Kingsley Family/Erik/Festival

The Odd Company

The city streets of Alebad were an excitement and a whirl of activity as preparations for the festival were underway! Erik felt the wonder all around taking in sights of the colorful lanterns, the smells of various meats and sweets frying in street stalls. Scents of roast lamb, date cakes, grilled scorpion, fish kebab, roasted vegetables, cheerwine, turkey legs, blackberry pies, Mari mushroom stew, dough cakes, iced cream and more filled the air. Erik's mouth watered as his nose led him through the bustling city.

"Oi!" He heard a booming voice call out from the crowd. Erik looked around to see the source of the voice, spotting in the crowd a huge muscled man, his signature mustache curled over his lip in a dignified manner. Erik perked up, straightening his shoulders, his features lighting up as he recognized an old friend.

"Captain Bailey!"

Erik rushed up to meet the mercenary who on approach towered over Erik, by a full head.  The muscled behemoth chuckled as Erik came near with a friendly smile. "Well well well. If it ain't Erik Kingsley himself!" Captain Bailey laughed and picked up Erik in a big crushing bear hug. Erik awkwardly put an arm around him and gave a little "Ack" before being set down.

"Good to see ya friend!" Captain Bailey said boisterously, taking a seat on a nearby crate. A small group of toughs crowded in behind him. Benjamin Bailey's "Odd Company" were familiar to Erik who had travelled with them on numerous occasions on a couple of the band's adventure's across the Colonies. Some faces were missing and a few new ones were present but the company seemed mostly in tact from the last time he had seen them.

"So how ya been, Erik? Staying out of harms way I hope." Bailey said with a look of mild concern.

"Ah..." Erik began still catching his breath from the hug. "Well sort of." He said rubbing his chest.

"Oh..." Bailey said with a little frown. "I heard about that. You shouldn't be wandering around without any protection, mate." He raised his eyebrow. "You know, we're gonna be in town for a while... Maybe if-"

"Oh!" Erik said perking up again. "That's a great idea. You're hired Ben."

The toughs looked around excitedly at one another, while the two men shook on the deal. "You're in good hands, Erik.  We'll send you the bill later." Bailey said with a wink.  "We'll get started right away. You know most of the crew: Jansen, Marty, Redhand, Cringo, Mary Anne, Walther, K. P. New faces: Borio, Chaney, Leo, Bonhart, and me newest Lieutenant Alma."

An imposing woman close to the front gave him a wink, which came across to Erik as a bit frightening. She took a step forward and put her arm around his shoulder.  "Don't you worry m'lord. No more knives near that gentle heart of yours." She leaned in conspiratorially, her lips right next to his ear. "Unless you don't pay."

The whole company erupted in laughter, which Erik nervously joined as well. Bailey stood up and they all filed out into the street, the crowd making way for the big group of muscled warriors and Erik. Upbeat music from further down the street played out through the city and Bailey's toughs began snapping their fingers in time. In synchronized motions they worked their way up the street, Erik swept along with them, all of them snapping their fingers in time with the music. Bailey began to sing to the music:

If you're ever in danger, need help with a stranger then call!

For a fight or a fire, or killing for hire then call!

"What." Said Erik, befuddled as the rest of the company joined in as a chorus:

The Odd! Company! Brave and daring!

Singers who fight, and fighters who sing!

The Lieutenant continued the next verse, giving Erik a wink at the last line:

If you've got a problem, and no way to solve it then call!

Need to backstab a friend, or protect sweet young men then call!

They all joined in again for the chorus and then continued snapping in time as they danced in sync down the street, Erik watching on confused in the middle of it. They continued dancing down the block, each warrior taking a few bars of featured dance to themself before coming to the grand finale.

The Odd! Company! Brave and daring!

Singers who fight, and fighters who sing!

Everyone around cheered as the mercenaries struck a dramatic smiling pose.

Erik just stood there in the middle of them.  "Huh... Ok!"

Calder

Aveline sits alone in her room sipping white wine.

When Aveline had arrived in Alebad, she had immediately gone to her quarters within the capital building and fell asleep, fully clothed, on top of the feather bedding and many magnificently fluffy blankets on her oversized bed. Upon being woken by Tabetha, her chief maidservant, Aveline began the long process of preparing for the night's festivities. She peeled her traveling clothes off and slid into the polished marble tub that was easily large enough for 12 people. Tabetha had freshly boiled water scented with fresh lavender and jasmine already prepared. She took her morning tea in the tub while her handmaidens used gentle brushes to scrub her with rich soaps. Aveline was shocked and mildly disappointed to find that the water had not turned brown with all the grime she was certain had clung to her from the long raid and the dreadful trip to Outer Tilog City.

