The Phoenix Rose From The Ashes [IC] (Closed)

[The Batorys]

The former Dragon's Claw nodded as her Argonian colleague shared at least some of his thoughts. While Whiptail wasn't all that talkative about his past, at least not with her (though how could she blame him? It wasn't as if she was particularly forthcoming about her history, either), or, she suspected, most besides Dekker, Shaaz had caught snippets here and there. Allusions to the end of an ancient order of assassins, tinged with bitterness.

Again the vampiress nodded at Whiptail saying he'd e-mail her more information on his idea to re-found his order when they got back. Shaaz smiled slightly. "Sounds like an interesting project," she said quietly, though her curiosity was quite genuine. Re-founding an order of assassins was something she wouldn't mind being roped into helping with in the least. It did actually sound quite interesting. A worthwhile use of her time, even if the idea did somewhat give her pangs of regret over the past. It somewhat irritated her that she still felt such pain, wounded by ghosts of times long gone, but that was life. Now conversation was once more turning to this Arithon, demon lord.

Shaaz scowled at the explanation would just send Arithon and other like entities to some sort of netherworld from which they could simply re-emerge. "That sounds like a problem... it's so much easier when those you kill stay dead." The idea of facing an enemy described as a "true immortal" was unnerving. Many of her gods weren't even believed to be immortal, but rather sustained by supernatural powers. Whether her most favored goddess, Ithtyr, was immortal or not was a subject continually debated back and forth, with various schools of thought holding all sorts of positions on whether the goddess of earth and death could or would, in fact, die herself. To her hyperborean ears, it sounded as if such a being as Arithon was essentially a demigod.

The moroii nodded at Ryath's words, though still confused about the woman's appearance not really matching up with her scent and general presence. "It sounds like you're talking about somehow imprisoning this being's soul? Whether or not he would simply be replaced by another such lord, getting rid of Arithon might still provide temporary relief." Her eyes took on a truly feral, predatory cast. "As well, it would set a good precedent... future prospective replacements would have quite the example in their minds to encourage caution. Evidence that being immortal doesn't make someone immune from retaliation."

[Tarlachia]

In the Memorial Room...

Aeris watched as Melisma reverently approached and laid the bouquet down before the portrait. She could see in the posture and the gentle movements of the other empress the pain of the passing of Shalamar. It seemed that Shalamar made few enemies, and ten times that of friends. A wise political move, but politics was a dirty fighting beast of itself. She didn't doubt for a second that Lady Shalamar probably had a few skeletons in her closet. Or numerous closets for that matter. She knew officially of Shalamar's influence in keeping the region's biggest cancerous problem at bay: Arithon the Overlord of the hellish wasteland bordering Tarlachia's eastern lands. Now that she was gone, Aeris didn't doubt that Arithon was probably thinking of some way to resume his attempt for global domination, and starting with Fatal Terrain.

She nodded as Melisma approached and inquired about the evening meal. "Yes, it will be here, as you can plainly see." A glance upward and off to the side served to draw Melisma's attention to a panel in the ceiling. "And tonight's dinner will be under the stars. A fitting tribute to a woman whom was a star in her own right, and now more so." This last commentary was actually toned to sound like a question unto Melisma, to see if her own astrologers were aware of the new star in the night skies that shone brightest before the consuming fire of the rising sun over the eastern horizons that swallowed the star for the day's passage.

A hand waved for the other empress to follow, "Speaking of dinner, it's time to gather everyone else here as well. The night is nearly halfway over already." She smiled as a hand wrapped around Melisma's shoulders, "Tonight will be special." she promised quietly, "I've a surprise for you all." A finger reached out and pressed against the younger empress's lips, "But keep that part to yourself."

With that said, she guided Melisma back down the halls where she took her time, and allowed the empress to ask questions of the paintings that hung elegantly on the walls. She answered them with brief tales of Tarlachian history reaching back to the early days of democracy before political wheels determined that monarchy, and eventually empire monarchy, was a better fit for the long term goals of Tarlachian society.

The Leisure Room...

Rob turned as a solitary voice spoke up next to him and he surveyed the man speaking to him briefly before replying to his idle question, "I would imagine so, but my wife is a woman of intriguing mystery. Even I don't know what schemes she comes up with in secret. Women tend to be like that in my experience." He chuckled as he gestured to the general room before them, "I trust you're enjoying yourself at the least?"

Ciaran didn't have time to reply though as Avanya approached and respectfully bowed to Ciaran before turning to her father, "Mother will be here momentarily. She's decided it's time for everyone to eat now..." A mischievous smile crept across the face of the young elven girl, "I know her secret plans too. I foresaw them." Rob lifted an eyebrow as he eyed his child, then shook his head and looked back up at Ciaran.

