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Seifer Almasy      They call it 'the Bloodsands.'

     It's not hard to see why.

     The stands are chock full of shouting fans. It's loud enough to fill ears to the breaking point and then some. It's more than a roar - it's a physical force, shaking the body and the seats in equal measure. It's a tidal wave of enthusiasm, desire, and lust for violence that is altogether primitive. A blade goes down and cleaves into a giant green plant-looking horror, and green blood splatters across the sand, and the crowd roars its approval. The applause, the cheers, they thunder as the gladiator below struggles against the nightmare. She's good - she's very good - but she's bleeding, too, and each strike from the monster gets a cheer and a roar from people who bet on that horrid thing (they call it a Malboro, or a Morbol, or something?). That's what this place comes down to in the end. Money and violence. It may be a beautiful place, a beautiful civilization, but in the end it's all money and violence.

     Money bought the box the Multiversals are led to. A pane of glass makes up an entire wall. Seven hanging banners dangle at the back wall, each emblazoned with a different symbol - the central one being the unmistakable crown of the Sultana. Plush seats are arranged in an optimal viewing placement, ensuring that nobody blocks out anybody else. Tables are filled with the finest refreshments imaginable - sweet-smelling candies and liqueors from Limsa Lominsa, crystalline wineglasses, warm, imported Doman tea, fresh-cooked meats slathered in Gridanian spices, pitchers of Coerthan ice. This is a place bathed in money. Coin is baked into every wall.

     Violence bought the Multiversals to this place, though. Revali's winning streak has become the talk of the city, ever since he felled a particularly horrifying bird-monster with a single three-shot to both eyes and up the throat. He's become something of a darling in the stands - even on the way up people who catch his eye cheer, and there's more than once they have to stop and wait for him to sign autographs, to the obvious displeasure of the armored guards leading the group.

     But once inside that box, the sweet quiet of privacy falls over them, and the only voices they have to hear are the ones of the box's owners.

     Teledji Adeledji springs up from his own chair as the party arrives. He throws his arms wide and walks over, reaching for Revali's hand. "And here he is, my golden goose! -no offense. The man of the hour! My winning streak! Do I have an eye for talent or what, huh? Huh?"

     "And the rest of you! Normally I'd welcome you, but that's someone else's job tonight, hm?"
Seifer Almasy      Indeed, a massive, dark-skinned man stands up from his own chair. And he is *massive*. He is easily eight, maybe ten feet in height, and just as huge, with black dreadlocks and piercing eyes. He wears no visible sign of money, but carries himself with obvious strength and power, power more tangible than mere currency. "Aye, I suppose it's mine. Good evening, Multiversals. My name is Raubahn Aldynn, General of the Immortal Flames, and owner of the Coliseum."

     Apparently the massive man *also* has power in the form of mere currency. Go figure.

     "It's my honor to present to you the Bloodsands, and some of the Syndicate's notables, tonight."

     Teledji crows as the other members of the Syndicate stand up, "Just a little show I whipped together to raise money for the Ala Mhigan refugees. When I told Raubahn he was *ecstatic*."

     Raubahn's stoney face and wide jaw say that he has probably never been *ecstatic* in his life, but he was probably happy about it. He gestures at the rest of the seats. "May I present to you, the Syndicate memebers in attendance."

     "On the right, Fyrgeiss Loetkillbsyn, of Amajin and Sons Mineral Concern." A tall, brown-skinned man with a smooshed nose and a big gunslinger moustache bows.

     "Next to him, Dewlala Dewla, Prioress of the Order of Nald'thal." Another of those very short Lalafel people, Dewlala is decked in gold robes and a big conical hat with a sun insignia on it.

     "I'm afraid neither Godbert Manderville nor Lord Lolorito Nanrito were able to make it tonight. And I think you already know Teledji Adeledji."

     Teledji hops up on his chair and spreads his arms. "Relax! Mingle! Make yourselves comfortable! I sent out a message to Godbert and if I know him, and I do in passing, he'll be over here before he can even put on pants just to shake your hands and do his stupid-looking poses for idiots at you!"
Seifer Almasy      "Godbert never *wears* pants," Prioress Dewlala says, in the tone of someone who has heard this exact sort of nonsense before, "And we all know it perfectly well, thank you. Don't lead the poor outlanders into thinking he's some sort of lunatic."

     "He is some sort of lunatic," Fyrgeiss replies, stroking his gunslinger's moustache.

     "Yes, well, not that sort of lunatic. He does things...his own way, that's all."

     "If ye say so," Fyrgeiss grunts. "Pleasure to meet ye." He points at Revali. "An ye better not let me down next week. Got big money ridin' on you."
Revali For Revali, it's been something interesting these last few days. Revali's been the Champion of his own people for a while now, but outside of that - even in his home world - he's been mostly an unknown as far as popularity goes.

This is new. This is nice.

He's been drinking the cheers in, the adoration in. The eyeballs as he racks up spectacular kill after spectacular kill. That time he froze that water monster with one arrow and then shattered it with the very next arrow.

And the winnings. He's gone after every purse that's dangled in front of him - but nodody has yet to see him spend any of it. Not on necessities - he seems to subsist on travel rations when food isn't provided - and certainly not on luxuries. Time he could spend going to bars is instead spent training, and training some more. When the coliseum is empty, he has repeatedly pressed Teledji to book it, just so he can practice on the show floor and get used to the terrain and how the sands flow.

Occasionally, other rito show up to watch. There's a small rainbow-handful of other birds in the crowd - ones that are less tight with their spending, so whatever's going on there clearly isn't cultural.

"General Raubahn," the gladiator-bird says, nodding to him, and making introductions to the others in turn.

"... Well," says Revali. He squints down his beak at Fyrgeiss. "That has to be the most idiotic thing I've ever heard."

"That is, that you managed to find someone so... idiotic as to accept your money and take your bet. Who would prop up a bet against a certain outcome?"

He makes a dismissive motion, and looks over at his sponsor. "I thought being smart with money was supposed to be a *thing* here," he complains.
Tony Stark Anthony "Iron Man" Stark has been at parties before, and he's attended fundraisers. He's gone to sports bars and sucked down mediocre burgers at dives. This, however, would be his first attendance to literal live bloodsports.

He does, however, understand the way to make a first impression. A rich, royal blue verging on dark purple silk shirt with the collar crisp but the top button open. Black jacket, with silver cufflinks and matching pants, with a tan belt and brushed silver clasp matched to his dress-casual shoes. His steps crunch the dirt under the medium sole, and he accessorizes with a rather high-tech watch on his right wrist - which is a brushed silver matched to his belt clasp rather than matched to his belt and shoes, in defiance of classic men's fashion - and a pair of large aviators that he slides into the v of his shirt as he enters.

This time, he has a retuine. Two orthodox suits in blacks and whites with ties carry a fiberglass and steel crate between them - Tony's a little too good to carry his own right now. Teledji's 'pure' producer-like joy at seeing the party enter is met with a big business grin and a drop to one knee to clasp the Lalafellian by the hand. "I see you've gotten us the best seats, Teledji, you dog. I've made a small wager under your name on the current competitor - I thought you'd appreciate a little risk in your gifts."

The small wager is a 'Stark' small wager. Translation: It is not small.

Rising to his feet, Stark gives Raubahn a firm look, skipping the 'look the man up and down' step of power games. Raubahn is a man built with so much brick his nickname should have been 'Brownstone'. "General Aldyn, it is a pleasure and an honor to meet with you. Anthony Stark." He extends a hand to shake. "But everyone calls me 'Tony'."

Everyone usually calls him 'asshole', but it sounds better to say it like that.

"I understand you lost a friend and a brother recently - my condolences. It is also my understanding that you seek to liberate your home from invaders and oppressors: I'd like to make a donation to that cause in the name of friendship."

He gestures for the suits, and they bring forward the large crate. Stark turns, glancing at his watch to confirm something before snappig the two clasps and pulling open the top, revealing a bright silver shine on the inside: Platinum. A whole talent of platinum, split into un-stamped bars.

"Please accept my well-wishes on behalf of Stark Enterprises and the Paladins."

His smirk is all business, but the glimmer behind his eyes speaks of far more nuance. "I hear in Ul'Dah you can buy the finest swords in all of Eorzea."
Tamamo     Tamamo no Mae, living deity and Paladin, accompanied by Lilian Rook of the same, has arrived for a social visit and tour of some of Ul'dah's fine civilization. It may be dirty, bloody civilization, but there's glass between her and the sand, situated high over the action in more than the literal sense. She's come dressed for the occasion, similarly to her visit to the casino, though naturally having traded out one high-quality evening gown of flowing silk, gold, and jewels for another. Wearing the same thing repeatedly is for those of limited means (and those who need to be immediately recognizable when infrequently on camera).

    She introduces herself, actually for the first time, though Teledji had heard Lilian say her name that time before. "I am Tamamo no Mae, Amaterasu-omikami no Bunrei, Goddess of the Sun." The latter pieces had not been mentioned, previously, and she leaves it to those assembled what to make of such a claim and title, giving only a beaming smile. She is certainly foreign, even if the stylistic influences of her clothing should be recognizable to any well-traveled Eorzean, and much can be forgiven of the clearly foreign.

    Most immediately, her attention is attracted to Raubahn, the commanding martial figure that he is, but after giving her acknowledgements and her "A pleasure to make your acquaintance," the necessary pre-conversation conversation, but her first actual question is directed instead to Dewlala. "'Prioress' is not a title native to those lands I first walked." She can guess the meaning from her reading in Britain, but she doesn't mention that. "Might you excuse my ignorance so long as to tell me of your Order?" She's probably just curious.
Damocles Damocles is among the arrivals again, though his actions in this world have been fairly subdued.  Mostly because his attention has been held by other, more explodey things.

Also, playing politics with people that would need to stand a box to reach his kneecap unique challenges that, frankly, Damocles isn't emotionally prepared to face.

