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A Faithful Banquet

Sir Frederico Godsworn, a sworn Templar, is celebrating his 10th year as a Godsworn of the Faith. His joy is infectious and he invites his brothers and sisters in the Faith, as well as laity among the disciples to join him in his revelry.


Jan. 10, 2022, 6 p.m.

Hosted By


GM'd By



Azova Raven Cesare Bhandn Cassandra Udell Roran Caspian Tovell Ian Liara


Faith of the Pantheon


Arx - Ward of the Crown - The Rectory - Main Hall

Largesse Level


Comments and Log

Frederico certainly did not skimp out on his 10th anniversary party, prepping the Rector's main hall for a truly grand banquet. The tables have been formally set with plates, cutlery, glasses, napkins and of course the -good- tablecloth with the golden threaded lining. Even the fancy candelabras have been taken out for the occasion, lighting up the room. He's standing by one of the doors to the room, greeting the many guests that file in with the warmest of smiles and enthusiastic of handshakes.

"Congratulations on ten years, Sir Frederico. Such faith and dedication is always a true pleasure to see." Azova exudes enthusiasm and warmth when she returns the Templar's smile and handshake. "Here's to ten more, and ten more after that, and ten more after that, and..." ... when the person behind her 'accidentally' pokes her in the side she jumps, beams a smile anyway, hurries along so that she's not taking up precious time. Plus, look at that tablecloth! That's the GOOD tablecloth!

Raven has not come empty handed. She files along in line, her left arm having improved enough that she can now trust it to carry a bottle of booze for the very man this event is for. She does not know him well but surely the man must like Rum! Anyone who puts this kind of effort into a party MUST love rum! She hands it off to an appropriate person before summoning a big smile and congratulations and blessings on the next 10 years and then swiftly getting right out of the way so he may greet the next guest. Raven scans the room and her dark eyebrows loft upwards and there's a low slow whistle as she ambles along to a seat, drinking it all in.

The Softest Whisper is here this evening wearing his second hat - a figurative hat, not a literal one - as a disciple of the Faith. "Sir Federico, what a beautiful event. Congratulations on such a grand milestone in a lifetime of worthy service, and may you see many more years." Sketching a slight bow, he offers a handshake, and then makes his way out of the receiving line, settling into a place at the disciples' table and pouring wine for those already seated with him, ready for an evening of celebration and conversation.

Raven has joined the a tall table for disciples.

"Thank you for inviting me," is what Sir Bhandn has to say to Frederico when it's his turn for being smiled at and handshook. (Bhandn doesn't really know the man, but ten years is enough of a tenure to show support.) The Knight of Solace gives as good as he gets for the handshake, squeezing the Templar's hand and vigorously returning the gesture. There's a pat of the free hand to the Templar's hand afterwards, Bhandn momentarily clasping it with both hands, then he's moving along and taking in the sights of the Rectory, all set up for a parrrrTEH. More or less. He doesn't sit down just yet, but instead meanders through the crowd, trying to figure out where the disciples are all congregating.

Azova has joined the a tall table for disciples.

Cesare has joined the a tall table for disciples.

Bhandn has joined the a tall table for disciples.

Did Mother Cassandra Laurent, Legate of Arts, spend most of her time today at the Archives, looking up white journals of Sir Frederico in order to learn who the hell this guy even is? Yes. Yes, of course she did. Will she admit that she had to do this to remember the man outside of 'he's one of the many, many Godsworn whose names I don't remember?' No. She will never do that.

"Sir Frederico, congratulations," says Cassandra as she enters, slipping off one of her gauntlets to offer a firm handshake. The middle-aged Laurent has had her hair freshly trimmed and is wearing her fine steelsilk and aeterna. "Well deserved, this. Who can forget your actions at the village of Ox Road? The bravery you showed has stuck with me since."

Cassandra checks charm and performance at normal. Cassandra marginally fails.

Udell steps out from the Cloister, smoothing out his cassock and adjusting the brightly colored badge that sits on his chest before he approaches the man of the hour, clasping Frederico's hand warmly as he smiles and says, "Exemplary work on ten years, may you have many more and inspire others as a shining example of service and strength, yes?" His mirth shines on the others as he waves, slipping into a seat near a number of Godsworn, nattering away shortly afterwards with an almost un-Archlectorly familiarity.

Udell has joined the a tall table for godsworn.

Cassandra has joined the a tall table for godsworn.

"Ten more indeed!" Frederico's Lycene accent hasn't entirely faded but it now speaks to his many years of service within the city. "Thank you for attending, my lady." He greets Azova, his grey eyes shimmering with hope for the decade to come. "Softest Whisper. Sir." He greets everyone he recognises with the appropriate titles, and those he doesn't with all due attention. "Blessed." It's when he sees the Legate of Arts that he bows deep, his features full of reverence as he accepts the handshake. "Mother, you honor me with your presence." Of course, it's his party so he doesn't stand by the door forever, eventually moving over to the Godsworn tables. It's at this point that the servers move forward bottles of wine, whiskey and juice for the guests' needs.

Raven chatters at her table, her gaze as well as the gaze of those at the Disciples table travelling to the man of honor enough suggesting he is, rightfuylly, a topic of discussion tonight. She accepts whatever she's served without complaint but a pat of a pocket suggests she's confirming her emergency flasks are safely stowed where they belong.

Cesare, along with several others at the Disciples' table, raises his glass in a toast to Sir Frederico, with a small but warm smile, as they speak among themselves. He hasn't taken a drink yet, but continues to speak quietly with those around him.

Raven does of course DRINK whatever she's served as well, not without a salute towards the guest of honor, however!

Smiling broadly at one of the attendants, Udell takes a glass of juice from them and looks again to Frederico, hefting it up from his seat.

It takes Sir Bhandn a few moments to get settled into a chair; he has to fight with his (peacebound) swords to get them to not fall with a clatter onto the floor. In the end, the greatsword is leaned up against the knight himself, and once that's accomplished he starts engaging with those near him, offering a few words while eyeing the drinks that come out. He regards the juice, and for a moment something close to sulky passes across his features, but the expression is snuffed out quickly and he too is soon hoisting his drink in toast towards the main man of the event.