"My daughter has clairvoyance. She sees people, things, and events in time, past, present, and even the future. It can be a bit of a challenge sometimes, especially in a game of chess." He chuckled at this, then gestured with a finger toward the doorway, just in time to see Aeris and Melisma returning to the room. A sideways glance at Ciaran and a smile. "Told ya."

Aeris turned her eyes from Melisma as her last historical tale ended upon entering the room. She nodded to a servant nearby who lifted a bell on a small table and rang it. It's note rung clear through the room, soft and distinct. Once the room had quieted, Aeris spoke.

"My friends, thank you again for coming. It's time now to head to the Memorial Room where dinner will be served. If you'll kindly follow me down the halls and take whatever seat you prefer, we'll get started." She turned her eyes to her daughter standing next to her father and another man. At the sight of her daughter's face, she knew instantly the girl had foreseen the coming events. Avanya giggled and shook her head negatively, affirming that the secret was safe with her. Aeris looked back at the remainder of the guests, as her husband approached and offered his arm as any gentleman would. She accepted it and the two of them led the guests out of the Leisure Room and to dinner.

[Brays Bastards]

Whiptail flashed a needlessly-toothy grin at the mention of imprisonment and Arithon's successor...

"So the plan would be to destroy the mortal form and somehow trap his essence somewhere? Or would we simply trap his mortal form? Either task sounds like we'll be paying for success in blood, and quite literally buckets of the stuff. I'm all for binding him inside something useful, too. A sword or something fittingly trite. Maybe a toaster? Demonic toast sounds delicious..."

The former assassin cut himself off shortly after he realized he was rambling, mainly by the odd look Sam was shooting him...

"Anyway, assuming we can effectively take him out of the game, bound inside a household appliance or otherwise, a successor of sufficient power and wisdom would be a long time coming. The demons around here remind me a lot of orks; you kill the biggest one and the slightly smaller ones seem to fight among themselves until they're either all dead or the last one standing is the biggest of those that remain. That'll do two things for us. Firstly, it'll weaken their ranks. Secondly, the victor basically paints a big bull's-eye on his demonic noggin for us to aim at. It's a simple rinse and repeat process from there on in, assuming something else doesn't happen..."

He shot a glance in Sam's direction...

"Whatever happens, we can be reasonably sure that the next guy to emerge will be a little more vulnerable to bullets than the current demonic despot. Even if they are, we can always resort to bigger bullets from bigger guns. I have yet to see a being, magical or otherwise, withstand a 25mm anti-material round and continue to function..."

[Almajoya]

After placing the gift of flowers carefully at the base of the memorial, then turned to Aeris and asked about the room they were standing in, which had been set up to accommodate a number of guests for dinner. She missed the significance of Aeris' phrasing, and took for granted that the empress was speaking metaphorically. Neither she nor her astrologers were aware of the source of the new star; the distance, physically and in some ways politically, had kept that bit of information from getting across.

Melisma gave Aeris a smile as the other empress waved at her to come along; that smile grew noticeably strained when Aeris wrapped an arm around Melisma's shoulders, and pressed a finger to Melisma's lips. It was quite unintentional, a natural reaction she had developed toward being touched. Even Ciaran faced this problem with Melisma, one that only worsened their already strained relationship. But Melisma knew Aeris meant well; she just couldn't stop herself from overreacting. "The secret's safe with me," Melsima answered in what should have been a playful tone, but that did not quite mask her discomfort.

She shook it off by focusing on the paintings that lined the halls, asking questions to get and keep a non-awkward conversation going. Aeris responded with an overview of Tarlachia's path to monarchy, quite a different path than Almajoya had taken, if a resolute clinging to monarchy could be considered a "path." Presently they returned to the Leisure Room, where Avanya had predicted her mother's arrival. Ciaran watched the exchange between father and daughter with mild curiosity, and chuckled when Aeris did appear, with Melisma in tow. The chuckle faded a bit too quickly; he noted the vestiges of distress that lingered on his fiancée's face. Melisma did not leave Aeris' side as their hostess directed them up the hall; instead, Ciaran approached Melisma, and handed her the glass of champagne he had procured from the bar for her.

"Adigato," she murmured to him, using an Almajoyese term for gratitude, before taking a sip of the wine. He reached for her hand, but, when she did not extend her own to take his, he let his fall to his side, and they ambled toward the Memorial Room behind their hosts.