One look at the assemble from the locals and Damocles has a place for all of them, though.  Two stuffed shirts, a mouse trying desperately to appear the wolf, and an old soldier who would rather be stabbing literally anybody in this room instead of doing this.  Plus, the little man that the whisperer from across the veil is so fond of.  Damocles has no idea what game their 'benefactor' here is playing at, but is sure it'll end in fire.  It always does.

Still, Damocles nods politely as the group is introduced.  Normally he'd lower his hood to show his face in a situation like this, but if he understands the local culture, it's more appropriate for a 'black mage' to keep their face obscured by a hood, as his normally is.  He has no idea why, but culture doesn't need a reason. 

He glances out past the glass, at the show of blood down below.  His voice is even as he observes it.  "Quite the spectacle you've arranged.  One would think, given the circumstance, the people would grow tired of blood and violence."  He turns away from the show and looks back towards their host, as he adds,

"At least, you might think that if you didn't know people."
Amelris Belthrone The BLOODSANDS.

Amelris Belthrone is also among the new arrivals. In this case, being somewhat fashionably late to the the quality entertainment. This have become something of a recent development, with the Multiverse taking a deeper liking and interest into the goings of Eorzea. He also happen to be one of the local heroes. Well known heroes, anyway. That, by itself, is generally not enough to come to a high-brow rich charity event inside of the deepest, highest boxes.

It DOES, however, pay to have knowledge and acquintances of good friends that ARE up there. Thus, Amelris Belthrone, Red Mage, strides into the box with a wide smile, his feline ears perked up and attentive. He wears a firm, cut and proper red vest, dotted with some silver buttons with a blue tie, spreading out donward into a long coat. Pants follows into the trend, contrasting with blackened long slacks that are accented with the same crimson, ending with dress shoes that look quite new and waxed. At his side, a canne lies, sheathed, at his belt. On his head, his more regular feathered long hat rests, remaining a symbol of one of his professions. More importantly, a crest on his lapel, a small badge of a stylized spool of fabric, lies there.

He looks sharp, red, fashionable and yet distinct from usual fashion.

"Ahhhhhhh!" Belthrone exclaims, "This warms my heart to see so many at this event!" The Miqo'te moves on, taking note of some people here that he might know already. Revali, the latest refreshing champion of the Bloodsands, is among them. But first. "General Aldynn, a pleasure as always. Fyrgeiss Loetkillbsyn, Dewlala Dewla, Teledji Adeledji."

He gives a faint bow.

"It is my greatest regret to announce that Guildmaster Redolent Rose of the Weaver's Guild could not make it. It is by extreme circumstances and sheer luck that he managed to procure my presence here in his stead. He prays that you may forgive him, in due time. In such, he have sent me to make a contribution in the name of our guild in textile and coin."
Lilian Rook     Lilian has never been to a coliseum. In person. Well, one where people fight. Each other. Either way, certainly never one as obnoxiously loud as this. Loud and hot and full of far too many people yelling far too loud. Having to go up any way where she has to hear all of this is bad enough, never mind having to deal with Revali's fans. Barely hiding her increasing impatience with each stop, mitigating it at least to foot taps, Lilian ends up taking frequent stops to decompress and let her ears stop ringing.

    "You've certainly been having fun, haven't you? It seems like mister Adeledji's silver tongue was perfectly convincing the last time, though it also seems his money wasn't misplaced." she says, very much sideways, to Revali. All of it is essentially a compliment, but it somehow doesn't really *feel* like it. "What have you found the best part to be? The allure? Is it the money? The fame? The challenge? Well, I suppose it doesn't sound much like one to you. Is it that people appreciate the skills you've honed all your life, then? No legends, no heroes, only victors and losers. That sounds nice."

    Lilian is dressed up slightly *more* than the Casino, or rather, more formally and less 'extremely high class night out on the town'. She'd switched around to a couple of items of that tastefully applied, (unbelievably) expensive-looking orichalcum and white gold jewelry, picked a composite, largely silky outfit of white and green more suitable for being outdoors during the day here, and made sure to pick something with gloves. She has the smallest bag in her collection, because like hell she has pockets, more or less suitable for a waist rather than occupying a shoulder. Even the world-typical smart device is set into a little gold frame at the front of a thin choker, so it looks like a small diamond ornament instead.

    "Dame Commander Lilian Isabelle Rook, of the Hidden Scarlet Cross and Ring of Solstice." That's her chosen intro, along with the sweeping effeminate gestures to go with it. It'll be the most recognizable one here. If anything, since the casino, that slightly unreal, passively 'perfect' air hangs around her as a background, like a subconscious aura made of the words that old tales use to describe the fascination of their heroes with their fairy antagonists.

    "It's a shame to hear that Lord Lolorito couldn't be here, but I expect there'll be plenty of time. Small gatherings are the best places to get to know people." Between the three Paladins in the room, the info gathering and general plan of attack had been hashed out enough that Tony's gesture is something that she hangs around completely casually, knowing the general score. In the flow of general ice-breaking small talk, she inserts:

"Hobby or vice? I've heard that your company makes enough money that it should be considered the backbone of metallurgy in a place that is the beating heart of high craftsmanship. I don't imagine a man like you would need to get rich quick"

"The head of an entire Order though; what's the attraction for you? Beg pardon that I know only the crude layman's understanding of Nald'thal, of course. Just to memorize the important faces?"

"Speaking of which, what interest does a General, especially of the premiere force of the state, have in a coliseum? Do you scout heads sometimes? A sense of sentimental value? Or is it a sense of duty?"

"By the way, what does the betting board look like right now? Where I come from, it's rude to show up to a place like this, partake of the good food and good company, and not put anything down on the house. Show me some of the long odds, if you would."
Seifer Almasy      Fyrgeiss favors Revali with a broad grin. "I take it they ain't got much gamblin' where you're from." He walks over to grab Revali's wing in his massive hand. "There's always somebody what thinks they'll hit it big on the one-percent shot. Rags to riches stories. No matter where ye go, if money's changin' hands over chance, somebody's makin' a bet they oughtn't."

     Teledji hops up on the chair and drapes his arm around Revali's shoulder in that familiar manner. "Not everybody's gotten the idea that *you're* the next champion, my boy. They don't see you out acting like a man who won a purse, and that means you're not in-touch with the fans! No sitting at restaurants while the papers report on who you're with and what you're eating! No adoring fans running up to get autographs they can turn around and sell to less fortunate fans for lots of money! Don't worry - they *will*. They just...haven't yet."

     Teledji swaps into greeting Tony as seamlessly as he does everything else, releasing the Rito and shaking Tony's hand. "Tony, Tony! I'll look forward to seeing it, eh? Great to see you as always. You're killing that suit - that shirt's from Rose, isn't it? I'd recognize that tailoring anywhere. *By hand!* You know his waiting list's a mile long. And that suit! That's not a Rose at all, but by the Twelve, you wouldn't know it! Put me in contact with whoever made that, will you?" A whole lump of precious metal slides into Tony's hand at that, surreptitiously. Teledji releases it and adjusts his collar. "I passed those chunks along to my Alchemist friend and he's been obsessing over it since we talked." Teledji's grin is as wide as ever. "Man barely sleeps anyway but I hear he's been chugging waking draughts like a fiend poring over your little gift. He's enthralled. And that's all I needed to hear to get me *one hundred percent* on board. You and me, Tony. You and me. We're going into this *big*. Fyrgeiss, he's already on board, aren't you, Fyrgeiss?"

     Fyrgeiss gives a grunt of acknowledgement. "I saw the Guild's appraisal. I'm interested. Like hell I'm letting Lolorito get his hands on a cut before I do."

     "You and me, Tony," Teledji says cheerfully.

     His face gets a little bit dark as Amelris introduces himself. "Ah, right. One of the *Scions*. I told you about them, remember?" Teledji puts on his best smile as he says this to Tony and Lilian out of the corner of his mouth. "Ragamuffins and roustabouts who keep *saving the world*, to hear them tell it. Unfortunately the people like them. Real shame."

     "Mr. Belthrone, so good to meet you at last!" Teledji beams, waddling over and spreading his arms, "I've heard a lot about you, my good man! Redolent Rose talks up promising talents all the time - you keep at it, eh? Might even be a productive member of society one day!"

     Yikes.
Seifer Almasy      Raubahn chuckles at Revali, then turns his attention to Tony. His face falls slightly, his big, broad chin sinking at Tony's commentary about Ilberd. "I'm afraid so. Thank you for your condolences, Tony." The talent of platinum placed on the table gets Raubahn's eyes raised on his substantial forehead. "That's too generous of you, Tony. Thank you. I'll make sure it gets into the hands of the Resistance."

     "Ul'dahn steel is the best there is, outside Doman, if you can get it," Raubahn confirms. Fyrgeiss snorts.

     "*If* ye can get it, Doman steel's a poor imitation from poor-quality land they charge twice as much for 'cause they *fold* it or some nonsense. Folded steel! Ten thousand times! Feh. Give me solid, reliable Ul'dahn steel." Fyrgeiss rolls his eyes as Raubahn shakes his head.

     Yeah, Raubahn is one of the least political people in this room. He's perfectly capable of it but Damocles' read is correct - he's a man who would rather be a fighter. A General.

     Raubahn addresses Lilian's questions at the same time. "A little of all three, and just a good investment. I became a rich man here. I can make the lives of my people a little easier, until Ala Mhigo is free once again." His voice is the stern voice of a patriot, a man who believes wholeheartedly in his purpose and cause. That clinches it. He's a warrior as much as he is a politician.

     He also shakes Amelris's hand in passing, but since he knows Amelris, he's letting the others talk.

     "Aye, we *are* the word in mineral, and it's why I can tell ye Doman steel's a bloody rip-off!" Fyrgeiss snorts loudly at Lilian. Then he grins under his moustache. "Ain't all hobbies vices? An' ain't all vices hobbies? A man who drinks too much knows the drinks he likes; a man who spends too much on model buildings knows the market; a man who whores knows the best little whorehouse in town."