Ever a child of the Oathlands, Cassandra has opted for juice, which despite its sweet taste is good for balancing out the various natural humors (or so Cassandra is told by her physician). She seats herself next to Udell at the Godsworn table. "Wait," she murmurs to herself. "Was it Ox Road, or Six Trees... ugh." She consoles herself with a drink of juice.

"Thank you all for coming on this momentous occasion. I know I am but one servant among many but I like to believe this celebration can act as some inspiration to those who are just starting... I see you eye rolling Kevin." Frederico says from his seat pointing to a Godsworn sat few places away from him, though there's affection in his chiding. "Mother Cassandra, would you to lead the prayer for the nourishment the gods have blessed us with? Or shall I?" He asks with a warm smile.

Raven's lips purse briefly and she lifts her gaze, leaning forward and then back taking a visual survey of who's in attending, "Well." She notes to her table, "Still a good turnout, if perhaps a lil less than what I might hope for such an infectuous good spirit." She shrugs and lifts her cup to her mouth.

Azova almost coughs up a sip of the fine wine served after a comment at the table, but recovers in time to look attentively towards Frederico and Mother Cassandra when the call for prayer is made.

Cassandra has been called out. Part of her thinks 'ah, damn, it /was/ Six Trees.' The Legate of Arts rises from her seat. "This night is to celebrate, Sir Frederico. We celebrate not only the strength of your devotion, the steadfastness of your faith, the bravery you have shown in committing yourself so completely... we also celebrate you, the man who stands here before us. It would be my distinct honor to lead the prayer."

Cassandra turns to look around at the room for a moment. Getting a read on the audience, perhaps. "Our Lady, Bright Star of the Ocean, Azure Mother, Pearl of Grace, we sit here tonight to receive the sustenance with which you have graced us. Your kindness is our dinner. Your understanding is our carafe of wine. Your empathy is our health. Your kindness is our nourishment. When our bellies are full, it is because you have blessed us with potable water, fair winds, safe harbors. We recognize that all of this comes from you, O Mangata, and in your name we dine, in your name we drink, and in your name we honor Sir Frederico." Cassandra lets out a breath as the prayer finishes.

"All right, everyone," Cassandra says to the crowd, "as the old Artshall saying goes -- clap your hands, stomp your feet, praise the gods, it's time to eat."

As the prayer commences, Cesare turns toward the Legate of Arts, bowing his head slightly and returning his glass to the table. "To Sir Frederico!" He echoes, his golden voice carrying easily across the Rectory's long hall; he offers the man of honor a small smile once more.

Sir Bhandn may or may not have made a noise at the Artshall saying. He's trying very hard to keep it together. Fortunately, he has juice to cover it up with, but there's most DEFINITELY a lot of smirking coming from his location. "TO SIR FREDERICO!" he belts out on top of Cesare's toast, lifting his glass after taking a drink, only to lower it and take another drink.

Azova closes her eyes and dips her head in silent prayer when Cassandra speaks; and with a laugh escaping at the final suggestion before they eat. "To Sir Frederico!" she agrees, cheering for the celebrating godsworn.

Udell chuckles and claps for Frederico and also for Cassandra's prayer before Cesare's voice causes him to laugh and call out, "Hear, hear!"

Raven bows her head reverently during the prayer and when bid, she claps her hands, stomps her feet, and salutes with her goblet first upwards to the images of the divine around them and then to Sir Frederick!

Cassandra lifts her glass of juice along with the 'To Sir Frederico!' calls, and motions for the man to stand and speak if he so desires. After all, he just had the best emcee to ever serve as Archlector of Gloria -- in modern memory, anyway -- warm up the crowd for him.

Frederico closes his eyes as the Mother speaks, bowing his head deeply as though her words to Mangata have left him truly touched. When the prayer is finished, he looks up and smiles. "Thank you, Mother. That was lovely." Kevin and some of the other Godsworn echo the call, "To Sir Frederico."

One of the servers holding the glass of wine seems almost giddy when she gets close to Cassandra. "I loved that." A young woman, her features are lively, her voice perky. "My mother always told me stories about how our ancestor was some great servant of Mangata. I know, I know. It's just tales but she's always been one close to our family." She's just babbling at this point. "Anyway... just thank you!" And then she's off to pour more drinks while other servers place starters on the table. Bread, fruit, soup.

Raven has left the a tall table for disciples.

1 Iron Guardsmen, 3 Black Fleet Reavers leave, following Raven.

1 Iron Guardsmen, 3 Black Fleet Reavers arrive, following Raven.

Cesare has left the a tall table for disciples.

Dolente, a mourning dove have been dismissed.

Dolce, a collared dove have been dismissed.

Appassionata, a trumpeter swan have been dismissed.

Raven has joined the a tall table for disciples.

"Isn't that lovely?" Azova gestures towards the server who babbles at Cassandra. "I wish we could inspire that far more often, Godsworn or Disciple." The words spoken quietly to those at her table, but still not quiet enough that others can't overhear it.

"A wonderful prayer, Mother.", Udell remarks to Cassandra, sipping from his glass of juice as his amber eyes search over the table. Espying some choice fruits, his gloved fingers snake out to snatch them up, popping a morsel into his mouth only to be chased by a bite of a baked cake he holds. Did he manage to smuggle treats INTO a banquet?

SOUP. Bhandn doesn't mind that. There've been many a day where he's eaten a hearty stew while on the road, and soup and stew go hand in hand for how filling they can be. He fidgets with his greatsword once again, this time managing to get the large diamondplate blade to lean against the table so that he can tuck into the food with gusto. Not the most refined of eaters, Bhandn, but he doesn't slurp it down at least. There is a bit of rapidity to how he tackles the bowl he's given, though.

Cassandra listens patiently to the server. "Without tales, we would learn nothing," the Legate replies. "I try to listen to every tale I can." She smiles and lets the server go back to her duties, and then claps Frederico gently on the shoulder. She smiles over at Udell. "Thank you, Archlector. One day you'll have to show me how it's really done." A wry smile.

