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Mourning Isles Game Night 1008 AR

The Mourning Isles needs a little friendly competition. What fealty doesn't enjoy such a thing. Held in the Racontuer in the Velenosan ward, all from the Mourning Isles are welcome. Arm wrestling! Indoor sailing! Shot Glass Bingo! A drinking contest, oyster shucking, an imitation game. It's time for the Mourning Isles to take advantage of Thrax, it's hospitality and one of the city's newest and finest drinking establishments - Raconteur Brewing Company - which will be shuttng it's doors to all but the Mourning Isles this night. So come one, come all - no guests who are not of the isles or born of the isle.

OOC: We're having a game night. This is open to only those who are of Thrax Fealty or were born in the Mourning Isles and have left for other pastures. Sorry other fealty's, bother your heads for such an awesome event. There will be trophy's and prizes for all!

Date

May 10, 2018, 7 p.m.

Hosted By

Alarissa

Participants

Elara(RIP) Niklas Venturo Margot Coraline Victus Sparte Fiora Wash Lethe Jan Carita

Organizations

Location

Arx - Ward of the Compact - Raconteur Brewing Company - Grounds

Largesse Level

Average

Comments and Log


Stepping out from the side entrance that leads into the office, Venturo's eyes drift about the gathering as people begin to collect. His footfalls are slow and lazy, a warm smile curling to the corners of his lips, "I just wanted to come out and make certain you were all set for your evening of fun." It's to those he doesn't recognize that his head dips, that smile broadening further to turn crooked as one dimple delves deeper in his beard than the other, "Venturo Thayne. A pleasure to have you all here."

The grounds of the Raconteur have been taken over this night and the bar inside. Inside, drinking is happening, rowdy noises and plenty of people as the Mourning isles has turned out for the fealty based evening of bonding. Outside, strings of glass oil globes light up the grounds for the night. A ramp sits night and high and on top of it are wagons barely big enough for the burliest of men to slip into, complete with wheels, mast and a little rudder. Presumably for the indoor sailing. Troughs of water with toy boats and massive sails it bobbing and waiting to be played with. Tables a plenty, chairs and free flowing alcohol will either make this an interesing night, or... well, an interesting night.



Alarissa's near the troughs, moving away from them, making sure everything is going well and no ones broken anything yet. "Master Venturo. Will you be joining us this evening or making your way to the palace to roast?"

"We can, your Highness," she assures Coraline. "I do have quite the mental library of bawdy sea shanties," Carita says, looking almost prim. She looks aside toward Venturo when he introduces himself to the room. "Well met, sir. Thank you very much for allowing us the use of your brewery for our fealty evening. It's very appreciated. I will promise with all that I am not to break any bottles over my head," so softly murmured, adding "I save that for home."

"Oh, certainly no roast for me. I'm not certain I can behave in a place such as the palace," A coy smile touches Venturo's mouth, his head dipping into a friendly nod towards Princess Alarissa, "I may have one or two matters of business pull me away, regarding the opening of breweries in various lands that I wrote you about. But until then? Here I am." A slow breath of disappointing is pushed out by him as his eyes fall upon COraline and her words, his voice light and playful, "A pity. One should have fun while they are here, but I do cringe at the thought of such a pretty head potentially being cut."

"Ohh a mental library of sea shanties! I must pick that brain of yours tonight then." As Venturo introduces himself Cora grins, "Thanks for letting us use the space!"

Isabelle, who isn't happy to be doing this arrives, following Niklas.

Victus has been slow on the draw getting to this, slower still carrying his weight from place to place it would seem. When he's walking through the doors to the brewing company, he's got his axe stretched from shoulder to shoulder with both arms draped over it. "Fuckin' hell. I ain't been hungover in years and now, /NOW/ of all times..." He grumbles, craning his back until he hears a satisfying 'pop'. "Lights too bright. Sun don't like me none." He'd continue to ramble on as he walked into the brewing company and makes a controlled fall into the nearest chair. Exciting game night ahead and a pounding headache to add to the challenge!