     Dewlala shakes her head. To Tamamo and Lilian, she says politely, "Nald'thal is the Traders. They hold the great purpose of overseeing transactions and the hereafter. Thus the practice of placing a coin on a grave after death, to purchase safe passage into the next life. The Order sanctifies contracts, runs burials, and houses the Thaumaturges' Guild, as fire is our god's favor, and sends monsters and madmen to the underworld as swift as an assassin's dagger."
Seifer Almasy      Damocles gets a sly smile from Teledji. "That's right. People are never satisfied, are they? Everybody wants more. More fun. More food. More pleasures of the flesh. More wonders. More spectacles. Speaking of sure things," he drapes his arm back around Revali, "You can always bet on that. Speaking of, have you considered betting on my champion here?"

     Raubahn coughs, then answers Lilian. "Currently, there's a whole lot of gladiators coming up. This is mostly exhibition match, but the head of the Gladiator's Guild is going to be putting on a show against a captured Chimera later, and there's that Carnivale fellow who swears he can beat three Adamantoise with nothing but a stick and his funny blue suit, if you're looking for long odds."
Damocles Damocles listens dispassionately to most of the talk.  Swords don't interest him much, though he did once hear a story about an explorer in the Imperium who discovered a template fragment that detailed a way to manufacture a slightly better military saber.  The money he made off that was enough for him to buy his own planet, which supposedly he's still living comfortably on to this day.

So maybe the argument about who has superior metallurgy has some merit.

Shrugs his shoulders a little about 'betting on the champion'.  That kind of thing interests him very little.  Damocles covets knowledge, and a wager like that doesn't gain him anything he truly values.  However, the last thing the man says does get the wheels in Damocles's mind spinning.

"I'll bet everything on the man in the blue," He comments almost immediately, offering a sack of money that is rather small in Damocles's hand, but would be rather large in the Lalafell's.

This Raubahn is a soldier, commander and diplomat, and also owns the coliseum.  He's clearly a keen judge of character, and Damocles bets he can size up an opponent very quickly.  He's also not the kind of man who would let a charlatan walk into the arena only to be torn apart by monsters without even putting up a fight, which means Raubahn probably saw something in him that the others missed.

If that's the case, Damocles would like to see it, too.
Revali Revali gives Lilian a glance. "Sorry, was there a question in there? I mean aside from the rhetorical ones that you go on to answer in the same breath." He seems a bit testy, like she struck a nerve.

And then to his sponsor: "Sorry, what, are you asking me to go out and have an affair with-"

- and Teledji's already focused on someone else. Alright then. Revali will just have to figure something out.

"See, he has the right idea," he points at Damocles, ignoring the 'blue suit' comment. "He knows how to make money."
Tony Stark "Teledji." Tony replies warmly. "Of course it's Redolent Rose's work. The rest, of course, is a tailor friend of mine. Used to be a lead designer at a company called Armani before he went private. Buying just the appraisal time itself is in the realm of 'if you ask how much, you can't afford it'. I have him on retainer for some special projects that'll turn your head. Ask me after."

The wink he uses like a period on the end of his offer to the Lalafell while he steps away to not overload the crowd around him practically oozes 'you will regret this if you don't'.

As for Raubahn, charity is a simpler act. "When you get your home back, tell me if you have any left over. On that day, we can share a drink and figure out how 'too generous' it was, General."

The whole matter with Doman Steel though gets a confused look that tracks to Tamamo at the 'folded a thousand times'.

"That's... familiar. Weird. They wouldn't happen to be about --"

Catching himself from something a quarter of the way through 'honor and samurai', he plays it off with a chuckle and a shrug. "Well, what do I know. Could you tell me more of 'Domans'? Is there some reason they're spoken of in the same breath as the Blacksmith's Guild of Ul'dah?"
Amelris Belthrone Amelris' ears rotates all around, almost like radar dishes. He IS keeping track of some conversations at once around him. This is a big event, after all. It's important to know what's what around you. Now, if the mind process it all, that's another story.

The Weaver's eyes sharpens for a brief moment at that jab, yet he remains pleasent despite that. He spreads his hand, welcoming, his tail sinuously moving like a fuzzy serpent behind him. That is quite a jab at an adventurer. Fortunately, he's probably one of the less easily angered Warriors of Light.

"Ah, yes!" Amelris exclaims, smiling, "It IS wonderful to meet you in person, as well! Seldom do anyone get the chance to meet a man such as you in person, a man responsible for so /many/..." There's a brief pause, before he continues. "/Interesting/ situations in Eorzea."

He looks up, to give a look at Tony. "Speaking of which. Mr. Stark, Guildmaster Redolent Rose will be happy to hear you are satisfied with his work."

There IS a brief twitch at Fyrgeiss's comments on Doman Steel. "Sir, Doman Steel results from the necessity of making best of little you have. Eorzean Blacksmiths could learn from such frugality and they of our own techniques. A sad, impossible dream, currently, considering the Empire's activities there."

Amelris adjusts his collar, his smile returning. "As for the current /bet/, the Guildmaster instructed me to place bets on the Great Azuro. He is, I understan, a fantastic showman."
Tamamo     Tamamo listens along attentively to Dewlala, nodding and "I see"-ing, appreciating the breadth of Nald'thal's portfolio. Contracts, burials, the payment for crossing the Sanzu, and... There's one, then a second odd turn to the list, given the context, and she asks, "Fire and assassins? I hope the latter, at least, are not so commonplace in the civilized areas." There's an innocent air to the question, to make it easier to forgive mere cultural misunderstanding. She is assuredly just curious, and not engaging in anything even vaguely political, nor pumping for information, gossip or otherwise.

    "I should also say the former, but thaumaturgy may not be so unlike some magecraft of my own familiarity. Ah, but does that not keep you overly busy? There must be many and more contracts in need of assurance, and monsters without end, so as to supply such venues as we see here, no?" She gestures, briefly, to the Sands, before glancing sidelong at Stark. No, no, she knows nothing of smithing steel. Gold, now...
Lilian Rook     This is, in some ways, a familiar crowd. Other names, other faces, other places and other faiths, but this is a room Lilian likes. It's one she can work with. It's one that has an easy smile on her face, without sign of the one particular oddity --the impurity-- that makes the situation a little unique.

    She takes note of the conflict of opinion between Raubahn and Fyrgeiss immediately, seizing on it with a tinkling laugh. "Is that the opinion of a warrior who's laid hands on it, or a professional who sees it in the ring? I'm certain mister Loetkillbsyn has plenty of strong opinions on steels for any number of reasons. I'm not a smith myself, obviously." she says, wiggling her fingers a little as if to show off soft hands, though she's wearing silk gloves and all. "But 'get your hands on it' sounds very literal. I'm curious in the difference of opinion!" She sounds a little less 'socialite for just a minute'. "Specifically, I'm certain plenty of good Ul'dah steel makes its way into hands of the good fight. How much of anywhere else?" Steel, in this case, being as much an allegory as a literal term.

    Then, quick as the wind changing, she is visibly (intentionally) half-suppressing an inside joke laugh at Teledji's greeting of Belthrone. Yes. She knows this one. "Teledji and I were speaking about that business the other night. The nearly literal business. Where the money goes into that country, where people wildly speculate the mark up is, and the 'long term' things you can't put a price on. A little about how money is only as good as its spending, and the few true responsibilities you can tell a man about where it's put."

    But she has to favour Fyrgeiss a little as well. "Though, like I've said, I'm not a metalworker myself, the information I've heard is that the idea is folding the metal while it's hot sifts out elements of different densities and makes it into a homogenous bar. You'd think that, if they have that much of a need of removing impurities, they must have poorer stock to start with, wouldn't you? Then it's also a known fact that certain impurities of certain quantities can make it stronger or more flexible. After all, it's not steel unless you leave in the right trace of the coals. It's just iron, then." She glances back to the General for an instant. "That *sounds* true, as much as I think on it, but then if you're an enthusiast of the Bloodsands here, would you consider yourself someone who knows a thing or two about combat?"

    The conversation she holds with Dewalala doesn't need to be particularly tactical though. The concept genuinely lights her eyes up a little bit. "Oh, that's a rare combination! The first I've heard of it, actually. Usually these sort of things are always so extortionist or grim about death, and if it involves trades then it has to have 'patron of merchants and luck' stitched all over it. That question answers itself, then. By definition, something like this would be well within the purview. Still, considering this whole city is such a constant churn of massive transactions, where do you find all the time for the Order to be there for it?"

    She had also been genuine about the betting board though. "Oh, I have a thing for long odds. Unlikely scenarios. Grandiose upsets and things running counter to the common consensus. I'm very interested. The exhibitions right now --famous names putting on a show for the seat fees? Rookies looking to make that kind of name? An intermission between main events? Or an overstock of hideous monsters; I assume they come at cost from the Adventurous types. You'll have to forgive me for preferring a place where I can *hear* the answers."
Tony Stark "Of course he will be!" Tony laughs. "He did good work. He's an artist, and if you're learning from him, I'd say you're learning from the best. So, what's this 'Scions of the Dawn' gig? Save-the-world types, sure, but you don't seem liked."

"By anybody?"

Tony shrugs. "Which actually reminds me of the Avengers, come to think of it, so, can't say the heroing reputation is undeserved - can I?"

Tony checks his watch quickly, before tapping and swiping with his index and middle finger.

"Oh, right. The Eikon slaying guys. Right, right."

Tony doesn't know he made a booboo, but he did.
Seifer Almasy      There is of course a private bookie just outside the booth, whom Damocles is directed to. The man, an ordinary-looking human (but whom Damocles is told is called a *Hyur* for some ungodly reason), takes his bet and notes it down in his little book. "Very good, sir. Everything on..." He takes a long pause, "...the Great Azuro, sir."

     There is the sense that he thinks Damocles is a gods-damned idiot, but hey.

     That's his own problem.

     Raubahn raises his eyebrows at Damocles and puts a hand on the other man's shoulder. He's about big enough to do so evenly, too. "An interesting bet. You mind telling me why? Curiosity, is all."

