1297/Winter Ceilidh

Winter Ceilidh
Date of Scene:	08 January 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Sir Bedivere hosts another céilidh in Dun Realtai, to brighten the dreary winter days.
Cast of Characters:	Kotone Yamakawa, 12, 22, 85, 152, 206, 272, 346, Karian Icefang, 481, 482, Riva Banari, Inga, Sir Gawain, 536, 639, 662, 664

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The castled town of Dun Realtai is deep into its winter, silent and white. For weeks now the skies have been leaden, flurries of snow drifting from time to time.

Thanks to the relentless the cold, the great hall has been set up for a proper céilidh. The cavernous chamber has been swept clean, tables set out, and food and drink laid out for everyone to enjoy. One side of the room is dominated by an enormous hearth, blazing to ward off the bitter chill. Smoke from the fires drifts skyward, and the smell of cooking and roasting food drifts in from the busy kitchens. Castle servants and townspeople bustle about here and there, and much like before, a stand has been raised on the far end of the room, where musicians play lively jigs and reels in the Gaelic style.

Ostensibly, this was set up in honour of Bedivere and Saber, for the work they'd done to make this village liveable again for its residents, but it's also open to foreigners, too. Union, Confederate, and unaffiliated persons are all welcome, provided they can behave themselves.

For the time being, Bedivere can be found moving through the crowds in the hall. He cuts a distinct figure in new armour and mantled cloak, tall enough to stand out among many. His new armour is resplendent in blue steel and dark brown leather. It's simple in design, a chain hauberk augmented with heavy leather plates, with pauldrons and gorget of leather. He also wears articulated gauntlets, with blue steel plates over the tops of the hands, and brown leather padding over the palms and fingers. On the whole, it looks lordly, but not too much so, for is a lord and not a king; its subtle hues and colours and simple design are nonetheless pleasing to the eye. It seems Santa Claus has an eye for aesthetics as much as practicality.

As always, he wears that single red stud in his left ear; the right one missing. Or, more accurately, in the ear of someone else.

He pauses at small gatherings of villagers here and there in the hall to address them, smiling and speaking quietly with them before moving on; apparently trying to keep morale high, or perhaps get a feel for what they think and feel in turn. It's good to know one's subjects, and he seems to be genuinely enjoying himself, even though the still air is so cold.

It's when he stops by the braziers to warm himself by the fire that the people who know him might have the best chance to speak to him -- sighing for a brief moment unseen, glad for an instant's peace. The withdrawn marshal isn't used to being this sociable.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    Ah, a ceilidh. Merlin has always looked forward to the pseudobacchanalian revelry, and this time was going to be no exception. The Sorceror of Camelot has been circulating the room, mostly being accosted by the young children of the village - they want to see magic tricks. Well, who doesn't, really. And with the festive nature of the gathering, even the usually-aloof wizard is caught up into the fun.

    Merlin doesn't get too involved in things, fortunately; there won't be a sudden appearance of the Bee Gees and a disco ball. He does, though, have fun with various illusions (or are they) and even goes so far as to cast a spell on the turtle...which starts moonwalking slowly around the room, and when it gongs even the sound is backwards. Naturally, the children think it's the most fantastic thing ever.

    This gives Merlin himself time to break free from the children and find the second most fantastic thing ever, these truly magical 'potato chips' secured from Union stores. Once he's sated on that, of course, there'll be time to find /the/ most fantastic thing ever. And flirt with it.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Arriving with a number of others, Karian Icefang makes his way to the village center. Aside from getting a few glances at him for either the armor he wore, or perhaps the wolf that was about half the size of a tank, he had quite a few carts with him. Ale, mead, elk, and other assorted meats and drinks native to his home were brought along. "I hope you don't mind me bringing a bit of my own contributions." He says. His one good eye, the other covered by an eye patch, looks over everyone, seeking faces he knew or recognized.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    It's interesting, really. Somehow Medusa Gorgon had found it impossible to ignore the invitation to stop by Dun Realtai tonight. It is rather quaint, and it kind of reminds her of how witches usually celebrate certain events. Though luckily the snake witch seems to have opted out of her more common clothes and tricks for tonight. Tonight she is wearing something more formal; a form hugging black dress that is far more daring than her standard medical cloths. As she enters the great hall she is rather curious, golden eyes peering out over the towns people who are already getting into a pleasant mood.

    There aren't too many people she knows here, but perhaps she will learn something new and meet some fresh faces? One can never know. Bedivere is a familiar face, but for now she avoids the poor knight as he seems occupied with talking with others. For now Medusa walks over to the refreshment table to get herself something to drink.

Kirika (481) has posed:
    The winter ceilidh reaches the ears of Kirika in short order, and she comes dressed properly for the occassion. While her yukata isn't entirely winter material, if anything she's underdressed if she's going to go with that, it's mostly out of necessity, as it is the nicest thing she owns presently as a traveler. The cold doesn't seem to bother her either, as she shucks her heavy winter cloak and hands it off to wherever coats may go.

    The crowds are a tad surprising to Kirika, especially as they all stare at her vulpine features and foreign garb in a mix of shock and awe while she in return awkwardly tries to hide her shyness, red eyes peering among the attendees for somebody, anybody, she knows that she can hang out with.

    Nabbing some ale along the way, she makes her way towards Bedivere, bowing her head to the Knight in respect. "Well met, Sir Bedivere. Thank you for allowing me to attend." She says, smiling lightly as she raises back up and takes a sip of her ale, tail wrapped around herself for warmth as she edges closer to the braizer. "Such a turnout, this eve..."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja has shown up in his Sunday best, courtesy of one Tomoyo Daidouji; robes made of fine silk, etched with gold thread showing the Saint in all his glory upon the back, and a cross upon the front. The Inquisitor pauses, grinning as he steps from the crowd and spies Bedivere. He almost doesn't recognize him.

"My, my, my! A touch more gold and red, and ye wouldst be indistinguishable from a Templar! I hardly recognized ye at first, Ser Bedivere. Lord's blessings, mine friend. I must say, these fair folk organize the most joyous occasions." Then, he's bowing to the man, alongside his usual crossing of his chest.

There's others he recognizes as well! "Dame Banari, Ser Icefang! Blessings, mine friends!"

That good will, however, noticably sours. A single eye meets Medusa's, and narrows hatefully. No words for a moment. Then, he forces a now glass-thin smile.

"...Well. Lady Gorgon." It's at least somewhat polite. He squeezes his cane noticably.

And shuffles slightly towards Kirika. There's a nod, and a look to both fox and non-fox knight of 'save me from myself'.

And the party's just started, too.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Almost always at the side of the lord of Dun Realtai was the de facto "lady" of the same, who many knew as the Servant Saber...and whom many others also knew her true identity as Arturia Pendragon. Five years before her appearance, she had been a participant in the Holy Grail War, but to see her now, one could only vaguely guess. Though in her customary armour with a fur-lined blue wool cloak thrown over her shoulders and her hair bound up in its customary braided bun, its function was entirely social. as she had done when she ruled Britain, its purpose now was the same as Bedivere's. She knew well how the people took comfort in at least some of the trappings of noble finery.

     Yet unlike during her reign, the petite blonde was much more relaxed...at least, those who knew her fairly well would observe. With the necessity of hiding her gender absent -- as well as a commitment to maintaining an almost inhuman impartiality -- she was now free to be more expressive and social. Yet, even then, she conducted herself with a regal reserve, if no longer outright stoicism.

     That, too, the people needed...the comforting presence of a proper lady. It was a pity she had no idea how to really act like one. But at least she knew one thing: how to act like a knight. And that she did very well.

     As was usual in recent times, there is a distinct red stud of red stone in her right earlobe...perfectly mirroring the lord of the keep. That neither of them had been ribbed about that yet was something of a miracle.

     As Riva arrived, the petite knight bowed with an arm folded over her torso in the typical fashion for her time and place, with a slight smile alighting her girlish face. And made no mention of the Templar's particular exuberance. "Greetings, Lady Riva. I thank you for coming."

     A similar bow was rendered to Karian at his own arrival with the same smile. "Greetings to you as well, Lord Karian. I thank you, and...yes, that is most gracious of you." Though she'd have to warn her marshal that there was mead present so he could avoid it. The previous results had caused far too much horror for the pale-haired knight.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Servants, Servants, Servants. Another shows up, this one drawn from the American West. Archer, sans his Master, enters the great hall, heralded by a brief burst of cold wind. He sweeps his eyes across the gathering, the various villagers, Elites, and other Servants. It's certainly not hard for those looking to tell that he's a Servant--as all do, he reeks of prana for those with the noses to smell it.

     Ever the gentleman, Archer removes his hat and hangs it by the entrance. The spurs on his riding boots jingle, just barely drowned out by the sound of the festivities. He makes a beeline for the hearth and warms his hands. There are a few people here that he knows or knows of, but he's not going to socialize just yet. Not to say that he'll snub people who attempt it, he's just not an initiator. Once he's fought off the bitter cold, he wanders over to the refreshments to sample the local spirits.

     He's not quite certain about the mead, so he sips on a little something brought from home. Archer retrieves a flask from his coat and catches up with his old friend, Mr. Daniels.

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     The cold never bothered him.

     Very little bothered the man in purple. Across the whole of his life - and it is quite a long whole life - he has never really found much in the way of botherment. Perhaps it came from never owning anything, from not even having a name to call his own. Perhaps it came from the ancient era when the only metric by which a man could be judged was strength, or perhaps it came from the modern era of endless grey dust and nothingness where the only metric by which a man can be judged is strength.

     Or perhaps it came from...

     Kojirou walks. He walks slowly through the cold of Dun Realtai, eyes ahead. The flow of townspeople draws him like a moth to a flame.

     Getting lonely, Kojirou-kun?

     Kojirou smile distantly as he walks. He doesn't address the voice only he can hear. He doesn't address it. It's a dull roar, a throbbing in the back of his mind.

     No one sems to notice him as he enters the castle. The people bustling about their business see nothing, notice nothing. Grace keeps him from touching them; supernatural power keeps them from seeing or hearing him. Silent, he disturbs not even dust as he makes his way through the old-style European castle.

     Kojirou has never been in a castle, not even one of the castles of his ancient homeland. And yet he knows that, like the cities where people were swallowed into meaninglessness, like the vast sprawling conglomerations of men and women where humans become nameless and nothing, all one needs to do to find something important is follow the traffic.

     So he does. He enters the grand ballroom, silent and invisible, his presence hidden by the black scars that sit along his skin.

     C�ilidh means nothing to Kojirou. He cannot read. He cannot write. He doesn't know what this party is for. But he knows that it is a party.

     It is therefore probably less than comfortable when the blue-haired man in the shabby-looking lavendar kimono and the torn-and-burned deep purple hakama, covered in what might be tattoos or might be scars, appears at the edge of the room. The scars seem to wriggle and writhe into new formations as Kojirou stands there, surveying the party with those violet eyes. He pauses, his eyes landing on Archer of Brown; they pass over him a moment later.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    A black fox lies in a relaxed sprawl on the head of one chair near the fireplace, eyes closed and five luxurious tails draping over the edge of the chair, mirrored by her one-tailed shadow curled up around the foot of the seat. She seems intent on resting through the majority of this celebration, as opposed to some of the more lively visitors, but a few curious young children have wandered up to her. Small hands reach out to the many black tails with a tentative caution, and just before they reach her, the fox's silver eyes slide open.

    The gleam of those eyes startles the children for a moment, but Kagenashi's slowly swaying tails seem to reassure them. Not like she really minds the attention: as the children softly giggle among themselves and stroke beautiful black fur, Kagenashi merely lifts her head to look around the hall at the people assembling. A few from outside the castle she recognizes: Medusa and Kirika, both of whom gain a lingering look from the resting nogitsune before she continues to survey the celebration. Who should she approach this time...

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian nods towards Saber. Being in his Terminator armor, that was about as close as a bow he could actually give. Still, he gave a wave and his wolfguard began setting up their carts. Moments later, kegs of mead and the more powerful fenrisian ale were tapped, and the drink began to flow for those who were daring enough to attempt. The Wolf Lord, meanwhile, made his rounds. Right away, he spotted someone he knew. "Faruja, I had been meaning to arrange a meeting with you, but it seems that we were both drawn here after all. A pleasure." Of course this also triggered the giant wolf, Ygdril, to trot over and say his own hello's.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The lord of the keep is a vigilant sort, and even if he can't necessarily respond to all the folk wanting his attention, he can still take note of them; nodding here or making eye contact there. The eye contact causes him to turn a bit pale when he recognises Medusa's form among the ceilidh-goers, though. He still remembers the beating she'd given him in Azuma.

"Greetings, Dame Templar." Bedivere seems a bit nonplussed by Riva's enthusiastic greeting. "I do not mind spending time among the people; a knight is, after all, a servant of the people. Ah, it was a gift, thank you. A very practical gift. I fear my own armour is unable to be repaired at this point; it has simply sustained too much damage. Ah, if you will pardon me..."

He offers a nod to Kirika when she approaches him, though his eyes continue to roam the great hall. "All are welcome, here. Please, feel free to partake of food and drink. If you will pardon me." A flicker of a smile, and he's off to the next gr--

Suddenly there is a rat, and Bedivere offers a smile to the Ajoran priest. "Sir Senra. Ah, yes, my own armour was destroyed some time back, and it is unfit for use. Most curious; this was gifted to me by Saint Nicholas. I wonder who had besought him to do that for me, but it was very kind." He offers a bow in kind, though his arm is folded over his stomach, inclining his head until his hair hides his face. "Welcome. Make yourself at home; you are, as ever, welcome as a guest in my hall."

And he's off to the next person, content to remain at Saber's side as he makes his introductions. A glance is cast to the Archer of Brown, though; and when Kotone addresses him, he simply quirks his brows in puzzlement at mention of a... 'renfaire?' The term is obviously unfamiliar.

His eyes turn immediately to Kojirou when the Servant -- is it a Servant? He doesn't know; he senses only... /something/, and it makes his blood run cold for an instant -- simply appears. He had not seen that one walk in, and there is little that the Left Hand of the King misses.

That, somehow, strikes him as significant. Ducking his head, he whispers something into Saber's ear -- excusing himself briefly, the motion alone enough to speak of closeness to the king -- and make his way across the room. He catches sight of Kagenashi as he passes her by, and he has the good grace /not/ to frown, offering her a neutral stare when she allllmost scares the children. Yes, he's watching her, his flat regard seems to imply.

His atteniton swings firmly back to Kojirou, and he approaches the man with the faintest hint of a smile he does not by any means feel. His movements are graceful, though not preternaturally so; simply well-trained. This armoured knight is clearly a warrior, even though he wears no sword. "Greetings. Forgive me; I did not recognise your face, nor did I see you walk in. I am Sir Bedivere of Dun Realtai, and I welcome you as a guest of my hall." His head tilts, eyes studying Kojirou, lingering briefly on those scars. "May I have your name, good sir?"

Even from across the room, Saber might note that her marshal seems vaguely uncomfortable; uncertain, no matter how well he might hide it to the relative strangers. She knows him too well not to notice the signs.

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne, or Saber of Black, has always managed to miss the previous ceilidhs' by virtue of either work with her Master, or another priority. Sure, she'd stop by, but she never got a long term chance to stay. Today is different. She had shown up last night and stayed over, and as such, descends down into the much warmer Great Hall from the upstairs of the Dun Realtai keep.

She also immediately moves towards the food, being, of course, a hungry type servant. She does take a moment upon entering to note who is here and where they are. For right now. She's making loop around plans. But first... food.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    As one so attuned to magic, Merlin feels it - the sudden shift as their party is increased by one more. The wizard halts, mouth full of potato chips, as he looks across the hall at the sudden new arrival. The blue-haired robed man covered in...markings of some kind fixes his attention, but there isn't quite anything dangerous about him, not yet.

    But underneath that, there is something else that strikes Merlin about the newcomer. When Bedivere goes to speak to him, Merlin does his best to catch the marshal's eye. The whisper is magical, the wizard's lips barely moving and only Bedivere will hear it. "He is as your Lady, my lord. Though of no great power by compare."

    And then Merlin will simply observe, minding the punch bowl as well - hm, he really should spike it later. If an Nazarene carpenter can do it, why not he?

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
A party would be a nice change from wastelands, crazy muderous spirits with swords, also a Loa, yes she could use a time off right? So here she was with Riva and she looks at her for a moment.

"No you can't and this puts a Renfair to shame doesn't it?"
% She's seems intent to follow Riva for the moment as she comes up on Lord Bedivere she bows slightly.

"Lord Bedivere."

% She has to wonder when did her life take a U turn into aliens, magic and Knights of the Round Table? Someone once told her may she live in interesting times and it seems the curse has stuck to her like glue, she mighr as wll not look at it as a curse right?

She pauses at Saber and bows slightly

"Greetings to you as well. I'm Kotone Yamakawa."

She's also not yet noticed Bill just yet.

Faruja is noticed and she smirks a little bit.

"Sir Faruja it's been a while."

Kirika (481) has posed:
    It's good to see Riva once more, she and Saber both get nod a Kirika smiles to them, then focuses her attention to Karian for a moment as the massive Wolf Lord hulks about, his equally sizable wolf just as conspicuous a sight in these surroundings. TIlting her head at the massive suit of power armor, Kirika purses her lips a moment before she senses a familiar presence in the hall.

    In the corner of her eye, she spots Kojirou, the formidable swordsman from the other day. A nod of her head goes to the Fake Avenger, before the halfkitsune feels eyes upon her in the form of Kagenashi, as well as some of the children mobbing the nogitsune.

    Where she more petty than some, Kirika would be smirking in amusement at how Kagenashi is being fawned over, but instead she simply blinks as she feels a child's hand on her tail. "H-hello, little one..." She blushes faintly as she looks down at the kid, who gently runs her fingers through the kitsune's furry tail. The child grins up, exposing a gap in her teeth as the redhead peers. "Is it real, Milady?"