Walk somewhere like you absolutely are supposed to be there, and people usually assume that you are. Or that's the theory that brings Fiora to... crash the party? Except crashing a party implies intent. It implies acknowledging that you're somewhere that you're not supposed to be. It implies CARING that you're somewhere that you're not supposed to be. Fiora's disinterested blue eyes show exactly none of these things. In fact, as she sweeps the room with her gaze, she looks nothing so much as profoundly bored.

Niklas enters shortly after the others but in time to hear Victus' bellyaching about his hangover. "I did offer to escort you home, your highness. Did you keep drinking after I left? I suppose after enough of that rotgut Mae produced a man might just float on home." He glances over to Fiora as she enters and offers her a friendly wave. "Lady Stormguard! So good to see you!" Stormguard sounds like a credible Mourning Islander house. He's offering the perfect cover. Surely no one will notice that they've never heard of House Stormguard before.

Settled back in her seat Cora can't help but grin at Victus, "A little too much boozing hmm? You must have been trying to replace you blood with booze last night if /you/ are hung over."

Victus has joined the Thrax Night Table 3.

"My pleasure!" Venturo's bright baritone rings out to Cora, flashing the woman a warm smile. "I've had such little opportunity to meet the wonderful people from your fealty, so it is grand to have you here. Ah!" The brewer's eyes glitter with amusement as he spies Niklas, a dip of his head offered up to the fellow, "Congratulations on your formal courting, and it's good to see you again."

Drinking. Loud noise, and the setting sun. "Victus! You should challenge Master venturo here to a round on the sailboats." Alarissa points to the ramp. "Be the first to do so." Cora's profession of knowledge of sea shanties brings a raised brow even as the party crasher is noticed. Noticed but Alarissa doesn't say anything, just motions the woman on in.

Fiora continues to blow her own cover by not even looking in Niklas' direction when he calls her 'Lady Stormguard'. Surely he must be talking to someone else. Or... again, blowing one's cover implies trying to have it in the first place. Fiora surveys the grounds with one hand resting on the swell of her hip, fingers slightly splayed. She's looking for something... Beer. She's looking for beer. Wherever the beer is, when she starts moving again, it's in that direction.

Lethe takes a look around the room and decides to get a drink. She then looks around for a place to sit.

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Alarissa before departing.

Margot slips into the grounds and looks around a bit curiously before she heads towards the table where the High Prince is sitting, smiling lightly. "Good eve," she greets to the lady, princess and prince quietly.

2 Armed Confessors, Halle, a very large assistant arrive, following Elara.

Margot has joined the Thrax Night Table 3.

"Duchess. I am trying to convince his Grace to join Master Venturo here and have a go at sailing. Over the ground." A gesture to the ramp with the waiting 'Sailboats'. "Or anyone really. I would but it is inadvisable."

Lethe has joined the Thrax Night Table 3.

Alarissa has joined the Thrax Night Table 2.

Alarissa has left the Thrax Night Table 2.

Alarissa has joined the Thrax Night Table 3.

Carita has left the Thrax Night Table 3.

"Thank you, Master Thayne. It has been a long time coming, but eventually Ford raised enough money and begged hard enough to convince the Graysons to take me off of his hands." He walks over and leans against the bar, looking over the menu for just a moment before ordering himself a Flight of Fancy. Once his order is in he turns to look over the games and grimaces. "I don't think I'm winning any trophies tonight."

Victus snorts. "It's tradition, but frankly I never had someone go that many rounds with me in the drinking contest. Considering we were drinking that piss-brew? My self-preservation fucked off somewhere else for the evening." He muses back to the Kennex lord, a quirked brow had for Coraline and Alarissa both. "Sea shanties and sailboats? I don't think there's a river in here that needs fordin'. Unless you're talking about trying to crack the ground open. Which, we could also do." Margot's entrance does allow the hungover High Lord a softer expression. "Ah, Duchess, good evenin'. Boring business talk, eh?"

Fiora gets her beer and takes a drink while she surveys the area again, possibly in search of something that interests her. Those slightly lidded eyes don't look like, if that's what she's seeking, she finds it very often.

