[The Silver Sliver Tavern]Make merry, make merrier

[Clyde Sullins]

2 Winter 514- 10th bell Clyde entered the Silver Sliver, a place he had not visited recently. However he had recently heard the news, that of a magic attack upon Syliras that had resulted in widespread damage, chaos, death, and looting. As soon as he heard of it he knew what had occurred, his package had finally arrived and been unleashed. He had been waiting seasons to hear of this, and finally word had reached him. What better excuse was there to party, even if said party was in his own honor? Walking inside, Clyde headed over to the bartender. At the moment the bar was quiet, it being so early. But Clyde planned for it to be busy later. “Jeb! I want to throw a party here tonight, in celebration of the attack on Syliras! Free ale for all, paid for by me, musicians, all sorts of festivities. So be prepared to have the place packed tonight, and make sure you've got plenty to drink on hand!” Jeb didn't seem overly excited by the prospect, but nodded, noting the Ebonstryfe robes Clyde wore. If nothing else, he excected his garb would make clear his position, and grease any wheels into motion. "Fine, fine, if your paying, we'll have what you need. Two hundred gold mizas up front as a deposit, and we'll deduct it from your bill at the end of the night." Clyde grinned back at the barkeep, dropping his money on the bar, and heading back out. Now he needed to spread word of the party and its place, and his need for musicians to play and liven up the place. Though he didn't doubt the ale would have that effect. Still though, Clyde was straight off to talk to a Ravasolaman, to give him a nice 20 gm tip, and to tell him of the party. From there the word would spread quickly enough of the festivities, as the Ravasolaman went everywhere in Ravok, and where the quickest way to spread word on short notice. 2 Winter 514- 20th bell Only ten bells later, and the party was just beginning. The tables had been pushed off to the side of the room for people to sit at, making more standing room, and room for people to dance in the middle. Along with that the bar had a ample supply of ale ready to be poured, and barmaids were ready to circulate with more. The musicians were just starting to arrive, the first one a tallish man with a violin. Clyde had ordered three of them, so another two should be arriving. Slowly one or two people began to trickle in, and by the time Clyde had arrived there was a good 20 people milling about and drinking. He grinned at those present, wondering whether or not he should risk a mug of ale, as the violinist began to play.

[Alea Davenport]

Alea was grumbling, moving quickly, almost running through the streets to keep warm. She had not been in Ravok long, but she was SURE it wasn't supposed to get this cold. What with her only clothing being the slave dress Valerius had given her, she would have loved to stay in the warm Nitrozian residence. She wouldn't even have minded cleaning on a day like today! But no, today of all seasons they decided to remove her from the exhausting drudgery she'd been stuck on the past year, and send her outside.

She had only a dim understanding of what she was supposed to do, and almost none of why. She knew she had to go to the Silver Sliver; that was key factual information without which she couldn't do her chore. But as for the why, or what she was supposed to do once there... there was some sort of party? She was a "representative"? She tried to go over what she had been told, but the cold was making it hard to recall much. It would be warmer in the tavern.

When the tavern was in sight, she outright sprinted towards it, eager for warmth. She jostled past someone else entering the tavern almost knocking them over, not even looking to see who it was, and ran straight for the warmest corner of the tavern (which she calculated roughly to be the one farthest from the door. After about a minute she realized she was now by a window, and that wasn't helping, but being in the tavern at all was still much better than being outside. Edging away from the cold-leaking window, she took a look around the tavern.

With the warmth returning to her bones, she began to recall some of what she had been told. From what she remembered (and had interpreted), it was some bigshot member of the Ebonstryfe who was celebrating the misfortune of Ravok's big rival city. So far it looked like the turnout was just a few people who wanted the ale. It didn't seem to Alea that sticking it to the Sylirans was an immediate priority to regular tavern-goers.

[Clyde Sullins]

After a few more chimes, the other two musicians had arrived. One had a long metal flute type instrument, while the other had a odd wooden instrument similar to the first musicians violin, but longer and bigger. Clyde wasn't quite sure what instrument that was, but he supposed it didn't matter much. Music was music, and surely it would create just as good sound as the other more familiar instruments. With Clyde's limited knowledge of music and instruments, it wasn't overly surprising he did not know all of them specifically. The two new musicians headed over to where the first had set up, and began warming up and preparing to play. The first musician to arrive played a slow high song, moving along while he waited for the other two to catch up and sync with his music. About the time the musicians made it to their area, an unknown woman came barging in at great speed and in a hurry, pushing a few other new party goers aside. Simply by her hurried entry she drew attention of those already inside, soliciting a short bit of laughter from one of the men who was clearly already far into his cups. By now though the tavern was beginning to grow crowded, another ten or so people having arrived since Clyde had come in. A few more were getting ales, though several groups of people were simply talking amongst themselves. As he turned his attention back to the woman who had entered alone and in a hurry, Clyde have her a closer look. Unlike the fine clothing Clyde was wearing with the Ebonstryfe symbol emblazoned on the front, this woman was wearing much poorer fare. If such things occurred in Ravok, he almost would have taken her for a street urchin. As it was she looked to be a slave of some sort, or garbed as poorly as one. Clearly her owner did not overly focus on clothing his slaves, unlike Clyde himself. After all ones slaves represented you, and you did not want to make it appear they were poorly cared for. Surely dressing their property as such showed either a lack of caring or interest, or a lack of funds. Waving a passing barmaid over, Clyde took a mug of ale, and took a short sip as he looked about. It appeared the musicians had finally gotten their act together, and were starting into a song, working their instruments together into a single melody. It appeared they were at least decent musicians, and worth the cost to hire them. As the song began a few pairs of dancers moved onto the floor and began to move with the music. For now Clyde took a seat at the bar, but sitting facing away so that he could see those enjoying the party.