    "Yes, it is." Kirika nods, kneeling besides the little girl. Her eyes glance up to Faruja, and the kitsune smiles a bit, albiet awkward and distractedly as she's brushed by the child's hands. "Ah, Inquisitor Faruja. Dressed your best, I see."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber's lips pressed into a thin line as she took note of Merlin; the wizard very much enjoyed these events on their own, but being of the mercurial sort, his former student always suspected that he was up to some mischief. Which, of course, he almost always was. She was actually far less concerned about Kagenashi causing potential trouble than the half-human magician.

     And, it would seem, there were other Servants present, as well. She frowned slightly, her eyes settling on those she didn't immediately recognise; first the Archer of Brown...but there was nothing especially unsettling about hi. On the other hand, the false Avenger was far easier to spot due to his sudden materialisation, to say nothing of a particular /wrongness/ to whatever prana surrounded him. A Servant...and yet, in some ways, not. The scars certainly did nothing to dissuade that assessment.

     But what was of even more concern was the arrival of Medusa; while she doubted the witch would start any particular hostilities, she was nevertheless dangerous...not to mention the King of Knights still harboured a grudge for badly injuring her marshal. That wasn't something she was simply going to overlook.

     She was far happier to note Faruja's arrival, the Inquisitor more than welcome in their hall, and her expression softened once more.

     But soon enough, her attention was drawn to Kotone as she made her introduction. "Well-met," she replied with a formal bow of her own, the slight smile back on her face. "I thank you for coming."

     Arturia was not surprised at all that Bedivere had sensed a /wrongness/ about the blue-haired swordsman. Weak or not, it was enough to unsettle them both. Even still, she remained as she was...though she kept an eye on her Master, just in case.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    At least there is another familiar face there. When the one-eyed rat enters her field of vision the Confederate nurse can't help but smile warmly in a practiced manner, and it seems almost too genuine as she leans slightly down to be slightly more on eye level with him. "Ser Senra, what a pleasure to see you here~" she states, amusement glittering in those golden eyes as he squeezes his cane and then shuffles off. Luckily she doesn't pursue him.

    Foxy ladies, servants, men who ought to dress a bit better for a party... the witch watches and observes the other party guests as the music plays, and she idly wonders if there will be dancing later. Perhaps. When Bedivere notices her she offers the knight a knowing smile, understanding why he turns pale easily enough as she neither has forgotten how he was sent flying among the bamboo when he had the nerve to stand in her way. But why fight? She has better things to do tonight, really. With Soul Protect in place the witch should seem less threatening, and the chaotic soul at least can't be felt.

    Her curiousity is instead turned to Jeanne and Merlin as they too seem to linger near the food table. "It is quite the lovely party, is it not...?" she inquires in a soft tone.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Kotone! The poor woman would get that mix of awkward discomfort he fixes on those known to be cybernetic (and her far more than many!) combined with a measure of warmth reserved for those he likes. The rat has managed to procure a drink amidst greeting others, and raises it to her.

"So it hath, mine dear! Ye look well. How fares thine world?"

And then, one shan't forget a certain Lady Saber! Faruja shuffles just a bit closer to another source of reason...and extra arms, in case someone needs to tackle him. Medusa, he's found it, is /very/ good at angering people. Seems he's brought self awareness tot he party.

There's a smirk presented to her after a moment, catching those matching studs.

"Ahh, as resplendant as His Lordship! Lady Saber, how fare thee, hmm? Lord pray ye enjoy these festivities, for ye hath well earned them."

Then, he leans in slightly, whispering discretely.

"Bloody good job, mine dear!" What's he talking about?

Karian first gets a bow...then there's Ygdril. Faruja doesn't even have to bend over before he's trying to rub and scritch the massive wolf's ears like he was a dog. Too much time around Allyn, this one!

"How fortuitous then! Once the party 'winds down' as it were, mayhaps we may retire and discuss a few matters of mutual interest. I trust in the security of Lord Bedivere's halls."

To Bedivere, there's a nod. "Better a suit of metal than the rest of ye. Good to see ye alive and recovered. Caution, hmm? I do believe there is a common saying measuring bravery versus vainglory." Faruja's hippocracy meter just ticked up.

Faruja somehow manages a response, visibly shaking. "...Charmed, nay doubt."

Certain foxes, serpents and wizards very nearly command Faruja's full attention. But the pious priest's senses almost immediately latch onto a feeling of absolute corruption and evil. His drink slips from his hands, and words spill from his mouth. A flash of magic above him...and a half-foot tall emerald-green cat-dog like creature lands gracefully atop his head. Carbuncle's eyes blink as the pair turn to the crowd, a snarl already forming in the rat's throat. Claws rake and rub at his cane, marring the well-carved walking implement. Only the presence of so many innocents keeps him from breaking out into a violent search for its source. For now, his single eye is scanning the crowd for what his senses scream to find and remove.

It's at this moment that a tall, bunny-eared woman in slightly less ostentatious robes appears behind Faruja, baring three drinks.

Acolyte Strawberry, sighing and shaking her head, then proceeds to wrap one arm about her much smaller superior's frame, haul him upwards, and all but force its contents down his gullet.

"WHOOOO! LET'S GET THIS PARTY STAAAARTED!" Comes the cheerful voice of Strawberry, even as she shakes the short Inquisitor about. Hard to descend into violence like this.

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     The bizarre Servant's smile is as peaceful as can be as Bedivere makes his way over to him. He seems as though he is at absolute peace with himself - as though the whole of the world could pass him by, /does/ pass him by, without chipping away at that smile. Bedivere slips through the crowd to him, and Kojirou decides that he is probably the one in charge of this gathering.

     Kojirou gives Bedivere a lingering look. The man moving through the crowd was a fighter. Surrounded by Servants, the man stood out like a beacon. It was...intriguing. He moved with the skill of an old soldier, of someone who had spent a very long time fighting and was finally finding some rest.

     Kojirou lowers his head politely in Kirika's direction before turning to face the Marshal of the Castle. That strange, wry, peaceful smile remains across his face as his eyes meet Bedivere's, and Bedivere can see inside them the same bizarre black markings that coat his skin. "Sasaki Kojirou, Avenger-class Servant. If you're welcoming me as a guest, then I ask that you treat me kindly." He lowers his head slightly, then straightens again.

     The look in his eye - that peaceful look like an undisturbed lake - suddenly ripples as he looks at Bedivere again. "Tell me. Are you strong?"

     "You're surrounded by Servants, and yet you aren't. In a castle full of heroes, you alone stand out."

     "Are you strong?"

     He meets Saber's eye, and there's a flicker of brief recognition before they pass over to the snarling Carbuncle. Then they're back to Bedivere.

     Maybe this wasn't a waste of time for you after all, was it, Kojirou-kun? I keep telling you to be more social. Heh heh heh.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Archer has at least met the aberration that is Kojirou before, and while Avenger certainly gives him the willies, he can at least trust the Servant (?) not to stab him in the back. That being said, the man still casts glances over his shoulder as he assembles a plate of snacks, which allows him to briefly spot Saber--King Arthur, that is. It doesn't take a lot of deducing to know that either she or her pretty-boy Master (not that Archer has much room to talk) is the host of this party, so he does make his glance towards the pair respectful. Huh. And there goes the knight in the blue steel to go and talk to Kojirou. Archer turns his back to the wall and watches from afar, making sure not to obstruct other partygoers looking for refreshments.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
With his eyes still roaming, it's not hard for the knight to notice the arrival of the saint. Jeanne earns a brief smile from Bedivere; he had noticed her absence with some disappointment during the previous events, and it's good to see her come out of her shell a little. She even earns a brief nod.

His attenion is momentarily taken by Merlin when he meets the wizard's eyes. The return look he gives is one of simple acknowledgement; as though to confirm the Wizard's suspicions. Then, to Saber; offering her a look that seems like it's trying to be reassuring. He's still a bit uneasy, though.

...And he turns, eyes veritably blazing as they fix on Faruja and Carbuncle, who are apparently searching for a foe; he sucks in a breath to chastise the rat, but Faruja's acolyte has already done so for him. He visibly relaxes. Strawberry, whether she sees it or not, is given a grateful nod before his attention returns to Kojirou.

Indeed, Kojirou would recognise a fellow warrior; he would also know that this one has seen many battles, and has not slipped away from them unscathed. There's just a hint of stiffness, of slowness, that suggests time has not been kind to Bedivere, even though he appears to be in his prime.

To his credit he does not take a step back at the sight of those tattoos in the foreign warrior's very eyes... but his shoulders tense in surprise.

"A host is beholden to treat his guests as per Brehon Law, which forbids the abuse of a guest for as long as they remain in their host's hall. Likewise, a guest is forbidden to dishonour his host by way of threat or violence. These laws are absolute, and older than the stones this castle is built upon. You need fear no broach of the peace here." Bedivere bows his head to Kojirou, though he still regards him with a slightly aloof, cool regard; one that, perhaps, speaks of unease.

And then surprise. His pale brows furrow. "Strong?" The question seems to take him off his guard. In fact, he doesn't seem to know quite how to answer the question, frowning in puzzlement. "That depends on how you measure strength. Why do you ask?"

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian as well as a priest, but in a different faith. So when his friend summons carbuncle and get agitated, he turns as well. The massive wolf as well turns, and takes up a stance in front of the pair. "Seems that this will be an interesting event." He says. Then, deciding to try and break the tension, he looks over to Saber. "Lady Saber, I do not believe that I have been formally introduced to the person in command here. Would you kindly provide me the honor?" He asks, clearly devoid of what one could call formality. He was, after all, essentially a norseman raised by wolves.

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne doesn't really recognize Medusa, so she gives the other woman a... somewhat friendly nod, but her attention is undeniably distracted by the entrance of Kojirou, a small frown crossing over her face as this particular Saber stares at the ... Avenger-class.. servant? She frowns again, this time one that keeps more on her face, before she reluctancly shakes her head, turning her attention back to the group by the refreshments.

She does lift a hand towards Bedivere when she's spotted. She's here, she'll say hi later.

"It is truly a wonderful event. Sir Bedivere and the dear Lady Saber do their best to make them safe and wonderful events."

Riva Banari has posed:
Throwing a party is almost guaranteed to trigger the rare, roving Riva spawn. "WOOHOO!" Is the cry as Riva arrives, dragging Kotone along with her in exuberant anticipation. "I keep telling you, Kotone: There's no party like a Dun Realtai party, 'cause a Dun Realtai party is oldschool! Listen to that music! You don't get that from a DJ table." Riva laughs, and then lets Kotone go while she half strides, half prances through the crowd, showering jubilation and happiness at everyone she sees as she homes in on Bedivere and Saber.

After all, it's only polite to pay your respects to the Lord and Lady of the Castle when you arrive, you know?

Bedivere gets maybe 15 seconds of repose before Riva pops out of the crowd and beelines straight for him. "Lord Bedivere!" She exclaims. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were starting to like celebrating with the people." She jokes, and then gives a bow (since a curtsy would look weird in the formal Templar uniform). When she straightens, she nods. "That's some nice new armor! I admit, I was worried for a bit. It's just not right to see a noble knight unprepared without suitable armor, you know?" She grins at that.

Riva Banari has posed:
"Practical gifts are great. You get to use them all the time, but then people love it when they see you using it. Enjoy the rest of the party!" Riva waves to Bedivere as he attends to his other visitors.

Faruja gets Riva's attention, and she gives the rat-priest a big hug. "Faruja! It's good to see you again! Are you doing all right?" She lets him go, and then Saber arrives. Riva bows to her as well. "Lady Saber, it's wonderful to see you again. I only wish I could visit more often! Your castle is becoming pretty amazing. Dun Realtai is in good hands with both you and Lord Bedivere here." She smiles happily, and then pulls away to let some other people get some words in edgewise.

Kirika gets to be next on the Riva hit parade, as the Templaress descends upon her to give her a hug too. "Kirika! It's so good to see you! What's been going on lately, I barely hear anything these days!"

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     "Because I would like to fight you," Kojirou replies in that peaceful tone, like a babbling brook. "There are several here who have my interest...but.."

     Kojirou's looks off at the ceiling. It's like he's not really looking at the stone. "But you seem like someone I should prioritize. You're a man who stands toe to toe with demigods, aren't you? That alone makes me curious. But...later."

     He waves his hand politely. "You have guests to attend to. I should not want to keep you."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    As enjoyable as this fawning is, Kagenashi does feel that her time would be better spent mingling rather than hanging around at this one chair. After a few moments, the black fox rises, stretching out briefly before giving a playful swish of her tails toward the children assembled near her. They draw back giggling, providing enough of an opening for Kagenashi to dart down and vanish among the shadows of the crowd.

    When she next appears, stepping in near Jeanne, Merlin, and Medusa by the table of food, she's returned to a human form. Without her mask, her beautiful, slender features and gleaming silver eyes are clearly visible, and the rest of her outfit is composed of her black, low-cut kimono. Her black hair is done up in its usual bun, with two long strands descending to her chest.

    "Indeed it is," Kagenashi replies to Medusa, her tone as serene as ever. She doesn't offer a smile, but she does nod in greeting to the witch with her hands folded politely in front of her. "I was not expecting to see you here, but I suppose even you need to get out and socialize with old friends now and then."

    Her silver gaze drifts back to Jeanne next, and the smile she gives is a soft, polite one. "Indeed. It's a pleasant opportunity, even if the truce is over with now. How have you fared as of late, Jeanne? And your Master, is she well?"

    Merlin is ignored for the moment. Quite pointedly, in fact.

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Kirika is about to speak further to Faruja, but she is distracted more by the child. With a sigh, she summons up a shadowy fox, Hikage, and bids the familiar to go play with her with a whisper. A chuckle escapes Kirika as the familiar leads the child away for a bit, playing about with her as it pads towards Kagenashi, inspecting the nogitsune curiously for a second while wiggling her tail from the child's touch.

    Of course, Kirika's reprive is stopped as Riva suddenly yanks her into a hug, eliciting a surprised squeak from Kirika as she awkwardly hugs back, trying to pry her way free. "Aaah! RIva, yes, it's been some time...I've missed you as well, aye. How fares it?" She smiles, sheepishly trying not to seem too annoyed as she chats it up with Riva, sipping her ale lightly as she sways her tail side to side.

    "I am surprised to see quite a few faces today, most of all you, Kagenashi." She says at last, directly addressing the nogitsune cooly. Despite bringing her blade along, she's in no hurry to cause a fight here. "I thank you for the gift, I hope yours is satisfactory as well?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The pale-haired knight still looks perplexed. If anything, he looks even more perplexed when Kojirou clarifies his intentions. His brow furrows clearly enough that even people watching him from a distance would notice it, and it's not a customary expression for the cool and confident marshal.

"What?" He's so caught off his guard he doesn't even know what to say to that, and it seems to take several seconds to reboot his brain. "That is to say, you seem direct. Why should you wish to fight with me? I have not wronged you, have I? Truly, I do not recall making your acquaintance before today. Have I sullied your honour? I should like to make amends, if I have done so unintentionally."

But Kojirou's already dismissed him, and he's left staring after the Fake Avenger in clear confusion. Brow furrowing even further, he shakes his head, taking his leave with a murmured, "We will speak of this later."

He can't help a shudder as he returns to the room at large. This time, he makes his way back to Jeanne, greeting the Saber of Black with a respectful inclination of his head and a faint smile. "Most Holy. I welcome you to this gathering, and it gladdens me to see you here. Please, enjoy yourself." And then he's gone, slipping by to circulate some more, until the next guest flags him down.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    Ah, there. The most fantastic thing in the world after all. When Medusa turns her gaze to him, the wizard smiles coolly and amicably. Not that he doesn't notice Jeanne...he's just decided to sample more exotic flavors for the moment.

    "It is indeed, miss. Even such things as the frozen lands outside can find warmth and comfort, it seems. Of course, one need not be frozen to find warmth..." Pale blue eyes regard Medusa, carefully taking in that absolutely fantastic ink-black dress. And, as well, everything it manages to not cover. "I might say, with such a daring affair, that warmth is altogether to your liking. I am afraid you have me momentarily at a disadvantage, not that I mind so much; may I have your name, my dear?"

    Dividing his attention is no difficult feat, and listening to a conversation across the room is quite simple as well. Strawberry's antics make it momentarily easier as everyone's attention is taken for a moment by her attempt to drown the priest in 40-proof Holiday Cheer, but he turns back to whisper to Bedivere.

    "Do not take offense. Treat his statement as a request for a contest - at a future time. Not even I sensed his entry. If he wanted to truly make war here, half of this hall would be dead already."


    And then he turns his attention to the eminently ravishing Kagenashi. "Madam, it is a pleasure to see you as well." And see her he does...though he's also making sure to keep an eye on Medusa. The night is young, after all...and he does have two eyes.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa does catch the confusion over Renfaire.

"Forgiver me that term's just used by a certain type of festival inspired by you era in my world and time. It's likely not entirely accurate but it's good fun, and proves people care to not forget the past."

Even if it's a bit distorted right? She does seem to be trying to be on her behst behaviour however.

"I been here a few times and keep hearting things from Riva, how could I say no to her inviting me to come along here?

She looks ove to Faruja.

"Japan rushing ahead, Empire America being belgitant as ever, the Amerrussio alliance just kinda facepalming at the Empire, so about normal really."

She does get the look but is thankful that Faruja doesn't say anything rearding her nature.

"So Riva your right this is something and ....."

She looks rather afraid when she spots that Fake Avenger is here, oh this is not good.

She also catches sight of Jeanne by the food she doesn't know about Sabers, or she'd be racing to get some for herself.

