around his wrist. "Yes, I believe the Maelstrom is calling! Trager, let's go. Things to do, people to be." Abruptly he snatches Trager, charging past Elwyn and out the door.

Slyphe

I love you guys. This was fantastic.

I also couldn't help but snicker like a madman every time talk came up of slapping "Kerryn's unicorns." I'm picturing some bizarre unicorn stable in the Black Flagon now.