[Assington]

Boris couldn't help but chuckle at Whiptail's musings. A demonic toaster sounded like a great idea to him, although it may create a dispute over who gets possession of said toaster.

"Ha, I'm not sure a toaster could fit a demon lord's ego inside, but I suppose it's worth a shot."

Despite the daunting proposition of dealing with Arithon, it was somewhat comforting to know Assington stood by a number of competent people and nations that were more than capable of dealing with almost anything. A lot of nations would shy away from trying to mess with supernatural forces, especially those not in possession of advanced technology. Advanced or not, the nations of Fatal Terrain were determined to avoid regional devastation and would fend off another demon invasion if it came to that.

"My friends, thank you again for coming. It's time now to head to the Memorial Room where dinner will be served. If you'll kindly follow me down the halls and take whatever seat you prefer, we'll get started."

Finishing his pint of stout and laying it on the bar, Boris watched a moment as other guests began to shuffle into the hallway that would lead to the memorial room. No doubt Aeris had something special planned to commemorate Shalamar's influence upon Fatal Terrain. Turning back to Ryath and the others, Boris nodded towards the doorway.

"Shall we?"

[Brays Bastards]

The unlikely trio of father, son, and bipedal reptile began to drift in the direction indicated, seating themselves in a neat row. Dekker seemed to have taken the hint from both Sam and Whiptail and switched to something a little less formidable than expensive scotch. The glass of said beverage had since been drained and left for dead on the immaculate bar-top in the leisure area...

"The only issue I see with the toaster idea is if it'll burn the crap out of the toast or not. You'd think a demon lord's essence might embellish the heat output a little bit..."

Dekker scowled slightly, not bothering to look in Whiptail's direction...

"Would you quit going on about the damn demon toaster?"

"Would you rather we stuck him inside a blender? I bet he'd make some kick-ass margaritas..."

The old merc simply began shaking his head in defeat and turned back to staring into the tall glass of beer he'd switched to for the meal...

"I meant imprison him in the blender, not actually blend him into fruity frozen drinks, by the way..."

"I'm well aware of what you meant, Godzilla. You mind talking about something less silly?"

"How is our regional security a silly topic? I fail to see the humor in discussing the eternal imprisonment of one of our greatest threats..."

The elder Bray had to make a concentrated effort not to roll his eyes before responding. This was an old game of theirs, and one that Dekker often found himself on the losing end of...

"Listen to yourself. You're wanting to imprison the soul of a god-damn demon king in a fucking Cuisinart..."

"Toaster. Or maybe blender. Demon food processors are far too dangerous for household use. Someone could lose a finger..."

A moment or two of palming his scarred face, Dekker conceded defeat as the slow smile of triumph spread across his long-time compatriot's scaly face...

"You win, 'Zilla..."

The Argonian simply smiled for a moment longer before gently elbowing Sam in the ribs...

"Lighten up, man..."

"I'm trying, trust me..."

"Try harder. Get another drink..."

[Assington]

Boris and Ryath followed not far behind the trio of Dekker, Sam and Whiptail, a silent smirk plastered across Boris' face as he witnessed the exchange between Dekker and Whiptail. The humour of the conversation seemed to be lost on Ryath as Boris had recently discovered dragons seemed to have no concept of sarcasm. Ryath was learning but she certainly had some ways to go. Taking seats opposite the two Brays and Whiptail, Boris turned to Ryath.

"So how goes the search for council replacements?"

Ryath unleashed what appeared to be a sigh, although the expression certainly did not look natural on her face. Boris tried to imagine what it would have looked like on a dragonic face but never got much further than a plume of smoke or fire being exhaled in frustration. Clearly the process was in no hurry to conclude.

"The elves assure me their choice will be official within the week and I believe that will be the case. The others are not so promising. The human mages continue to bicker amongst themselves, unable to decide who should take Thor's place. As for the dwarves... they refuse to believe Bifrost is dead and continue the search for him. It's been over a year and still they've made little progress. They are a stubborn people."

"Ha, that's an understatement. They told me only their king can deal with foreign diplomats and since their king is missing, they won't be speaking to me or anyone from Assington. Do you think there's any chance they'll find him?"

Ryath pondered the question a moment as she sipped her water. Bifrost had last been seen underground when an earthquake had struck the region. Witnesses say the cavern he was in collapsed but no one actually saw him escape or fall victim to a collapse.

"Bifrost is the most resourceful dwarf I've known and yet after this long it's hard to believe he's still trapped down there."

Boris simply nodded. Despite Ryath's unchanging tone he could tell the thought of her friend being dead did upset her. She'd lost a lot of close friends in order to rid Khadrim of a mad deity, a process that would not have been possible without Shalamar's aid.