Mordred (12) has posed:
    "IT'S BECAUSE SPARRING IS FUN, BEDIKINS!" comes the voice of Mordred, whose form has suddenly, but quietly, materialized atop a wall. She seems to be laying on it, nonchalantly, one arm holding her head up, the other holding a chicken wing. She is wearing a red and gold coat, essentially a replica of Psyber's, a Cool Trenchcoat(tm). For the less familiar, she basically looks exactly like Saber. Just, slightly paler hair, a bit more rough, and ponytailed instead of bunned, though the braids are still there. She might look a year or so younger, but you'd have to look to notice the missing inch of height.

    "Did you not find a new court jester yet? I don't see Gawain, I'm going to get bored here. Half your guests look like nobodies or dumb, too," she grins, voice absolutely not serious. It's just to rile Bedivere and jab at his Good Host senses. And to entertain herself. Mostly the former.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    It's hard to not notice how the others pay attention to Kojirou's entrance, and Medusa arches her eyebrows slightly. "Hmm? Is something the matter, dear...?" she inquires softly as she spies the frown on Jeanne's face.

    Though indeed, she has to agree. "The food smells divine, and it certainly seems inviting, doesn't it~?" And there is Kagenashi... The other Confederate earns a soft nod of the witch's head, and unlike Kagenashi at least Medusa is smiling. "Oh yes, I was rather bored and thought I should accept the open invitation. It is so long since I have been to a party, so why not~?"

    And there Bedivere is, and Medusa seems content to let him greet Jeanne without interfering, only smiling as she watches them interact. No, she has no need to talk to everybody, and some conversations can wait.

    Though it seems that Merlin seems intent on talking to her. Such flowery language. It doesn't bother the witch however, who chuckles softly and turns her attention mostly to his questions. "Really...? I wouldn't say I'm inappropriately dressed. And indeed, the hearth is rather pleasant." Merlin even gets a slender hand extended for a greeting if he so wishes, as well as a name. "Medusa Gorgon. I am afraid I am not aware of your identity either...?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber instantly recognised the Saber of Black, her arrival earning a respectful bow for the Saint. And then, food. Well, it wasn't as if Arturia had any room to criticise, as a Saber, herself.

     And the mysterious Archer was politie enough; Saber returned the silent hail with a polite bow. And hand't Sir Gawain mentioned someone matching that description?

     "Greetings, Sir Faruja," she hailed as the priest greeted her. "I thank you for coming...how fare you and your lady?"

     Then, sea-green eyes blinked owlishly at the Burmecian. No, she hadn't understood his meaning. "Pardon?"

     She wasn't particularly reassured, but she trusted that Bedivere could handle himself in this situation. After all, she had trusted him with far more delicate and dangerous situations for nearly twenty years.

     The Wolf Lord didn't need to worry about formality, even were he so inclined; their cultures were more similar than dissimilar. Her own formality had been something of an anomaly, intended to rally the people and give them hope after the constant Saxon raids. No, the only difficulty there was waiting for the chat with the strange Servant to end.

     Saber frowned slightly; was that a faint hint of recognition she had seen? That, perhaps, was the most unsettling of all.

     Fortunately, that seemed to conclude fairly quickly, giving her the necessary opening. Leading Karian to the violet-eyed lord, Arturia introduced the Space Marine with what was an informal, relaxed manner...for Saber, that is. "My lord," he was going to probably chafe a little hearing her address him that way publicly, "Might I introduce you to Lord Karian Icefang of the Space Wolves?"

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     Kojirou chuckles quietly at Bedivere's confusion, and watches the marshal leave. Then he makes his way over to Archer of Brown and digs his hand into his coat. If Archer of Brown reacts like Kojirou's about to draw a gun, Kojirou simply holds up his other hand to slow him. Kojirou's already said he's not the type to kill a man to his back. He's a polite swordsman, not an Assassin.

     Ha, ha.

     A moment later, Kojirou deposits a set of keys in Archer of Brown's hand. He looks into Wild Bill's eyes again, and that peaceful, serene gaze is back in his eyes. "I acquired this place in your world's District C. I'll be using it as my base of operations until I've completed my objective in the Grail War."

     Kojirou lowers his voice and murmurs an address into Archer's ear, then leans back and turns away. "Give those keys and that address to whatever Servants would come fight me, and you will win your war."

     Then he turns away from Archer and passes into the group towards Saber and Saber of Black and the others. Mordred draws a nod of acknowledgement, as does Medusa, since he recognizes both the voices.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Before he has a chance to talk to anybody else, Bedivere is once more accosted by the wizard and former advisor of King Arthur. Merlin is a troublesome soul, and one that he really would have preferred not found his way into the multiverse... but it is what it is, and his counsel /is/ valuable.

Half the hall would be dead if Kojirou really wanted to cuase harm? That's a cheerful and comforting thought. So his suspicions had been right, that Kojirou was a deadly opponent. And he wants to fight Bedivere, a mere mortal? The pale-haired knight swallows through a suddenly dry throat. What has he gotten himself into this time?

Well, there's nothing for it, now. Bedivere shakes his head and suddenly there is a very tall man in very complicated-looking armour being dragged over by Saber. He visibly cringes when she addresses him by that title, though he does tilt his head and lean back -- that man is /very/ tall -- to regard Karian. And then inclines forward, in a bow.

"Welcome to Dun Realtai, Lord Karian; your presence is--"

And then somebody familiar is shouting at him from across the hall. Who invited Mordred? Really? Seriously?

Bedivere reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose, momentarily, before looking back to Karian and Saber. "Forgive Sir Mordred. I fear she is uncouth to the extreme, and uneducated in the ways of etiquette."

He flicks a glance at Merlin, too. Behave yourself, old man.

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne d'Arc says, "I am doing well, thank you for asking. My Master is doing well as well, she is very busy with school and other things at the moment, as well as helping me with my learning." She is briefly Bedivere'd, and remarks after him, a somewhat longsuffering expression on Jeanne's face at getting Most Holy'd, "Thank you, Sir Bedivere!" She bows back to Saber.

"Something is... a little strange, almost." She says to Medusa-- then there is a Certain Feeling and Jeanne d'Arc, Saber of Black, sloooowlllly turns to face the wall Mordred has appeared on. There is a perfect poker face going on, her royal eyes narrowing at the sight of the other Saber."

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja is finally dropped, post booze and shaking, into a Riva-hug. This has the net effect of the rat looking more than a little dazed and confused.

"G...greetings Lady Banari."

He manages a response to Saber and Kotone alike.

"Ahh, politics! May ye avoid them as oft as possible, Lady Kotone." Nope, not mentioning her 'affliction'. The rat can be smart when he chooses to be.

Saber gets a beaming smile. "Our new home is absolutely love, mine dear. Remind me to invite thineself and thine good host.." He indicates Jeanne and Bedivere, but not doub it covers far more than that. Yes, even Merlin.

Strawberry, for now, is drinking and trying to look cheery. All the while looking at Faruja, who now with his senses back together, has downgraded to Death Glares towards Kojirou. No words, just the general feeling of someone itching to destroy that which offends.

Berri inches slightly closer to the rat, and lets out a sigh.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
    "Anno? Sparring? I'm afraid I've come in the wrong dress for sparring." comes a friendly voice, as in from the cold comes in a young woman wearing the blues and reds of her guild, hair braided into myriad dusky azures and scarlets, fading to natural dark brown, and cascading down her back in curls beset with stars. THe corset-like top in red is beneath a blue jacket, depicting the likeness of a dragon at its lapel. She smoothes down the grown of the dress, and looks thoroughly embarrassed "I think I might have overdressed...." she mumbles to herself, but takes a stock in the room around her -- some she recognizes, some she doesn't. She certainly does note the girl atop the wall accosting poor Sir Bedivere. And she rubs the back of her head a moment.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    "It's quite allright, Jarl Bedivere. Though being honest, I would kick her arse for that if we were at my Aett. That or have to deal with my companion..." He says. That command draws the thunderwolf over for a friendly 'hello' sniffing. "Are you like Saber? A servant?" He asks, quite straightforwardly.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Archer mumbles to himself. "'Least I got enough sense not to sit in the rafters like a bird lining up a shit." He's not dumb. Stupid Mordred. Archer bitterly takes a bite of his mutton, before being accosted by Avenger.

     "Much obliged, Mr. Kojirou." His features harden for a moment. In a deft display of dexterity, the Spirit rolls the keys across his fingers, then drops them into the pocket of his coat. It should be a relief that Avenger has made such an offer, but if he's not interested in winning the Grail, then what does he want? Every answer just makes up new questions.

     The servant departs from the refreshment table, to find himself a place to sit with his food.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    Kagenashi's gaze is briefly averted by the shadow fox that comes near her. For a moment, her brow raises in confusion: that's certainly not Munashi, whose eyes she sees through to know perfectly well that her shadow is still curled up at the base of that earlier seat. She hasn't run into anyone else who's created a shadowy creature like that, either. However, it doesn't take her very long to guess, and her answer is confirmed a few moments later when Kirika arrives.

    Silver eyes shift back to the half-kitsune, and Kagenashi offers a light smile of greeting. "Kirika. Yes, it was quite an excellent shawl. Whoever crafted it has wonderful skill. I had meant to wear it today, but...well, it simply escaped my mind, unfortunately." Her hand sweeps aside briefly, gesturing to the rest of the keep. "As for why I am here, I thought you knew: this place is my residence now, just as much as Azuma. Bedivere owed me for my efforts in reclaiming it, after all, and so I thought this would be an acceptable return of the favor. I am more surprised to see /you/ here, of all places...though you came to the celebration in the summer, too, did you not?"

    Her glance shifts back to Medusa again, though her smile fades to a more neutral expression. "Really? I thought you would do other things for your boredom," she calmly remarks. "Not much in the way of work these days, I assume?"

    The nogitsune folds her arms behind her back, then, turning back to Jeanne with a light nod. "That is certainly good to hear. Do send Nakamura my regards when you speak to her again. I believe we are overdue for another meeting soon." Whatever /that/ means, given the context.

    Finally, she looks back to Merlin with a faint smile. The wizard is offered a brief bow before she straightens up again, still eyeing him with eyes of gleaming silver. "Surely the pleasure is shared, Merlin. You seem quite entranced today, I must say. Savoring the sights of the season, I take it?"

    While others have their attention turned by Servants, a different scent reaches Kagenashi. A light frown settles over her features as she looks back to where Yunomi has arrived, though she reluctantly breathes little more than a slow, weary sigh. Of course the tanuki she's heard so much about by now would be here.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The pale-haired knight arches a brow at Karian, though his head is tilted in a way that doesn't make it seem so blatant he's looking up to see him. "That is a Saxon title, and not mine. Please, I am only Sir Bedivere." He shakes his head. "Do not feel compelled to address me thus--"

Oh God preserve him, that beast is enormous and how didn't he notice that before? He endures the creature's inspection in stoic silence, though Saber would probably notice how much his shoulders draw taut, and the way he watches the thunderwolf from the corner of his eye; an eye that shows the whites.

His eyes flick back to Karian, frowning. "No. I am no Servant, Lord Karian. A servant of the people, perhaps, but I am no Servant, not as you are asking."

Those violet eyes flick over again at the sound of a familiar voice, and though he seems to be tied up at the moment, he does offer Yunomi a nod and a smile; welcoming her in spite of his conversational obligations.

Riva Banari has posed:
Riva lets Kirika go, smiling, "Everything's been going pretty well, except for this one time where Kyra saved me from almost getting cut in half by..."

Then her eyes slide across the presence of Fake Avenger. "Oh hell, it's /that guy/." Riva says, stepping back a little. "Um.... Maybe we should go try the wine. Over /there/." She says, pointing to a direction /away/ from Kojirou. "Dude is bad news." She comments, though her eyes do narrow as the man hands the Archer of Brown some keys. What's going on with this?

As Riva gets herself some wine, she asides to Kirika, "Tonight is going to be /really/ confusing." She observes. And drinks.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Finally able to properly greet Jeanne, Arturia does so. "Greetings, Lady," she hailed, mindful that the Saber of Black was still in the middle of her own Holy Grail War and mindful of her need to conceal herself. Perhaps she was being overcautious -- none of the other combatants had properly materialised, as far as she knew -- but it was always better to err on the side of caution. "I thank you for coming..I understand how busy you have been with the church restoration...."

     Nodding to Faruja, her smile widened a fraction, subtle but noticeable to those familiar with her mannerisms. "Yes, we should both enjoy that..."

     And suddenly, there is a magic-created clone of herself up in the rafters. The Servant sighed softly. Certainly, her "son" was teasing people, but it made smoothing ruffled feathers a bit more difficult. Well, she wasn't going to scold Mordred...after all, for her, this was behaving herself.

Mordred (12) has posed:
    "Oh come on now, it's all in good fun. We put our differences behind, right?" Mordred chomps the chicken, and then hops down, dusting herself and looking at Bedivere with a straight face, rather than that idiot grin. She takes a bow, genuine too. "It would honor me greatly if you would suffer my presence on this day, Sir Bedivere. The same of your crowd, naturally."

    She glances towards Avenger, though mostly gives him a shrug. Having not seen what he's made of yet, she's fairly neutral on him. Jeanne, though, gets a smile. "And hello to you as well, Most Holy."

    The (fairly literal) Saber Clone wanders over towards Saber, kneeling to grab her hand and kiss it. "Father. As ever you look radiant and at your prime."

    That is quite enough being knightly though.

    "So! Just how many Servants did you invite? That's more than I've ever felt in any one location before. I think. I'd have to headcount."

Kirika (481) has posed:
    "The lot of us are somwwhat improperly dressed for sparring, I am afraid." Kirika says dryly as she pots the arrival of who she assumes to be the Confederate Mordred. The identical features that Arturia and Mordred share are mind-blowing, given how differently they both act. Jeanne as well, but Kirika doesn't know her quite as well as she does the blue-clad Saber. Even Mordred she knows only through reports, mostly.

    "Then again, one of us saw fit to bring a bulky truck to wear." The kitsune muses, glancing at Karian for a second before she shrugs a shoulder. "I suppose that is true. I've been considering a chance to actually ask Bedivere about my living here as well." She says, ears twitching a little. "You need not worry, I know of the rules set in place by Lord Arturia and Bedivere, our differences shall remain cordrial." The halfblood assures for a moment, tail swishing side to side lightly as Kirika nabs a loaf of bread to nibble upon.

    Of course, she's momentarily dragged aside by Riva, and the kitsune seems content to treat herself to some wine in any case. "Servants often are something of a mystery, I've found." She agrees, nodding as hse wanders back towards Kagenashi again. "A friend of yours?" the kitsune's finger jerks towards Medusa for a moment in curiousity, and she takes a sip of her wine.

Inga has posed:
Click-clack, click-clack. It is unlikely any will hear the sound of her staff rapping on the floor as she approaches, what with all the music and conversation. Plus, she is a woman decidedly short in stature, so she may not be noticed immediately. That's quite alright, she supposes there will be no formal announcement of guests anyway. She'll slip in and remove her heavy cloak, revealing the ankle-length dress beneath. She's dressed in the style of her time and place of of origin, a blue wool dress over white linen, pinned at the shoulders with silver brooches and belted at the waist. The dress is hemmed with embroidery and a fine woven belt from which hang several pouches. For the occasion, Inga has forgone her usual braid to leave her hair mostly loose with only two small braids in the front that are pulled back and tied with a small blue ribbon at the back of her head.

She comes in with staff in one hand and a wizard on her arm, a smile on her face at the warmth of the room and familiar surroundings--and faces.

Is Riva drunk yet, she wonders?

"Well, we're a bit late...we should find our hosts and say hello," she asides to Harry.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
    The bright eyed girl feels eyes upon her, and her ears prick up, unafraid of showing in the presence of so many other guests. The tanuki gives a charming smile, smoothing a stray lock of hair into place as she returns Bedivere's nod, but moves to mingle with the crowd.

    "BEing able to get drunk is overrated. /Watching/ the others do so is pretty funny, though." she states as she slips around Kotone to the food, but not before she gives a brilliant, dazzling, friendly smile in the direction of Kagenashi.

    "Such the party; I'm certainly happy that I could provide for everyone if it comes to it~" she lilts gently.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    Merlin drops his gaze in apology. "Dare I suggest any inappropriateness to your attire at all. It is simply a fascinating gown, as if one was clad in the very night sky itself." HEYOOO. "And the hearth is quite warm indeed, though it would be that much colder at this party without one such as yourself."

    The hand is taken gently, and Merlin bows as he raises it to his lips. "I am charmed, and I am Merlin. Advisor to the Lord of Dun Realtai and the King of Camelot, and practicing wizard of these lands. I sense that we are of a family, perhaps," he adds to the witch. It's not too hard to sense that power in others, whether they use it or not.

    Mordred's appearance gets his attention, and the wizard finally, /truly/ smiles. Oh this is going to be fantastic. Though they do lack a Gawain, there's something else suitably jesterful that crosses Mordred's vision - the magical turtle. Specifically, moonwalking backwards right through a gap in the crowd, giving a soft and equally backwards sounding 'gggnnnob' from time to time. You gotta make your own entertainment.

    As for more entertainment, Merlin turns back to face Kagenashi. "Quite indeed. And there is so much to see," he adds with a long glance at her outfit, "and so many old and new friends." This last is said with a smile to Medusa, and a nod to include the lovely young lady. "Truly a way to ring in the new year, and to wish for a lucky year."

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian arc's the brow of his one eye, confused. "Saxon? Forgive me, but I've no idea what that is." He also notices how quickly Bedivere went quiet as Ygdril padded over. "Don't worry about him. He's harmless, unless someone tries to harm me. Then he'll tear their throat out." He then looks over and calls to one of his wolfguard to bring over drinks, his native dialect being used, as well as likely being alien to his host. He also gives a motion to bring a drink to Saber as well. "Join me for a drink, Jarl Bedivere?" Yes, he is going to keep calling him that.