Raven bobs her head in agreement to Azova, "Aye, Indeed. That is the dream, is it not?" She helps herself to the hearty and the starchy things-IE-theBEST THINGS! Eating with properly dainty bites just like her Archduchess taught her, even if the portions are perhaps somewhat less lady-like.

1 Templar Knight guards, a playful black tortie kitten arrive, following Roran.

A laugh sounds from Udell before he nods, the lines around his eyes deepening from the effort before he offers as a reply to Cassandra, "I was terrified when being called upon to perform the benediction at the last Assembly of Peers without any notice. But somehow, I survived."

Roran arrives all late and tardy but he does have a superb freshly baked pie and some suspiciously moving lumps in his robes. One of those lumps reveals itself as a kitten that climbs out with a struggle and then plops on all fours on the ground to wander. "I heard there's a certain someone celebrating a decade of faithful service. What an accomplishment!"

Oh and just as they're starting to dig into the wares on the table, out comes another server with a delightful tray carrying a bottle of what appears to be a very expensive, rare bottle of brandy with gilded engravings. Frederico's eyes widen at this. "Oh my..." He seems entirely ecstatic when he sees this. "It can't be a gift from... no, it can't. They haven't spoken to me since I..." He shakes his head in disbelief as those around him ooo at what is presented.

"I have to send them a letter after this." His hands are truly shaking from joy? Excitement? The bubble server woman can't hide her enthusiasm either. "Sir, you are truly /blessed/ to get this on such an occasion. My mother always told me it was a sign of the divine to acquire a rare vintage." She can't quite prevent herself from babbling even as the server who brought the red wine pours into Frederico's glass.

The Templar lifts it in a toast to those at the table before taking a gulp, savoring the sweet taste. Then he coughs and sputters something out on the table. It appears to be some sort of black bug with many legs. "...what the fuck?"

Cesare checks perception at hard. Cesare is successful.

Azova checks perception at hard. Azova fails.

Bhandn checks perception at hard. Botch! Bhandn fails completely.

Raven checks perception at hard. Raven fails.

Udell checks perception at hard. Udell marginally fails.

Roran checks perception at hard. Roran fails.

Cassandra checks perception at hard. Cassandra fails.

Azova is far too busy admiring the glass of that bottle and how the engravings are gilded onto it to pay much attention to what happens when Frederico takes a drink and spits out a bug. "That's incredible glasswork. And the color of that brandy!" Yes, watch her admire and miss what comes next.

Cesare still has not taken a drink of his wine. Notably a birdlike eater at the best of times, a bunch of grapes sits alone on his plate, untouched. He visibly recoils from the insect that Frederico spits out, and then, as his dark eyes scan the room, they land on one of the servers, briefly making eye contact. "There!" he shouts, pointing directly at the waiter. "Nobody drink anything else. Nobody eat anything else!"

Bhandn is paying absolutely no mind to what's going on with the main main of the hour. He's so thoroughly enjoying the soup that he doesn't even hear the expletive come out of the Templar's mouth. At the same time, his greatsword decides now is a good time to veer off to the right, away from the knight's chair, and with his OWN curses, Bhandn has to get out of his chair as the diamondplate goes down with a clatter (that's why he didn't hear the profanity, combined with his own muttered foul language). He pauses when when Cesare's outburst commences, but Bhandn's eyes go to the Softest Whisper only, a puzzled, and perhaps disapproving frown manifesting.

Udell seems to be in far too jovial of a mood and is too intently curious about the writhing bulges in Roran's robes to notice the arrival of the libation and its apparent infestation, but instead makes "Pss, pss, pss" noises at the kitten on the floor. At the Softest's outburst, he looks over before blinking owlishly.

Raven pauses with her mug half lifted to her mouth and squints at Cesare, then looks around in alert mode-sees no one keeled over and gives Cesare a baffled look, "Why the f-.aaaith not, Sofest?"

Roran has zero perception that there's creepy crawly gross things with too many legs anywhere nearby, he has a hand holding a warm pie. Cesare's shout has him look concerned, and as he was late he says "Someone not wash their hands?"

When Frederico coughs up a black bug, Cassandra is faced the other way, chatting with someone. "...oh, yes, actually. I had them reinforce the beams running across my room. Lets me start every morning by climbing up and doing fifty chin-ups before tea -- real proper wake-up--" Then Cassandra is pulled away from her conversation with some nameless rando by Cesare's declaration. "Hmm?"

The waiter who'd been eyeing Cesare simply laughs when the attention is thrown his way. "You are truly /blessed/, Softest." He continues to laugh at this before he lunges for Bhandn, grappling the knight and holding a steak knife to his neck.

And then it's pandemonium. It's not just the one waiter. But several, some of the Templar guards too, who lunge forward to start... cutting the guests open. The bubbly serving woman's eyes darken drastically, her teeth seem to grow sharp and then she's piercing her fingers against Frederico's chest and starts feeding on him. Yes, she just starts eating him as he screams in excruciating agony.

Raven checks composure at hard. Raven marginally fails.

Azova checks composure at hard. Critical Success! Azova is spectacularly successful.

Bhandn checks composure at hard. Bhandn marginally fails.

Bhandn checks strength and brawl at hard. Bhandn is successful.

Udell checks composure at hard. Botch! Udell fails completely.

Roran checks composure at hard. Roran fails.

Cesare checks charm and performance at hard. Cesare is successful.

There's a moment where Cesare has the desperate expression of someone who's about to rage-cry. It is an expression entirely unlike his usual placidly calm demeanor. The next second, though, the expression is wiped off his face, as chaos breaks out among them. "Holy water," he shouts. "Someone - bless a water pitcher, try to throw it on them." He starts to go for his alaricite dagger, but it's peace bound; instead he climbs on the table with a nimble quickness and - starts to sing a hymn to Jayus like it's the only damn thing he knows how to do.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven is successful.

