With a start at the pinch to his backside, Glavian grins down at the beautiful Moryan, then turns and makes his way to a table nearby and glances back at her.


He listens intently as they speak of some noble woman named D'Vena.


"Hrm....there be a name I need ta find out more of. Lord Arguyle mentioned it when I told im of de plot against im and de King. If dis D'Vena is in some way linked wit de capture o me wife, den I may need ta pay er a visit." he thinks to himself.

Crispian followed the line of invectives as he would a flurry of blows against him, mentally noting each one as he felt his ears grow red. Then he heard more of it, Niece, wedding, Hurbury, politics. With a slight distraction, he knew Jashen was overhearing it all from the table behind, a hooded cloak covering his matched face.

He noted the dart of hand, snip of fingers and grinned a bit, almost willing to let it pass as a flirtation. Except that Moryan was much too focused to just flirt at the moment.

"Well, uh, I sort of heard that this D'Vena has more in the works than just stripping Carrington and Arguyle of thier titles. The source is, um, close to D'Vena," he said, blushing a deep scarlet even as the feeling of revulsion returned, of finger tips, lips, lean legs. "Very close," he finished lamely, drinking deeply from his tankard and signalling for something stronger.

"I think she means to kill them both, and maybe the king."

 

-----signature-----

Moryan's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Crispian could hear a soft growl. "She means ta do WHAT ta m'cleric?" With another curse, something akin to bedding a whoring troll, she slammed her mug down on the table. A few eyes wandered in her direction, but noting the scowl on her face, they quickly moved on.


She gazed across the table at the man, sizing him up. "How did ye come by all this information? And what the hell ye blushing at? Nae e'er heard a woman curse afore? or something else is it? How DID ye get this information?" Her black eyes gaze into his demanding answers.

The Highlander sat alone and seemingly drowned himself in his thoughts and his ale. No one even noticed that he only had the one flagon the entire time he was there. He sat close enough that he could hear the conversation between the man and woman but far enough away that it did not seem he was doing so.


He made mental notes about the conversation and finally decided that he wasn't going to learn anything else that he didn't already know and he rose to leave. As he walked by the pair he leaned close and whispered something in the woman's ear. Then with a light nibble on her ear lobe and a pat on her thigh he laughed and walked out of the tavern.


Careful that he was not being followed he made his way out of the city and rode hard for an estate outside of Snowdonia Station near Lyn Barfog. As he arrived he donned the cloak of the Order of the Red Lions and greeted the guards at the gates.


"Lo' there lads! We still on for some dice tonight?" said the Mercenary.


"Aye Uthiel! I'm always game for taking your money." laughed the younger of the two.


"Stand your post boy." said the veteran guard. "And aye Uthiel. I'll give it another go 'round."


Uthiel walked into the manor house and headed straight for the the door to Arguyle MacFadden's office. He pushed the door open and almost ran into Kyle as he was rushing out.


"Pardon me Master Uthiel." said the page as he bowed.


"Dinnae bow ta me Kyle. And I'm not yer damned Master." yelled Uthiel as the page ran down the hall.


Arguyle chuckled. "Well? Did you find anything new today?"


"Just this one thing. I was in the tavern and there was a pair talkin'. They spake of Lady D'Vena and plots of some foul sort. The lad had the look o' a good man but he was young. Wore some sort of placard that named him Seneschal something or other. The lass was a fine lookin' woman. Nice body if'n ye get me meanin'. A bit more grey in her hair than I be accustomed to but I could make due. Hell the farkin' lass e'en pinched my arse as I walked by. HAR HAR!! But I got her back on me way out. I think she was a bit taken aback when bit her ear and patted her thigh! She turned this slight pink color! HAR HAR!" said Uthiel.


Arguyle thought about the words. "It sounds as if Crispian has heeded my words then. He has started his own investigation. I pray he finds what I need. As for the woman, it sounds as if you just had a run-in with Moryan of the Wayward Band. Be careful there lad. I think she just might teach you a thing or two. No matter what you think of your bedroom abilities. HAR HAR!"


Uthiel raised an eyebrow at the red-haired Highlander. "Moryan eh? Dinnae worry yerself about me brother. Mother always did say I was the prettiest of us all." Then he winked and walked out of the room.

As she talked to Crispian, this rather brash mercenary walked by. As he leaned over, the candlelight seemed to catch her hair, making it look a bit more gray than the deep black color it truly was. He whispered something, then she felt his teeth nibble her ear and his hand on her thigh. Hardly a day went by without that happening, she thought to herself, and as if she'd never heard THAT line before.