Saber (346) has posed:
     "A-ah...thank you," Arturia managed, just...sort of stared owlishly at the homunculus. If she meant to unsettle her "father", Mordred was doing an excellent job.

     But then, the moment passed when the Saber of Red returned to normal. "So it would seem....perhaps drawn to the power of this place, or who is gathered..."

     Avenger, certainly, was one she continued to keep her eye on.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
For the moment, Bedivere simply watches as Arturia greets Jeanne, responds to Faruja, and gives that long-suffering sigh toward her 'son.' The pale-haired knight's eyes flick back to Mordred when she addresses him with a straight face and seemingly genuine words, even going so far as to bow properly.

His expression is absolutely stony. For a moment it almost seems like he might refuse--

Bedivere sighs. It sounds resigned. "You need not beg; begging is unbecoming of royalty. I welcome you as a guest to my hall, Sir Mordred, and I afford you all the protections and priveleges of a guest under Brehon Law. Though I will ask that you do not harass any of my guests. I should like to avoid any, ah, incidents--"

Mordred then kneels before Saber, taking the King of Knights' hand and kissing it. Is Bedivere bristling? You betcha bottom dollar Bedivere is bristling; it seems that, although they've put their differences behind them, words and reality are a bit different, and there are still some things he has yet to work through. He'll get there -- he can't simply forget about what was done so easily. He will forgive. But he will never forget.

"I did not invite anyone. At least, not any especial Servant." He seems nonplussed by the sheer number of people in the hall, and he even goes so far as to shrug at Mordred. "People have arrived, and I have welcomed them here. I cannot be certain, myself."

He then casts a long-suffering look to Karian. "I am not a Jarl," he insists, tone needled. "Please, I insist that you call me Sir Bedivere." A drink? he pales a little, and his eyes flick to Saber. Help. It would be rude to /refuse/... but...

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne looks at Kagenashi steadily. "I will do so." She says, a bit stiffly. "I am sure she will appreciate the heads up about another meeting with you, Lady." There are new people and Jeanne idly spots them through the crowd - Riva, Yunomi, Inga, a few others, then her attention is drawn back to the other pair of Sabers at hand.

"I have missed the last few ceildihs, so I felt a need to make sure I could finally, properly make one. This celebration ... I thank you and Lord Bedivere for hosting it." Her purple eyes go wide, however, as Mordred addresses Arturia as 'Father', her glance flickering from Mordred, up to Arturia, and then...

Over to Bedivere?

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is going to try to keep as far awy from Fake as she's able to do. She does not wnat ot tankle with him again or risk setting him off by getting near him. Ya he left a hell of an impression upon her. She does how wander away from Riva or the moment and she looks over to Riva for a brief moment.

"You know I almost miss being able to get drunk, somedays Riva."

Then she's distracted by Inga's arrival and she waves to the Wise Woman!

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden is here as well, though he might be the +1 in this situation, seeing how rarely he sneaks himself out to the Dun. He shuffles in behind Inga, carrying the gifts from the couple.

    That would be a massive growler of Mac's best black ale, as well as a basket full of fresh baked pastries from Harry's Kitchen if you can believe it.

    The wizard is NOT wearing his Wizard's (bath)Robe, and he doesn't do hats. He is, however, is a warm button up shirt with a bolo tie and a mostly shaved face.

    He's also wincing at all the Servants here. "Dammit, everyone's being loud."

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    "Your master...?" Medusa asks, giving Jeanne a curious look. Is she a servant? Mordred earns a neutral glance, even when she interacts with Arturia.

    As for Kagenashi's comment, the witch shrugs. "There are many kinds of boredom. And work will pick up sooner or later in one way or another... the patients at Citadel can get by without me for one evening, would't you say?" And when Kirika points her out, Medusa offers a bright smile at the kitsune. "Medusa Gorgon. Both Kagenashi and I are lieutenants in the Confederacy. A pleasure~" Now pardon her, it seems that Merlin is trying to flatter her further.

    It appears though that Medusa isn't about to bodily harm the man, a smile of amusement crossing her lips. "You certainly have a way with words, don't you...?" She likewise allows him to raise her hand to his lips, and his name does seem to ring a bell as the witch blinks once. "Are you now...?" Only fools have not heard that particular name before. Yet she can only wonder just how close to the legends this man is. As for whether they are similar, Medusa is unable to hold back a chuckle. "Oh, you would not like to be part of my family, trust me~" she assures him, though there is a knowing look in her eyes. "But yes, I can imagine a wizard and a witch would have things in common."

    A new year indeed. The Confederate nurse raises her glass. "For the new year and new opportunities~" she states.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    "Good," Kagenashi replies with a nod to Kirika, smiling faintly. "Surely if I can withhold my feelings on my opposition while I remain here, you can do the same. If you do move in here, though, there is a wonderful little turtle that should spend some time with you at night. It is an excellent little sleep aid." Smile.

    Once Kirika is briefly dragged off, Kagenashi's attention shifts back to Merlin. Her arms fold under her chest, and she leans slightly forward to regard him with a curious stare. Her tone, amazingly, remains about the same. "You have an interesting definition of friends," she idly remarks. "I think you would be more accurate in calling them...objects of observation, perhaps?" Another brief smile before she straightens up again, just in time for Kirika to appear and offer a question that /removes/ that smile.

    "...Medusa? She is an associate of mine in the Confederacy, yes," the nogitsune replies frankly. "We have worked together now and then, though not with any real frequency. In fact, we have been rather /out of touch/ as of late. Have we not, Medusa?" Kagenashi offers quite possibly the brightest smile she's given tonight to the witch, before her attention shifts over to Jeanne again. She says nothing to the Servant, instead just offering a light nod of gratitude and a faintly-amused smile. Her attention doesn't return to the witch, either; let Merlin handle her for now and kill two birds with one stone.

    Yunomi, meanwhile, is given a brief wave of simple courtesy when the tanuki beams at her. One of these people is clearly more enthusiastic than the other.

Inga has posed:
Inga gives Harry's arm a squeeze. "Yes, I know...but lets try to have a bit of fun before we become overwhelmed. We'll have some drinks," she suggests. A little social lubrication. Harry's been too long a hermit! And Inga...well, she can get overwhelmed with so many people in a small space, all those fates spinning together--no, she cannot think on it. That will only pull her down the threads and there will be inconvenient visions and--suddenly, a smile. Well, that is sort of how she'd met Harry after all.

Spotting Bedivere and Saber is relatively easy, and Bedi is dressed up! How nice.

Now, of course, Inga is looking for Merlin. She's been eager to meet him! @.@

Fake Avenger (662) has posed:
     "I wander," Kojirou tells the Sabers politely as he joins with the larger group, "I followed the crowd into the castle. It's a consequence of long life. The leaf never steers the wind, after all."

     He flicks his eyes from Saber, to Saber, to Saber. Avenger's bizarre gaze, up close, is filled with the same little black scars/tattoos/sigils as the rest of his effeminate body. Up close, the abberant nature of him is also made quite clear. He isn't part of the Grail War. He isn't part of ANY Grail War. A Servant who has no Grail War shouldn't exist, but...Kojirou is most definitely exempt.

     The swordsman's gaze passes away to Bedivere again, then back to the Servants, then over to Karian, then over to Faruja. His strange eyes linger across the room thoughtfully. "Was I supposed to bring a gift for entry?"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Kagenashi's comment regarding their dealings in the Confederacy earns a smile from Medusa. "Aaah, yes. We should correct that, shouldn't we~?" she smiles warmly, even reaching a hand out to rest it on Kagenashi's shoulder.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
    Well, so m uch for making new friends. Bedivere seems to be busy with Saber and being the host of the party and... other than Faruja, there's no one she really recognizes or has worked with... which puts her at the precarious position of 'Man, I should have brought a deck of cards'.

    In lieu of having much in common with anyone else, she settles for something that everyone else has in common. She gets herself a drink, and looks over the rest of the guests in an awkward sort of way.

Saber (346) has posed:
     The blue-clad Saber merely regarded Jeanne with a bland look, as if not quite comprehending. Unfortunately, that glance at Bedivere and whatever the Saint's mind was working were things she probably didn't want to guess at. "Mordred is..she was born from my half-sister, Morgan, using my...."

     How /does/ one explain that mess? Saber opted for the most vague route possible. "...blood. Suffice to say, two of us prefer not to speak of her."

     If there was noe thing "father" and "son" agreed on, it was that Morgan le Fay was an unspeakable...something. Even the otherwise largely tolerant Saber had to admit that.

     Gratefully, her eyes turned to the arrival of Inga and Harry. Already, she was bowing properly; partly out of being genuinely glad to see them, and partly because it was a good distraction from some embarrassing and confusing history.

     As the bane of Bedivere's dignity was passed to both Arturia and her unfortunate marshal, she shot a look at the distressed knight. It was not surprising at all to catch the almost fearful glance he sent her way, a clear cry for help. Briefly, Saber held up her hand and made a pinching gesture with her thumb and index finger. It might baffle another, but the two had been close enough to be able to communicate without so much as words. What her Left Hand would pick up would have been as clear as if she had spoken.

     /A tiny sip, then simply hold it for the next hour./

     The poor man had no tolerance whatsoever, in spite of his build, thanks to a lifetime of watering down his drink to avoid blunting his senses.

     "To friends and treasured allies, then," she replied to the Wolf Lord.

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Kirika, nonplussed by the snakey witch nurse that is Medusa, just inclines her head in the witch's direction. "How do you do?" Nabbing a seat with the two, she wraps her tail around her waist, acquiring a loaf of bread through Hikage's nimble theft while all this has been going on. Giving the shadowy fox a pat on the head, Kirika nibbles the loaf n between sips of wine, giving a glance towards Yunomi curiously before nodding her head to the tanuki.

    She eventually sets her drink and snack aside, producing a pipe and sprinkling in some sort of blended mix. Snapping her fingers, she produces a small flame to light her pipe with, pausing only to peer at MEdusa and Kagenashi, "Neither of you mind, do you?"

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry returns the squeeze to Inga's arm, before finding a good place to plant the pastries. He's keeping the growler with him though. He might need it.

    Oh hey, bowing from Saber. The Wizard returns the bow and then... Inga's dragging him along to meet The Merlin. That can't end poorly.

    ...Dresden pops the top of the growler and readies himself.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian grins and nods towards Saber. "Aye!" He roars out, taking the full drink in one shot. The thing was...Karian had given the order for the Mjod, or the drink capable of making Space Wolves drunk. Just because he wanted everyone to have some fun.

Faruja (152) has posed:
There are Witches and Wizards. Faruja stops his glare-fest long enough to manage his way over to the pair, bowing. "Lady Inga, Ser Dresden. Blessings! Enjoy the party, hmm?" Drinks are passed from rat and bunny-Acolyte to the pair. Then he lets them head over Merlin-wards.

Then it's off to a certain tanuki. Faruja smiles. "Lady Stadler! How fare ye, hmm? Here! A toast, to friendship, fellowship, and blessings of the Lord upon this land!" Cue another drink passed around to said fluffy-tailed one, and he's raising his glass before polishing it off. Strawberry by now has wandered away to procure her own entertainment.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
For a moment, Bedivere's expression is wholly blank when Jeanne makes that... that... suggestion. In fact, it's so blank that it becomes clear it's a mask to keep from embarrassed flailing; and fortunately, Saber resolves the confusion before he has to lose any dignity over it.

He exhales. He'll have to thank her for her smooth handling of the situation later. His eyes flick back to the King of Knights, and he swallows again, though this time he looks mollified. Right. Just a little. That won't do any harm, right?

So he's handed a horn of Mjod offered him, and eyes it like he's looking at a hangman's noose meant for him. His eyes turn to Saber, pleading. Is there no way to get out of this? Really? With a sigh, he affords himself a sip -- just one sip -- and tries not to grimace.

Oh /my/, that's like being punched in the face. Except he's /been/ punched in the face before, by a Saxon wearing steel over his hand, and this is worse. MMFFF. Bedivere offers a faint, unsteady smile. "That is... it... ah... what... what /is/ that?" he asks Karian, a little uncertainly. "I have never tasted anything of its like."

Inga has posed:
"Don't look at me like that, if he is here I want the chance to meet him," she grumbles to Harry, then begins to cross the room toward Saber, returning the bow properly once she's within speaking distance. A smile curves, a truly happy one. Dun Realtai is one of the few places in the multiverse Inga feels truly comfortable, largely in part to how welcoming Saber and Bedivere have been to her.

On the way, there is a Faruja! Inga blinks in mild surprise to see him here. I her mind, Faruja does not party. How much she has to learn! "Hail Sir Faruja. How good to see you here. Where is Ainsley? Is she well?" she asks.

Then of course, a greeting to Saber. "My lady, thank you for the invitation. What a magnificent feast. I made pies and we've brought some ale to contribute, I know how much Bedivere likes to drink," she comments. This is /obviously/ a joke.

Inga makes a show of looking around for a moment, the back to Saber. "I wondered if Master Merlin would be in attendance. I would very much like to meet him," she says.

To Sir Bedivere, she would wave, smiling widely. OH MY is he drinking mead again!? "Ah, so it is not so evil after all hmm?" she calls.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    "I have a way with many things. Words are merely the tool to bring them about. But," he adds with a thoughtful expression, "perhaps the artist's very tool as well could be considered something fantastic. One must know how to perfectly hold a paintbrush to capture the true essence of the subject of a painting. And so one must learn to master their tongue as well, to capture the truest meaning of words."

    "The one and apparently only, despite how far my name seems to have traveled. For yes, I am he." Merlin waves one arm graciously, before sliding that arm around behind Medusa. "Perhaps not that particular family, if you say so...but we are of another. Those who know the charms and ways." He smiles, withdrawing his hand from the table behind her, now holding a glass of wine. "To the new opportunities and those we shall meet."

    Well, he never /did/ actually touch her...in the end...

    His attention turns to Kagenashi, and Merlin nods to the vixen. "Perhaps, though I observe a great many things. Some things I pay much more attention to, of course, and there are many things deserving of it." Such as Kagenashi herself. "I trust you have found Dun Realtai most accomodating, of late?"

    Then Medusa slips an arm around Kagenashi's shoulders, and Merlin can only approve. "It is, after all, a night for beginnings and friends new and old - perhaps with all of them." ...ahem? Did he just? Yeah, kinda. He's horrible. "And as for new friends," Merlin adds, sensing a presence that seeks him out, "I believe there is a fourth to add to our warmth."

    He raises one hand to catch her attention. "Lady Inga, if you would be so kind?" A fox, a witch, and a viking - it's a good night.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
    "Ah, my second-favorite clergyman. How are you, Faruja?" Yunomi greets the rat, with a big smile, and accepts the drink. "May Dun Realti never become Over-Done Realty." Yunomi offers as a toast, clinks her cup with the rat's, and then sips, with a coyish smile.

    "I was beginning to think people wouldn't recognize me; it's not often I wear fancy clothes... I think the last time I was this dressed up was for Amalthea's wedding." she notes with an embarrassed smile. "I don't have much reason to get dressed up in Ravnica; my armor's typically showy enough!" she jokes. "So..." she tilts her chin off towards the gathering where Medusa, Kagenashi and Merlin were hanging out. "One of them was looking at me earlier; do you know who they are?" she questions in a quiet voice.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    "Fenisian Mjod. Normally, Space Wolves can not get drunk, but this allows it. Normally most humans are drunk off of the fumes alone. But as an elite, I'm sure that you'll be able to handle it...at least I hope so. Too much of it can result in alcohol poisoning, or worse..." He says, not bothering to say that for Arturia and Bedivere, he had the antidote of the poison equivilent poured into the horns.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Faruja and the others get a little wave from Harry as he tries to guide Inga through the crowd in the direction of the people hs'es looking for....

And then a hand is on Inga's shoulder, and Harry Dresden... is smiling over at Merlin. Like a smile smile. Maybe that's a smile. "Hello, Master Merlin. What a nice night... for people... to be welcoming to each other."

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    "Perhaps sometime. I know how much you enjoy company, after all," Kagenashi replies vaguely to Medusa, offering her own brief smile. She doesn't move at the hand on her slightly tense shoulder, but her attention does shift aside to Kirika. "No, I cannot say I do," she replies, shaking her head briefly. "I was not aware that you smoked. Something common in your world?"

    And back her attention goes to Merlin, who earns a light smirk from the nogitsune. "Indeed. It has been a welcoming place, for the most part. Better than other locations, at least, under the circumstances. I do not have anyone threatening my life here, so that is about the most I can expect." A glance is given to the strange, shuffling gong on the floor that moves like a bizarre turtle. "Though," she adds with a slight frown, "some things do make me wonder these days."

    A glance is given to Harry and Inga as they arrive, but the nogitsune just offers them a brief nod of greeting. They're not here for her, after all; no point in bothering them too much.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Oh look! There's a wild Inga. Grateful for the distraction, he smiles to the Wisewoman, inclining his head in a gesture of formal respect. "Greetings, Wisewoman. I am gladdened by your presence. I trust you are enjoying yourself."

Uh... wait a minute. Oh, dear. Enjoy drinking?

Bedivere turns a flat gaze toward Inga when she shows up ribbing him about the horn of Mjod he's clutching. "Social obligations," he mumbles, already a little flushed just from that one swallow. At least he still has his wits, even if he still feels like he's been punched in the face. The look he fixes her with is miserable. He doesn't /like/ drinking. More specifically, he doesn't like acting the fool when he inevitably loses his wits.