[Lyrial]

2nd of Winter, 514

The usually temperate air of the city had taken on a decidedly chilly edge, and Lyrial was only too glad to wrap her coat firmly around her slender frame in an effort to keep the cold at bay. Lengthening her stride, boots beating out a quickening rhythm against the wood of the platform, it wasn’t long before she could see the door of the Silver Sliver ahead.

The canals had been abuzz with speculation all day, the ravosalamen only too happy to tell all and sundry about the celebration planned for the evening. The words "free ale" had been repeated so liberally she swore she could still hear them ringing in her ears so many bells later. The fact that it was offered in celebration of the attack on Syliras only made it more tempting.

About to push through the tavern doors she suddenly listed sideways, almost pushed off her feet as someone rushed past. "Petch!" Catching herself on the doorframe, Lyrial couldn't help the oath that slipped from her lips, loud enough to provoke a few chuckles from those clustered by the doorway. Scowling, she swept a long wave of ebony from her vision, trying in vain to see who it was that was so impatient, but whoever it had been was gone before she got herself upright once more.

Muttering under her breath about manners she cast about for an empty table, a decent enough crowd having already gathered that there were only a few choices left. She'd hardly slipped into a seat before one of the barmaids deposited a mug of ale on the table. Giving a quick smile in way of thanks, Lyrial switched her attention to the floor where several couples had started to dance. Tapping her foot against the floor in rhythm with the musicians she raised the mug to her lips, the ale banishing the last of the chill from her blood as she swallowed.

[Annalisa Marin]

Sahova had infected the manner in which Anna thought. As she arrived to this… party her cousin had arranged all she could think of was that it was an opulent waste of coin. Inefficient. The laughter and merry making sickened her, so much more needed to be done. If this were indeed to celebrate a victory stuck against the heretics of Syliras then time could be better spent figuring out how to strike an even more decisive one. Creatures such as those, who opposed Rhysol and His endeavors deserved no mercy. Yet instead of further plotting their demise this premature celebration was indulged.

She still appeared as it was her cousin who was throwing the party. The sorceress had not expected Clyde to celebrate this over much; still she had worn her finest robes for the occasion. Perhaps Rhysol’s work could still be done. With so many faces gathered it might be an opportunity to search out those with the mindset to join his faithful truthfully and fully. Anna was no member of the Black Sun or Ebonstryfe, however she wore the favor of the patron deity of Ravok openly and without fear. Her mismatched eyes were an eerie thing to behold.

It turned out she was a bit overdressed as per the norm however it hardly mattered to her, her clothes were designed to inspire fear and respect. It screamed ‘sorceress’ something Anna openly was as an Instructor at the Institute of Higher Learning. She walked through the Tavern, ignoring a drink offered to her and heading straight towards where Clyde was sitting. Her expression formed into a cordial smile, with a slight incline of her head being offered to her blood kin. With that done she would take a seat beside him, staring out into the tavern as his gaze did.

She did not speak for the longest time; indeed she was in conference with her familiar at the moment. “I have never been to a party in this world before… looks dull honestly.”

Anna sent the equivalent of a mental snort back Vex’s way. “It only seems as such due to the lack of people. More will likely filter in to celebrate or leech off of Clyde’s offer of free drinks.” Anna projected back.

“You disapprove of this merry making.” It was not a question.

“Indeed I do. There is much more work to be done to spread Rhysol’s holy word. Much more discord to be sown within the followers of Sylir.” The sorceress responded.

“Lighten up a bit Anna dear. Is Rhysol all you think of these days?” Vex responded.

“He is not all I think of; however His goals do define my being.” Anna responded a tad tersely.

“A waste of a perfectly good being if you ask me.” The familiar said glibly, falling silent after.

The sorceress burned a bit at Vex’s heresy, it was a common enough thing with the Kirt however. Vex cared about two things as Anna had come to discover, herself and her wizard in that order. Anna’s faith was at best inconvenient and at worst an unnecessary obstruction. Being that she had no wish to clash with Vex on this matter tonight Anna allowed it to slide and turned to Clyde with her smile still in place. Best to make conversation before her cousin got the wrong idea here.