"Are you alright, Softest?" Gentle concern rings in Mercy Azova's voice at his outburst. And then... well. "Holy fuck!" she squeaks, knocking over her glass of wine in a scramble to shove her chair back when someone goes for Bhandn and his throat. Not before she grabs some cutlery to try and defend herself with though. As much good as it will do. It's the scream of excruciating pain that really pulls her though; call it that innate healer's instinct coupled with the rather obvious sight that he's being eaten alive or something. But there is a moment when her blood drains from her face and she begins to hunch over in distress. Somehow, though, her hand simply trembles the tiniest bit on the fork in her hand and she drops it to grab for the pitcher of water instead. She's going to head for the Godsworn table at first chance. The more water available to bless the better? Maybe.

Raven should looked shocked. Or terrified. Or shocked. She's none of those things. Her shoulders slump and she briefly looks just -SO DAMNED EXHUASTED-. She gives a soft, sullen, sniff followed by a heavy sigh and a look like 'do I HAVE TO?' at the agonized screams of someone being eaten alive her unhappy expression reveals that yup: she has to. "Damnitall. Fucking FINE!!!!" She ROARS just SO FED UP OVER ALL THIS! She shoots to herr feet and SLAMS a booted foot into her chair taking whatever parts she delodged from it, her left hanhbd able to loosely grip one leg while her right arm hefts the rest. With a snarl of malice twisted across her lips she tries to make her way towards the poor screaming man-swinging her chair to knock obstacles out of her way rather than bother to dispatch them-at least for now.

There's a distinct flinch from the Knight of Solace when feeding time begins. (Does that mean it's time for dessert?) He can't stop but stare with sheer horror dawning on his face, coming to himself just as the knife is placed against his throat. An angry growl erupts from his throat, and he suddenly SLAMS his head back into that of his captor in a surprise headbutt even as his hands come up to grip at his assailant's wrist and hand. Getting his throat cut is something he does NOT want on the menu, but he'll gladly take the knife that was offered, if he can pry the waiter's hand open while pulling it away from his neck.

The shouting and tumult that breaks out around Udell causes him to become momentarily startled. At the call of holy water, he reaches for one of the nearby pitchers, only to knock it over on accident, spilling it over himself. Swearing under his breath, he bounds up to grasp at its twin across from himself, wet and somewhat afraid.

What seems to have been a relatively normal evening in the Ward of the Crown is suddenly disturbed by half a dozen people leaving the Rectory screaming in horror. One Godsworn appears to be wounded, clutching his bloody side as he attempts to get away. "They're /eating/ them." He's heard to be shouting.

Udell checks mana and theology at daunting. Udell is successful.

"I'm not done yet!" The previous perky woman hisses when she notes Raven coming her way to poor Frederico's defense. But poor Frederico is more of a hunk of meat at this point, the woman having already done quick work on him. "Fine!" She zooms over with inhuman speed to the other victims that have been cut open. "Nooo not that one." She's more focused on choosing the perfect meal for the buffet than engaging anyone for the moment. Her eyes flash with delight as she heads on over to another that's been cut open by her buddies. "YES!"

The man Bhandn tackles and slices the arm of screams at the gash on his arm, the jerking motion he makes causes his sleeve to roll up showing a strange tattoo on his forearm, hard to decipher from far away.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at hard. Azova is successful.

Azova checks luck at hard. Azova fails.

Cassandra's first move is to go for the sword at her hip. Pure instinct, which overrides the knowledge that her blade is peace-bound, and peace-bound well. "Grr." She looks around at the tables and grabs the biggest knife she can -- the serrated kind, for carving off big hunks of meat from bigger hunks of meat (properly edible meat, not Sir Frederico). The thought does briefly occur to her that whatever happened to the wine might also have happened to the meat that this blade cut -- is she about to go to battle using Cutlery Tainted by the Abyss? She'll pray extra hard that this isn't the case. Later. For now, she has to give chase. "You!" she calls, dashing after the bubbly server girl.

One of the servers notices Azova attempting to save the wounded and bounds for the Mercy. ((OOC Can roll at hard to intercept this dude and fight him away))

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven marginally fails.

Bhandn checks dexterity and athletics at hard. Bhandn is successful.

Surely battlefield experience helps to be keeping Azova calm in the face of mass abyssal feasting on Godsworn and Disciples. She's seen some weird shit; though admittedly not this weird. With the pitcher of water in her arms she somewhat forcefully clunks it down on the Godsworn's table. "For Blessing! I'll try to get more between patients!" she promises, literally trying to duck down and hide behind chairs, people, tables..."Put the cutlery in a blessed pitcher before using them to defend yourself!" is suggested, starting to run for those who've been injured but not eaten (yet) and pull them back out out (some) sight so she can attempt to heal them. She's not very stealthy in her all white with flame motif though, and is immediately noticed. "Back off!" She brandishes her Lagoma pendant. Cause that'll work awesome.

Cassandra checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Raven blink-blinks as her target is there one moment and then all that's left is someone's messy leftovers, "What the...?!" Her nostrils flare, "OH, sonof..." She snarls, "Speaking of kennexes why is one NEVER fucking AROUND when one NEEDS ONE LATELY?!!" She breaks her broken chair ebyond it's usefulness and hefts the leg she'd managed to hold onto with her left, sweeping her gaze about to try to plot out where her next weapon is coming from.

Cassandra checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Udell lays a hand on the pitcher and looks into it and his look of abject terror is replaced by a chuckle as he holds his hand over it and whispers a rather rushed prayer. He pours a portion of it over his glove before he snatches up some assorted silverware to dump into the remainder.

Bhandn checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Bhandn fails.

Bhandn checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Critical Success! Bhandn is spectacularly successful.

Raven checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Raven is successful.

Caspian Bursts into the room, following in shortly after the other guests left screaming. His eyes darted around the room, confusion plastered on his face as clearly as if a question mark was placed over his head. He stood tense, desperately trying to piece together what the hell was going on in the chaos that exploded inside the room. "What is going on!?!?!"