Violet eyes flick back to Karian. "Mjod? That sounds like mead..." He pales considerably at the mention of poison, though, looking down at the horn with an absolutely blanched, silently horrified expression; and then back up to Karian with that same silently horrified, ashen expression. His eyes then slide over to Saber, still horrified. /Kill me now./

Riva Banari has posed:
"Who know,s Kotone, one day...." Riva trails off with a grin. "Just relax and have fun."

"Servants are all over the palce, and complicated. Some of them are awesome." She gestures with her glass over towards Bedivere and Saber and Mordred. "But some others..." She shrugs. Kirika heads over to talk to fellow foxperson, so Riva pops into the crowd...

And comes out with a hot bun and a glass of wine next to Inga and Harry. "INGA! HARRY!" Riva yells, hugging them both if she can get her arms around them. She doesn't SEEM drunk yet... "How are you both doing? Ooops, hold on, be right back." He r momentary spoiling of their meeting Merlin is interrupted for the moment by a SERIOUS ISSUE.

And then Riva's Socially Awkward Radar pings, and she looks over towards Yunomi. She doesn't actually have one of those but it just always seems to work out for Riva to drag people into social situations.

SO SHE DOES. Riva pops up by Faruja and Yunomi. "Hi there!" She exclaims, smiling. "I don't think we had a chance to meet in person! I'm Riva Banari! Great to meet you! Also, hi again Faruja!"

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Not bothered by the pipe, Medusa waves her hand in a dismissive manner. "Not at all, dear," she responds. Like somebody like her is bothered by such smells. It's not like she hasn't smelled far worse stenches through her work as a witch and as a medical professional.

    "If you are as skilled with magic as with words then I would say meeting you in battle might be an interesting experience," the witch admits, not reacting to the arm that Merlin slides behind her back. "And magic might be a different sort of magic, though I would loathe to be compared to any magical creature out there," Medusa admits with a wry leer. And that play of words is not lost on her, though she doesn't respond to it verbally, merely giving Merlin an amused look without voicing her thoughts on the subject, which might be for the better in the end.

    When he waves Inga over though, Medusa blinks curiously and watches her, raising her wine glass in greeting.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Faruja smiles. "Quite happy with her stacks of books! Much to mine shame, I couldst hardly drag her from her work for her new classes. Professor Ainsley! Quite the ring, hmm?" Grin! "Enjoy the party."

Clink! "Mercantilism, may it burn before the mores and strength of these people! Ye look excellent, mine dear. Ye aught wear formal attire more oft!"

Saber (346) has posed:
     Had the King of Knights known just /what/ manner of mead they were being given, she would have signalled to her beleaguered Lord of Dun Realtai to fake it. That was probably skirting dangerously close to a breach of Brehon Law, but he really could not handle alcohol, particularly the sort that came in the form of fermented honey.

     Of course, neither had the Servant expected that kind of kick. Being punched in the face came close; the last time Saber had experienced a similar sensation, it had been Gilgamesh kicking her in the torso, his demented idea of "courtship." Thankfully, that particular nuisance seemed to no longer be a problem.

     "Th-that..." she coughed lightly. "I commend your brewmasters, Lord Karian. Even the Saxons would have been hard-pressed to weather it so easily."

     Saber managed to recover from the unique blow by the time Inga made her way over, a slightly distressed Harry in tow. "Greetings, Lady Inga," she replied. "I thank you for coming..."

     ...And half-choked, half-coughed at Inga's teasng. "A-aha....well, regarding that...."

     But then, her complexion paled considerably at mention of the pervert wizard. "...Ah. Yes, he is present, I fear..."

     Was she actually reluctant? Why yes...yes, she was. Unfortunately, Merlin had a knack for finding the perfect place to get into trouble. Pinching the bridge of her nose and not bothering to stifle her sigh, she gestured at Merlin. "My lady....my tutor."

     And then, there was also the issue of poor Bedivere. /God save us./

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian looks over and grins towards Inga. "Hail, Wisewoman. We spoke briefly over the radio. I am Karian Icefang, the one you heard referring to the Allfather. Come and join us for a drink." He calls. Then to saber, he grins. "Like I told Jarl Bedivere, We had to make it potent enough to make space marines drunk. Normally our bodies break down alchohol too quickly, as it is a poison. Mjod renders that ability nullified."

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Medusa will be surprised, as Kirika's pipe actually smells rather pleasant. It's an herbal-tobacco blend, common amongst travelers and hunters in Kasun. THe pipe itself is an ornate affair, bearing symbols of a very important figure in Kirika's world. It seems to be a memento of sorts from her mother, if one were to know the tiny inscriptions said.

    Kirika takes a drag as she raises her glass towards Faruja for a moment once the Inquisitor returns to her sight, before she sits back a little. "So it would seem. I've heard many a tale regarding your name, Merlin." She regards the wizard, /the/ wizard, with a bit of curiousity for a moment. "I am Kirika, your lord Arturia and I have met more than once before, I think."

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne gives Kagenashi a simple nod of her head. Saber's explanation of Mordred's ... er... 'birth' gets a thoughtful look from the holy saint. "Ah, yes, that's ... that makes less sense than my idea, but -- it is true she doesn't quite have the look I would ..." Jeanne faulters. Mordred looks nothing like Bedivere and everything like Arturia. She gives a light cough, suddenly slightly embarassed.

Jeanne beats a quiet retreat with her plate from the main group, sliding towards Faruja, Karian, and Bedivere, and that group.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Riva's right.

"I shouldn't complane too much about being alive still if the price is I Can't get drunk that's a small one.

A bit of time passes andnd Kotone has fallen by the wayside. Due to being distracted by one thing or another and now she's making her way over to follow Inga over to merlin and she's fairly curious about this she also makes note of Harry helping her along. She then pauses at the name he drops, wait Merlin?! She just pause oh well too late now as she moves to arrive and just.

"Harry, Inga, Merlin."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
    "AH! Good to put a face to a voice, hello! Yunomi Stadler, nice to meet your face-to-face aquaintence." Yunomi gives a smile to Riva, and clinks her glass against Faruja's again, and stands a little straighter, to her full five-foot height. "I'm pleased to say that I'm here to help out in Dun Realti, and to scope out the others who live and work here. Good Sir Bedivere has me helping with some of the crop concerns around the village, and I'm only too pleased to use some of my natural talents.... it'ce nice to feel needed, ne?" she offers as a smile.

    She gives another look to Bedivere, as if making sure he's all right. "It's a big party."

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Archer's finished his food, which completes part two of his two part plan for parties--he's already quietly greeted a few people, and he's already gotten food. It'd be rude to leave this soon, and without saying anything to anyone, and Mason'd probably disapprove if he didn't at least try and make some friends and/or allies. The Servant rolls himself a cigarette and lights it, puffing at it while seated at his table in the corner. With his back to the wall, he can easily keep an eye on the proceedings and scope out people to speak to.

     So it is that he notes the Mjod with a raised eyebrow and the faintest little smile. Maybe there is some booze here worth trying! Without bothering to put out his cigarette, the Servant jingle jangles his way back to the refreshments. The reserved gunfighter offers his greetings to Karain, Bedivere, and Saber. "Howdy," says the Servant. "The name's Archer. Archer of Brown, if there gets to be more of us." His folded arms make a parallel line with the red sash holding his sixguns to his waist.

     "I got two questions for you folks. One, who brought the sauce, and two, do you mind if I help myself to some?"

Inga has posed:
Inga blinks. Wait, what?

She turns then, looking toward the man who'd called over to her, who Dresden is greeting as...Merlin?

Inga looks back toward Bedivere, eyebrows rising. Is this truly Merlin? Assuming she gets a nod of confirmation, Inga looks back toward Harry, then Merlin....and walks over. The voice /does/ fit.

Inga bows when she joins the little group, greeting everyone. "Master Merlin...?" she asks. She can't help but look him over. He's /young/. He's...he's /pretty/. "I am sorry, you are not what I expected to be sure! The stories..." then, Arthur was also not a woman in those stories, so... "It is my great honor to meet you, regardless. I am...a great admirer," she says. Merlin was a legend not only for his magic, but for the defense of the old gods of Britain. No wonder she's a little starstruck.

SUDDENLY, RIVA! Inga is glad she isn't holding a drink because she might have thrown it in surprise. "Goodness Riva! You startled me! How--" aaand she's gone.

Inga just blinks.

She looks over to Karian now, her eyes widening slightly in recognition. "Ah, yes! A pleasure to meet you in person. Ah...in a moment, yes?" she says to the invite for a drink. She would certainly try this mead! But first, Merlin. It needed to happen.

Flustered, she looks back to Merlin, and Medusa. She bows her head to the woman. Snake...woman.. "Hail, I am Inga Freyasdottir, Wisewoman of Uppsala," she greets.

Pass the growler, Harry.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Wooo, that stuff is pretty strong. Even Bedivere looks pretty unsteady on his feet; forced for a moment to lean in Saber's direction, which might seem a little funny given the disparity in height. "Ugh. That /is/ strong," he murmurs, blinking hard to focus his suddenly-blurry eyes.

He probably would've stayed far, far away from it if he knew what it actually was. He'd thought it was just mead, and this time, he would've been prepared. This time! But no, it's Mjod, and it's probably going to destroy him before the night's through.

"Indeed, I must commend your brewmasters. I do not think even the Saxons could have fought through this, and they could fight through much." He squints, and for a moment he has the impression that his eyes are watering; one hand reaches up to rub at them with the padded leather palm of his gauntlet. "Not a Jarl," he adds, automatically, in protest to Karian.

A nod is given to Jeanne as she approaches, and he manages a faint smile that manages to seem a little uneasy. That Mjod, it knows how to kick ass.

Not that it takes much in the way of alcohol to triumph over Bedivere's poor resistance. He never really drank, preferring to stay sober, so he never really developed any learned resistance, the poor thing...

And then suddenly Archer of Brown. Bedivere nods tot he Servant. "A Servant. Sauce?" A faint look is given to the cigarette, somewhat distasteful, but he doesn't ask him to put it out. Pipes were not uncommon even in Camelot among some nobility. He doesn't answer, though, because he turns to cough, aware that his throat is burning.

Cursed Mjod. That's going to be his mantra for the rest of the evening, isn't it?

Merlin (639) has posed:
    Ooh, new people! Harry gets a nod in recognition of his power, at least, and a smile back as well. "Mm. If this is Inga...then you must be Wizard Dresden. I have heard some amount of your feats, which is no faint praise at all. News of the multiverse at large rarely makes it here, though your name has certainly been heard time and again." He grins a little, taking a sip of the wine, as Riva confirms their identity.

    The nogitsune's reply gets a nod. "It is one of the beauties of Dun Realtai." So is Kagenashi. "A place where all are welcome, in peace and in life. Lord Bedivere has taken on a great mantle, but I believe he has done well. With the occasional whisper of advice, perhaps," the wizard adds humbly. Totally humbly. Like, maximum Jeanne-on-her-knees-in-prayer humility.

    Totally BS.

    "Skill is merely a measure of desire. To become truly able at something, one must want it so much. How many nights did those like us fail, and learn, and refuse to give up, because of our desire?" And Merlin, as powerful as he is, must be /made/ of desire. Like William Shatner in a lounge-suit level. "Battle perhaps...though it would be interesting. I prefer the hunt, myself; both the seeker and the prey matching wits and power...and desire. Oft times, reversing their roles, even, unless one should desire to be caught." Yeah, he went there.

    The other vixen gets his attention, and Merlin nods. "Kirika. Hmm...I believe she has mentioned you before. I am honored and pleased to meet one such as yourself," he adds with a bow.

    And then he has a fangirl. "Do pray tell, what did you expect? An old man, with cloak and staff, and beard just as long?" Merlin laughs jovially. "I am afraid many legends have been exaggerated in the tales told...and some of the details have been left. I am he, and I am no less honored." He gives Inga a wink.

    "I understand we have you to thank at for the lord's health. Inga Freyasdottir, you are, and well met am I." An appraising eye takes in her outfit, and even someone as short as she is gets an appreciative nod.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry grumbles and smiles and tries to be more than social while the freaking Merlin is hitting on Inga. "Thank you, Merlin, I have heard... plenty about you as well. It is always nice to see the good name of Merlin remains as it does in my time as well as yours."
    He hands the growler down to Inga and then waves to Riva as she bustles on past to FIGHT AWKWARDNESSSSSEES.

    Though he smiles a bit more genially over at Bedivere and Saber again. He'll be going over in that direction once he can extricate himself from... this.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Inga's arrival earns a soft smile from Medusa, who finds it almost cute how Inga reacts to meeting Merlin. Don't let her intrude... Withdrawing her hand from Kagenashi's shoulder Medusa turns to the food table to get something to nibble on, though she does bow her head in return to Inga. "Good evening. Medusa Gorgon~" Harry too earns a soft smile, and since there are so many people here at the moment... why not move to talk with some of the other people as well?

    Besides, it does seem that the good host himself might need some medical advice.

    The poor man might hear the soft and familiar voice behind his ear as Medusa draws close, and she places a hand on his back as she leans what most people who know her well enough might consider too close for comfort. Nothing is said however, as a glass of water is pushed into his free hand, and then the nurse slips off with an amused smile, glancing to the other people around Bedivere before she pulls back again.

Kirika (481) has posed:
    "The feeling is mutual, Merlin." Kirika smiles, head bowed to the wizard as she elegantly exhales a bit of smoke from her mouth. When she spots Inga, the kitsune smiles wider and nods to the wisewoman genially. "Ah, I didn't see you there, Inga. how are you?" She asks, taking a drag on her pipe again while glancing towards Dresden for a moment. "Dresden, was it? Well met, I don't think we've met in person before either." She bows her head, legs crossed as she nabs her bread again.

    MUnch, munch, the kitsune is content to sit and chat, but mostly just observe for the time being. She does regard Medusa for a brief moment, "So tell me, how long have you been with the Confederacy yourself?" Kirika inquires lightly. Just because MEdusa and Kagenashi, and Kojirou by extension, are so blatantly...spooky, doesn't mean she can't at least be polite, right?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere acquires a glass of water. He stares down at the glass now in his free hand, somewhat nonplussed, having somehow missed Medusa's entrance and exit. He blinks somewhat owlishly at it, frowning. Where did that come from?

Before he can ponder that mystery any further, his attention is brought back around to something else entirely. (That's been happening a lot, today.) As it turns out, though, it's just for a brief scan of the room, and by the time he's finished it, Medusa's far enough away that he doesn't see her retreat.

...Far be it for him to drink something handed to him when he can't identify the source, though, and so he sets the water down on a nearby table.

He'll probably wish he'd accepted that water later, though.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian looks over to archer and nods. "Aye, go right ahead. Enjoy the Mjod." He says, answering both questions. He notices the water, staring a moment. He almost wanted to help Bedivere drink even MORE. Then to Saber. "Aye, it isn't." He says, almost hauntingly. "We routinely slip the antidote to the potency into the drink when serving it to humans.

Kagenashi (85) has posed:
    Merlin's flowery words widen Kagenashi's smile with amusement. That little self-praise doesn't go unnoticed to her, but she chooses instead to humor him. "Such poetry. Indeed, that is one of its greatest qualities. Bedivere has done well for himself, and whoever has been wise and just enough to advise him in his efforts is surely deserving of the utmost commendation as well."

    The nogitsune glances around curiously for a few moments before turning back to her conversation partners. "Unfortunately, I believe I will be taking my leave for now. Other matters call to my attention. It is a pleasure to see you all enjoying yourselves, however. I hope the rest of the evening is just as pleasant."

    Nods and smiles of farewell are offered to each person in turn before Kagenashi slips off, vanishing into the crowd and likely from the hall as a whole.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Yes, that was going to be a problem. "Ah, Lord Karian, I am not certain that such a thing would be safe for human beings....a Servant such as myself, perhaps, as our metabolism is much the same as yours..."

     She only prayed she would not have to bow out to take Bedivere to the medical centre. Already she was nearly propping him up, keeping him as steady as she could...though that might not be for long. The drink certainly seemed enough to put even a Servant under.

     The Once and Future King of Britain just watched Merlin flatly, almost counting down the minutes before he poked the wrong hornet's nest. Not that he would have any trouble getting /out/ of it, but Arturia would be the one cleaning up the mess. Or rather, she and Bedivere would be. it would be too much to ask for him to refrain from hitting on too many women this evening, but the look she shot him more than conveyed her dismay. Dismay he'd probably ignore, no doubt.

     Unconsciously, she took another swig from her tankard before Archer arrived to introduce himself. Her relief was palpable; at last, an Archer who had some proper manners! "Well-met. I am Saber."

     That particular speech was a little baffling, but she thought she could discern some meaning. "Ah, perhaps you refer to the Mjod? Lord Karian of the Space Wolves was kind enough to bring it, and I believe it was with the intent to share."

     He was a Servant, he could handle it. And probably better than she could.

Riva Banari has posed:
"Oh, totally! You're doing way more than I am, I'm not good at the engineering or anything. You work with the Izzet, right? Yeah, you guys would be /great/ at helping the people here deal with the challenges of surviving in this absurdly cold area." Riva chuckles. "Psyber had some creative names for the region himself." She tilts her head and nods. "This party is huge. It's good, though. We've got lots of interesting people here."

Inga has posed:
Seems Harry is quite famous! He will likely play down his abilities and actions per usual. At least she'd gotten him to dress up.

She takes the growler and takes a sip, which is rather hilariously oversized for her to be drinking from. Still, she needs a bit of something, for sure.

Merlin looks her over appreciatively and Inga's cheeks turn red. Well, she'd actually heard Merlin was flirtatious but she'd expected the sort of...slightly creepy old man sort of flirtatious not the charming young man flirtatious. "Ah...yes I had thought you were be an old man with a beard," she says, the grumps slightly. "Goodness, when did beards go out of fashion?" she asks. Too many smooth faced pretty boys! Not enough vikings!