     Teledji returns Tony's wink wholeheartedly as Tony steps away.

     Raubahn gives Tony a sad smile. "Gods willing there'll be a lot left over. Men know there won't, but ever hopeful. The day when people stop hoping will be a cold one indeed. Either way, if I live through it, I'll take you up on that drink. I know a fine place in Ala Mhigo. They make the best Sharp you'll ever taste. Used to sneak them all the time when I was a lad." That sad smile gets a little wistful and melancholic. He's clearly thinking of Ilberd. "Still. Even if I don't live through it, my country *will* be free."

     "Thank you." He gives Tony a firm, military salute. The man exudes *soldier*.

     Fyrgeiss taps his foot on the ground irritably. "Doma. It's across the sea, little country that got crushed under Garlean reign over on, uh..." he snaps his fingers, "The continent Othard. Just another Garlean vassal. Poor steel they make do with. People talk up the imports like they're the most amazing thing in the world. Comes down to scarcity. Can't hardly get Doman steel anymore, so suddenly, it's bloody artistic. I'll take functional over artistic any day."

     Amelris comments on Doman Steel, and Fyrgeiss gives him a snort. "That's my point. No sense in settling for 'best you can do under the circumstances' when you've good Ul'dahn material to work with, but you'd think the stuff came from the gods themselves, the way the market treats it."

     He also makes a face. "Lolorito ships the stuff in," he informs Tony, which probably tells Tony and Lilian a lot about why he has a personal bone to pick with it.

     Fyrgeiss purses his lips. "Aye, it's usually military applications," he says, glancing at Raubahn, "Every so often they try an' import some for other measures but it rarely works out. Armor made of Doman steel is garbage, for sure. Won't stand up to a Garlean gunblade in the slightest."

     Raubahn shrugs. "I've only held Doman steel once in my life," he says to Lilian, "The balance was to be envied, but the blade itself felt fragile. It was made for a smaller man, but I thought it felt like it might chip more than my own blade, especially if you used it to parry a lot. Also hard to hold a shield. Two-handed blades for cutting, not much good for anything else."
Seifer Almasy      Lilian asks Fyrgeiss if he knows a little bit about combat. Raubahn smiles and interjects before Fyrgeiss can answer. "I can tell yer a fair hand with a blade just by looking at you, and I can tell you're a fair hand without one, too. You've got the right grace for it. Not a dancer's. I'd put money down that a lot of people mistake you for a dancer, Dame Rook, but you can always tell when someone holds a weapon, and when someone doesn't."

     And Lilian can tell the opposite is true. Raubahn is not brute force, despite his size. Raubahn is a man who has killed more than his fair share of men in combat, both on the battlefield and the Bloodsands. And it's obvious Raubahn brought it up because, despite bearing a *shocking* brunt for a politician, he knows that it makes Fyrgeiss uncomfortable, because Fyrgeiss wiggles a bit under Raubahn's direct statement - 'when someone doesn't is obviously pointed at Fyrgeiss, and it's probably why Raubahn brought it up at all.

     "No," Fyrgeiss admits, "I leave that to my commander. Stone Torches do the fighting for me. Only ever held a blade once and you'll forgive me but it ain't a pleasant memory I feel like sharin' with a stranger."

     Dewlala smiles up at Tamamo with one of those thin-lipped polite Teacher Smiles a lot of teachers have mastered. "Fire is the heart of passion, my dear. They say all contracts are forged of passion, be it for money, love, or what have you. Someone has something to gain, or they wouldn't bother making a deal, and if they weren't eager for the gain, what would be the point of pursuing it? So Nald'thal teaches us."

     "As for assassins, I wouldn't know." Yes, obviously they are, Tamamo, her demeanor says as much. This place is a place where human lives are bought and sold in every meaningful way under the sun. "Nald'thal does not govern them. It was simply a comparison. There are plenty of mercenaries out there."

     "I'm not a thaumaturgist myself, but I understand the art manipulates Fire Aether and Ice Aether in equal measure to balance the soul and the spell. It's related to the forbidden arts of Black Magic, but I know even less about that, save that it brought about a great disaster in ancient days. Not a modern concern at all. There aren't any Black Mages still around."

     "That I know of," she appends, "And Twelve help them if they're hiding."

     "One might say, Dame Rook, that whether a man ends up dead or alive, whether he ends up rich or poor, is indeed luck, but Nald'thal knows better. Men make their own luck more often than not, and seizing chance is as important as chance itself, if not moreso." Dewlala purses her lips again. "There's a church where people come to sanctify contracts after-the-fact, and since most transactions take place in the Sapphire Market, we have priests there on-hand. It's our business, so we make sure to deal with it. Isn't that what a good business should do? But tell me, what business are you in, Dame Rook, Lady...Tamamo?"

     Raubahn's grin widens a little more at Lilian's statement. "Then you'll want to bet on that Carnivale fellow for sure. I think he'll be dead on the Sands, but a friend swore up and down that he'd be a show to remember either way. Mostly it's famous names, though, tonight. Famous mercenaries. Famous warriors from the battlefield on leave who graciously agreed to help out. One of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn's down there, too. They're good people, no matter what some of my contemporaries might say." Raubahn glances over unsubtly at Teledji. "You're right about the monsters. Thankfully, there's deep pockets to fund them, so people always have something entertaining to watch."

     His face falls. "Takes their mind off their troubles for a little bit."

     What an earnest man, for someone in his position. Another man might say something about bread and circuses, but Raubahn believes, wholeheartedly. He really does make things affordable so people can come and forget their troubles.
Amelris Belthrone "Thanks you. I do try my best to learn the same creative spark as he displays every day." Belthrone replies, giving Stark a slight bow, hand on his chest. His ears flutters as he straightens back up. "The Scions of the Sevent Dawn, yes. We are a group dedicated, as you say, 'save the world', altought that is never as easy as that sounds or as straigh forward as it might seem."

He smiles, listening in the back to the General's words. "Yes, slaying Primals is one of our goals, to prevent the further summoning of more and the situations that might lead to them. We wish to defend Eorzea from the many threats that are against it." A pause. "They are the 'Eikons' in question. That is how the Garleans call them. If... it reminds you of your 'Avengers', then you also know that some are always wary as such groups tend to shake up the careful status quo that advantages them and tend to dig things up they wouldn't like be dug up."

His eyes flicks to gaze at the watch, tilting his head curiously at it, before adding. "Is this one of theses interactive Tomestones I've heard so much about?"
Seifer Almasy      "*And*," Teledji says to Tony on the heels of Amelris, sliiiiding over next to Stark, "You know that power is no excuse for operating outside the law, or it quickly turns into *vigilantism*, and that turns into *rabble-rousing*, and that turns into *iconoclasty*, and *that* turns into *revolution*. All it takes is one group of so-called Do-Gooders complaining about the law to spark a problem. I expect your Avengers work *closely* with the government."

     He shoots Amelris a nasty smile. "If the Scions did the same, perhaps we'd like them a great deal more. As it is, they rest on Master Louisoix's name much too much. Thank goodness he's been retrieved - a great man who knew well enough how to play along when it was important."
Revali There are a lot of things going on here that Revali only really understands the periphery of, despite being in this world for a decent chunk of time.

He focuses on one thing, though, that he does understand: shooting arrows. "So what is my opponent for the next bout, anyway?" he asks Teledji. "The one everyone's betting on."
Seifer Almasy      Teledji whacks Revali on the shoulder. "A dead woman!" He grins. "Don't worry about her. It's first blood and you're the fastest archer I've ever seen. She's tough, don't think it's a cakewalk - word has it she can shoot arrows out of the air with her fancy *gonne* or whatever it's called. Some Ishgardian weapon they're developing up there on the mountain."

     "Apparently it's all hands on deck up on that damnable mountain. About time they threw open the gates and let us in there. Markets being what they are, some fresh blood should help a lot, and Twelve know they're so hard up for volunteers and coin they're even showing off these prototypes to draw interest and investors."

     "But you! You're Revali! You're the Rito Champion, the Soon-To-Be Hero of the Bloodsands, the Otherworldly Archer! You'll get her. No doubt."
Tony Stark "Lolorito? The man ships in foreign swords, huh." Tony repeats, a flick of his eyes in Teledji's direction. Is that little potato-scoundrel also some filthy Doman weeb? He'll have to see if the diminutive producer had a similar taste in silk shirts and silkscreens.

Raubahn's salute gets a strangely distant smile in return. "You remind me of a friend, General." He stands up a bit straighter, his shoulders transitioning from a loose and relaxed posture to a squred and heroic profile. "It's a date then. I'll expect that drink, General, and you to tell me all about why it's the finest in Ala Mhigo." A rakish Tony smirk breaks his somber reaction back down to the business casual of a Stark in motion.

The conversation topic becomes more directly about extragovernmental vigilanteism. "Now, Teledji, that's a little narrow sighted: But you're right. The Avengers work closely with the governments of the world - only so many heroes for a big world. Saving the world's a big job! Strange, though..."

Tony fixes Amelris with a bemused stare. "What problems do the Scions of the Seventh Dawn have with local laws and ordinances? As I understand it, the adventurer's trade is real life around here. Surely there's a legal way to go about things."

Back to Teledji. "Still, Teledji, you wouldn't believe the idiocy the government tried to foist on me. The military demanded my personal property! They couldn't even afford it at seizure rates - it's one thing to punish a vigilante operating outside the law, but quite another to seperate a man from his trademark and fortune both, isn't it?"
Tony Stark Talk of the 'tomestone' by Amelris gets Tony to raise his wrist. "This? It's my smartwatch. If whatever a 'tomestone' is is a data storage, information aggregation, and communication device? Then yes. Mine's a bit special, but, well..."

A knowing chuckle. "I do a fair bit of tinkering myself."
Seifer Almasy      Raubahn smiles at Tony. "Well, then. I've something else to live for, haven't I?"