12 Grayson House Guards arrives, following Liara.

Cesare checks mana and performance at daunting. Cesare fails.

Roran checks dexterity and athletics at hard. Roran fails.

Cesare's still just singing. Is he bolstering morale? Is he serving as a distraction? Is it literally all he knows how to do, poor lamb? Nobody knows. It seems like he's focusing - or rather, non-focusing - very hard on trying to do something; his eyes have gone distant, like he's somewhere very far away from the present. But it's just a song. Nothing special. No more special than usual, anyway.

Roran has a hot pie in the hands as he sees one weirdo coming toward Azova and that's not at all someone he wants near her. He books towards them to put himself and a pie in their way, but might be just too slow.

It's the Crown Ward, one of the few places where one truly could just trip over a passing Silver Sword---and given the flood of folk fleeing the snacking-spree which unfolds within the Rectory, there were plenty of folk flooding out to trip over those aforementioned crownsworn... And so, in piles Tovell. He's sighted shouldering through panicked Godsworn whilst he sets eyes upon the bloodbath which presently unfolds."...Wha' tha...?" is about all that he has to say. He's apparently of the same mind as Caspian. Schink goes the diamondplate; flickered into hand. There's enough blood about to merit that much being decided upon with alacrity. Then toward the fore he clanks.

Fortunately (unfortunately?) for Ian, he was in the area! It's a very short trip from the Queensrest down the street to where people are screaming, and an even shorter trip from where people are screaming to into the place that's the source of the screams. His alert eyes scan the room as he comes in, taking in the whole scene at a glance, and a profound calm settles over his expression. With no further hesitation, he starts straight for the most dangerous thing in the room, because of course he does. He's apparently unarmed, aside from that peacebound diver's knife. Well, and his cane.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at hard. Azova is successful.

Azova checks luck at hard. Azova fails.

Caspian is done trying to figure out what is going on and decides that the people being attacked and fighting with pies and cutlery could use a hand. drawing his weapon seax, he followed after Ian. "On your back Lord!" his face broke into a small grin, "Seems i missed quite the party!"

He may not be able to see her look of gratitude, but Azova flashes one at Bhandn when he puts himself in harm's way to protect her while she heals one of his fellow Knights of Solace. "Get this one out of here!" she shouts, trying to get the attention of someone who can pull the wounded out of the rectory entirely once they're stable. But, she's sorry Bhandn.. she cannot stop now. The Mercy must do her job and wade back in again, heading for the next who she feels will die without her healing help. Once more, being utterly unable to hide herself in any manner despite trying to at least not loudly announce her intention.

"Oh aren't you /blessed/." Bubbly lady's eyes alight when they land on Azova, looking truly delighted. Her blood stained teeth undercut what was just a while ago a very pretty smile. Before she can move towards her, she's being engaged by Raven and Cassandra.. The surprise that they'd -dare- to try their luck with her lasts a moment before she's striking at them with claws. The claws miss and she doesn't quite move out of the way before Cassandra's cutlery slashes at her wrist, black blood oozing out. It doesn't stop her from trying once again, though.

Caspian wields Thrall's Fury, a diamondplate seax.

Don't tell anyone, but Bhandn has not really used a steak knife as a weapon. It doesn't stop him from RAMMING it into the chest of Azova's assailant, aiming straight for the heart. Repeatedly. A steak knife is not Vigil or his greatsword, after all, so he wants to make sure he doesn't miss that beating organ. The knight has no mercy for these particular assailants; Bhandn's face is cold fury given form. His foe dispatched, he moves on to the next, apparently of a mind to guard Azova's back as she does her part to treat the wounded. Bhandn is well aware of where his blades are sitting, but with the pandemonium in full swing there's no time to unbind them. Or is there? "Somebody get my sword and unbind it and bring it to me!" he yells aloud, still brandishing that dinky little instrument of cutting in his hand.

Azova looks appropriately horrified when she catches the attention of bubbly, of course. But, can be relieved that Cassandra and Raven capture the evil creature's attention before the healer becomes her next snack. "You are my favorite Knight of Solace right now, Sir Bhandn. But please don't tell Bree. Because I may have said she was my favorite at some point." Yes, she's babbling a little. But at least she hasn't run away screaming. And her hands remain steady as she start patching up another of the wounded.

Raven lifts her chin and bellows, jumping up and down so her jiggly bits jiggle, "MMM! LOOKIT AALLLL THIS TAAAASTY!" she spots the unopened bottle of rum which sadly Sir Frederick won't be drinking so she snatches it up and pivots as she desperately tries to keep up with this unnaturally fast lady arned with a bottle of Sin's Spice Spiced Rum, " Damn, IF being Yummy were a crime I'd be GUILTY AS CHARGED!" trying to keep the woman engaged rather than risk her darting across the room though SHOULD there be an opening she will ABSOLUTELY take it.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven is successful.

Cassandra checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Cassandra fails.

Udell checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Udell fails.

Cesare checks mana and performance at daunting. Cesare fails.

Raven checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Raven is successful.

Caspian decides the women with claws, currently engaged with the bottle-wielding screaming woman, is the biggest threat. After all, the bottle wielder was apparently guilty of being yummy, couldn't allow her to fall! dashing forward, trying to dodge and weave his way across the room toward the trio engaged in their fight. His smirk never faltered as he sought to close the distance and join the fray

Cassandra slashes at Clawsy the Expert Server of Death, and draws BLACK blood from the woman's wrist. As Cassandra evades the claws that seek to make her insides into more of an 'outside' option, she discards the knife -- tainted by black blood, that blade. Perhaps it's simple pride that makes her judge it to be of no further use. Trying to pincer the server in with Raven, Cassandra says to the Blackheart: "Keep on her! Don't hesitate!" Why 'don't hesitate?' Because Cassandra herself attempts to bum-rush Clawsy and grapple one of her arms behind her back. Can't claw people if your arm is broken! Unfortunately, the scuffle does not produce Cassandra's intended result, and Clawsy breaks free pretty much instantly.

Ian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Ian fails completely.