Inga laughs, shaking her head. "Ah well, there are many things I have need to grow accustomed to, this is merely another," she replies. After all, she'd MET THOR. Hard to top this. "I admire what you did in your homeland. The defense of your faith and of the nemetons. You were an inspiration to those of us who heard the stories," she continues. La la, fuel the ego.

Inga looks over to greet Kirika, smiling softly. "Greetings Kirika, I am well. Happy to have the chance to attend a feast such as this. You have not met Harry? Here I thought you knew everyone," she quips to Harry with a grin, handing back the growler.

Back to Merlin. "Heh, I have tended him on occasion when he is hurt or ill. I am trained in the healing arts as well as the magical," she comments. "Sir Bedivere is so kind to be sure to make me feel useful," she adds with a wink.

Inga also greets Kotone with a smile. "Hail Kotone, always good to see you. Is Riva drunk yet?" she asks with a laugh.

Medusa Gorgon (22) has posed:
    Returning from handing the water glass to Bedivere, and not really caring whether he will drink it or not, Medusa returns to the group and offers a soft smile to Kirika. "Oh, I have been with the Confederacy for... nearly two years? The years bleed into one another when you reach a certain age, dear~" It is a shame that Kagenashi is exiting, but Medusa merely offers her fellow Confederate a polite nod.

Faruja (152) has posed:
Cue a raised glass! "I simply /must/ have a dance this eve, Lady Kirika!" Calls out the rat in greetings. Nom nom nom meade. Ahh.

Two fuzzy ears perk. "Oh? My! And never a more noble cause, seeing that the good villagers art fed! I wish ye luck, mine dear Lady Stadler!" His smile is gentle.

Then, there's a Jeanne. By now three drinks down, he manages to get past their mutual awkwardness. "Ahh, good Dame D'Arc! Hail, mine dear! Bloody good work, by the by!" He motions in the direction of the church generally. He'd hang Heretics outside it!

Then, lower, he coughs. "And the gift was most appreciated. A duel, be it blade, wit, or word, methinks wouldst settle much, hmm?" A wink. Best to settle this like Knightly Sorts.

Amidst it all, there is a sudden looming figure behind the popular Bedivere. Two bunny ears set her at over six feet, and Acolyte Strawberry's smile is dazzling.

"Heeeey there!" Yes, she is horribly drunk. She wobbles slightly, catching herself with Merlin's shoulders should he not move!

"Not going to drag you away...Merlin? Huh, heard that...anyway! Have a drink! You look like the partying sort! So let's grab a dance some time, hmm? Strawberry, Acolyte of our dear besotted Inquisitor. 'Till then, enjoy~." Berri blows Merlin a kiss, spins about, and dances off to procure more booze.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry Dresden... squeezes Inga's shoulder again.

    "Thank you for the kind words, Merlin, but I need to go make sure my companions are appropriately watered and fed, so, I shall... go mingle. Ing,a let's go make sure Riva is drunk."

    Another /smile/ at Merlin.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere isn't so far gone that he doesn't recognise when somebody (at least, somebody who isn't Arturia) invades his personal space. He turns, a little blearily, to regard two bunny ears firmly on an acolyte nearly as tall as he is. The pale-haired knight blinks.

"Greetings--" But she's already gone. He just stares after her, nonplussed.

Nonplussed is a good word. It's been his general state of affairs all day. Not quite strong enough for bewilderment, but not quite his usual level of calm collectedness. These people are just confusing.

And then there's the matter of the Mjod. What's he going to do with an entire drinking horn full of the stuff? He can't just put it down and 'accidentally' forget about it somewhere; the damnable thing doesn't stay upright. What's a poor knight to do? Lean on Arturia so he doesn't fall over in an embarrassing display of embarrassment, that's what. And look at the Mjod-horn as though it's going to bite him. Oh, Good Lord preserve him; what's he gotten himself into?

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian moves in, helping to prop up Bedivere. "We're going to have to work on your tolerance, my friend. Especially if you ever come to one of our feasts. If you lord's invited, you are as well." He says. He moves over, hand ready to take the horn away. He'll drink it it the knight can't. Waste not, after all.

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa grins at Inga and pause at Merlin not sure what to day at this point She wathe as Inga and Harry head off but does not follow.

"Good to see the both of you, I do hope you enjoy yourselves."

She kinda gets Harry wants to try and get some time with Inga and she'll try to enable that as best she can by not being the third person tailing them about.

She does home in on Yunomi and Riva however coming up to the pair grinning a little bit.

"Tell me about it and humm what name did Pysber have for the region or is it something that can't be used in polite company?"

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Kirika chuckles, "Oh, I never would've gotten that impression from you, Milady." She says to Medusa, "You still seem to have kept onto your looks in any case." the kitsune smiles, "You must've made an impressive showing with the Confederacy if they made you a lieutenant so soon."

    Inga gets a nod and a smile as well, "Somewhat, I've been so busy running about I barely have time to get to know many of those I meet along the way. Such as it is, I suppose." A shrug, and she takes a sip of her wine lightly. Whatever Karian put in that mjod, it's pungent enough to get her to blanch a little as she gets a whiff of its radiactive contents. "Dear Lady, he has no idea..." The kitsune frowns a little in concern for Bedivere's health as he stares at the thing like it's a dagger meant for him.

    Faruja's offer leaves her blushing fiercely, but she doesn't seem to reject it entirely, forward as it is. "I...yes, perhaps we could, maybe for one song at least."

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
"Thank you, Sir Faruja. The Church is near and dear to mine and many other hearts, so I am doing my best to keep it in track and going." Not to mention to man the confessional booths. Or not. Jeanne gives the ratling a small smile.

She does side eye the now poor Bedivere, Saber, and Karian. She doesn't make a single noise or make a single face, though, carefully withholding a smile and a giggle.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber let out a breath she wasn't aware she was holding as Harry managed to steer Inga away. The knight-king nodded once, quickly, as if to let Harry know somehow that it was a very wise thing to do. Inga's fangirling aside, her mentor was Trouble. Or a huge pain in the ass, really.

     The jade-eyed knight managed to keep the poor marshal on his feet, in spite of their almost comical difference in height. Bedivere towered over the already tiny girlish king.

     She eyed the drinking horn at the same time he did, still presented with the problem. Yet before she attempted to finish hers off somehow and claim his in an effort to save him, Karian did it for her. And without so much as a hint of being offended. Thank the Good Lord the Space Wolves didn't stand on too much ceremony. "A-ah..." she managed. "Our court was not one which lent itself to leaving oneself so...compromised," she admitted almost sheepishly.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Manners don't cost anything, and polite folks tend to be further down the shit-list of grudging sorts than those without! Of course Archer is polite. His parents (or perhaps his time) made sure of that. "Much obliged, mister," says the Servant to Karian. He helps himself to a hearty swig just in nick of time, then wipes his brow. "Phew," he says, speaking praise to the Space Marine. "Strong stuff. I reckon I'd be just fine helping you finish it off."

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry spots Saber, and smiles, this time an honest one, and whispers something to Inga, before walking over to the King and Her Consort. "Saber, Bedivere, as always it's so nice to-"

    And then he takes an extra step, and bumps into Bedivere. "OH! OH SORRY BEDIVERE!"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Whoa. Suddenly propped up by Arturia on one side and Karian on the other, Bedivere waves his free hand irritably; a gesture clearly indicating he's got this covered and he can still stand up on his own two feet just fine. The ground just needs to stop being all wibbly-wobbly, that's all.

"I'm fine, thank you." He removes himself from the Space Marine's friendly grip, wavering just a bit and slowly teetering back in Arturia's direction. He doesn't mind leaning on Arturia so much, though, it seems; in spite of the height difference, she keeps him from toppling over.

He doesn't seem to mind handing the Mjod back to Karian, though. Cheers. "No," he murmurs, eyeing Karian. That man could probably drink straight poison and he'd barely even twitch. "It was necessary that I have my wits about me at all times. I do not mean to offend; but it is not a habit so easily cast by the wayside." While it was good to avoid the wine, that often also included anything that might have blunted pain. "I prefer to keep my wits about m--"

OH GOD WHAT. Suddenly jostled from the side, Bedivere is sent staggering right into poor Saber. At least she has a Servant's strength to help keep him from going over; if he were standing alone he'd be on the floor by now. Then again, Saber's had a full horn of that stuff, so... well, we'll just have to see how keen her balance is looking like by this point.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    To Harry, Merlin gives a nod. "I am pleased to see my name has remained through time. And that there are worthy inheritors of the title of Wizard, as well," he adds. Harry's got his respect, that's for sure.

    Alas, like the breaking dawn, the night slips away, though Merlin's hardly sad. Medusa has other guests to see, and there's no need to monopolize when he has outright fangirls. And fanboys in Dresden's case, though it seems the lanky wizard is of the shyer persuasion.

    Oh well, he might have been fun to tease.

    Kirika's comment gets a smile, as does the pipe smoke. It's a good blend, though one that the wizard is unfamiliar with - but it smells of the earth and of magic, and neither of those things are terribly so bad.

    Meanwhile? He's hardly hitting on everyone. Just the hot ones. Cool your bloomers, Saber; it isn't like Merlin's moving to take Bedi away or anything. Unless perhaps you're jea~lous, the sudden smug glance he throws to her suggests?

    Kagenashi's reply gets an equally amused smile. "Oh, perhaps. Though it is, admittedly, a strength of his that he is willing to listen. Not so many would consider the words of another...and not so many who would, would be willing to trust their own judgement anyway and make the difficult decisions. But I think he has done quite well...at least, outside of matters where games come to be. I taught him chess myself, and I was sorely disappointed in his loss."

    Yep. Merlin sees all, knows all. "But I can think of few others I might prefer to lose to," he adds, before bidding the nogitsune farewell.

    And then there is Inga. The blush on her face is adorable, and Merlin just grins. "Hmm...it's been some time since I wore one, though it was no great thing. I admit, I much prefer the clean-shaven look...as do you, it seems." Despite her protests of beards, he can see the reaction on her face.

    "So do we all...but there are some things I dare say are much more enjoyable to become accustomed to, yes?" Thor? Thor's a blonde pansy with a tool. He is MERLIN. "I thank you. I did what I believed in, what I knew in my heart was right, and that is why I now serve at Bedivere's side. That it has become an inspiration to a shining figure as yourself, I can only humbly give thanks to history for remembering me."

    There's an eyebrow lifted when Inga mentions her skill in magic and medicine, and Merlin grins. "Truly amazing. It seems that those who look to me for inspiration may yet outshine those who they called legend. And to even add such a lovely figure and face into the mix; I must say." Merlin catches her hand a moment as Inga is starting to be led away, and kneels before leaning forward.

    The wizard whispers quietly to himself. There's maybe a slight tiny infinitesimal mathematically-nonzero chance he glanced at Saber again with an Alucardian trollface of an expression before he focused everything on Inga and touched his lips to hers. For Inga, there's a very simple illusion around her - the party seems to disappear into the distance. The only one seemingly present is the pale-blue-haired young man in front of her - and the image of soft pastel colors and blossoming roses surround the edges of her vision. "May you be remembered forever, Inga Freyasdottir."

    O HAI BUNNYGIRLS.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    And then Harry hears SHOJOVISION, and turns to see Merlin kissing Inga.

    "Ffffff..." Harry you are under Hospitality. HARRY.

    "...fffffforgive me, Saber, Bedivere, I must attend to something." And then he's turning, and starting to stalk back over to his partner and the Other Wizard.

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Kirika pauses. She stares at Merlin and Inga for a moment just as THINGS happen and SHOJOVISION intensifies in the immediate area.

    Her jaw drops.

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne quietly looks at Saber and Bedivere.

Then she looks at Inga, Merlin, and Harry Dresden.

Back at Bedivere and Saber.

Then she nods. When the Lord and his Lady are incapacitated, there is one thing for the honorable saint to do. She swiftly glides in towards Merlin, her armor clinking underneath the heavy fabric of her outfit, one hand resting on the wizards shoulder.

"You are the Lord Merlin I have heard so much about! It is a delight and a honor to meet you!" Jeanne lays on the French accent, *hard*.

Inga has posed:
Inga recieved another shoulder squeeze, prompting her to look up toward Harry, an eyebrow raised inquisitively. Hmmmm? "I'm quite sure Riva can make sure she is drunk without our intervention--" she begins. Pause.

Oh. Is he /jealous!?/

This realization ignites a fluttering warmth in her stomach.

Before she can say anything else however, Merlin is pelting her with compliments and flattery to which she flushes with embarrassment. "I have studied all my life, but I am sure I could hardly compare to your magical abilities," she sputters. "We shall have to discuss magic--" then, suddenly, he's taking her hand and he's /right there/ in front of her close enough to --

The sound of her brain breaking is almost audible. The sound in inside her mind is basically; "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!?" What is happening? Why? Huh? Flowers!?

For a good moment Inga is just completely stunned, frozen in place. Then, she's shoving him away as the illusion he cast disperses. She is livid, and roughly the color of boiled lobster. "Th-that was most innapropriate," she informs him.

Well, she had been warned.

"Do not misinterpret my respect for you Master Merlin. Do not do that again," she tells him solidly.

Inga turns toward Harry and takes his arm, pressing her lips into a tight line. "Lets...go...over here," she says, shaking with embarrassment. Or rage. Or both.

Saber (346) has posed:
     Saber groaned softly but audibly and dropped her face into her right hand when the white-haired pretty boy of a wizard went into full shoujo mode. It wouldn't have surprised her if he had taken an entire host club under his wing to teach them all the "mysterious ways" he alluded to...which Arturia was positive she did not want to know about.

     This.../this/ was why introducing Merlin to -- well, /anyone/ -- was a bad idea.

     She was almost horrified by the time Jeanne worked a little Divine Intervention. Ordinarily, she would have been mortified, but she suspected that now of all times, the Saint was more than capable of handling herself. She almost felt guilty, but the grateful nod to the French Servant meant that she would be treating her to a very nice buffet later.

     The moment didn't last, however, when the long-suffering sole survivor of Camlann was knocked straight into the tiny Servant. She wobbled and nearly fell, but barely managed to remain upright. At least, for the moment. Unfortunately, that also spilled what left of her drink she still had. Karian wasn't going to be happy.

     And the night was only just beginning. Hoo boy.

Saber (346) has posed:
     And was that a Death Glare she was pinning on Merlin's trollface? It might just be.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    "Fffffffffffnnnn hello Inga." And then he's leading the Witch over towards the spot with Riva nadd the others, and... and he plops down, and picks up the growler again. The beer is heavy and warm and heady, but Harry still takes a bit, heavy slug of it before handing it back to Inga, carefuly pulling a chair back out for his Witch. "Was it everything you'd hoped for?"

Merlin (639) has posed:
    And the lesson has been taught to Inga. Do not treat others with such worship, they are not always what you see. It is sad to break the dreams that others might have of him, and to remain the permanent pariah, always excluded from the world. But it is Merlin's way, the barrier he puts up between himself and others.

    Merlin accepts your hate, Saber, and yours as well, Inga.

    He does rock back when she shoves him, and merely nods quietly when Inga takes her leave of him. Good - with Medusa, Kage, and now Inga departed, he can at least slightly retire to one corner to merely observe. The wizard does have to admit, that...was rather fun.

    And then the french chick is at his side. "My lady Jeanne. You are the one of the village, yes? The church attendant?" She's refused the typical title for a religious leader, he recalls, and is at a loss for what to name her. "A pleasure to meet you. I might partake of your holy services tomorrow," the wizard adds. Even he could use a confession now and then. Or just a sympathetic ear.

Inga has posed:
Inga falls into the seat beside Harry and take the jug. She takes a good few gulps before handing it back. Her expression is fading from anger and embarrassment to one of dull shock. Did that really just happen?
% Oh, she gives Harry /such/ a look. "Tch... I was warned," she comments. She looks over toward Merlin. She gives him a look as well. A look that says 'we will talk about this' but not now. She doesn't hate him, but she /is/ angry.

Inga sighs heavily, closing her eyes for a moment before she looks back to Harry, her expression questioning. Is he angry with her?

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    The answer to Harry being mad with Inga is answered as he hands her first the growler... and then plants her astride his lap.
    There is a definate 'mine' tone going on here as he picks up a plate of bread from the table behind himself and eats fitfully.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
That's okay, Bedivere waves a hand at Harry's sudden departure; he's busy trying to regain his balance and his wits. And his balance. And he still feels like he's been socked in the face by somebody of Karian's approximate stature. It's going to take him a while to recover. Probably a few days.

He has his head down as he leans hard on Arturia, but he has enough field of vision to note Jeanne gliding up to occupy Merlin. Bless her, he'll have to think of some suitable reward later for such a selfless act. Takin' one for the team, there, Jeanne.

He grunts as both he and Saber stagger under his unexpected weight; he mumbles apologies, but it's clear that he's starting to have problems keeping his balance. At least he still has his wits. He can even speak clearly, for the most part, clearing his throat uncomfortably.

"I do not feel so well," he mutters quietly, to Arturia. He doesn't look so good, either. His face is about as red as red gets; made all the more obvious by his otherwise extremely pale complexion. "I know not what was in that Mjod, but... ugh." Unsteadily, he loops an arm around her shoulders, strictly to keep himself from going face-first into the flagstones and not because he totally doesn't mind being that close to Arturia.

Totally.

Squinting a little, he tries to keep watch on the goings-on as best he can. It's turning into an endeavour.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian watched as the Mjod falls to the ground, almost in slow motion. He then stares DAGGERS at the culprit, namely Saber. "Saber....You spilled ale. That is not acceptable, and there is only one way to redeem yourself.....drink me under the table."