Margot looks over Cora and nods slightly, then smiles a bit as she settles down, "Maybe, as Princess Coraline states there's need of more drink first." She looks over Victus and down at her satchel, "I do have business to discuss with you but mayhaps you should drink more first."

Zane, a tall and silent servant leaves, following Venturo.

"You get in the wagon, find a comfortable spot, push off the top, and ride to the other end. Use the wheeled rudder to make sure you stay straight and the first preson to the other end wins!" Alarissa supplies for her husband. "Are are you too scared to do such? I bet the Princess Coraline would beat you."

"I will totally do this thing!" Cora says enthusiastically. "So are we starting now? I can do it now." she gets up and goes towards the little ship thingers

A messenger arrives, delivering a message to Alarissa before departing.

Elara checked dexterity + stealth at difficulty 15, rolling 24 higher.

Elara is in fact here. She makes her quiet way into the room and around the edge towards a familiar blond head. Quiet as she is she makes her way right up behind Niklas. There is a gleam in her eyes that isn't seen often. It's the gleam of mischief. Leaning forward she says into Niklas' ear, "You don't need more trophies cluttering up -my- room anyway."

"For once, I'm not entirely sure that more drink is going to be the answer." Victus deadpans back to Margot, holding a hand to his forehead as his wife would explain the rules of the game. "That sounds like somebody is gonna break something permanently. Sure, I'm game."

Niklas jumps when Elara sneaks up on him, but narrowly avoids losing his sweet, sweet alcohol. "I just put my case in your room while we knock down the wall between my room and Naomi's. I need the extra space as a trophy room to, you know, celebrate my glories and stuff." He slides his untouched neon yellow fruity beer down to Elara and orders another for himself. "So have you been well? The Inquisition keeping you busy with all the leechings and Tuesday morale picnics?"

"To the sailboat then!" Alarissa calls out. "Prince Victus versus Princess Coraline!" Alcohol is available everywhere. If it's on tap, it's there for the drinking and people start to make for the 'sailboats' to watch the indr sailboat showdown. "If you perish it will be fine. You'll jsut leave me as Regent until Astrids of age."

Cora scurries over to the boats and picks one, one that looks little sleak and mean. Settling in she grins as she gets her hands on the "rudder" of the thing. "Ready!"

Margot waves to one of the servers for wine and leans back to clap for Victus and Coraline, smiling a little. "Gods don't let them break thier pretty faces..." She mutters.

People might be giving themselves head injuries over by the carts, and so that's where Fiora (and her beer) go. Not to help, or anything. She's careful to stay out of the splash zone, though.

Coraline checked luck + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 13 higher.

Elara's expression, even though she isn't smiling very large, looks quite pleased. Like the cat that got the cream. "I have been considering making my pillow out of parchment a few nights," She replies with a faint smirk. The beer is eyed and she picks it up to sniff. "I don't normally drink beer, you remember that right?" But she takes a sip. For Niklas, her expression very skeptical at first. Then she blinks and looks at it in surprise. "That's actually quite good," She says, brows rising in apparent delight.

Victus checked luck + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 19 higher.

Wilhelm the Iron Messenger arrives, following Sparte.

"I knew you'd like it. It tastes like Renny's fruit punch. But not quite as boozy." Niklas lifts his own glass and turns to watch as the Princess and the High Lord ready to to break their necks on the indoor boats. To Elara he says, "That's why I would never join the Inquisition. Also a million other reasons. I'll be going out to Stormwall in two days with Pathfinder Lou and some other Explorers. No paperwork there. Just mortal peril." He grimaces at the notion and adds, "Whee."

Sparte gets a clothe hat shaped like a paper sailboat from a canvas backpack with leather accent straps.

Sparte has shown up a bit late, but shown up to the event he has. He even has on a party hat, after a fashion. Of course he stands there out in the traffic path, looking around to see what is going on while awkwardly being in anyone's way that might be coming or going.

Good gods what has Victus gotten into? Hungover High Lord is climbing into a bobsled and about to 'sail' across the floor of the brewing company. Half of this felt like chance, the other half felt like cheating death when everything was too bright in the first place. Nonetheless, he's off. Somewhere down the ramp, the floor, wherever this thing was going. "Oh fuck, oh fuck oh fuck fuck fuck FUCK." He hollers as the sled careens this way and that. Evidently, he's winning. It's awful hard to tell though.

