Arguyle looked at the three men in the room. Then he began to speak.


"Crispian, lad, are you alright? I saw you running down the street as if you were being chased by a Barrow Wight. And the way you were wiping your face you would think you had just been sloppily kissed by a hairy faced man." said the Highlander.

Arguyle stumbled forward a bit as Moryan pushed into the room. He then stepped closer to her so that she could get a good 'sniff' of his favorite chain.


"Moryan, your mind never strays far from the carnal pleasures of life does it?" laughed the Paladin.


Then he bent down and picked her up giving her a stout hug. "I am damn glad to see you again lass. I was afraid that this business with D'Vena had claimed you."

"Is there something other than carnal pleasures? And I did think I was in a bit o' a tiff there with the bloody king and all. Seems he liked m'bow and we've got other things ta deal with there. But fer now, I want ta hear what Crispian has been up ta. His lips do look like they've some stray hairs.."


She grinned and returned Arguyle's hug, then casually leaned against the smelly old highlander waiting for Crispian to compose himself.

Raking his fingers through his hair and getting it to mostly stay in place, Crispian sank onto the edge of his bunk. "Ah, Tannir fetch some Ale for the General and something stronger for the Wench." He motioned to them both to sit as Jashen brought high backless stools over.


"Forgive me if the accomodations are a bit sparse, but I'm really just a simple country lad." He twined his fingers and hooked them over one knee, holding to his chest. Jashen, settling against the far wall but staying in view of both guests, smirked at the pose he called "Crispian pretending Calm" and waited, for he too sought the news of the night.


"At first light tomorrw, you, Lord Arguyle, are apparently sending two missives out. One to Lord Hurdury, and one to Council of Clerics. In them, you admit to aiding in the rune-i-nation of Revyin, sub-born-ing her into a marriage against her will, and pur-juring yourself as a Lord. At the same time, the Council of the Church is apparently releasing a Edict of In-tur-dict against the Order of the Red Lions, The Wayward Band, and any and all Allies, forbidding solace of the Church, all rites and sac-re-ments and even ressurrection in the defense of the Realm."


He paused, unlaced his hands and drank deeply from the goblet on the floor.


Tannir, stunned at what he was hearing, handed off a tankard of ale to Arguyle and a cup of C'asa Fel'n, a cheap, strong brew, to Moryan. Jashen dropped the dagger he was toying with and Rasputyn popped into view.

 

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"Farking WHAT?" were Moryan's first words. "Bloody blasted whore with a tits dragging ta her knees.. what the bleeding hell is that strumpet o' a noble woman doing!?"


She continued her rant, and paced the room a few times, then downed her drink. She gazed at the faces around her, wishing Glenin were here to support her. Hell, she'd take Carramon in a pinch.


And where the farking hell was Carrington anyways.

Arguyle drank deeply from the tankard and pondered what he had just heard.


"Is that a fact? And where are these letters being stored?" asked the Highlander.

Carrington poked his head in slowly. He had deftly avoided Albricht and Benowyc, who had been standing outside his former estate, and happened to catch a glimpse of Arguyle and his love heading inside this place. He beamed a smile at Mory and gave her a soft kiss, saluted Arguyle then nodded to Crispain.


"Crispain, what's wrong eh? Ye' looked as those ye' just farked your mother..."

 

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Crispian blushed clear the roots of his fine blond hair. "Uh, in Lady D'Vena's study chamber. There are also two other letters: One from Carrington, confessing his knowledge of his bastardy and an attempt to deceive the King, his Order and his, um, par-ra-more I think. He also confess in it to, uh," his blush deepened, "unnatural acts and rites, hinting that the Order of the Red Lions supports it and that Arguyle has im-pune-ed his Paladin's vows and partaken in these acts." He looked nervously at the floor. "There's one from you too, Moryan."


His voice dropped to a near whisper. "It's supposedly to some Hibernian Lord, promising to deliver the Snowdonia Fortress through treachory. Someone named Jander."


He started at Carrington's words. "Carrington! You pokey arse'd horse rider!" He sprang from the cot and pulled the blond cleric into the room, closing the door quickly. "How in the name of Morgana's privates did you get here?"


He bit his lip and paused, barely noticing Jashen sitting beside him.

 

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"HOI!"


A hundred mice released their chi together in the practice yard of a new dojo, built recently by their master. The practice was intense, and the mental training even more so, but they were willing to serve their new master, and help where they could; humans were in trouble, and they were charged to do what they could to help.


"HOI!"


The varmits worked through their kata, as their master entered the court yard. With a few gestures of a peaceful tail they stopped their exercise and came to focus on him.


Moving through them, he chittered in mouse, gesturing with a muscular paw. Coming to stand in front of them, he lectured, frequently leaning on his short staff. Many nodded, and at the conclusion of what must have been a rousing speech, the congregation cheered heartily and returned to their martial arts.

ooc: I hope my comic relief isn't getting on anyone's nerves.... I'm just enjoying a bit of silly rp these days