     "You mean your government *isn't* mercantile?" Teledji boggles audibly, "Are you a thassalocracy like those pirates in Limsa, or a theocracy like those Elezan in Gridania and Ishgard? Or an empire? You've made me curious, Tony - if I'm to do business with your people I'd love to know who else I'll be shaking hands with. Although it sounds to me like they're..."

     "*Short*-sighted."

     Yeah he makes short jokes.
Tony Stark "Federal oligarchy, effectively. Represetentative republic on paper." Tony answers Teledji. "Some people elect representatives, the representatives are lobbied by the money. It's... A step and a half removed."

Tony has a sad, crocodile tear misty-eyed look that he sheds to nod at Raubahn. "I guess you do, General. Don't hesitate to let the Paladins - such as myself, Tamamo-no-mae, Champion Revali, and Dame Rook - know if you've a plan that requires professional assistance to take back your people's land. Those Garleans seem like they've got good ideas about mechanical engineering..."

"... And terrible ideas about imperialism."
Amelris Belthrone Annnnd here comes Tedeleji, making that animosity quite well, openly felt. There is a brief twitch of annoynace coming from his tail that relaxes seconds later.

"Ah, what Mr. Adeledji fails to mentions is that we /do/ work with governments. We work quite openly and closely with the Eorzean Alliance as they come quite often to us for counsel, our expertises, mutual aid and deployment on the field, when the need arises." The Red Mage answers, straightening up from looking at the very pretty light on the very cool 'tomestone' watch. "Many of the threats Eorzea faces is not something that one Nation State face, nor should they, alone."

His smile widen, returning it to the Lalafell for not taking in on his bait. "Indeed. It is fortunate that he have been saved and retrived. He had... some interesting wisdom when we found him. His Grandchildren were beyond themselves in relief."

Amelris shakes his head. It was also one hell of a fight.

He returns Stark's gaze, ears flicking once. "Yes! That is what Garlond Ironworks says. I've yet to really look into them myself before the occassional find of a cache of them, now and then."
Lilian Rook     There it is. That little element of chaos in the room. The one thing that makes this private booth more than just another Concordat address. Just another shareholder gala. Another Heliosanctus invitational. Another solstice ceremony. Another advanced placement candidacy interview. Another midterm class prefect vote. Another sister school visit. Another group of father's work friends. Another thirteenth birthday.

    Lilian thinks, very very quickly, and then decides against the facade of seeing nothing amiss. She allows herself to swivel towards Raubahn, slowly putting down her drink and unfolding her legs. She lets that hint show. "I'm surprised." she says, the most honest thing she's uttered so far. "Was it really that obvious?" The corner of her lip quirks up for a moment, but it's not a happy or pleased look. "Or is that a special talent of yours?" A finger curls at the base of her collarbone, and comes back with the glassy clinking of fine chain like polished black iron, totally at odds with the rest of her outfit, supporting something like a dark Celtic cross, save the bottom is too long, polished, and pointed. "I suppose it's no mistake that you've a chair, then. I had been thinking all this time, that just profit from a coliseum venture, no matter how much, couldn't be all that gets someone to the Syndicate. Especially as someone who can find a way to make bloodsport a means of 'civil service'."

    Taking in a deep breath, she adjusts her pitch just a little when replying to Dewalala. She glances just once at Tamamo, at the mention of 'contracts', beforehand. "You could say a few on my part. I'm certainly no stranger to transactions; I manage a number of large investments of a daily matter of course. Though I don't practice myself, I have a significant deal of pull, and stake, within what you'd call, perhaps some middle point between 'medical science' and 'aether studies' communities? My own brand of craftsmanship and study is more of a hobby, really. Honestly, it's hard to pin something as 'my business', considering my calling is something that makes less money than my hobbies!"

    This time, she reaches into her bag and produces a couple of near-copies of her Circle card, all in slick black and platinum with that crystalline sort of texture, with numbers, credentials, esoteric classifications and a flattering photograph. "The less formal title, if it pleases you. Lilian Rook; Immaculate Extinguisher, of the Immune; Blade Crimson class. It's as Raubahn says. The 'Arch Knights'. 'The Queen's Right Arm' and all that, if you'll indulge some native fancy. Private military for noble causes. I don't mind admitting it's as elite as it gets. I can't say I've ever 'saved the world', but given a number of much more 'defined tasks', you wouldn't find higher standards. It coincides with my role as a Chevalier of the Paladins, if you've heard of them. A cross-training exchange." As much of a social butterfly as she is about it, pleasant, charming, graceful, with a winning smile, the whole thing since Raubahn spoke exudes a certain air of 'got me there, I don't fuck about', like they'd been secretly graced with the privilege of a red phone line to the SAS. Just examining the things, the impression is very, very 'elite military sans borders', but at the same time, very, very wrapped up in names and castes and iconography.
Revali "Ah. First blood against someone who uses mechanisms."

The party is effectively abandoned. Revali goes off to the large glass window overlooking the bloodsands to look down on it and think.

Occasionally he sips at whatever it is someone's handed him to drink. He isn't paying attention to it.

"Okay, I think I know how to win," he announces to no one in particular.

"... Also, Mr. Adaledji, I think I've figured out how to get the papers to report on me more, like you said," he says, approaching the lalafell.
Lilian Rook     "You could say I'm excited about the sheer number of new opportunities there are here, under a particularly unique economy, but more or less in terms of culture and experience as well. Even if it's ordinary for you, I'm already planning to pay a visit to your people at this Sapphire Market now. I won't hide that the war plays some part in why I'm here as well. These Garleans in part, but also the Al Mhigan people. It's a complicated situation. Of course, if I'm here to spend a lot of money and meet a lot of people, the right idea is to meet the right people, right?" She somehow manages to almost singsong the doubly redundant word.

    "Speaking of those Stone Torches." she swerves. "Those would be your own private military, yes? There are a few in this city, I've been lead to believe. How do you think yours stack up to the others? And what sorts of jobs do they all take on?" A glance again at Raubahn. "I'd assume the Immortal Flames don't often fight where coin is involved." She just keeps going from there, nodding along. "I have an idea of Lolorito now. Does he fancy himself a connoisseur? A purveyor of fine foreign goods? It's a universal fact that people will always prize whatever it is they don't have, regardless of what it's really worth. I suppose the allure of a sword like that would be the challenge of it. Or rather, the proclamation of skill and status. A sword like that is meant to only be used dead on. Extremely strong on its depth axis, but fragile at a shear. Striking even slightly imprecisely against a hard target will cause it to fracture. Thus, someone who likes to consider themselves a consummate master, or would like others to believe they are, make a statement by carrying one around." Now she's pretending a lot less like she doesn't know swords. Especially rich people and swords, and classism.

    "Of course, I'd like to see one of these 'adamantoise' things before I go placing bets." she says to Raudbahn, picking up her drink again with a little vertical wave. "And whoever this particular mad man is. I don't make bets by throwing darts at the board. I make them by seeing the things that the other million people don't. I'm good at planning. Knowing how things will turn out. Knowing people. Do you mind if I stay for the rest of the exhibitions?" Then a more meaningful look. "And, do you mind if I ask the uglier topic: What does your policy look like here towards warriors dying in the ring?"

    At some point, given Tony's extended offer to Teledji, she throws a little Queen's wave Teledji's way at the mention of her name. "Mister Stark knows what he's talking about, I can assure you all. I'll indeed be on hand for *professional* assistance while I'm in and out here. I'll be glad to assuage any particular concerns you have about terms and conditions, but . . . well, part of the Fourth Code goes 'Thou shalt treat with the laws of the land in good faith, and substitute not thy own.' There's not much I'd have to explain."

    "Also, I'll throw down a side bet on the Rito, if it gives me an excuse to watch."
Tony Stark "Oh. You *do* work with governments. Just... not the Ul'dahn one?" Tony's look is honestly blank. "Or is this like working with the UN but snubbing a member nation? Sorry, local example. It's... Well, I'm not here to get in the middle of it. I'm no Scion!"

With a chuckle, Stark slides his sleeve back over his watch. "Simple businessman, Tony Stark."

"Garlond? Heard of them in passing. Smart devices are all the rage where I'm from."
Amelris Belthrone "Oh no, we work with them too." Amelris replies, his smile remaining anchored on his face. "They are, after all, members of the Eorzean Alliance."
Seifer Almasy      "Heh." Teledji's smirk is almost *audible*. "It all comes back to the money, in the end. Governments don't run on faith and piracy's the same thing with less trust."

     Teledji gives Amelris another nasty look. "That you work with a coalition doesn't mean you obey the rules. It means you work with the *military*. That the other two nation-states are run by their military leaders doesn't mean you're off the hook in Ul'dah."

     Raubahn nods at Tony. "When we're not on the back foot, I might have an offensive for you. In the meantime, if you want to help clean up the Garleans I'd be more than happy to have you. I'm no stranger to directing independent forces with amazing powers these days, am I?" He gives another smile to Amelris before turning his attention back to Lilian.

     "Aye, no. It's experience. Though I doubt many others in Eorzea could mark it. Most don't have the history I do. My son, Pipin, might be able to. If Ilberd was still alive, he certainly could've. Maybe the Admiral or her right hand."

     "I really did fight my way into a seat on the Senate." Raubahn takes a bit of a stance that Lilian can recognize as something that probably leads into sword-and-shield or dual-sword style if he was going to attack anyone - a stance that naturally would lead into one foot to push off and be aggressive in closing distance. "I went from a slave to a Champion, and then kept winning purses until I had enough to buy the Coliseum, and from there I kept fighting until I had enough money for my seat. After that I was put in charge of the Flames and the city's defenses, and the rest is history."

     "It's no mistake he's called the Bull of Ala Mhigo," Dewlala sniffs, as if she doesn't fully approve of the notion, "He's probably the best warrior in Eorzea. I doubt there's another who could match blades with him, even ground or with the advantage. Even the Garleans probably could only put up one or two warriors capable." There's grudging respect there that clearly even Teledji respects, from his own stance, and Dewlala's, and Fyrgeiss's. They may not *like* Raubahn, but they all know Raubahn is the best, and the best deserves recognition, like as not.