“A lovely thing you have done here tonight, Clyde. Your deeds are certainly worth celebrating as they no doubt bring pleasure and glory to our great Father and Lord, hallowed be His name. I am certain your future deeds will propel you to ever greater heights in His service.” Anna said, turning fully to him which displayed her mismatched eyes to the man.

[Alea Davenport]

Dancing looks warm, Alea thought half a tick before she was on her way to join the collection of moving bodies. As she passed the bar, she overheard a snippet of conversation which seemed to revolve around taking Rhysol waaaay too seriously. She couldn't help rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner, looking directly at the speaker as she did so. But she was not really looking for a confrontation, so she continued past the woman with the scary eyes toward the dance floor.

...where she promptly waved her hands in the air like she just didn't care. Taking little to no cue from the other dancers, Alea tried to enjoy herself the way she remembered from her childhood. And that involved hands in the air. And spinning, lots of spinning. Once or twice she almost bumped into someone, but she or they were barely in control enough to not fall over.

Before too long, she was enjoying herself enough to try humming along to the music. She started out quietly enough that only those closest to her would be able to tell how out of tune she was.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde sat silently, sipping at his ale occasionally, as he watched the various revelers celebrating. As time passed more and more were entering the bar, until it was growing quite crowded. If people entering kept up at this rate, within the bell people would be out the door, unable to fit inside due to the crowd. He felt her before he saw her. Or more to the point, the connection that they held through their Chaon marks, linking them to each other and to Rhysol. Clyde grinned into his ale at Anna, his cousin, as he saw her nearing. She seemed happy at first glance, but with a second look it appeared her smile was at least partially fabricated, and perhaps she was not truly enjoying herself. This thought was proved more likely when she turned down a mug of ale, and instead headed straight for him, joining him at the bar. As she neared Clyde's more passive auristical senses prickled, a basic sense of latent djed embedded in Anna's aura, sensed due to proximity and their auras and personal spaces rubbing against each other. It also helped that Annna was a powerful mage in her own right, and a regular practicioner of personal magics. With such factors in play, it was easy to sense the gentle hum of djed residue twisting about. That and the fact that he had thoroughly examined her aura on many occasions. “A lovely thing you have done here tonight, Clyde. Your deeds are certainly worth celebrating as they no doubt bring pleasure and glory to our great Father and Lord, hallowed be His name. I am certain your future deeds will propel you to ever greater heights in His service.” Clyde nodded, not yet looking at Anna, instead half distractedly responding as he finished another sip of ale, and watched the party goers about. “I'd hope they'd bring him pleasure, I mean its not every day such a thing happens. If only I could've seen my work come to fruition... But then I suppose I wouldn't be alive to sit here now...” There was a moments pause as Clyde realized what he'd said, as he watched a new entrant to the dance floor move about with a odd dance using her hands heavily, before he coughed and turned to Anna with a grin hastily erected. In his distracted state he'd made mention of his part in the events that had caused the celebration. Not perhaps a secret, but not something well known by many except perhaps those highly placed in the Stryfe or the Sun. Few knew that it had been his work, his device, his creation, that had caused such unrest and damage in Syliras. “Ah... You meant the party... Right... Yes, yes it is a nice party. That's what I meant... ” Of course, with Clyde's general manner, it was often hard to tell how serious he was being, or if something was truly an accident, or on purpose, or some mix thereof. He'd yet to lie to Anna, at least implicitly, but that said little as to how well she actually trusted him or his words, or if she might simply think his slip was an on purpose fib. Still grinning, Clyde took another sip of his ale, giving himself something to do while he tried to think of a new topic. “Ah, so where is your little friend? Vexale? Something like that? ” Clyde pronounced the name a bit oddly, making it sound more like Vecks-hale. Part of this was his changing the topic, part was his own bad memory for names. “We seemed to get along quite well last we met.”

[Nola]

By the time Nola arrived at the Silver Sliver the festivities were nearing full swing, and she wondered yet again what the petch they were even celebrating. She had underestimated the amount of time it had taken to put on stockings and had nearly put her nails through them no less than five times. The important thing is that you didn't. She consoled herself, pushing through the door of the tavern, squirming in the unfamiliar silk dress. She felt self conscious in the finery, the fabric was so light and flowing that at times she felt barely clothed at all. She had left her hair out for once, the long brown locks covering her back and shoulders, allowing a sense of security with their meager cover.

Once inside Nola glanced around in search of her master, rocking up onto the tips of her toes in an attempt to see over the clumps of party-goers. Scowling and unable to make out a single familiar figure, she cursed her lack of height and moved further into the pub, edging around the dance floor as she glanced this way and that. She finally spotted Clyde as her eyes swept over the bar and she changed direction, barely avoiding a dancers flailing arm as she approached the bar with hurried steps.

As she neared she noticed a woman standing with her master, and hesitated, wondering whether she should interrupt or wait for them to finish their conversation. I don't want him to think I'm later than I already am though... She thought, biting her cheek, finally moving forward. Clyde was facing away from her as she drew close, so Nola let her presence be known with a tentative "Master..." and a touch to his arm.