As the whole thing starts, Cora is grinning, however as it REALLY gets going and speed is picked up Cora's "WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" Blends well with Victus' oh fucks. As they stop Cora isn't that far behind but far enough it is clear who won. Laughing she gets out, "Well that was fun, I would totally do it again but I gotta run. I hope this is still going on when I get back, I wanna do that again."

Elara takes another sip and nods slowly, obviously enjoying the brew. "It does, doesn't it? Bit more citrus I think," And she licks her lips in dainty and thoughtful fashion. "You get bored too easy. It's true. Do be careful though, won't you?" She asks as her eyes go to the list of games. "Oh! Limericks hmmm?" She glances at Niklas. "You have one no doubt?"

The left corner of Fiora's mouth quirks up in a small little smile as Victus' swearing takes on a doppler effect.

Coraline has left the Thrax Night Table 3.

3 Thrax Guards leaves, following Coraline.

Sparte grins at the sight of Victus, entirely accidentally sidesteping Coraline as she heads out. Off to a seat he goes, settling into a chair as he watches... Well, whatever it is he is watching.

Sparte has joined the Thrax Night Table 3.

Margot nods to Sparte and looks to Lethe, "How are things with you cousin? I feel as if we almost never see eachother these days."

"Limericks? Hm." Nik finishes his beer because when you normally drink brandy a sweet beer is pretty easy. "There once was a High Lord named Vic..." He thinks on this, then wisely says, "Nope. No limericks over here." But then Elara is running off and he sighs dramatically, "Everyone leaves."

Victus makes out a win, he and Coraline sailing right past the man, Alarissa pausing in her conversation with Margot to wave the man in. Departing individuals get a wave as well as she stands to clap for Victus' victory. "Who will go next?"

Sparte gives some brief greeting to a few at his table, before centering his attention on Alarissa. He smiles at her and raises his hand. Whether it is to ask a question or volunteer isn't entirely clear.

Elara stops in her tracks and turns to give Niklas a cold look. "Not. Funny." Is all she says in a deadly serious voice. Then she turns to follow the confessor who had just fetched her out.

2 Armed Confessors, Halle, a very large assistant leave, following Elara.

At the end of the line, Victus does eek out a victory. Though not before the burly Thraxian tips the whole damn thing over, making him spill out the side of the land-boat. "Did I win? That didn't feel like winning..." He grumbles as he drags himself to his feet and promptly dusts himself off, hobbling back to the table once their little race was done with.

Niklas has the decency to look a little guilty when Elara storms off. "It seemed funny in my head." He grabs the remains of her beer and finishes it off, then gets up and walks over to where Alarissa is taking volunteers. "Sure. I'm ready to return to the Wheel. Why not? I won third place in a jousting contest mere days ago."

Fiora takes a drink of beer. She smiles that little half smile that doesn't reach her disinterested eyes as she's treated to hung over Victus doppler swearing AND possibly injuring himself.

Whatever is being discussed between Margot and Alarissa has her frowning and looking unhappy. But she rises now. "And now for another form of sailing. Any who wish to particpate, we will use air from our lungs to sail the next ships." A gesture to the troughs and the little toy boats waiting.

Margot frowns back at Alarissa with a slight lift of her brow and a sober expression, before she washes down her last fur words with some wine.

Sparte lowers his hand after Alarissa speaks, nodding a bit as though things made more sense now. He glances around at the others present, waiting to see who else decides to participate.

Niklas shrugs and heads back to the bar. "There once was a playwright named Nik who volunteered to try the boat trick. But he was ignored and then he got bored. So he decided to get drunk quick." He grabs a brew and leans back to watch the next event. When he sees Sparte he narrows his eyes and says, "Hey, I need to teach you about diplomacy. I was going to ask you to the Ambassador the other day, but then I ended up getting in a fist fight, so it's probably best I didn't. Not a great example of the basics."