[The Batorys]

Shaaz followed the Brays and Whiptail. As the conversation continued, the vampiress found it incredibly difficult not to laugh as her Argonian colleague described, with a rather serious air, imprisoning a demon lord in a toaster.

Simultaneously, she listened in on Boris and Ryath's conversation. She couldn't help it, if someone was talking about political happenings in the room, she had to keep track of what they were saying and its implications. No longer a part of the Dragon's Claw, perhaps, but even now, the assassin's training dictated to some degree what she did. Though, much of what they said sounded almost fantastical. Certainly, many in foreign lands were surprised to find that moroii existed, but clearly the Empire didn't have enough intelligence agents operating in Assington and Khadrim if all this was news to her... there were those Dragon's Claw instincts again.

Apparently some aspects of the political situation were quite a mess. Desiring to learn more, besides just finding these people interesting and not wanting to be seen as anti-social, Shaaz made to sit next to Boris and Ryath, across from the Brays and Whiptail. "Would you mind if I sat here?" she asked, not wanting to be seen as impolite, either.

As "Godzilla" advised Sam to get another drink, Shaaz piped up "If you are going to get another drink, do you think you could get me a porter?"

[Assington]

"Would you mind if I sat here?"

Boris and Ryath both turned to Shaaz and indicated she was welcome to sit by them. Turning their attention to the moroii and abandoning their previous conversation. Having only just met Shaaz this evening Boris decided it was time to get to know the vampiress. Vampires were certainly a common enough people in Assington but Boris knew full well there seemed to be hundreds of different species, all with their own peculiar attributes. Ryath on the other hand had never encountered a vampire and was unsure of what to expect from one save for the brief comments Boris had made in the past.

"So Shaaz, if you don't mind me being so blunt, what's your story? You don't strike me as the national leader or diplomat type so there's a good chance you're likely an interesting character. I think we have enough time to swap a story or two before Aeris feeds us into submission."

Ryath allowed Boris to take the lead talking to Shaaz, glad for her presence. Despite being a dragon with thousands of years of experience, she felt somewhat out of her element at these international conferences, even if they weren't considered too formal. Khadrim had been an isolated nation for a long time and whilst Ryath had regularly interacted with humans, dwarves and elves the people of Fatal Terrain were far more varied and unpredictable.

[Brays Bastards]

Sam nodded in Shaaz's direction as he rose from his seat to make another trip to the bar...

"Sure thing. Back in a few..."

Dekker watched his son depart with a concerned look carefully concealed on his face...

"Kid's not doing half bad for his first diplomatic outing..."

The Argonian stiffled a chuckle before it left his throat...

"And you're not doing half bad for your up-teenth outing. Only fifteen or so natioanlly-recognized profanities and only half a fifth of scotch. You're batting a thousand..."

"Screw you..."

The old merc chuckled...

"I have no idea why you drag me along on these things. You're the diplomat. I'm just some cantankerous old man with half a face..."

"You're the ranking member of one of the most notorious mercenary outfits in the world. It adds color to the proceedings, kind of like when the UN brings the manaical war-mongering African dictator to their big international peace rally. It's fun to have a 900-pound gorilla in the room..."

"You, my friend, have a skewed sense of fun..."

Aside from the three or so thinly-veiled barbs in that sentence, Whiptail's reasoning was sound. Certain jobs needed doing, and often times said jobs needed to be done by people who didn't have overt ties to any national government. Showing up here reminded the rest of the region that such help was still avaliable.

At about that time Sam returned with a glass of fizzy yellow in one hand and Shaaz's darker porter in the other, which he placed in front of the former assassin before having a seat. As he sat, he made a mental note of the sheer number of 'former' government-sanctioned hit-men (and women) his father's merry little band of miscrients had collected over the years. Whiptail and Shaaz made two, adding Danny Briggs made three, and Paul Marcos made four. Sam wasn't all that sure about the respective backgrounds of the last two, but given the amount of black ink smeared across every document he'd seen from either man was a pretty good indication of where they'd been...

[The Batorys]

For an instant, Shaaz froze at the question. "What's my story?" she repeated looking upwards, as if musing on events of her past. While she may have wanted to avoid such inquiries, it would seem she was trapped into answering this one, as the vampiress had already sat down. Sam arriving with her beer helped calm the initial discomfort the idea of revealing anything of her past brought on.