Aveline took some time to relax in a white fur robe until midday meal. After she ate her light lunch, her handmaidens once again resumed their work. Her hair was pulled back and put half up with white gold ringlets of hair framing her face. A simple leather circlet adorned her forehead. Aveline could see Tabetha's relief when she declined her customary Kældëran war paint. Aveline allowed Tabetha to apply deep red paste to her lips and rich beige powders to her face. Tabetha opted to add a little of the dry blue pigment from Aveline's war paint to the coal black dust that she applied above Aveline's eyes. "So those who look you in the eye remember who you are," Tabetha had said. Because of the summer heat, Aveline selected a light dress made of fine imported red silk. Tabetha wrapped it over Aveline's left shoulder and around her bodice, leaving her right shoulder bare. The dress was held tightly to Aveline's narrow waist by an ornate golden belt fashioned to look like rippling flames. Beneath the belt, the dress flowed loosely over Aveline's hips and down to her ankles. Within the folds of the right side of the dress was a false pocket that Aveline could reach through to grab the stiletto strapped to her thigh. Tabetha had brought out shoes with a wedged heel, but Aveline had bulked. "Your highness, these will make you appear taller and help accentuate your figure," Tabetha had argued. "None shall dare to look down upon me despite how short I am, and my figure has no need for help from those. I shall not wear shoes clearly designed to place women at a physical disadvantage to men." Tabetha had relented, and sandals with simple leather straps were found for Aveline.

Tabetha and her underlings worked so quickly that Aveline found herself with some time to kill before the beginning of the festivities. As she didn't wish to rumple her attire with activity, Aveline called for white wine to be brought to her room.

Finally, it is time to head to the grand hall. Aveline has a pleasant buzzing in her head and easy smile upon her lips. The ever vigilant Quintus is waiting outside her rooms with her guards when Aveline exits her room.

"Your highness, all the, um, arrangements have been made." "Good. Have you seen to it that another can handle things should you be indisposed?" "Of course, but-" "Good." Aveline looks Quintus in the eye as she walks with him. "Be indisposed. I do not care if you join the festivities, find a whore, or sit alone in your quarters with a book." 'With all due respect-" "And take a bloody bath while you're at it. You smell of that gods damned black mead. I mean it, Quintus, you have worked long and hard. I am ordering you to take time for yourself tonight." "Thank you, Consul." Quintus says. He is left behind by Aveline and her entourage as he bows low and long.

Aveline enters the grand hall to find many people already there. Aveline had invited all the nobles of Halcyon, including the minor nobility. Aveline motions to one of the servants and orders the man to fetch a goblet of red wine. A stage had been erected for the night's many performers. Currently there are several scantly clad men and women upon it. They dance with flaming batons, sometimes passing them back and forth. The flames make the sweat covering their caramel skin glow as they spin about them. Aveline dismisses her guard and begins making her way towards the elevated table reserved for the realm council.

Kingsley

Alebad: Festival

Erik had made his way through the streets enjoying the lighthearted festivities.  With everything that had been going on, with his injuries, the raid against the Assassins, and tense feelings with the monstrous Tilogians it felt good undo the top button and stretch in the seaside air.  Lively music and savory smells led him all through the city, however it was the invitation he received earlier from the Consul that led him to the palace steps.

He wore his nicest tunic, of forest green and embroidered with fanciful designs, shining brown boots, and a black leather belt.  He even fixed his normally messy and tousled hair and looked for once like a respectable lord, which he had not been for some time.  But it felt good, if a bit awkward to be dressed up a bit, even if the boots were a little tight on his feet and the sleeves of his tunic were just slightly too short.  Finally, on his belt was a silver plated scabbard, sized for a dagger, which held no blade, because he had accidentally cut his hand on the blade that came with it and didn't want to risk that again, and also he lost the knife some time ago.

Stepping into the grand hall he spotted nobles of all sorts mingling.  Erik didn't know any of them, since they were capital nobles and he rarely strayed outside the walls of the Citadel.  He felt a little awkward not knowing anyone, so to do something he grabbed an oyster off a passing server's tray and took a bite into it, immediately regretting it, as the taste of vinegar from some sort of sauce.  He gagged and the slippery oyster slid around his teeth and into the back of his mouth.  He gagged and coughed again, leaning over and coughing heavily as the slimy vinegar sauce made its way into his windpipe.

To avoid further embarrassment he tried his best to keep the oyster itself in his mouth while gagging and hacking the vinegar sauce out of his throat, leaning forward instinctively for the assistance of gravity (who had typically never been kind to him).

He heard some shouts and a "He's choking!" from a woman nearby and the crowd began to look around frantically.

He wasn't, but the burn of vinegar in his windpipe and refusal to let the oyster slide out of from between his teeth certainly made it appear so.  The crowd stood and watched stunned and confused at the predicament before them.