     "If van Baelsar was still alive, he'd be the likeliest to challenge General Aldynn, but since he's dead, that's not happening, is it?"

     Dewlala happily embraces the subject change when Lilian answers her question. "That's fascinating. Normally medical magic is dealt with by the Conjurers' Guild. I'd love to pick your brain about your techniques at some other time." Yeah, even the prioress can smell money. Who'd've thought.
Seifer Almasy      But when Lilian gives out the cards, a lot of eyebrows rise. Raubahn's do not. Teledji's do. Fyrgeiss and Dewlala keep their reactions a bit more muted, but anybody can tell that they're intrigued. Raubahn is just...Raubahn. The man's stony demeanor seems like it's his native resting face. He might also just be used to that kind of thing. He takes the card, looks it over, and then stows it in his wallet like it's just another day.

     Lilian can tell it's not a snub. It's just...a military man, being military-minded. He'll keep the card somewhere more immediate than his wallet, probably memorize the numbers. The others, they're stowing their cards in their wallets because they don't have an immediate use for the hyper-elite military that comes with a lot of money - they either have their own, like Fyrgeiss, or don't feel the need. Raubahn, though. Raubahn knows better.

     Dewlala does, however, smile at the bit about the Sapphire Markets. "I'll make sure to put you in contact with one of my best priests as soon as possible, Dame Rook."

     Raubahn's stone-faced demeanor breaks only a bit with a frown at Lilian. "For Coin and Country is our battle cry." That's all he needs to say. Yep, they're Ul'dahn. Whatever else they might be, like everything else in this city, they're for sale.

     Fyrgeiss adjusts his miner's clothes slightly. "Lolorito runs an import/export business. He just happens to like stickin' his hand into other jars when he sees an opportunity. Clever little bastard, no doubt about that. But you're right - he only eats the finest. Man spends money like water and somehow nonetheless makes it hand over fist. Me, I'm a frugal man," and that seems true - unlike everybody else in the booth he's dressed in the *dimmest* clothes, "But I don't make near as much as him. Don't think anyone in the Syndicate does, save maybe Godbert, that bloody nutjob."

     "Lolorito has never carried a sword in his life. I don't think he even keeps one in his house, save in a display case." Raubahn tells Lilian point blank. That, also, says more than anything else. He's not a man who thinks of himself as a master. He's *bloody business-minded*. He's so rich he doesn't need to pretend he's a master of anything - he's a master of *money*, and he knows that's where the real power comes.

     Teledji makes a *feh* noise at Amelris and wanders over to Revali. "What've you got for me? Tell me so we can get working on it right away. You, you're my golden ticket, my ticket to smearing Lolorito right in his smug little face."

     He leans in conspiratorially. "Lolorito has a favored gladiator, see. And I'm hoping to set you up in a death duel with her."

     "So what've you got?"

     Rauban shakes his head at Lilian. "Adamantoise are massive beasts with large shells, flippers, and sharp beaks." He describes a turtle, basically. "They've got some innate magicks to defend themselves, but more importantly, they're huge and strong. This little blue madman is The Great Azuro - I don't know a damned thing about him, save that a friend recommended him very highly. You're welcome to stay if you like."
Seifer Almasy      At Lilian's question, Fyrgeiss raises his eyebrow. "They're not going to win against the Flames as long as Raubahn Aldynn exists, but that's hardly a concern. The Stone Torches only deal with the company's assets. Protecting trade lines. Train lines. Mines."
Revali "It's simple, really," says Revali to Teledji. "How to get into the papers, right? You said make them think I'm having an affair with someone. Someone important, bright, colorful, of course. To match my own splendor."

"So should I make reservations for us for tonight? Or do you do more of an eat-in take-out sort of thing for a first date?"
Seifer Almasy      Teledji's mouth drops open.

     There is a moment of silence that just kind of hangs in the air. He is absolutely *gobsmacked* by the idea and it's fucking *obvious*. It takes him off balance. It leaves a man who has made his living talking up big dreams on the back foot for once in his life.

     But he recovers *masterfully*.

     He slaps Revali's shoulder. "No, no, no, no! My good man, you leave reservations to *me*! We're going to the Bismark, you and I, and we're going to make sure it's the *talk* of the town!"

     "Papers love a drama, don't they?" He rubs his hands together, "And any news is good news. 'Teledji Adeledji adopts foreign lover?' 'Rito Champion involved with Teledji Adeledji romantically?' Slap a question mark on them all and you'll get people *FLOCKING*, pardon, to see you in person!"

     "You, you are *brilliant*, and you are *going* places, and we are going to confirm *nothing* and it's going to make everybody murmur. Throw in a lady or two every so often just to mix them up and by the Twelve you'll be the most known face in Eorzean popular culture!"
Tony Stark "Congratulations on your no-doubt dazzling whirlwind romance, Revali, Teledji."

"I'm sure it'll be wonderful. Maybe it already has!"

Tony chuckles to himself. "Go ahead and enjoy yourself. We'll do a product demo later."
Revali "Mmmhmm. I'll... wear something I haven't worn before and won't ever wear again? That'll work?" Revali's trying.

"And we need to have a meltdown at some point. Just this drawn-out breakup. I'll give you some things of mine that you can angrily throw out."
Tamamo     "'Business'?" Tamamo tilts her head at Dewlala, finding the question more odd than the uncertainty in her address. She makes a sort of 'aha' expression together with the snap-shut of a folding fan. "You mean to ask my own domain of authority, is it? Ah, to be so far from home does make for some strange experiences. To be *unknown* is quite the change!"

    This amuses her, it seems. She is in good spirits, despite having drunk so little, partaking more for the social obligation and show than the effects of water or liquor. "There are many more stars than can be seen, as it turns out to be. Some among them, the suns of their own worlds, and of these, one may find the Amaterasu, the White-Gold. I am, thus, the Sun, if not *your* sun. My business is as one may therefore expect. The performance of miracles. The warm gaze of Summer. The granting of growth and healing. The reading of the past and future. The light that reveals or sears."

    She shares a glance with Lilian. "I share some appreciation for the business of Nald'thal. There is some to say for the exchange of goods and surety in a bound, enforced contract. Moreover, for all that I may have a hand on the threads of Fate, I share this view that luck is something earned. Lastly, and most of all, I feel for those drawn by passion."

    There's nothing new in Tamamo's appearance. More accurately, there's something like a veil slipping, a stronger hint of what's beneath. "The Sun burns but distantly, far from the multitude driven by their own fires, beneath the heavens." The impression of a shining light, rather than the actual. The feeling of warmth, rather than the heat. "To hear of one whose business is to oversee these individual passions, I would far from mind granting my time to such teaching."

    She doesn't mean 'from a priest.'
Seifer Almasy      "I," Teledji says to Revali, "Will have something bought for you from Redolent Rose, and we will get it fitted, and by the time we're done you're going to shine, and then it will never get worn again."

     "That's excellent. That's genius. I knew, I KNEW, when I spotted you, Teledji, I said to myself, Teledji, right there, that is a talent you can't afford to let get away. And, as usual, I was right. I'm always right."

     He grins at Tony. "I can honestly say it'll be an experience for everyone involved."
Seifer Almasy      There is some...*obvious* distaste from Dewlala the moment Tamamo says 'I am the sun.' There is the sense that this place is *deeply* traditional - that their gods are not incarnate, that they do not *have* incarnate gods, and that the idea of their gods walking around in the modern day is something that they absolutely do not appreciate, probably because it's painfully close to those Eikons or Primals or whatever they are.

     Plus, they haven't really *dealt* with the Multiverse. The party is the first group of Multiversals they've ever met. This is a new experience for the lords of the Syndicate, and the tension in the room at the idea of a real-ass incarnate Goddess, and not some kind of religious title, can be cut with a knife. It probably didn't click before, because, well, again, that's not the weirdest title they've ever heard, especially with theocracies extant in the world. Maybe something about that Gridania Teledji mentioned?

     But, no. When she makes it clear she's an actual honest-to-her Goddess, and wants to *talk* to *one of the Twelve*, the room temperature *drops*. Fyrgeiss's attitude gets frosty. Dewlala's would be downright icy if she wasn't so good at hiding it, and even then, Lilian and Tamamo can tell. Even Raubahn looks...uncomfortable. He shifts on his feet and looks out at the Bloodsands as if to say 'oh look an interesting fight that I can pay attention to.'

     "I advise," the Prioress says stiffly, "That you not say such a thing if you ever visit Ishgard. They take very poorly to such obvious heresy. And I would highly recommend you not *request a friendly conversation* with Halone the Fury should you ever visit them, lest you and your charming and profitable friends be thrown off that very large mountain."

     "And I also *highly*, *highly* recommend that you not tell *anyone else* that you hold *Fate* in your hand. There are many here who would look *very poorly* upon you for that - or demand your blood for *fating* so many to die."

     The Prioress makes some cursory thanks to Raubahn for hosting and then walks out just short of storming.

     Yeaaaah.

     Fyrgeiss just busies himself away from her, and Raubahn, well, bless his heart, the man really is trying not to lose it.
Lilian Rook     Lilian waves it off a little bit when Lolorito is 'explained' to her, helpful as it is. "No no, I'm speaking of his buyers. If he's making money, someone must be interested in Doman imports, right? Those are usually the type who pick up specialist weapons like those. People who believe they're all that. Either pseudo-soldiers too big for their hats and too small for their shoes, self-styled duelists who fancy the day they get to bring it out in a proper bout of honour, or people who put them on a mantle and tell made up stories."