Sparte blinks in surprise at Niklas, then points at him. "Oh, right, I had almost forgotten I signed up for that. Kind of you to volunteer." Sparte then grins widely at Nik. "Want to try blowing on the tub boats with me? See if being full of air has anything to do with knack for diplomacy."

"Go, sail the toy boats, the both of you." Alarissa calls out to Nik and Sparte. "See who reaches the other end first." A gesture with her hands and a smile that springs up but doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I place coin on Lord Kennex."

Fiora finishes off her beer and starts for the door again, her boots beating out an even, unhurried beat on the ground.

Jan strides onto the grounds, mussed and more than a little late. She immediately starts looking about for a beer. No, scratch that. Is Aethan here? No? Okay. Beer.

Zane, a tall and silent servant arrives, following Venturo.

Zane, a tall and silent servant leaves, following Venturo.

Niklas considers the toy boats, gulps down his beer and heads over to have a look at this. "Ugh. This looks like a good way to pass out." He glances over to Sparte, then moves around to where he can get a good whoosh off.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 10 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 5 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 19 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 8 higher.

Lethe has left the Thrax Night Table 3.

Sparte nods agreeably, straightening his comical paperboat hat as he stands and grins at Niklas. He goes over to his position. "The trick to being full of air is not to be ful of it. I don't know what it is, but I figure it means I should shut up and blow. Heard that in an alley once, I did."

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 23 higher.

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 9 higher.

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 15 higher.

Sparte checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 5 higher.

The two men are lined up and at a whistle from someone in the crowd, Kennex and Fatchforth are off, and it's time to put wind in those sails!

Jan collects herself a beer and goes to watch the trough boat races with a furrowed brow. She's not quite sure what's going on here. There seems to be huffing. And puffing. "Good blow job, Niklas!" she calls out.

Niklas toots his little boat around, feeling confident, feeling pretty good about his performance. Then he glances up and sees that Admiral Sparte's command of his toy navy is peerless. "Ugh." He gamely finishes, then sits up and says, "All that hyperven-" Then Jan helpfully cheers him on. "THANK YOU JAN!"

Victus nods to Margot's words. "Sounds fair. Maybe you can teach me one or two things about talking without saying fuck as well?" A grin briefly spreads across his scarred face. "... Actually maybe not, but sailing, that can definitely happen." Oh, but then some paper is put into his hands from the Duchess after some soft-spoken words. The High Lord squints at all of these... words... written down. "Aw shit..." He holds the paper extra close to his face and begins to shift through it.

Sparte takes off his hat when he finishes, giving a silly flourish as he bows to Niklas. "You were a worthy rival Lord Kennex, but it seems I am the finer blower of the two of us."

"Maybe next time!" Jan yells at Niklas. The Kennex General is loud. "Good job!" she also calls out to Sparte. Then she glances about. Are there prizes?

Margot hands over some papers to Victus and smiles tiredly, "Indeed. I should like to learn how to captain The Dove myself."

A snow owl named Valge arrives, delivering a message to Alarissa before departing.

Alarissa's clapping her hand, smiling at the outcome before turning to MArgot and Jan. "I nominate the both of you now!"

Jan shakes her head in Alarissa's direction. "NOPE!" she announces, which is not very sporting of her. Instead, she walks herself over toward one of the tables and plunks down.

Niklas heads back over to the bar, clapping his cousin on her shoulder as they pass. "C'mon, cos! It's good for the lungs!" Rather than placing an order he just grabs a stein of whatever's free. Might as well drink on the Thrax knight while he still is one.

Sparte retakes his seat, sliding his hat back on his head at a jaunty angle. He glances over to the other candidates. "Just a huff and a puff."

"I have yelling at people for that!" Jan calls back to Niklas. "The Corsairs get a good yelling, every day. Run faster! Hit harder! Stop crying! All that fun stuff." She's sitting at one of the tables with a beer in hand.

'Well fine then. Duchess, join me and we shall do it?" Alarissa inquires to Margot where she's whispering with Victus.

Margot sets down her glass and nods to Alarissa with a shake of her head, "My apologies." She rises and smooths her skirts, "Shall we?"