"Well," she began, taking a gulp from her ale. "I'm not sure how much information concerning internal politics in the Batory Empire gets out, but you may have heard of the Dragon's Claw, though I wouldn't be surprised if you hadn't, either." Taking another sip, the small, raven haired woman half smiled, revealing one barbed fang. "They are a corps of assassins answerable only to the Empress, her personal organization of trained killers." There was more than a hint of pride in Shaaz' voice, even if tinged with regret. "I was... well... you could say I was fairly high ranking."

Sipping now, the assassin noted "so, while not a national leader or diplomat, I have sometimes had contact with them, though not necessarily friendly. Obviously I'm no longer a member of the Dragon's Claw, which is a long story," Shaaz noted, hoping to segue past the events that led to her flight. "Before signing up with this outfit," she nodded towards her boss, reptilian colleague and the younger Bray, "I was working in various criminal underworlds, selling my services as an assassin, or more accurately in those circumstances, a hitwoman, and often a prostitute... and found that the latter line of work commands far less respect in foreign countries, to put it mildly." The last obviously was quite the bitter discovery. "The long and short of it is that I signed up with the Bastards because they offered a much better work environment... better co-workers especially."

The moroii chuckled. "I know, a long sad story." It was a tad more than she revealed to many of her former co-workers and bosses in various criminal enterprises, but Jaci and some of the other Bastards knew a bit more.

[Tarlachia]

Upon entering the room, Aeris clapped her hands once, and held both palms upward and out toward the heart of the room. As if on cue, every candle in the room lit up suddenly and the lights of electric bulbs turned low to mimic candles were also turned on. Together, the room was turned into a calming environment; somewhat shadowed, but still bright enough to see details.

Aeris had been patient as her guests and friends began to seat themselves and continue with ongoing conversations or striking up new ones. Again, she was pleased to see that some of the newer faces were starting to fit in well here. She had found over the years that letting people click together naturally was good for international business and relations. Though the room had a number of people in it, her elven ears were able to pick out the individual conversations and listen in on them.

This of course, was masked by the arrival of the food by assigned pairs of waiters to each table. Menus were placed before each guest with an option of various foods to choose from. Not new to the diplomatic arena of international dinners, she had made sure that the menu contained something for everyone. None would be left disappointed. They would only need to peruse the menu and choose their meals.

Anyway, her ear was turned to the gathering of the assassins, the Assingtonian president, and Ryath the leader of Khadrim's ruling council. For a moment, she thought on the shared history with each person in that particular conversation, with some she knew personally, and others simply by their nation's relation to Tarlachia.

Taking a moment to excuse herself from her own table where her husband and children sat; the latter engaging in sibling rivalry with their forks and spoons; she picked up her glass of elvish wine and approached the other table, pulled out a chair and seated herself as she listened to the tail-end of Shaaz's story of her life.

"It's funny how life takes one from one extreme to the other." she commented while looking at Shaaz now, "First you were a criminal, and now you sit amongst the world's leaders." She glanced now to Whiptail, "But politics as dirty as they are make the two parties quite the bedfellows, and that's all right. Everyone has a job, and everyone gets paid for their skills."

[Brays Bastards]

Dekker cracked a rare smile in Aeris' direction. He'd refused payment on a number of operations he'd undertaken for her in the past. Something of a cynic, Dekker was well aware of the tragic nature of juxtaposition of his ideals and his occupation: A hired gun who was also an idealist wasn't a rare thing, in fact he had a whole group of them under his direction; it remained a rare trait in the mercenary field as a whole, however. The romantic quality of fighting and dying for a cause greater than one's self had always appealed to him, and this was the reason why he found his often distasteful work fufilling. The killing, dying, injuries, and sorrow were deemed acceptable losses to his humanity and simply overlooked, or more accurately, hidden from his psyche. The carrot, as it were, was the greater good his sacrifices served. He'd amassed enough of a fortune in raw diamonds and various national currency in his early years to live quite comfortably the rest of his days, so money had ceased to have value.

Still, however noble the intentions of those involved, war waged for whatever reason is still war. Then again, as long as there was war there would be those willing to lend a hand for the right financial figure. A cold comfort, but a comfort none-the-less.

Whiptail, true to his nature, was a bit more vocal...

"My dear, Dekker is the worst kind of hired soldier: The kind that doesn't cash the checks you write him!"

Where Dekker wore a mask of gruff cynicisum to cover his idealistic motivations, Whiptail was fond of hiding his more sinister side behind a veil of witty humor. Playing the fool allowed him to help those around him forget what he actually was, if only for a few moments. In truth, he would have chosen a far different life had he been given the chance. He had always had a bit of an artistic flare, evidenced by the gifts he'd given to Aeris' own children on their last birthday. Blunted blades and jewelry gave him a non-violent outlet for his energies. Still, masking the heavy weight set apon one's soul by the blood of thousands on one's hands with a seemingly light heart has served him well thus far. Even better, it made him happy, even if it was only the span of another's laugh.