    "He sounds like . . . well he sounds like a type of person I'm familiar with." she decides with a short laugh. "Buying things someone else already made and selling them to someone else for more than the labourer made; you know that occupation used to be considered the second lowest social class where I'm from. The problem is that once you're the *only* person who anyone can buy the things from, that ceases to matter, doesn't it? Looking for niches and making profit off of other people making money is perfectly dirty, but it unfortunately works very well, if you've a particular mindset. Ten to one people believe they do and just end up losing it."
    "'Coin and Country' though --that *is* a bit of a surprise. When was the last opportunity anyone had to belt that one out?" She laughs a little for Fyrgeiss' sake. "No no, of course, I wouldn't imply anything like that. That does raise the question of how often your assets *do* come under attack, given that I can't imagine too many petty thieves would be interested in scraping from a private military company, nor would they warrant one. I've just noticed that it's a pattern. Does Lolorito have his own? Does he contract out? I'd assume the Order at least doesn't have much use for one, being an enshrined religious institution, but not none."

    Finishing her glass, Lilian puts it down and claps her hands together. "I'd be delighted, Miss Dewla! Even if our exceptionally keen-eyed friend here picked up on that bit of information, I'm obviously not here as some scruffy soldier of fortune looking to make a quick profit from sticking a sword in something big and nasty." She blinks once, tuning just slightly to Teledji. "Which is a shame, because I've just thought of the most delightful gladiatrix gimmick, but I'd also prefer not to start killing the people of a city I've just started to like. That, also, is a mindset thing." Then she proceeds back at her original pace. "We don't fight looking for money and fame as a core principle though. It's a group about Getting Something Done." She audibly capitalizes the words, leaving them rather heavy and vague. "Not under our professional names, anyways. The Paladins have considerably more leeway on the clock. Like Mister Stark related to his Avengers."

    She can't help but quirk a smile more legitimately now, though. It's still not a glittery one, but it contains a certain amount of finely sampled satisfaction, solely for Raubahn. "I have to admire that kind of bloodyminded determination to make work what you have. I wouldn't put yourself down as much as to suggest it's *all* you did. But there's a certain . . . attitude about it. Even starting a slave, you have a kind of loyalty to this place that I think is different from the others, and I can't quite imagine why that would be. It can't be only to help the Al Mhigans from the front seat; that's too cynical. A special person, perhaps. One you'd stay for. Not a wife or something like that. Something more compelling. *I* think it's worth consideration, even if you'd prefer to put it down to following a sword to the seat. And it's often surprising how directly one can cut to the heart of something so grandiose and overbearing, if you put your mind to it correctly."
Amelris Belthrone Admit this rash of SCANDAL that are being plotted in REAL TIME to seem as authentic as possible, Amelris let that slide by. That's why he reads the Mythril Eye. At least, parts of the Mythril Eye that aren't a rag and is more investigative journalism.

Whatever snappy retort he might've had at Tedeleji is stopped cold at the Fox Woman's comments on her being the 'sun'. He can feel the atmosphere around. The cold, furious snap of the Prioress making her way out after this.

"Excuse me a moment." Amelris comments to Stark, even as he walks away to slowly, steadily making his way to Tamamo. It is not the walk of someone that is on a warpath or about to shank someone, but there is a certain predatorial quality to his walk behind his smile.

"I will agree with the Prioress... It would be rather wise to keep this to yourself within Eorzea." The Red Mage says, stopping a few feets away from the Fox, reaching for his hat to give a gentle tug. "In Eorzea, there is the Twelve. Gods that are worshiped accross the realm. They are not, however, as you would say, walking upon the soil as we do. They are not Incarnated."

He looks up to lock gazes with the Mikon. "The 'Gods' that do, in Eorzea, are no real gods. They are beings of aether, summoned to this world by the fervor, rage and wishes of their followers, tempering their followers. Cleansing their souls and claiming them to theirs, the summoner becomes eternal slaves to them. They are beings hungry for aether, draining the very land itself to sustain themselve, until ash and sand remains."

Amelris gives a slight bow of his head. "I say this as things are different outside of Hydealyn, as this is something you should know as you travel our lands, for your own good. Incarnated 'Gods' are Primals. Primals are dangerous beings that must be destroyed,. Please do not associate yourself as one by, even if they are true, such words."

Amelris stops, his flattened ears perking up again. "As for the Twelve... I'm afraid the Aetherial Sea is closed off to visits at this time of year."
Lilian Rook     Then she just leans back and folds her leg up again, all casual. "Who's this van Baelsar? Is this one of those 'game recognizes game' things? Because I'm recognizing game all over, but I've never quite clicked with that 'put to the ultimate test' life or death clash of swords to prove who's superior attitude."

    She then does her very level best not to cough on a new drink when Revali drops his gigabrain million IQ play, swallowing with some difficulty. "A casino Joe to a gladiator to a celebrity scandal romance inside of a month? I misjudged you. I thought you were far too serious about that whole prophetic champion thing. Congratulations." she laughs.

    She is, though, fiddling with her hair through the whole discourse between Tamamo and Dewalala, specifically the length of dark hair to which a white-gold lily hairpiece is attached, joined by tiny jeweled peonies. She can't help the *hard* look on her face, so she looks away from the Prioress until she 'walks' out.

    "You know, for all the proud blithering about 'godslaying' I've been hearing from a few, I'd expected a little bit of a regressive idea as to what divinity entails. I'm not about to go to someone else's country and tell them how their culture should work, but I'd also think you'd appreciate it better than most, the idea of a goddess taking an active interest in the lives of people, singular and plural, by becoming them. I think a great deal of credit is due for arriving as a person, looking to help people, especially where dubiously proclaimed 'gods' run around as mobile disasters, the more venerated ones do nothing to stop it. I can understand a religious conflict when it comes down to a Prioress, but . . ."

    There's a subaudible 'oh well', and Lilian just finishes the rest of her second drink really fast, then huffs away a great deal of tension. "Ahhhh, I don't give flying --whatever Ishgard is, I *will* break all of someone's fingers for trying, no matter who they are, even if they're right --*especially* if they're right. This is awful. Let's talk more about pleasant things. Like, for instance, who aside from Teledji has their eye on any promising prospects? Startup businesses, good friends, growing financial powerhouses, someone cute in the courts. That sort of thing."
Seifer Almasy      Leaving the sensitive matter of religion to the guy who is an expert in dealing with incarnate deities, Raubahn seizes on Lilian's questions *immediately*. He plays it very close to the chest about the person important to him, dodging around that in favor of answering 'van Baelsar.' "Gaius van Baelsar, the Black Wolf of Garlemald. A personal friend of their Emperor. One of the most dangerous Garleans in history, a man who exemplified Garlemald's philosophy of the strong ruling the weak. He conquered Ala Mhigo. He nearly conquered Eorzea. He was killed by..."

     "...well. The Scions of the Seventh Dawn."

     "It put the Garlean offensive to a standstill. It's the only reason we've even been considering an attack of our own. Without van Baelsar they no longer have any obvious leaders, and his legion is collapsing under power struggles and internal dealings."

     Fyrgeiss's frosty demeanor extends outwards as he stands up. "No," he says tersely to Lilian, and walks out without even the polite thanks the Prioress gave Raubahn.

     Raubahn sits down and rubs his massive brow. Now that everyone's private, he clearly doesn't feel he needs to put up his major political facade. "You'll have to forgive them. They don't deal with the strange on a daily basis. Truth be told, neither do I, but since I've seen the Warriors of Light, I know there's more out there than I can expect." It's a military man's pragmatism, the acceptance that the Strange and Unusual exists on the battlefield.

     "Ishgard is the Holy See. Isolationist, fanatical, and embroiled in a constant war against the dragons. They've been fighting for a thousand years. Since Bahamut rose again...well. Their situation's become even more precarious. They may not be able to afford to throw away allies, but they're religious zealots. They might be willing to cut off their nose to spite their face."
Damocles Damocles had been fairly quiet up to this point.  He had no real reason to speak, as people were practically politics and business, and neither really concerned him.  However, now they're talking magic and divinity, and that does concern him.

Also they're explaining things. 

Damocles sighs softly, a resigned, nagging sigh as he knocks the bottom of his staff on the floor, just loud enough to make a resounding 'clack' and draw some attention to himself.

"If I could...?"  He asks in a tone that suggests he's not actually asking for permission.  "You'll find 'divinity' has a lot of layers of meaning throughout the multiverse.  Which is why, um, Dr. Stark, was it?  Used the term 'Eikon' and our Warrior of Light friend uses the term 'Primals.'.  But basically, as I understand it, the 'Primals' are incarnations of spiritual energy, akin to what Daemons are in my world.  Shaped by the belief of those that 'worship' it in a method that's rather unique to this place, I've found." 

"The other kind of 'goddess',", he gestures widely with his staff as he continues, "Is more akin to a being from another, parallel existence.  One more closely allied to the spiritual then our physical universe, to grossly simplify it.
Tony Stark Tony nods towards Damocles. "I heard the Garlean term first, that's all. It got thrown around a few times."

"I'm not a doctor. I've strongly considered becoming one due to Banner lording his laurels over me, but I have not actually completed a doctorate."

He strikes a considering pose. "Is that true here too?"

He legitimately doesn't know. "General Aldyn, could you get us an audience with someone with the power to make decisions of some real weight on the Ishgardian side? If they've got a giant dragon problem that may be worth cleaning up, if it'll stabilize the area. If you're planning to get up off your back foot, another ally would *not* be bad."
Lilian Rook     Lilian's mood sours quite visibly when the rich people make a big show of walking out on some offensive social faux pas. She could have kept her mouth shut. Could have kept her nose clean. But she didn't. It was bothering her too much. At this point, she finds herself wishing that she'd been more extreme, instead of half-assing it, if they were all going to strut off anyways, though at least her half-measure could be later explained as 'defensive' rather than very firmly placing her against them all. Easier to smooth over. But still, a part of her regrets it.

    "Oh give up the semantics. Eikons, Primals, Twelve, Gods, Divinity; it's all going to get blurred together into meaning whatever someone wants it to mean. Nobody listens for fine differences like those, and nobody likes being told that they're technically incorrect. People will be people, biases and opinions are an unfortunately irremovable part of that, unless you *do* start brainwashing them." For an instant --just one-- she very, very strongly considers that.