Inga has posed:
Inga flails slightly as she's pulled into Harry's lap. Well, alright then. Doesn't necessarily mean he isn't angry, but its a good sign. Inga sighs and rests her head on his shoulder, unable not to smile at how possessively he's holding onto her now. "I will be more careful with him in the future," she grumbles, pressing a kiss to his cheek, which is probably already getting scruffy knowing him.

She glances over to see Bedi with his arm around Arturia and grins, pinching Harry. "Well done on that," she comments. Well...except that Bedivere looked rather terrible. Ah, well, they'd let her know if she needed to intervene. She's sure she'll be making him a brew in the morning. "Could we stay here tonight?" she asks Harry. There's a room for them, she's sure.

There is some kind of drinking challenge offered to Saber. Looks like the madness has only begun!

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Behind her back, where Merlin can't see unless he's deliberately looking, Jeanne makes a subtle 'I've got it' motion towards Arturia.

"Yes, that would be me. I would hope everyone takes use of the holy services that the church may offer, especially those that have not atoned in a long while." Jeanne sounds very, very innocent and comforting with that last phrase.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere squints a little more to try and focus, and he looks over to Karian when the Space Marine addresses his lady so harshly. In fact, he stares blankly at that issued challenge, as though he couldn't quite compute what was said.

"Oh, Lord God preserve me," he says, with feeling. "That isn't necessary," he says, to Karian, violet eyes pleading. "Please, allow me to recompense you for the loss..."

It's not gonna be that easy, is it?

Riva Banari has posed:
Riva's working on getting drunk. Don't worry, she'll get there eventually. Thankfully, the whole 'delicious food' thing slows that down so she hasn't reduced herself into hilariousness yet. Right now, she's still yammering at the Yunomis, probably doing her best to ensure the tanuki joins her in hilairous drunkenness.

Because hangovers are best enjoyed with new friends.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    KArian looks over to Bedivere and shakes his head. "I apologize, but it is Fenrisian custom. To not do so is....considered an insult, moreso then spilling ale. It would result in a duel." Then, to saber, he offers up a LARGE drinking horn.....one that seemed to be from a Tyranid.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry Dresden does in fact have an arm around Inga's waist and his nose in her hair and is being Boyfriend-y. The cheek has 5 o'clock shadow, and scruffles at Inga's lips as she kisses him. He's okay with that.
    "Yeah I think so, I have this urge to get stupid drunk and eat all those cupcakes you made. Funny." He snorts a bit, and whispers a bit, before smiling. "Riva found new friends, that's nice."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Thankfully, the situation Arturia had dreaded seemed to have played out. She knew her former tutor about as well as anyone could -- that is to say, not much -- and Merlin's motives for teasing Inga probably had some lesson better taught through other means buried within his trolling and excuses to hit on pretty women. There always seemed to be Reasons...though the deceptively young-looking wizard always ended up mixing a bit of "fun" into his "lessons."

     Though that "fun" tended to make for a very angry Arturia. Though it would seem she had bigger problems at the moment.

     Noting how unsteady bedivere was, the knight-king carefully guided him to a seat. She would have retired the both of them for the evening then and there, but he needed to regain his bearings -- and drink a few goblets of water -- before they excused themselves and tackled those stairs. But alas, it was not meant to be.

     At fist, the flaxen-haired knight was horrified; she valued her friends an allies, and her worry about offending the Space Wolf was more out of respecting his culture. And though technically Harry had been the one to send Bedivere wobbling into her, blaming others for her mistakes was not her way. She had, after all, been the one to spill it. Curse it all, the stuff made even a Saber-class Servant off-balance.

% But then, she suspected he might not be quite as offended as he let on.

     Perhaps it was the effects of the drink already working their special magic on her tiny physique, but a slow and somewhat uncharacteristic grin spread on the face of the king of Knights. "Hoh~? Then...I believe the proper response is to 'Bring it'?" she quipped back, planting a sabaton-clad foot on the edge of a chair, leaning slightly into it as her arms folded over her armoured chest.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight narrows his eyes, but he isn't fool enough to press the issue with a man who could step on him fairly easily. At the same time, not enforcing his own rules in his own household could probably be seen as a mark of weak leadership... but there's also the matter of how terrible he's starting to feel right now.

So Bedivere only sighs in resignation when his offer is denied.

Nor does he argue when Arturia leads him to a seat, plunking down a bit unsteadily and resting an arm over the table. He lays his head down o his arm, mumbling vaguely. There is, fortunately, a goblet of water nearby; it may in fact be the one originally offered to him by Medusa. He takes it and drinks several nice soothing mouthfuls, though it doesn't clear the fogginess from his head.

Oh, horrors. Is that a grin on Arturia's face? Bedivere squints her way, before finally just... just putting his head down.

"Lord God preserve me," he mumbles into his arm.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian grins widely. In truth, he wasn't offended at all. He just wanted someone to drink with, that could stay on his level. So, a HUGE keg is brought over and freshly tapped. Two obviously Tyranid-based drinking horns are filled up, and offered to the contenders. The Wolf Lord SLAMS the horn back, drinking the horn fully in one bit, not letting a bit escape. "Your turn, Lady Saber."

Inga has posed:
Inga snickers, draping her arm around his shoulders comfortably. This is obviously a position their very used to. "Well, you are free to get stupid drunk if you wish. I will even make you a brew for the terribly hangover in the morning," she informs him.

Spotting Riva, Inga waves her over. "Looks like there's about to be some interesting developments...you won't be the only one needing a brew in the morning," she says to Harry.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Far be it from Archer to steal the spotlight from someone. He /does/ still want to get smashed, though, so he holds his cigarette between his fingers as he retrieves once more his flask. Screwing it open, the Servant takes a rather severe swig of it before stowing it. It takes quite a lot to affect a Heroic Spirit, but he's getting there, if the sweat on the brow is any indication. The cigarette is placed back into his mouth.

     "Twenty dollars on the big feller," Archer whispers to Bedivere.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry grumbles and nestles in closer to his Witch and sighs. Calm has returned, even if the party is just heating up. "Stupid drunk is my right when you drag me out to parties, Inga. That's... half the point these days, isn't it?"
    Though he shuffles around in his pocket and pulls out a twenty, waving it at the Archer. "I'll take your bet."

Kotone Yamakawa has posed:
Kotone Yamakawa is still milling about the party enjoying on the drinking ans she moves over by Archer for a moment and tilts he rhead a little bit.

"A good bet, I'd get in on the fun but it wouldn't really be fair to anyone. It's also good to see you again Archer, I hope your enjoying yourself."

Saber (346) has posed:
     Perhaps she shouldn't have been terribly surprised at the speed at which the large keg was summoned. Life as a Space Marine was brutish and short, and their love of combat, while not something she agreed with, was nevertheless something she understood. And their social functions were little different.

     Ah well. When once she had, as the king, relied on her knights to perform this in her stead, she was no longer bound by the image she had to constantly present as the king. If ever there was a time to "go crazy", this might as well have been it.

     Karian's tankard slammed down on the table, drawing her attention. It was going to be a challenge, certainly...but one secret she had harboured for a very long time is that she could rarely refuse a challenge. Not spilling a drop might be tricky, but she had the control and reflexes of a Heroic Spirit. So...

     Lifting the horn with her usual elegance, the king of Knights then seemed to eschew that very elegance to slam hers down in turn, fighting the wince from the strength of the drink before slamming hers down on the table, managing a somewhat unsteady grin, more befitting her homunculus "son" than the stoic Arturia.

     Mordred would be proud.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere picks up his head when the strange Archer-class Servant addresses him. He glances up to Archer of Brown, frowning a little at the whisper.

"No wager." He pulls himself upright again, coughing and rubbing at his face with the cool leather pad of a gauntlet. It's still red. "My king is of uncommon constitution. She will not fall. And it is not knightly to accept or make wagers," he adds, sniffing disdainfully.

"...But if I were to," he adds more quietly, "I would wager the same on my king." He reaches for his water, taking a drink, only to find that it's... not water. Somebody put a vessel of mead in front of him, and he's already drained half of it before he seems to realise it's not water.

Bedivere looks at the thing in horror and sets it down Very Quickly, mouth crumpling into a thin line as he looks over to his king, who is...

Acting very un-kingly. Bedivere covers his face with an unsteady hand. In fact, he just pulls both hands up to rest his face in them, sighing a very long drawn-out sigh.

Inga has posed:
Inga massages Harry's shoulder, shaking her head. "The point is to get out of the apartment and social with people," she replies. "But if you must be stupid drunk..." she shrugs. "We'll retire when you're ready. It is...work for me as well, trying to keep any visions at bay," she says. Inga spends a good deal of her interactions with others giving the portents of doom. She'd like to relax now and then and enjoy other's company without pronouncing dire prophecies or seeing inconvenience pieces of people's pasts, etc.

Apparently, it is betting time. She grins a little. She's generally not allowed to get in on bets. That would be rather unfair.

Bedi is looking a bit miserable. Poor man.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian eyes this, grinning. He's finally looking like he was swaying a tad bit, but he was a sturdy sort. So, the second round is poured...and the Wolfguard all get in on the bet, matching the amount but putting it on their lord.....and acting like a bunch of fratboys at a kegger. Despite this, another long drought leads to another slam of the tankard. "Your turn....Saber..."

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Archer takes a twenty of his own and places it on a nearby table along with Dresden's, forming an impromptu pot. "Hey there, Miss Kotone," comes the Servant's gruff response. "Good to see you, too. I reckon I'm having as good a time as any."

     Bedivere's response receives a not entirely unamused expression. "Suppose it's a good thing I ain't a knight, even if I am one of the Knight Classes." He takes a drag of his cigarette, then pauses.

     "Nice tie," says Archer to Dresden.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    "My tie is amazing. Harry Dresden, wizard. This is Inga, my plucky assistant and also witch." Harry hands over the cash to Archer and then also the growler of beer. "Here, this have a pull too. Wouldn't be fair not to share. That's what it's here for."

Saber (346) has posed:
     With her tiny stature, were she a normal human being, Saber would have been under the table well before even Bedivere would have been. And even a Servant was hard-pressed to remain upright even after a mead derivative strong enough to get even Space Wolves plastered. Yet, she possessed the Core of the Dragon, which allowed some of that to be converted to pure mana...and she had her pride, dammit.

     Nevertheless, she was starting to wobble as much as Karian was. And her gin might have been getting a little more wolfish, cocky.

     Her hand was a little unsteady as she raised her horn again, but Saber managed not to spill so much as a drop. She was a little more careful downing it this time, but slammed the horn down with the same amount of emphasis as before. "You shall...have t' do better than that, Wolf King..."

Inga has posed:
Assistant!? Harry is getting a /look/ again.

She looks to Archer, managing to look dignified while sitting on a man's lap. "I am Inga Freyasdottir, wisewoman of Uppsala and Chosen of the Buzzing," she informs him.

Assistant! Hmph! "Indeed, have a drink with us. Mac makes fine ale," she offers.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
With a frown, Bedivere excuses himself from Harry, Inga, and Archer of Brown, staggering uncertainly over to the nearest chair close to Saber and plunking down with a rattle of chain mail behind her.

He frowns for a very long moment at Karian, before casting an obviously worried look to Saber. She's not looking very steady, and he's wondering if he's going to have to drag her away. He's wondering if he's even capable. He doesn't feel so well himself, after the Mjod and the mead and... man, his brain's positively fermenting in the stuff.

Having forgotten he didn't bring his water, Bedivere reaches for another goblet, and he finds another goblet of mead. As before, he doesn't notice until he's had a fair amount of it, banging the thing down and shying back and away from it with a dismayed squawk. It's FOLLOWING HIM. Or Merlin is directing townspeople. The knight casts a black look to the corner Merlin's absconded to.

His eyes eventually find Arturia again, and he leaves his nearby chair to stand by her side, resting a hand on her shoulder as though to help prop her up. And he looks kind of horrified. "M-my lady..."

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian smirks at that. "Don't tempt me, King. Lemun Russ out-ate and out-drank the Emperor of man. I'm hardly buzzed." He says. Wether he was serious or putting up a great poker face, he wouldn't hint. So, round three began. By this point, the wolfguard were cheering for both contestants, their respect for Lady Pendragon growing. Of course, one wolfguard had the gall to walk over to Bedivere and take a seat next to him, offering him more ale. Karian knocks back the next tankard, wobbling now plain as day. But he too was a creature of pride, and his refused to be outdone.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     As Archer turns to accept the offer of Mac's ale, it becomes evident that he wasn't being sarcastic with his compliment. His own tie looks like it was stolen from Colonel Sanders, in fact. The Servant smirks at Harry, looking between wizard and witch. "Seems like it's a little more than boss and assistant, if you'll pardon my assumption."

     Archer sits down with the couple and accepts the growler, helping himself. "Hm." It's his first time trying an ale of any sort, let alone the mysterious bartender's famous brew. On the whole, it's not bad. It's actually pretty good, and his face reflects that. "Call me Archer," he says. "Archer of Brown, if there gets to be more of us." The wizard with the flair for western wear might guess at the Servant's identity--certainly the Wild West only bore a few names great enough to be Heroic Spirits--but he might not.

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne pops up right behind Bedivere and the other wolfguard, balancing four different tankards of water. She sets two down in such a way that they're for Karian and Saber, the third if for her, and the fourth--

Well, the wolfguard next to Bedivere gets a saintly glare, as she wordlessly offers it over Bedivere's shoulder to him. Yes, the Good Book says to drink and be merry, but one should also not excessively drink.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry snorts a bit and smiles. "I have... more than enough experience with Grail Wars to last a lifetime at this point. Really not something I'm... fond of. But I cna manage, you can be sure of that. But..."
    Archer hits it on one though, and Harry's cheeks darken just a touch. "Yeah okay she's the boss, I'm the Assistant. At least until I'm workin' my day-ish job. Then I'm a boss again. The beer's pretty good, isn't it?"

Saber (346) has posed:
     it wasn't entirely unlike a spar, actually; two spirited contestants filled with pride and power, not so much determined to win -- though there was certainly /that/ -- as make a good showing. Perhaps it was not such a humiliation to lose to a stronger opponent, but well...Arturia hated to lose. Fortunately, she was too far gone at this point to sulk mournfully.

     In fact, the mjod apparently had the /opposite/ effect, and it wasn't too difficult for those acquainted with the Saber of Red to discern where /precisely/ the homunculus had inherited her personality from. She was, after all, a magical clone of the king. Though she ruthlessly controlled the rougher aspects of her personality, that hadn't meant that they wouldn't come to the fore under the right circumstances. Such as a drinking contest.

     "Aye, well...I've not even started," she boasted in turn. But the tell was using a contraction, the sort of informal speech she normally eschewed. That might be a little worrisome for certain marshals fighting battles of his own. "I could not face my own men if I fell in battle here!"

     Arturia wobbled a little more as Bedivere bravely attempted to anchor her. though perhaps to his already-mounting horror, she merely flashed a grin at him. "We should toast our fallen brothers and sisters, my most loyal knight," she managed without slurring. "Who have ascended to the Throne, remembered to a man by Akasha itself!"

     Raising her horn again, she saluted. "To the Knights of the Round!"

     With that and with perhaps even more building horror on Bedivere's part, she downed another horn, still managing not to spill any even as she wobbled on her feet before slamming it with a lack of her usual elegance down.

Sir Gawain has posed:
Suddenly, something starts dashing into the Great Hall, covered in a fine blanket of snow! Oh wait, that thing's Gawain. Never mind, not important. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my pants!", the knight clad in a nice jacket, a pair of jeans, and boots exclaimed. (Gawain, this is not how modern people dress at formal celebrations.)

Taking a very brief survey of the party, Gawain moved straight towards Sir Bedivere and Saber, grabbing a drink on his way. "My king! Bedivere! How have the festitivites been, not having too much fun without me?". He watches the drinking contest for a minute, eyes on Karian and Saber. "Bedivere, you should have a drinking contest with me! But it might not be too fair, I haven't drank much yet.~"

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian nods and raises his empty horn to that. "Aye." He then waits for round 4 to begin, before he uses the opportunity. "Let's make this interesting, King. I will wager you a place among my Wolfguard should you win, with the right to take some of my men as your personal guard should you win. Should I win, I request a suitable place in your knighthood." He says. He clearly thinks he has it in the bag, but he wouldn't mind being bested by Arturia.
    GULP. SLAM!

Inga has posed:
Inga flushes momentarily, recalling that they are getting rather snuggly in company, which isn't something they've done much of. No one seemed to be gasping and pointing as if it were terribly improper.

Something is whispered in her ear that intensifies the blush. She gives Harry another look that's half way between approval and 'not here!' before looking back to Archer. "Archer of Brown," she greets, bowing her head to him. A Servant then? She's beginning to /sort of/ understand how these things work. "You are a ah...Servant? Like Lady Arturia?" she asks.

To Harry, she grins. He's blushing. It is adorable. "Tch... we are partners, shush," she says, smacking his arm lightly. She'll take more of the growler. She's a little tipsy, but no where near the level of some others...glance toward Saber and Karian.

Suddenly a man charges is, complaining he couldn't find his pants. Blink. Grin. "Ah...this reminds me of other gatherings I've been too," she snickers.

Arturia offers a toast. That is serious business. Inga raises the growler (with much less effort now that it isn't full) in toast. "To the knights of the round! Hail!" she cries.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The pale-haired knight looks alarmed, but that alarm is very quickly beginning to transition into outright horror. He takes the water with a faint nod without even looking at Jeanne, because his attention is fixed firmly on Saber right beside him. He's never seen her behave so.

Battle? Face her own men? Wait, what? Toast fallen brothers and sisters? It's not exactly an order, but it's still a direct request from his king. His fingers tighten over her shoulder, though, with the clear intent of keeping her on her feet.

It would be unseemly if the king went crashing to the floor.