In truth, Whiptail had the highest respect for Dekker's well-hidden virtues. The man was a walking paradox, a cynical idealist who was embarrassed by his own selflessness. Judging by the slight color that rose in his one unmangled cheek, Whiptail had indeed embarassed him once again. The former assassin grinned inwardly as Dekker's humanity got the better of him. It wouldn't be the first time, and it would certainly not be the last...

[The Batorys]

The vampiress emitted a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, amused at the truth of those words. Politics and violence, so often bedfellows, indeed, as she well knew. She responded casually "That is true... but in my experience, governments pay far better. I actually didn't even know how much my pay was until after I left and was hurriedly transferring my savings. Before that, I had no need to know what it was, as money was never an obstacle to anything." Was this a mix of nostalgia and bitterness? "But yes, as I learned, a Dragon's Claw is not as different from a mob hitwoman as we would have liked to think. Certainly we were far better paid, more highly trained and more widely respected, or perhaps simply feared, but the work is basically the same." Getting a more remote look in her black eyes, she mused further "Though... at least, for the government assassin, at least all the death was... for something... I felt I was serving a purpose at least... a feeling I lost for too long, and was missing until relatively recently, having abandoned principle in favor of necessity... not money, but as you can imagine, I do have other needs sometimes more difficult to meet."

Pausing to examine the menu for a bit, Shaaz sipped her porter. "And yet, it is true, here I am, among leaders of nations... and strangely enough, without orders to kill anyone, instead having the opportunity to, well, socialize, I suppose." Looking at the menu, and then back at Aeris, she asked "What would you recommend? I'm sure everything's good, but that's the problem, I can never make a decision when it comes to food."

[Assington]

"I know, a long sad story."

Boris offered a grin of his own, genuinely interested by Shaaz's story. Clearly the vampiress hadn't had an easy life but she'd managed to find herself amongst reliable company. Even if some would argue having Whiptail and Dekker as associates wasn't moving up in the world, it was in his eyes.

"True, certainly not dull though. And I've always thought an assassin to be more trustworthy than a politician."

With the light theatrics under way Boris could only assume Aeris was ready to get things going. The woman certainly liked to put on a bit of a show but Boris couldn't blame her, he'd probably do the same thing if he could control the lighting with a snap of the fingers. Boris thanked a waiter as he was presented with a menu and went straight to the grilled section, where one might expect to find steaks. A few moments of perusal resulted in Boris' content grin. Aeris knew full well that Boris was a simple man at heart and much preferred a well cooked steak with a side of vegetables over a tiny concoction of some unknown meat, covered in weeds and unpronounceable to those not fluent in French or Italian.

Turning to the elven empress, Boris held up the menu.

"Once again I'm impressed with how much thought you put into these events Aeris. I think the only thing missing is perhaps an entire cow or two for Ryath... but I'm sure you could even arrange that if she was feeling peckish."

Ryath gave Boris a quiet look of mild confusion and irritation. The man's humour did go over her head at times.

"That won't be necessary. The menu is more than adequate."

[Brays Bastards]

The trio remained silent as each selected an item from the menu. Whiptail was unusually fond of spicy foods, and selected a Tarlachian analoge to jumbalya. Dekker's choice of chicken alfredo matched his advanced rate of alcohol consumption, and Sam's final decision on a hamburger was hardly surprising...

"We travel to a royal banquet and you order a hamburger. Kids these days..."

Dekker's look of mock disdain didn't fool his son for a moment. He'd seen the same look numerous times in the past. Whenever he'd missed a deer's vital zone during a hunting trip. Whenever he'd not shot a perfect score on any marksmanship qualification in the Marines. It was a look that usually meant Dekker wanted to look disappointed but didn't actually feel that way. Then again, ordering a damn hamburger at a state dinner was a bit odd...

[Tarlachia]

Aeris grinned as Whiptail chastised his fellow mercenary on his lack of care for the money he was paid for his work. She understood where both of them were coming from though, for she had the mental fortitude to separate herself from the narrow vision of her own existence and see things as others would. It was this ability that allowed her to be empathetic to many people whom passed before her and consulted her on an endless variety of subjects. To this jab by Whiptail, she chuckled, "And you should know a man like Dekkar, while flawed as anyone else, is of a caliber that is rare to find. He has his payments of which he fully accepts. His tasks given to him, as are any other mercenaries and assassins, come with an option to accept or decline the job. Sometimes, the payment lies not in the weight of one's pockets, but in the weight of their soul's peace. If you ask me, a man like Dekkar Bray here is a man to be equally feared as one who accept monetary payment, like you."