"We shall!" And with that the Duchess and the princess consort are headed away from the one table, toward those water troughs. Around and in the Raconteur, the Mourning Isles have taken over. Thus far, maybe only a few tables have met their dire end inside, but outside the noise and frivolity have stays thus far blessedly a littel lower key and things remain intact. "Shall we show Fatchforth and Kennex how it's done?"

"What did she just call me?!" Niklas sits forward, sloshing some beer on the floor. He's had a few. After looking around with narrowed eyes he sees Sparte and says, "Oh! Fatchforth is you. Oh. Okay. That makes sense."

Wash trundles through the door with a jaunty tune whistling on his lips. He's a jaunty sailor after all.

"Good luck blowing!" Jan hollers toward Alarissa and Margot. She shakes her head a bit and downs a swig of beer. When she resurfaces, she tips her chin up in Wash's direction.

Alarissa checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Alarissa checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Alarissa checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 2 higher.

Alarissa checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 0 higher.

Alarissa checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 8 higher.

Margot checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 10 higher.

Margot checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 6 higher.

Margot checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 1 lower.

Margot checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 14 higher.

Margot checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 0 higher.

Margot laughs lightly, "To be honest I don't think I'm very good at this, I believe you beat me soundly last time we did this in my garden." She sets her boat down in the water, blowing a kiss to it as it's set asail.

"Did I? I remeber doing this in the Golden Hart." But they set to the business of getting the boats from one end of the trough to the others. And starts to move, lips forming an oh and wroking hard to huff and puff and blow air against those sails and make her little boat go. But there's not enough oomph in her to beat out Margot though.

Sparte grins over at Niklas. "Sparte Fatchforth, sorry we wern't properly introduced before. Pleasure to be acquainted."

Margot claps lightly as her boat pulls ahead, "I think it was Princess Astrid who really won it." She straightens and grins, "The odds are in my favor today it would appear."

Wash waves a hand at Jan and heads for her table. "What's the game?" He asks. "Tiny sailing ships? I'm an old hand at that."

"Tiny sailing ships. And blowing on them to get them to go," Jan says, gesturing vaguely toward the troughs with the boats and the ladies huffing and puffing at them. "I declined. How have you been? How's the baby?"

"Indeed. Niklas Kennex. I believe we met once before at the Ambassador Salon when Count Duarte decided to regale everyone with tales of what he does alone with his lotion." It was a weird day. Niklas waves to Wash when he notices his other cousin enter. Well, his cousin's husband. But also his bride to he's cousin? Complicated family tree. And then Nik tattles. "Jan's refusing to participate."

"By baby I think you mean Rayne, and not my vessel." Wash says. "Both are well. Are you afraid of looking a little ridiculous?" He asks. "That's the point of the game, isn't it?"

Kit, the grey fox, a tiny man with a BIG unpronounceable name, 1 Greenmarch Guard arrive, following Monique.

Zane, a tall and silent servant, Monique arrive, following Venturo.

Kit, the grey fox, a tiny man with a BIG unpronounceable name, 1 Greenmarch Guard leave, following Monique.

Zane, a tall and silent servant, Monique leave, following Venturo.

Jan rolls her eyes in Niklas' direction. A scoff. She's scoffed at him. To Wash, she says, "There is no point." She has another swig of beer, squinting in the direction of the boats.

"That was Astrid." Alarissa makes her way back to the tables with the other, stopping to press a kiss to Wash's cheek. "You should grab your cousin and take a rip on the wagons and go sailing." By sailing, Alarissa's pointing to those littel fake sailboat wagons sitting on top of the ramp again. "Or arm wrestle"

Sparte rubs at his face with one hand with a groan. "Oh, /that/ story. Can you blame me for trying to forget?" Sparte recovers his good cheer in short order, grinning over at Wash and lifting a hand in a wave.

Margot returns towards the the table, "Indeed, I wish Victoria had been here to see my redemption." She retakes her seat.

Wash leans up when Alarissa approaches. "Wagons? I almost brought my wagon. But who brings alcohol to a brewhouse? I thought it might be rude." Wash explains. "Why is it pointless Cousin Jan? Are you saving your breath for something important?"