Ian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Ian is successful.

Cassandra checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Cesare's on the table, above the majority of the chaos, still singing. Now he's also fumbling with the alaricite blade at his side, however, eyes fixed on the woman with the claws as he sings. Maybe he's not sure what he's singing about, anymore, it might not even be words - but as long as his voice doesn't falter, he keeps going, trying to undo the peacebindings on Discretion.

Tovell checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Tovell is successful.

Udell checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Udell fails.

Tovell checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Botch! Tovell fails completely.

Tovell checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Tovell is successful.

Despite the terrible damage, Tovell does not take a permanent wound.

Udell takes a step back from the table and then tries to take a nearby server by surprise. The aging Archlector is no match for the wily cannibal as is quite apparent by the wide distance his fist is from anywhere near where its intended target should be.

Smile checked dexterity + legerdemain at difficulty 15, rolling 48 higher.

Udell checks 'permanent wound save' at hard. Udell fails.

Udell has suffered a serious wound!

Udell checks 'unconsciousness save' at easy. Udell is successful.

Udell remains capable of fighting.

It's already a confused mess up front---Raven's screaming about being tasty? There's a lady bleeding black? Tovell squints away from that unfolding mess and slants eyes toward the Mercy who wades out to capture writhing and injured forms. Azova needs protecting. And anyone who's coming for her gets to meet the sharp end of his stick: he cleaves through the bloody mess of a dinner to shadow alongside the working healer----it's such a mess, and he's completely uncertain of what's going on. He's probably about to become someone's snack.

"Good to see you, Master Wild." Ian's voice is flat, and he doesn't look towards Caspian, so technically he's not actually seeing him. "Keep your wits about you. You've never fought anything like this before." His cane is probably going to become a source of uncomfortable questions, assuming he lives long enough for people to ask them, because he shifts his grip on it at the last minute, and draws from within it a beautiful alaricite blade, totally unhampered by peacebond; he cuts on the draw just as the fast-moving adept is twisting away from him. The wild swing opens him up to a shoulder-check that would probably hurt less if it weren't an abyss lady doing it.

Alas claw-lady is too fast. She moves like a blur, the air around her wobbling as though she's causing ripples on the waves. She manages to dodge most of the strikes thrown her way, though Raven does manage to get in another jab. One that slashes against her thigh. This does deter her from proceeding with her buffet. Understanding that her opponents aren't easily discarded.

With Azova's attacker gone, Bhandn will take a moment to upgrade from a steak knife. To a chair leg. It's a better weapon for him than an itty bitty saw. That done, he'll go in search of someone to attack, and there the knight takes on a markedly different approach in his offense. He's going to start clubbing the aggressors in the head, for the sole purpose of trying to knock them unconscious as quickly as possible.

Bhandn checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Bhandn marginally fails.

Bhandn checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Bhandn is successful.

Azova checks intellect and medicine at hard. Azova is successful.

Azova checks luck at hard. Azova fails.

Cassandra checks dexterity and brawl at hard. Critical Success! Cassandra is spectacularly successful.

Cassandra checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Cassandra is successful.

Caspian clears the last obstacle to join the fight against the abyssal woman. "Room for one more in this dance?" he joins the others and couldnt help but laugh at the words from Ian. "Ill keep my wits if we can make her loose hers!" his eyes burn with excitement and exhilaration and he engages the creature

Caspian checks dexterity and small wpn at hard. Caspian is successful.

Caspian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Caspian marginally fails.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you're all getting hurt. I have to help the near death first, and then I will look at your wounds next." There's genuine apology in Azova's voice as she looks up to address both Tovell and Bhandn in their efforts to protect her. But, she is not sorry enough to stop herself from heading to the next who needs help. And they're just all over the room. Who knows how she seems to be picking and choosing who needs her help. It doesn't look to have any rhyme or reason, and won't make it any easier to try and stop herself from being noticed (or whoever takes pity on her and tries to intercept the attackers that notice her).

Ian checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Botch! Ian fails completely.

Raven keeps bounding and trotting trying to keep up trying to stay JUUUUUST enough the Clawed Woman is forced to keep an eye on Raven who is under no illusion she'll be ending the woman with a bottle of rum, not even that brewed by a Pravus Prince, but perhaps she may manage to distract the Clawed Woman enough to create an opening for one of her better armed cohorts. "Awwww! Don't give me a could shoulder! I know you don't like leftovers!" swinging as openings avail themselves to keep the woman occupied.

Raven checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Raven is successful.

Liara arrives to the Rectory, and a glimpse within the hall is all the prompting she needs to pull her helm's visor down, a breath drawn in as she reaches to the sword at her side - this one, in anticipation of something being awry, is very not peacebound. She strides briskly towards the melee round the cannibals, seemingly intent on intervening to try to help the wounded Silver Sword or Archlector.

Raven checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Raven is successful.

Liara checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Liara fails.

Liara checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Liara is successful.

Tovell checks dexterity and medium wpn at hard. Tovell is successful.

Tovell checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Critical Success! Tovell is spectacularly successful.

Ian checks dexterity and dodge at hard. Ian is successful.

Cesare checks mana and performance at daunting. Cesare is successful.

When the Archlector of Death is wounded, Cassandra's focus is briefly drawn away. "UDELL!" the Legate of Arts screams, her voice a mixture of horror -- and of potent, righteous fury. It's as though the once-heiress of House Laurent is possessed by a swift and terrible rage, as she LEAPS -- not at where Claw-Lady is, but at where she EXPECTS Claw-Lady to be. She goes for an arm again, but not to pin it -- to attempt to break it outright. "MONSTER!"

Tovell really should have been watching his back, for one of the roving meat-eaters manages to tear loose the strapping of his breastplate to sink teeth into his throat! That's leaving a mark, so says the sanguine spread which floods his rubicund a darker hue of red yet.

Regardless, such antics will not be allowed to continue; there must be calm in the Rectory! Tovell himself really isn't calm; a simmering rage suffuses color into cheeks despite his apparent blood loss. With a flick of the blade that most immediate of man-gnashers gets a good new gouge of his own to make up for the effort he's put into doing Bad Things to him!