Looking now to Shaaz as she struggled with a choice for dinner, Aeris didn't miss a beat in her musing words, "Assassins must choose that which best suits their purposes, whether it is a certain weapon, or a certain meal. Study the menu, and you'll find what you're subconsciously looking for." She winked at the vampiress, then her gaze grew stern for the briefest of moments, "However, if it's a Tarlachian you choose to eat, I'm afraid I'm going to have to deny you that pleasure. We have a habit about preferring to keep our blood where it belongs: in our bodies."

Boris and Ryath were the next to speak, and this drew Aeris away from Shaaz, which was probably a relief for the vampiress, and instantly Aeris had resumed her pleasurable candor, "Are you sure it is not you who wants the cow, Boris? I hear that Assingtonian men have quite the appetite for steaks." A glance to Ryath and she saw the disguised dragon in her human form could easily appreciate Aeris's response to Boris.

Aeris chuckled, enjoying the presence of her friends and colleagues at this dinner, but a glance at a nearby clock reminded her of the true purpose of this dining event. Rising from her seat, she approached back to her own table where her husband sat. She nodded once to him and picked up her wine-glass. She cleared her throat and tapped a fingernail on the glass, emitting a crystal clear ringing throughout the room. As if on cue, the room quieted and eyes turned to her; the evening's host.

"My friends..." she began with a glance downward for a moment before looking at them all once more, "I do appreciate you all taking the time out of your busy schedules to come to this dinner. But, as you may know, this event was planned to honor a good friend, a mentor, and a powerful ally in our lives, whose presence was missed the moment she departed this world for something greater, something beyond even my comprehension."

She gestured now to the wall where the curtain hung over the large portrait of Shalamar. The curtains were parted and drawn aside to reveal the Lady of Cat's Keep. "Lady Shalamar, the once powerful ruler and defender of the small shadow realm of Cat's Keep. Lady Shalamar was a woman who believed in the strength of one's soul to be the very driving force to ensure the survival of all that is held dear. Nothing could kill this strength, no matter what force was cast upon it. Nothing. And in Lady Shalamar's life, not even death could conquer her." Aeris let silence follow her words as she looked upon the face of her friend. She felt the rising of empathetic tears for her loss, but she fought them and remained calm.

Aeris turned to the guests, "In the days since her passing, astrologists in Tarlachia and other nations have witness the birth of a new star in the cosmos. It rises late in the darkness of night, but it lasts the longest in the coming light of day. It is in fact, the last star to be vanquished from the skies before the fires of the sun burn it from sight. But, it always returns when the embers of the day's heat and sun have diminished and the stone hearths of homes everywhere have gone cool and the children have gone to bed."

At this, she turned to the other end of the room where she waved to one of the servants. "Open the panels." she ordered. Slowly at first, the ceiling of the room opened up and she watched as the stars of the night skies above them shone down into the room and gave an ethereal light of their own. "In approximately fifty-four minutes, we will be observing the rebirth of this star, which we've named in Shalamar's honor as the Phoenixa."

She turned to the guests, "For now, let us eat and speak to one another in peace, for that is what Lady Shalamar would have wanted. Also, if you recall from the invitation, I have invited you all to bring something that you would like to let Lady Shalamar know. A few words, a picture, anything that your heart would have compelled you to bring tonight. Because tonight, there will be a special event, one just for all of us. It will happen only once and then...it will never happen again. Tonight, we will be given the chance to communicate something special to Lady Shalamar, the Phoenix of Fatal Terrain. Whatever you have brought tonight, I invite you to leave it at the table beneath the portrait."

She smiled again at them, "Enjoy your meals." At this, the musicians came from another room and began playing musical pieces that were chosen to cast a calm musical environment, lively, yet subdued to allow for the continuation of conversations amongst the guests.

[The Batorys]

Smiling at the jest referring to her kind's dietary habits, Shaaz inspected the menu again. "Of course I wouldn't eat a Tarlachian... that wouldn't be very polite to my gracious hosts," she responded. Again, she turned to the unobtrusive waiter and ordered a side of boar, advising that she'd like it warmed but still raw. Some not familiar with her kind may have raised an eyebrow at this, but those in the know would be aware that her kind did not worry about the parasites such eating risked.