And suddenly Gawain is there. "/No/," Bedivere says irritably. "I will not... participate in that foolishness." His tongue feels thick in his mouth; it's getting a little hard to form the words. "Find someone else. I must see... must see to our king." He gives Saber's shoulder a bit of an uncertain pat.

"She does not need a personal guard," he snarls, to Karian, with uncharacteristic vehemence. Now he definitely looks insulted. "I am her personal guard, as I have ever been. She needs no other."

Grr, bristle, bristle.

Sigh.

"To the Knights of the Round," he calls, reaching for a goblet. It's mead. He's starting to get pretty suspicious that Merlin's tampering with things. With a faint sound in the back of his throat that strays dangerously close to a whimper, Bedivere takes a swig of his mead, even as Saber takes another swig of Mjod.

His hand on her shoulder is probably the only thing keeping /him/ upright.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Shit, a toast. Harry can't stand up, has witch in lap. Plan B. He hoists up the growler after Inga's done with it. "To friends long past, and those we've tey to meet, my they lead long lives." And he takes a swig as well.

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     "I reckon it is, at that," says Archer in support of Mac's ale. "As for Grail Wars, I don't much like 'em either, but at least my boss ain't a rotten bastard like some. Time'll tell if our False Grail can muster up a wish without fucking it up before dinnertime... pardon my French."

     At the mention of a toast, Archer nods, bowing his head in reverence to friends he's lost. Here's hoping he'll make some new ones before he has to head back to the Throne of Heroes. Inga's inquiry catches his attention. "Arturia..." He glances at Saber, then puts two and two together. So /that's/ who she is. But... /Arturia?/ How did people get to thinking King Arthur wasn't... well, QUEEN Arthur? It really is true what he said about Heroic Spirits to Avenger--if people wanted the truth, Servants wouldn't exist. "Yeah," he says after a moment's thought. "Like Arturia. Probably not as good in a one on one fight, but there ain't a man alive that can draw quicker than me."

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Harry grumbles and sniffs a little drunkenly over at Archer, voice low. "The War I foolishly stuck my nose in had the Grail corrupted by pure evil or some garbage and I had to pull one of the Magi involved out of that mess. No thank you. Never again on that one."
    Says the guy who had The Filth in his head for a month.

    Another smooch at Inga's head and he smiles. "Partners, fine. Uh. Miss Banari had a hand in that one, actually." He nods over at... well, the probably very drunk Gaian who's wandering around.

Saber (346) has posed:
     "Ah, Nephew, You're just in time," Saber greeted the Knight of the Sun. If Gawain had revealed his identity to the Archer of Brown, that would have been as much of a reveal of her identity as his identification of her as his king, even if Inga hadn't identified her directly. It had been a good thing indeed that she had refrained from too much drink during her reign, just as much as it had been for her Left Hand to do so.

     "A place in my knighthood, you say? All are invited, provided they adhere to the Eight Virtues. /That/ is what it means to be a knight," she expounded with surprising clarity, yet much more passionately than all the times she had spoken of them over the radio. There, she had been refined, reciting them with a sense of righteousness, but it was now clear that she genuinely and truly /believed/ them. And beneath the stoic exterior, was in fact quite passionate about them.

     With an uncharacteristic sloppiness, she waved her hand, nearly smacking poor Bedivere with her gauntleted hand before she managed to rein that in. it would seem, even in her drunken state, she still feared harming her marshal more than anything. "Pshah," she slurred. "My marshal is the last of my Imperial Guard and the Marshal of my lost kingdom. I could take no other. But...to call the Wolfguard brothers...now that would be something, aye? So. I should think, when I win, I shall join you all for another such gathering," she slurred in contrast to her earlier clarity with the same grin.

     Saber flashed a grin at Inga and Harry before lifting her horn, staring intently at it to control her unsteady movements before downing that one. Her poor marshal will have his hands full indeed keeping her upright...

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian grins widely at that. "You'd be welcome there anytime. But I think that I'll be granted Knighthood before the night is out." He says. Round 5 begins, much to the shock of both Karian and his Wolfguard. "Your made of stern stuff, Arturia....But I'll still win." Drink, Slam.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Whoa. Hastily putting down the goblet before any of it finds its way out, Bedivere's forced to steady his king with a hand on each of her shoulders, mouth crumpling into a thin line of concentration with the effort. It's hard enough to stay upright, but to keep her upright, too, even as she's actively trying to sabotage his balance?

He winces a little when she defends his place, but his face flushes, too; enough that even Inga (who seems to derive such amusement from seeing a man blush) would see it. While it's a bit galling to see Saber acting so undignified, it's clear that he's touched by her devotion to her last knight.

"Steady, m'love," he murmurs into Arturia's ear, though his own voice is slurring. The title is probably proof enough that he's well on his way towards 'toasted.' "You're going to fall if you move about like that... Don't know how long I can hold..."

He frowns at Karian, practically radiating somewhat bleary disapproval. He's not unlike the Saxons in their distant camps, carousing and drinking and making merry as well as war. Certainly no knight. "/Ffff/." It's a sort of hissing sound, through his teeth, one of clear disapproval. "As my king says, a knight's got... a knight's got to have the Eight Virtues."

Inga has posed:
Inga raises a brow at Archer. "Draw? You are an artist?" she asks.

Yeah. Inga's from the dark ages.

"Who is your boss? Or is that not the sort of things that is spoken of?" she asks.

Inga frowns toward Harry as he speaks about this Grail War. That sounds terrible. Her luck, she will See just how horrible it was one of these days. The kiss to her hand warms her expression. She gives Harry an affectionate smile.

The other man wants another drinking contest. Inga laughs. "That wouldn't be much of a contest" she snickers. Poor Bedi.

Inga looks between Saber and Karian, her eyes focusing on Karian. Harry would feel a shudder go through Inga, followed by her muscles tensing. The pupils of her eyes dialate as she grabs onto a thread of fate that flickered around Karian, this one pulling backward...

No dire prophecies today. Just a comment. "Your opponent is formidable, my lady. A child born to hold an axe, destined to lead....Thunderwolf tamer," she says, her voice airy, distant, unnervingly focused on Karian.

Well, maybe it would give Saber a psychological edge in this contest?

Jeanne d'Arc (536) has posed:
Jeanne, without even *looking* at Gawain, remarks into the air, "Did they not get put in your closet, where you always seem to accidentally end up, Sir Gawain?"

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     The phrase 'in a flash' doesn't really do justice to the way Archer procures one of his sixguns. A flash is sudden, but it's also urgent, in a sense, like lightning. Archer, a Spirit who's imbibed perhaps too much spirits, brings the pistol up, barrel pointed harmlessly towards the ceiling--but with a degree of speed and grace far beyond mortal ken. He sets it gently on the table and slides it towards Inga and Harry.

     It's an old Colt Navy cap-and-ball conversion job--you can see where the ramrod used to be. It boasts elaborate filligree, and the outer edge of the handle bears a name in fine black paint. 'J.B. Hickok.' "Does that answer your question, ma'am?"

     Archer helps himself to the growler, taking a swig. "We don't typically talk about our bosses, but mine's pretty social." The Servant adopts a disapproving expression, at that. "If it don't get him killed, I'm sure his outgoing tendencies will have him meeting up with you two sometime."

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    Ahhhh dammit. Harry puts down the growler and slides hands along Inga's belly and hair, holding her cgently as she has a vision, grumbling and just holding the seer gingerly. "Least it wasn't something awful this time around."
    Though as Archer pulls the pistol, Harry gets an eyeful of the engraving and... boggles faintly. "Holy shit. Not... not someone I was expecting as a Spirit."

Saber (346) has posed:
     The jade-eyed knight waved a hand again, though much more mindful of Bedivere's placement and thus avoided nearly smacking him this time. "Ah, but ye see, I canna be...defeated here," she slurred with a grin. "Ye see, a knight's devotion to his king and his people is absolute, and I'd not rob your king and people of as fine a knight as yourself."

     She frowned slightly with a comically serious expression on her face, far different from the sober serious expressions she wore. Her brow furrowed slightly as she rambled on. "Though...I /am/ the king...but 'tis nothing of import. A king is a servant of the people, the greatest is the least, and a knight's duty is to the king /and/ the people. And so I, as a knight and a king, serve the people moreso. With just laws and impartiality, a king must rule the people....fairly. But more than that...."

     Yep, she's losing it. Thankfully, her marshal is right there to help her as much as he was able, regardless of being three sheets to the wind on his own part.

     She grinned a little /too/ widely when he whispered into her ear. "Oh aye....I know 'tis your sworn duty to protect me, but 'tis fine, I am hale. If need be, I shall support you as you have me for so many years..."

     she blinked a little as Inga's prophetic vision seemed to take over. "Ah...oh. The awen." The multiverse transliterated that into something akin to "poetic prophecy", a thing hardly unknown in the Wales of her era. "Hah. Aye, the Space Wolves are born to war, but they do know of honour. And their lives are harsh ones, their ways are understandable. Though I do pray for their peace, one day."

     With what would appear to be a more introspective mein now, the Servant matched Karian's turn. "Ah, well. A Knight of the Round Table is...something very different, however."

Kirika (481) has posed:
    Kirika has been absolutely quiet this whole time as things kinda...happen. Observing the drinking contest, Inga's vision, peering over at who this new Servant is...and so forth. Her katana is laid across the table she's seated at, and she helps herself to mutton stew with steamed veggies. Swigging her ale, the kitsune props her head up with a knuckle, her tail wrapped around her waist as she slumps forwards in her seat a little.

Merlin (639) has posed:
    And sometimes, Merlin decides...you /don't/ need to make your own entertainment. Such a shame that this side of Camelot's famous Round Table never made the legends. But, if it had, he'd never be able to bet on Arturia with the other Space Wolves, so it turned out well in the end.

Karian Icefang has posed:
    Karian eyes Saber. He can almost guess she was nearing her limit. "Aye. It may not seem it, but we take such oaths very seriously...When a Space Wolf gives his word on something, he will never break it. If I become a Knight in your court, my oath to you will be absolute. I will take on the creeds in your court, and hold true to them. Just as the Wolfguard swear to me, as my own form of Knights." He says. And round six..."Jarl! Your at the end of the keg! This may well be a tie!" A wolfguard shouts, clearly enjoying the thought. Then he looks to Inga. "Prophetic power? Like the Psykers of home. A dangerous power, but also a useful one."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Struggling just to stay on his feet, Bedivere wobbles a little with every drunken lurch poor Arturia gives when she gets into her impassioned speech. It's commendable to feel so strongly about knighthood and the virtues, but he doesn't think he has the wherewithal to stay on his feet much longer, let alone keep her from pitching face-first to the floor. Some tiny part of him that's yet sober prays for a swift resolution to this fiasco.

She's slurring. She's actually slurring. He has to listen again, because he's not sure he believes the sound of it the first time hears. Bedivere stares down at his king in clear horror. This goes so far past 'undignified.'

"N-no, that's not... I... of course I'll support you." He doesn't seem to know what to say to her casually waving off his concern like that. "You shouldn't have any more of that," he finally mumbles, shaking his head. "Worse than mead," he says, almost mournfully. And the fact that she's so incredibly drunk is concerning to him. Very concerning. It's almost concerning enough to sober him up a little.

Yeah, no, probably not /that/ concerning. The poor man has virtually no alcohol tolerance.

"The awen," he confirms, staggering slightly and propping himself up against Arturia. "The awen. The bloody awen. /Ach/," he says in disgust, rolling the sound over his tongue -- a foreign sound; a Gael sound -- "we're not meant to know such things. Lord God would tell us if we were. But no' like that."

Inga has posed:
Inga has just managed to pull herself back to the present when Archer pulls a gun out with impossible speed and enviable grace. He points it upward rather than at them, however, before sliding it accross the table. She looks at it. Blinks. Well, she sort of recognizes some of those letters...but it means nothing to her. Harry however, seems to know him. Ah well, story time later. "Ah...guns," she says. "You are certainly quick, I'm sure you'd do well with a blade as well," she comments.

Inga looks to Harry, flushing at the handsy-ness. "I'm alright, it wasn't too strong," she assures him. "Apologies, yes. I am a Seer," she tell Karian. At least it was not the kind of vision that shakes her to the core and fills her mind with fire and death--

Why did Inga look to Bedivere then? Because the gods are sometimes cruel? Because the memory of other battlefiends tugged her along the path that had always been there, begging to be traveled? Of course, Camlann hung around Bedivere like a cloak. It a strong tide of memory and there was only so long Inga could resist it.

She goes stiff again, eyes widening, the pupils large dark pools that seem to engulf the irises. Inga begins to tremble, drawn down that thread of the orlog.

"Fire and smoke, blood and iron. All around lies the shock of iron and the desperate, urgent call of a war-horn above the din. Men shouting, and the roar of a single man above the crowd; in that brief snatch of fate, in that nightmare-battle, the soft-spoken knight became Rage, amidst Despair," she speaks, her voice soft and low but loud enough to be heard by nearby Bedivere, Saber, and others.

Inga shudders hard and leans back against Harry, closing her eyes, her expression pained.

Harry Dresden (206) has posed:
    "Aahhh dammit." And then Harry is picking up Inga, princess carrying her delicately, looking slightly worriedembarassed as he tucks her in close to his chest, looking over at Bedivere and Saber. A slightly drunken grumble. "Sorry, sorry, just... Is there a room I can take her until she's done having the visions? Too many people, too much magic or prana or whatever. Uh..."

Archer of Brown (664) has posed:
     Archer retrieves his gun and tucks it back into the sash around his waist. "It takes all kinds to make a Grail War, Mr. Dresden. I reckon for my part I ought to head out. No sense staying here if I'm just adding fuel to the fire." And, there are... some things he really doesn't want to remember, especially not with so much drink readily available.

     The Servant heads towards the door and retrieves his hat, placing it firmly atop his head. The $40 pot on the table is forgotten or perhaps ignored, and Archer tips his hat to Saber and Bedivere. "Thank you kindly for the hospitality, your knightlinesses." His thanks given, he heads out into the harsh cold and dematerializes.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Right through the haze of mead does that awen pass. Something compels Bedivere to look over, slowly, in Inga's direction even as she delivers her statement. His eyes narrow as she gives her prophecy, before his faded violet eyes widen in an expression of shock.

A soft-spoken knight, become Rage, amidst a battlefield full of blood and death and fire. Oh, yes, he remembers that well. Rare is a night that he doesn't think of the ending-fire of the Battle of Camlann.

Unconsciously, he scrunches a little closer to Arturia, which also conveniently serves to prop both of them up a little more firmly. His atteniton is taken back to the crowd, though, and he has the presence of mind at least to nod to Archer of Brown. Still kind of unsettled. Still reeeeally drunk.

Saber (346) has posed:
     It was more than slightly odd to the little king: both wagers would have ended up with Karian serving in some capacity or another. "'Tis strange...both outcomes would mean a service on your part, Lord Karian," she mused, though her head was obviously fuzzy. "Both would pledge allegiance to the people....long ago, it would have been to the people of Britain, though now it would be to the people of this land. Knighthood, as you know, is an honour, but it is not a privilege. Like your Space Wolves, 'tis a life of servitude and duty."

     She frowned slightly, still puzzled. "Did something happen with your Emperor?" The details, though she had listened intently on the radio, eluded her.

     "I am hale, ye worry too much," she managed to scold even while quite drunk. "'Tis not a thing which could kill me..."

     She squinted at one of Karian's men, the one who seemed to tell them that they had gone past the limit of what they had brought to the ceilidh. Wait...was that even possible?

     The Servant frowned at Bedivere, lightly nudging him with the tip of her elbow. "Ah shush," she scolded in Gaelic, though translated for any to hear. "'Tis a thing the fili understood as a gift bestowed by the Holy Spirit."

     almost as if to contradict her, however, Inga's next Seeing was nearly enough to sober the drunken king.

     She paled considerably beside the knight, staring as she heard what could only have been a recounting of Camlann. A battle which only Bedivere had survived. It had even claimed her own life, leading to her prayer that she be granted the opportunity to set things right. It was a wish she had since abandoned, yet it seemed to haunt her still.

     As if in response to Bedivere, she moved closer to him in turn, even as she bowed to the departing Archer. And, with a strange lack of slurring, she nodded at Harry's request. "The two floors above the hall are the guest quarters. Any unoccupied chamber is free for use...have you need of anything, inform one of the servants."

     And with that, the petite knight wobbled off her feet, though fortunately guiding her fall with her last remaining shred of sobriety into a nearby chair. "I...think perhaps it would be best to...retire for the evening...."

Karian Icefang has posed:
    "He sits on the throne still, best I can tell he is being kept alive on the golden throne. But there is no law saying I must serve only him. And if there was, I likely would ignore it. We will call this a draw, then...as you managed to drink the keg under with me. So, you are now a Wolfguard Arturia Pendragon."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Slowly, the silver-haired knight shakes his head in light of Arturia waving off his concerns again. He can be mulishly stubborn, though, and he stays right where he is. She can probably sense the concern radiating from him. Almost as much as the drunkenness. The floor is tilting and undulating very slowly, and it's taking all of his concentration to stay relatively upright.

"I don't think... don't think either of us are hale," Bedivere mumbles, dipping his head to address her ear, mostly because slumping feels good and he's not precise enough to bend over without pitching face-first into the table. "Should go soon. Stairs."

He remains withdrawn through the wake of the awen from Inga, though, and the king might feel him shiver slightly. He moves to catch her as she wobbles into a chair, but gently guides her up again before she can get too firmly ensconced.

"Aye," he murmurs, helping to guide her to the stairs; a joint effort of king and knight propping each other up. "Good... night," he murmurs, nodding over his shoulder to his guests and friends. "Thank ye for coming, all. Stay if ye wish; guest rooms are on... the second and third floor."

For now, though, he's going to stagger upstairs so he can stop being quite so /conscious/.