Le Blanc

Dante made his way through the crowds gathered on the streets of Alebad. Music from stringed instruments, tambourines, and flutes filled the air, mixing with the sounds of laughter and voices. Vendors shouted to make themselves heard, advertising the wares displayed in their booths, ranging from bead necklaces and assorted trinkets to smoked meats and sweet treats. The sugary smell of fried pastries caught Dante's attention. He knew he was on his way to a feast, but he couldn't resist tossing a copper coin to the baker and taking one for himself. He was about to take a bite when a group of children came running past. He stepped out of the way to avoid being trampled, but one little girl still managed to bump into him, knocking off her garland crown and almost sending her to the ground as well. He leaned down to pick up her garland and handed it to her. She took it from him shyly, but her eyes locked onto the pastry in his hand. Her belly audibly rumbled. Dante sighed inwardly and offered it to her. The girl hesitated for a moment, staring at him with wide eyes, then snatched it from him, flashed him a big smile, and scampered away. Dante continued on his way, his own stomach grumbling in complaint of its lost treat. But the child looked skinny, and he was, after all, on his way to a feast.

He made his way up the palace steps and into the building. He paused, running his hand through his long, dark hair to push it out of his eyes, and scanned the room. Various nobles mingled in small groups throughout the grand hall, but it appeared the majority had not yet arrived. Servants rushed to and fro, finishing last minute preparations. Dante walked further into the room, then stopped again to watch a group of performers dancing with fire. The flames swirled around them in perfect rhythm, creating an almost hypnotic effect.

He was only broken out of his trance by the sound of a woman's voice shouting, "He's choking!"

Dante looked over to see a man hunched over, gagging and coughing. A group of people gathered around him, pointing and talking frantically amongst themselves. Useless fools. Dante pushed his way through to the man, grabbed him by the shoulder, and landed three hard strikes on his back with an open palm.

Mormont

Imrahil looked around the Great Hall pleased with the festivities that he had arranged. I mean not that he had personally arranged them. His staff has and they had worked closely with the Consul's people but he was responsible for Alebad and therefore the festivities were his responsibility... unless something went wrong and then he would find someone else to be responsible.

He had ordered his forces to patrol the streets but to try and not make it obvious. He had much of his secret police in the crowd in plain clothes. Looking for anything suspicious. The current situation with the Assassins made that decision easy. The Consul didn't want a heavy presence or not an obvious one but Imrahil was responsible for everyone here and the stakes were too high for anything less than maximum security.

Imrahil was admiring the entertainments when he noticed two of his undercover guards making their way towards a small gathering in the centre if the hall. Someone was choking. An obvious diversion. Imrahil immediately signalled to his security chief to watch the doors and looked around nervously for the Consul.

"It's Sir Erik." His chief whispered in his ear. He was not even aware that he had been approached."what?"

"Sir Erik appears to be choking on some food,"

Imrahil rubbed his face with his hands attempting to relieve pressure. *being on campaign in Assassin lands was less stressful than this. I'll be glad when it's over." He turned to his chief. "Watch Erik. Try not to let him disrupt... anything. Don't make it obvious.... but don't make it obvious your not trying to make it obvious." A frown was his only response. "I don't know.... act casual."

At that moment he saw the Consul making her way towards the Council Table. "Try to seat Erik as far away from the Council as possible. The Consul will want him close but not too close eh? I'd prefer not to have my meal in my lap after he overturns the table trying to retrieve a cake."

Imrahil rubbed his face again and muttered before following the Consul towards the table.

Ketchum

“There are a lot of regions we need to cover to maintain the lands. Having to choose which region priority to be maintain first, it is like walking on eggs not knowing which region going to revolt. Even Assassins campaign is far less stressful; we just need scout few regions, chose one to loot and had a party. Now that party is over. Time for some real hard work at home. Going home, country home. There is a song about this right?” Ash asks the council.

Kingsley

Erik crumpled to the floor immediately upon the slap to his back, the oyster sliding out of his mouth and onto the floor.  He looked up at the man who had separated him from the sea creature wearily.

"Uh... thanks... I was choking.  Yeah.  So it's a good thing you did that. Before I choked."

Erik was quickly helped to his feet, hoping no one saw it, before quickly realizing the entire room was staring at him. The dancers had stopped their performance and the council at the table, including the Consul was watching the scene unfold.  She was dressed very prettily and felt himself turning red as her dress.

"I'm okay!" He announced with a grimace.  A server dutifully swept in with a towel to pick up the loose oyster at his feet.

"Oh do you..." Erik started leaning down to try and help him. "Need help with...  Okay." he finished as the other, with the situation clearly under control stood back up, the mess quickly handled.

Everyone still stared at him.  "He didn't need any help." Erik continued announcing to the silent crowd.  "Thank you." He said awkwardly as the server retreated.

"And uh, thanks again Mr. Sir. For the saving me from choking." Erik bumbled on shaking the other man's hand for something to do with his own. "Couldn't have done it with out you. "Um." he continued with an obviously uncomfortable grimace." I'll uh... be back... And again, I am fine, haven't choked.  Thanks."

He stumbled once as he retreated as quickly as he could out of the hall, finding a quiet place to take a breath.

"Ugh..." He said, sitting down on a set of steps leading up further into the palace. He leaned his head forward into his hands, running his fingers through his hair, it immediately returning to its usual messy status. His stomach churned though he didn't know if it was from embarrassment, the oyster, or the fact that he was actually still hungry.