Niklas helpfully pipes up. "Jan said she's saving her blowing for the Corsairs."

"I yell at them during training," Jan informs Wash with a sage nod. "Go sail a boat or something and stop trying to prod me."

Wash fetches a drink and agrees, heading over to the boat track to sail one of his own. "Yelling at Corsairs is hard." Wash agrees. "Almost as pointless as sailing a tiny boat. They learn only slightly faster."

"Come on Lord Niklas! Kennex versus Kennex!" Alarissa encourages.

"Or is it past Grayson versus future Grayson?" Niklas finishes another beer he got at some point and pushes away from the bar to walk over to the game. "Okay, but there better be a second place trophy when I lose."

Wash turns to the canal set up in the room and gestures for Niklas to join him. "Now we get the chance to blow wind at each other for a purpose." He jokes.

Speaking of Corsairs... one of them enters the Raconteur and makes a beeline for Jan, telling her something quietly. "Really?" the tall blonde demands, getting up out of her seat. "Fine. Let's get going."

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 8 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 8 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 2 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 30 higher.

Niklas checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 24 higher.

Miella, a dark-haired shop apprentice arrives, delivering a message to Alarissa before departing.

Wash checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 11 higher.

Wash checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Wash checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 7 higher.

Wash checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 1 higher.

Wash checked luck at difficulty 7, rolling 2 higher.

Wash doesn't do nearly as well as Niklas, naturally, frustrated by the fact that the little boat doesn't act anything like they are supposed to in the water.

Niklas recalls what he saw Sparte doing right last time, leans in and starts whooshing with a delicate touch. As such it goes right where he wants it and crosses the finish line first. "And now /I/ get to be the Admiral of the Thrax Navy until the next game night!"

Wash checked luck + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 15 higher.

Niklas checked luck + athletics at difficulty 15, rolling 6 lower.

Sparte grins at Niklas. "Beat Admiral Washburn at all the games, and you can have my hat!"

Niklas climbs up onto the indoor boat simulator. "As I see it the key to being a good admiral i-" As soon as it starts he goes flying off and lands on a nearby table, rolls and then hits the floor. From peoples' feet he moans, "Okay. You can still be the admiral." And, "Has anyone seen my teeth?"

"Your real teeth, or those wooden ones you are always complaining about?" Wash asks as he slowly gets the riding boat up to speed. He doesn't put on much speed though, looking back to see if Niklas will even get up off the ground.f

People scatter as Niklas's uncontrolled 'boat' goes careening for a table and there's a crash. Honestly, not to be unexpected as far as things go and Alarissa stands up with eyes wide "Lord Niklas are you... will you write again?"

"First Bastien hits me in the face with a wine bottle, then I get bucked by a horse..." Niklas slowly pushes himself to his feet, eventually standing unsteadily. "Now this. Maybe I should tell Lou I can't make it to Stormwall tomorrow. I'm like as not to get eaten by a dragon." He briefly checks his bones to make sure they're all in the right places. "I think I'm good. Being drunk cushioned the fall."

'Dragon's don't go near Stormwall. They just like to hang out over the Lycene Wastes." Alarissa quips to Niklas. "Or Blackshore."

Wash figures out how to get a little more speed out of the waggon by rapidly creaking the tiller back and forth, but eventually it does come to a stop. "That's terrifying." He says, unfolding himself from his ship.

"I'm a tasty dish, Princess, and dragons will travel." Niklas rubs at his face with his palms and woozily heads back to the bar. "More free alcohol, please."

Sparte goes serious when Niklas crashes, standing up and staring for a few seconds. Then when it is clear they're fine Sparte laughs and sits back down with a big grin. This is entertainment.

The evening will likely go well into the morning. It's a thrax party after all. More rounds of drinks, games of Salt, Sword and Sea to be had, arm wrestling and more 'indoor sailing' that inevitably ends up with both of the 'boats' broken and a few injuries that won't likely need a mercy or a physician. But fealty bonding happens - and with some party crashers - and come the light of day there will be a hell of a mess for the owner and his staff to clean up, and a few islanders to kick out.



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