    "Now, I'll say it's uncommon to hear of a legend of a man who lead his army to victory based largely on personal prowess. In that case though, it's obvious why they'd struggle to find a successor. You're planning on hitting them as hard as possible while they have no organization, yes? Are you planning to assassinate any potential up and comers at the same time? What do you have of spies with up to date knowledge on their internal succession crisis? There have to be factional lines within the legion by now. This is also the best time for anyone undergoing guerilla warfare procedures to strike en mass. Resistance movements would do, of course. I'm sure you've got it all figured out, but it seems like the rest have very little idea of what's going on; just how it impacts the flow of money in and out of their buffer state."

    Sip. "I'll forgive them if I feel like it."

    From there she's mostly staring at Tony, suddenly seizing on Ishgard. "Is that place really relevant to Ul'dah or the Garlean situation? It sounds as if it's a completely separate bag of problems. If they're isolationists, that means they're successfully keeping people out. If they're busy fighting off dragons then they won't be of any use or harm for now. Or are you hoping that playing a big enough hero and shooting enough winged lizards will earn enough good will to turn their forces here? How far away is Ishgard anyways?"
Seifer Almasy      "I could put you in contact with Haurchefant Greystone," Raubahn says after a moment's thought, "He's in charge of some of the Coerthan military maneuvers outside the Holy See itself. He might not have time for you, but I'll impress on him that he ought to make time."

     "The See itself...I don't know anyone. Isolationist for a thousand years; it was moderate before Dalamud, but after...well. What little comes out of Ishgard is something only someone like Lolorito would know."

     "And I doubt even he'd know all that much."

     Raubahn thinks about it for a long moment. "That said," he says, "I know of someone who might be able to help you get some weight in Ishgard."

     Raubahn taps his finger. "His name is Estinien Wyrmblood. He's called The Azure Dragoon, which I understand from some communiques with Greystone is a title of major cultural import to the Ishgardians. Get him on your side and they'll probably be a little more willing to listen. But I don't know anything about the man at all."

     Lilian asks him about military maneuvers. "There's a Resistance, aye. I've been in contact with it for some time. What spies we have...well, it's difficult to get too close. Garleans are a different species. Can't use magic, have a third eye, can see Aether, large and strong, stronger than most Eorzeans, certainly bigger than most. What we have comes from people blending in with conscripts, which isn't the best for intel."

     "You'll forgive me if I don't tell you about assassination plans," he says, "It's not that I don't trust you, but someone might be listening, even here."
Tony Stark Tony taps his temple, before dropping his hand and tapping his watch, throwing up a digital display of holography that forms a 2D displayed map of Eorzea, in the sense of 'pulling up a globe on Wikipedia' quality - it's shapes and colors.

"Ishgard sits in the cold north of the continent, near the forests of Gridania. South of Gridania is Ul'dah. *East* of Gridania is Gyr Abania, and the kingdom of Ala Mhigo."

Tony smirks. "I bought a map before I showed up. Sue me. If Raubahn, in Ul'dah, wants to take his home back, he'd have to be let by Gridania. If Gridania helps, Ishgard becomes a threat. You want to collect the whole crew before saving the realm, right?"

"If Ishgard is being messed with a big dragon, on the other hand: Gridania won't want to help."

Tony drops his watch, and with that, the image after a few more moments.

"I'm not just promising to stop every rampaging dragon, Rook, give me a little more credit than that. This Haurchefant is fine - it'll give us a good idea of if we should involve ourselves. Coerthas lies between Ishgard and Gridania, so if the border is calm, we may be able to skip the flying death dragon."
Tony Stark Tony pauses for a few momets.

"And if it's not clear, yes, I'd like to skip fighting the giant death dragon, and leave that to the local heroes." He smiles at Amelris. "Wouldn't want to take your jobs from you. That'd be rude."
Tamamo     Tamamo doesn't look saddened, embarrassed, angry, or even disappointed when the Prioress changes her tone. Tamamo's own expression smooths over into one of neutral fascination, going from the warmly gentle, even innocent socialite, regarding someone with interesting things to say, to the kind of rapt attention one might give a small, strange animal, one that's probably not dangerous, and definitely not intelligent. It's significantly less pleasant to take the latter look, from up close.

    That expression has passed when Amelris approaches. At a certain point, she *does* look disappointed. Not in him, but in the news he bears. "When one speaks of a god 'teaching,' I had set some hopes upon that. Ah, to find a kindred spirit, even in part... but I must do without, I see." She will not have tea with Nald'thal, and the Multiverse is a worse place for that fact.

    She listens to the rest. Yes, this does sound familiar. She's certain some have spoken of it before, though it had held no concern for her. "It is not within my nature to hide during the day, but I shall consider this a warning given in good faith." She might just not tell people, but the diminuitive priestess had asked her directly, and so the answer had arrived. That might well happen again.

    Her smile does return, of a sort, at Lilian's promise of ultraviolence. "Now, I should hope there will be no need of such."
Damocles Damocles cracks a slight, almost sad smile at Tamamo's words, of her search for a 'kindred spirit'. 

"Oh, if that's what you're looking for, I could possibly arrange for an introduction to my universe's God of Learning."  He lowers his tone half an octave as he cautions, "Though you might not like what he has to teach."
Amelris Belthrone "Being precise is not semantics." Amelris comments in Rook's direction, his tone even and leveled. Amelris returns his stare at Tamamo, giving the apparent living goddess a brief bow of his head. "Theology can be discussed in the various temples, I am certain many will be more than happy to discuss such, especially in Gridannia, but... no, I'm afraid, there is no such divinity as you might be more familiar with within our realm." As long you really aren't draining the land dry and brainwashing people is the subtitle to his comments.

He nods at Damocles. NOW that was a very good summary and something he actually kind of understood. He's not the aether expert but, hey. He knows enough.

"Ah, how kind of you, Mr. Stark." Belthrone retract his steps, tilting his head at the rich inventory. "I can introduce you to Haurchefant. He's a good man and keeps a watchful vigil. As for Death Dragons... well, I doubt that's a thing that will be able to be dealt with the 'local brand of heroes'."
Lilian Rook     "No. Nope. Vetoed." Lilian *immediately* throws Damocles' way. "Absolutely not under any circumstances and don't try again." And then looking to the catman's way. "But semantics are a form of being precise. See what I did there? The word literally means 'the meaning of a word or phrase', and I'm telling you, people don't care what you *mean* by saying something, only that you said it and now it made them feel a certain way --which they will then quickly rationalize as perfectly appropriate and defend it to the death, by the way. You can have that advice about 'everyone' for free."

    "It's evident that everyone here, apparently, has very large, very heated opinions about anything god-shaped and aren't likely to stick around for technicalities. It puts the circus that seems to follow the 'Warriors of Light' around into perspective and context, at least." Realizing she's just going to start drinking too much out of bitterness at this point, Lilian switches over to candied something or other to munch on in annoyance.

    "They should hope so too." she mutters Tamamo's way. "It's tiresome to have to preface interactions with 'fuck around and find out'." It seems that with the upper crust company gone, she, too, is also being more 'casual'.

    Tony drawing up the map is enough to get her to pay attention, or rather, paying attention to a big projected map is second nature to her. "I get the idea." she says, a little more even-tempered now. "Excuse me if it suddenly seemed a little bit out of scope for the minute. Well, it *is*, but I assume you're cutting to the end of a long and complicated string of steps you already started planning out beyond Ul'dah itself." She pauses. "Well, guilty of throwing stones in glass houses as I may be right now, is this something that caught your interest straight away, or something you were already planning? Or perhaps a puzzle pieces that fit, which you siezed upon in the moment? It seems a little out of the way, but I admit that it does seem refreshingly simple." She taps her fingers on her chair. "In the sense that I wouldn't have to go so easy."
Tony Stark Tony smiles broadly. "Well, Rook, I will say: I've seen people around you 'find out' and it's rather impressive. You are, however, right. Everyone does take a swing."

A broad-handed gesture follows that, as Raubahn disengages. The box seats are empty save the guests and the help. "You would not believe the number of times I've been called a tin or aluminium can. The part that annoys me is the *repetition*."

"It wins the game in the fewest steps. If Ul'dah and Ishgard want to help, it won't matter what Gridania wants, either. You don't attack a problem from one angle over and over if you want to get it done: The shortest path is the one from every angle, all at once."

He raises the back of his arm close to his face and turns his head to subvocalize something into his watch, before sliding back on his aviators from the v of his collar. "Gentlemen, ladies, it's been an evening."
Damocles Damocles gives a low, soft laugh at Lilian's chastisement, his glowing eyes arch a little in amusement.  "Don't think to order me around, child.  But I'll say no more about it if it'll upset you."  His eyes sparkle a little, tiny gleams of white mixed in with the deep violet of the glow hidden under his hood as he regards Tamamo.  "If you wish to speak more of the knowledge to be found in the echos of the Warp, you can find me later, when you...chaperone isn't prone to have her sensibilities threatened."

With the comment about everyone having very heated opinions on gods, Damocles sighs wistfully.  "As, tis true, our varied backgrounds mean we each must have a different idea on the subject.  If only we could be ever so slightly more specific to avoid confusion.  Alas, who has time for such...technicalities.  Am I right?" 

Damocles picks up a nearby glass from a tray and sips it.  It doesn't even matter to him what it contains.
Amelris Belthrone Amelris turns back to face Lilian, the Red Mage tilting his head to one side with his ears fluttering once as she speaks, reaching out for a drink himself. He didn't have much of ANYTHING for most of the evening. He probably should indulge a bit since he got to be here in some interesting capacity.

"Then I guess you are merly being pedantic." He settles on, taking a sip out of his drink. "You certainly have more experience on the multiversal side of things. It /is/ quite simple to just give warnings about views are in a realm that differs from the rest of the worlds at large. Twelves that they're going to get used to a lot of things in the coming years." He eyes the direction the people left in a huff. "They do have large heated opinions about 'anything god-shaped' for the reasons I explained. Let's stick it to that, shall we?"

Amelris lifts his glass. "A good evening indeed!"