Frankly, she was slightly embarrassed for the poor mercenary, blushing slightly for his lame attempt to arouse her interest.

Crispian grinned a bit sheepishly, taking a slow liking to this blunt woman. He had heard the quiet whistle from Jashen that the last line of commentary had raised. “It’s ah not your language, Moryan. As to the information, well…I’ll just say that,” he let his eyes travel over Moryan’s body to the table line, one finger running around the lip of his tankard as he dropped his eyes slightly, “politics aren’t the only interests of Lady D’Vena. And Lyonesse white is a good vintage to carry about,” he smirked a bit and failed to check another blush.

“She means to kill your cleric, Mory, and Arguyle, and anyone else that gets in her way of having this Revyin lass married to Hurbury.” He leaned back in his chair, gray eyes steady on her glinting onyx gaze. “My League usually has little interest in such matters, but Arguyle has shown me kindness in the past, and faith. It bears repaying.” He toyed with the one piece of jewelry he never took off, a badge of his Title, Seneschal of the West, entrusted co-leader of St. Crispin’s League.

 

-----signature-----

She watched his eyes and noted the slow blush. Thinking to herself, well, he either tumbled the high and might wench, or came terribly close ta it. Heh, what we do fer farking politics. Yet, he was giving her information that might save the life of Carrington, and Arguyle whom she counted as a dear friend. Fark the king, she thought to herself, shrugging mentally, but those two men she cared about.


"Well, tis a bit late ta wed her ta Lord Doran Hurbury, I dinna think he'll take a tainted woman. I think tis all about re'enge now, and what she can do ta get e'en fer our .. interferring. Shes already taken Caer's title and handed them ta that bastard farking idjit mental brother o' his, and hes ties ta a damn CULT o' all things!" She was getting upset again, but dammit, she'd just realized how much she loved the cleric, and here was something else threatening to take that away from her again.


"Well, do ye ha'e any suggestions on what we can do ta stop the bloody Lady herself? I'm nae a noble, and I'll nae e'er want ta be. We dinna ha'e the contacts fer it, nor do I ha'e the patience or want ta dabble in it. Tis the realm fer ye, Arguyle and Caer far as I'm concerned. Now, iffen ye need muscle and aid in finding information, that we can do."


And she waited for his reply.

Carrington awoke with a start. His head throbbed. He squinted his eyes in the darkness, unable to see anything. The last thing he knew, he had been hunting various game in Barfog, and now, well, he didn't know where he was, or what was going on.


He tugged on his arms as his eyes adjusted to the light. They were bound behind him, around some sort of pillar or pole...he couldn't tell in the pitch black, cold darkness. He sighed.


For a bit, he messed with the rope bindings, trying to work through them by shaving them lose on the stone. His entire body ached and throbbed, as if he'd been beaten, but there was no way he could tell, other than the sharp pains all around him. He sat back down and waited, exhausted. He felt as through every bit of energy had been sapped from his body. He sighed, and closed his eyes, wanting nothing else but to sleep. Just for a moment, sleep...

 

-----signature-----

Crispian leaned in to the table, grabbing Moryan's off wrist. "Lady Winchell has already written a Writ of Annulment and D'Vena steward has it locked up," he whispered fiercely. "In politics, it's never to late." He had kept his voice low, but the intensity of it drew some stares. He covered by kissing Moryan's hand, hoping those watching would think them just spatting lovers. "And that piece of paper can change much of the ah current dynamic."

 

-----signature-----

The pretty young lass, dancing on the table and singing, was making enough noise to drown out the conversation between Moryan and this young nobleman. The song seemed to be about a farmers daughter and the things she did to a young prince.


Glavian scowls at the commoner turned Lord, as he runs his eyes up and down Moryans' perfect body, and kisses her hand.


Sipping his ale, he continues to listen intently, hoping to hear where he can find this D'Vena.


His mind working furiously he thinks:


"If D'Vena wants King Constentine, Lord Arguyle, and Carrington dead, then that means she is in league with the Hibs who captured his wife. Who in turn tried to charm Brianen with their foul magics to allow the assassins to get past the guards."


With a low growl and another scowl at the young Lord, Glavian continues to listen while pretending to watch the table dancer as she spins a circle showing her well shaped legs up to her thighs.