It REALLY isn't Ian's day. He notices, out of the corner of his eye, someone going for Azova, and whips around to put his sword in the way, then catches another shoulder-check from the adept who is apparently toying with him now. He stumbles, catches himself on the table, and swears under his breath. Fortunately, Tovell is better prepared than he is.

Caspian spies Raven making a fantastic display, smirking broadly and being sure to take advantage of the opening she created. like a coiled viper, the man darted in, diamondplate blade flashing in the light as he slashes toward the side of the monster, solid blow his reward. he pivots, trying to get out again before the creature can strike back, but its ever so slightly to slow.

Something /feels/ different. Cesare's hands rise to his throat, eyes widening as his voice swells and rises above the din of screaming and the clash of metal on metal, perhaps something so subtle nobody else will be able to notice it; but the instrument himself can feel it. He abandons the move to unsheathe his own blade, closes his eyes, and focuses on the song, flying up to the ceiling of the Rectory like a bird on gleaming golden wings.

Still a vision of inarticulate rage, Bhandn's swipe only grazes his target. That only darkens his features further, but the Knight of Solace is undeterred. He wants these vermin GONE from this place, but is forced to defend himself from an attack rather than get another good swipe in. He says nothing to the aggressors, letting his expression do all of the talking for him.

Liara is probably not looking especially edible - too much metal. Nonetheless, she draws the attention of one cannibal, and an indecisive stand-off ensues, the Grayson not managing to land a strike, but slipping tidily out of the way as she is attacked.

It seems Cassandra's moment of righteous fury makes quite the impact because she's soon throwing her entire weight on the claw-lady who misses her strikes but finds some of her clothing ripped apart in the struggle. Her arms bare, the tattoo on her arm seems to be clear. Larger than her companions but similar. A large maw under the waves of an ocean with chains surrounding the image. And then Cesare's singing has many of those in the room grimacing, holding their hands to their ears in discomfort, including claw lady. "YOU. BLESSED." It seems to be her favorite word at this point. Her features grow more ravenous. As she glances up at him. She looks down at her wounds though, at the number of people flooding in to fight off her people. "NEXT TIME." And then she's parkouring her way out of the main hall. Leaving her poor canniballs alone.

Cesare wields Discretion, a simple but effective alaricite blade.

The sight of the tattoo seems to hit Ian hard. He's only just caught himself on the table, and now he looks a little bit stricken, and might genuinely be using it to keep himself on his feet. He looks down at the blade in his hand, still pristine, and then at the compass set into the pommel. Very slowly he sheathes it back into his cane.

Raven doesn't bother to give chase though her gaze tracks the woman with a predatory intentness, "THAT one. Well then." she pauses and lowers her bottle, "Oh, if I walk away from this unable to be sated...." her gaze flattens and there's a 'I knew I shouldn't have been here tonight' stamped across her expression. She lifts her rum and cradles it, "At least I still have you." She turns and looks around, "Fuck." her lips press and she looks at Ian, "NOW what?"

Exactly what Sir Bhandn has in mind for the cannibal crew may be anyone's guess, but aside from his first opponent, he does not aim to kill the remainder. Whether they've earned death or not by virtue of where they are, he pays no heed at this juncture. Instead, he is determined to give out concussions to those that are still standing, at least until the chair leg in his hands breaks.

Azova will probably be glad she's missing the large maw tattoo; too busy paying attention to the people who need the care of a healer. Tunnel vision is an excellent coping strategy thank you very much. And now she can move a little more unimpeded thanks to the song causing the cannibal crew pain. Comforting words are offered to each before she directs them out, or finds someone to help them towards the exit. Until she's left waiting for the combatants, so she can start to approach them and doctor their wounds as well.

The large tattoo of a maw under the waves makes Cassandra widen her eyes in realization and horror -- which is really the moment that Claw Lady needs to zip free of further attempts to break her. Cassandra takes a moment when the danger is passed -- the Legate rests on her knees, her steelsilk intact but her aeterna torn, and looks around at the chaos and wreckage. She bows her head, to silently pray. Both a prayer to the gods, and a prayer to herself, that she'll remember this in every vivid detail.

With the tail end of the chaos swirling around everyone, Ian seems to have completely lost focus, at least for a minute or two. He taps his cane on the ground a couple of times, still studying the compass set into its head. He doesn't answer Raven, not right away.

Caspian lunges after the clawed woman, trying desperately to stop her escape, but the unnatural creature moved with the speed of the beyond. She slipped away, and as she did, the tattoos became clearly visible to him. his brow furrows into a frown, a pensive look flitting over it a moment. he sighs, his dagger unable to dazzle anymore. with a flourish the blade is sheathed and he turns to look at the others, hoping someone will explain on what just occurred. he smirked then, "Well, let no one say the Faith doesnt know how to throw a party."

There is no mistaking the fact that Sir Bhandn gives Caspian a baleful, unamused look at that particular wisecrack.

Cesare seems to recognize the image too, and his eyes widen, the song fading as the abyssally-clawed woman flees the scene. He draws his blade and steps down from the table, pointing it in the direction of the cultists who remain. "If any of you would like to tell me anything, perhaps we can spare you a great deal of torment before your unfortunate end."

Stumbling about a bit as he presses his hand against his cut, Udell looks about, for all the world appearing like a very wet and very disgruntled Archlector indeed. "How is it that every time I attend a party, it seems, there is an interruption of SOME kind or other?", he asks, the usual jocularity he displays seemingly gone. Interruption, indeed.

Snicker-snack goes the finishing blade; Tovell makes certain that those cannibals who were already most of the way down never find their way to feet again---well, aside from those Bhandn's clubbed into submission and those the Softest has his blade pointed toward. But if they're already on the way toward the wheel, he hastens their journey. Of course a moment was spared to weigh toward Ceasre with his sung lifting---wonder sparks through anger for the briefest of moments, snapping that kindled heat into coldness once more.

...Once the killing has been tended to the Silver Sword, he will---quite simply---drag out a chair for himself and thump into a heavy rest upon it. Nevermind the dubious meat arranged upon the table before it.

Tovell really, really, has a long squint at a centipede which wends its way across the table before him. No. he's done squishing things for the day, his slump back and away from the damned thing says.

The cannibal facing Liara, afflicted by Cesare's singing, is left wide open. Liara takes ample advantage of this - a straight lunge towards her foe's chest. The cannibal drops to the ground, then Liara wrests Elvesbane free and backs up a step, looking about. She lowers the sword again a moment later -- not much else to be done with it. She tilts her helmeted head to look towards Udell, checking, "Are you well, Archlector?"

Raven's brow furrows and her head tilts as she watches Ian curiously. She doesn't have to look up to snap out, "Sir Bhandn, thbe gracious thing to do is THANK those who become our allies in times of need, hrrrm? Or, if you can't manage that how about Sit-rep, eh? They had to be here for a reason and I doubt it was for a snack." though with that comment her gaze lifts to give Bhandn a long stare.

Caspian turns toward where the woman had escaped, his gaze pensive a moment, as if in thought. His black-blue gaze flicked to Raven as she spoke, then toward ian. his brow furrowed and he moved toward Ian, but he seemed eager to hear anyone who provided a sit-rep for the events that had transpired

"There's a time and place for levity," Bhandn informs Raven in a very tight voice, his expression softening only a little bit (to thunderclouds) as he directs his attention from Caspian to the Blackheart. "Now is not it." When the rest of the cannibals are dealt with, he throws down the chair leg forcefully, still paying his injury no mind as he makes his way back to where his weapons are. Even before getting looked at, he wants to make sure nothing wandered off in the chaos.

Ian looks up eventually. His expression has parked itself back in neutral, but a shadow has been cast over his eyes. "They were here for a snack, generally speaking. The maw under the sea is Mangata's reflection," he says, in his usual flat voice. "Cannibalism is also one of his hallmarks."

"I will be, thank you. I can wait until the Mercy is finished with her other patients before she sees me, there are likely some worse than I.", Udell says to Liara as his smile slowly returns, managing a bow before he looks about. As his eyes fall upon Frederico, he moves closer to him and kneels before bowing his head and saying a prayer.

Cassandra gives an upnod toward Bhandn -- his stance has the approval of the Office of the Legate of Arts. The Laurent-born warrior is back on her feet. She uses her gauntleted hand to smash a bug against the table. "Lord Ian is correct," Cassandra says, her voice grim. She spares a look at Frederico's corpse -- and at Udell. Her own features present only a grave frown.

When none of the cultists answer, Cesare picks up the bottle of wine, which, holding it up to the light, is full of writhing bodies. "Hunger and Slavery both," he says, and then smashes the bottle to bits while making direct eye contact with the cultists he's pointing his knife at, using the pointy broken neck of it to smash what remaining bugs crawl out. It is alarmingly violent, even considering the scene that just transpired. Black goo all over the nice table.

Azova is finally paying more attention, and her eyes settle on Ian as her skin tone pales again. No, no, she's not going to panic. Just look pale again. "One of you less injured but still hurt please come over here and give me something to focus on before I lose my shit. Please? Please." She gestures people forward. Keeeeeeep busy. Don't think. It works.

Raven shrugs, " So too, are there times to piss thin-skinned lines in the sand. Judge the cad but if you want the Moral high ground you're gonna do it from the cliff of Better Priority." she stops then as if something occurred to her. Her eyes widen and her face goes ashen, "Fuck."

Caspian snapped his gaze to Ian, "The Endless Hunger? The Maw? they served IT?" he paused a moment, his head shaking a moment, "well that would certainly explain the claws.. and the cannibalism" he looked at some of the bugs crawling around and made a 'yegh' face, "and the bugs"

The only one of the attackers that seems inclined to say anything seems to be lying in a pool of his own blood. "We will feast on the blood of the blessed in the watery halls of the great maw. When you're all under the Master, there will be a mass banquet..." And then the rest of his words are unintelligible as he slowly dies.

Raven checks willpower at hard. Raven is successful.

Ian rubs his forehead. "Either that was a very anachronistic Marinite, or it has a new cult. Damn it."

Cesare makes a 'see?' gesture with his knife, at the dying guy. "A cult which serves two masters. Or perhaps a new demigod, the offspring of both. That's probably nonsense, though." This last said particularly loudly.

1 Templar Knight guards, a playful black tortie kitten leave, following Roran.

Liara gives a tilt of her head towards Udell, and then draws her visor back up once more so that she can see better. Her gaze turns towards those attackers maybe not quite dead, and she suggests, "I do not think there is a purpose to prisoners here, if any at all are still breathing. These people appear long since lost. However, this is not my space to pass judgment."

Raven's checked out for a moment, something seemingly rattled loose in that noisy stye she calls a mind that drowns out all the usual chaos and leaves only a quiet, exhausted horror and she repeats, "Fuck." In a soft, wearied murmur. She then INHALES deeply and shakes it off. She turns on heel, "Alright! Someone load patience on the tableclothes and we'll use them as slings for the wounded! I'll need help only got one and a half arms!" she calls, looking for wounded alive enough to survive a trip to the hospital.

Caspian looks to Caspian and lets a grin split his face a moment, "Well i somehow doubt we are so lucky as that." he reaches up to rub at the back of his neck, "and i suppose its to hope they all go drown themselves in worship hmm"

"Yes but why are they getting more bold?" is what Bhandn would like to know. He swivels his gaze from Raven, to Ian, to Cesare, to anyone he can not-quite glare at, Vigil's still bound edge now in his hands. "They attacked the fucking RECTORY." He doesn't quite shout that last word. "The whole bloody Templar Order might mobilize now."

"Because the Traitor is succeeding," Cesare hisses. "He has the stone he wanted. He has the artifact from Bastion. Of course his servants grow more bold. Perhaps there's something he wanted here, too."

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