The assassin listened as all conversation tapered off for Aeris' speech. Shaaz had, of course, never met Lady Shalamar, yet it was obvious to the moroii that the influence wielded by the leader of Cat's Keep had been great indeed, and it would seem, influence used predominantly for the benefit of all. She sounded like a most admirable character to the hyperborean exile. The vampiress looked upon the portrait of a woman she'd never known, and apparently never would know.

Fitting, then, it was to name a star after the mysteriously departed lady, something that would outlast all of them. As the panels opened (a most elegant and ingenious design, perfect for their present gathering), Shaaz looked upward, noting where in the sky Phoenixa would soon appear, before looking back at those near her. As Aeris mentioned the hearths of homes, the vampiress could not help but feel another pang of homesickness regret, though, used to such, it didn't hurt too badly. Besides which, it wasn't as if she'd done that badly for herself, on the whole, outside the Empire. How strange it was that once again she sat with the leaders of nations.

As conversation resumed, she turned to Boris and Ryath. "That's flattering of you to say, about the honesty of assassins and politicians... I suppose it's true that it doesn't usually take long to figure out where an assassin stands. I'm confused, though... why would Ryath eat an entire cow? And how?" This joke, for a joke it must surely be, in particular had confused the moroii.

[Assington]

"That's flattering of you to say, about the honesty of assassins and politicians... I suppose it's true that it doesn't usually take long to figure out where an assassin stands. I'm confused, though... why would Ryath eat an entire cow? And how?"

Boris' smirk widened as his little stab at Ryath was clearly lost on her. It was of course understandable as Ryath was a relatively new face on the international politics scene and was relatively unknown amongst the rest of Fatal Terrain. Before the Assingtonian President could open his mouth, Ryath gave her companion a silencing look before focusing her attention upon Shaaz.

"In my homeland, there are four species that occupy it. Humans, elves, dwarves and dragons. I am the leader of the dragonic peoples and in my natural form I would be about the size of a human double decker bus... with wings. As you could understand, a body that big needs a lot of food."

Boris finally couldn't contain himself any longer as he noted Shaaz's expression. Most people were somewhat surprised to learn the slight woman before them was actually a dragon weighing several hundred tonnes. He'd had trouble himself believing such things until he'd seen Ryath literally transform into the towering beast that was her natural form.

"Don't worry Shaaz, she has promised not to eat any of us and I've always known Ryath to have perfect manners. Too perfect really."

[Brays Bastards]

Whiptail nearly choked on his beverage when the mention of Rylath's actual size came up...

"Wait a second, what?"

Dekker threw him a sidelong glance, struggling to surpress a smile...

"I know you're into your own kind, or in this case, the next best thing. I didn't think you were into big girls..."

The lizard's head whipped back in the direction of his long-time friend with a quickness Dekker hadn't seen in a while, and spoke in a more hushed tone than usual...

"Dude, she is, and she isn't! Cool eh?"

"I really don't have a come-back for that one..."

"Guess the tab's on you then..."

[The Batorys]

The assassin's eyes widened quite visibly at Ryath's explanation of her Assingtonian counterpart's joke. Obviously, until a few seconds ago, Shaaz had thought such creatures mythical. "Well," she said. "That explains a few things." Though she did not explain it, in addition to Boris' joke suddenly making sense, her confusion over the apparent mismatch between Ryath's appearance and the lack of the 'human' scent had suddenly been erased. "As you can probably tell, I thought dragons were mythical beings, but I suppose that after talking of the best ways to counter an invasion of demons and such, I shouldn't be too surprised." With the company she seemed to be keeping lately, all manner of usually unexpected things apparently were normal.

This revelation somewhat troubled her, more than learning of the existence of demons did, for its possible political implications. One of the myriad markings etched into her skin was the Batory clan's symbol, three barbed fangs encircled by a dragon. The dragon was considered a symbol of both the clan and the goddess Ithtyr, in earlier times considered the direct ancestor of the Batorys. As one of their higher ranking assassins, she'd been marked with the symbol as a badge of honor, and allegiance. Were her former masters unaware that dragons were more than a myth, and actually living, breathing creatures in a foreign but not so distant land? Or had they known all along, keeping such information within their own trove of secrets?

At the same time, Shaaz was filled with unbridled curiosity... and other things... "Can all dragons shape-shiftlike you can?" she asked. "What does your true form look like? Does it match this one in coloring?" She overheard Dekker and Whiptail's conversation, and shot the latter a look that by now the Bastards' senior assassin probably knew usually went with an obscene gesture she often made, though she refrained from such at present, simply winking instead.

The moroii looked back to Ryath. "I'm sorry, I must seem like a child, pestering you with so many questions."

[Assington]

"Can all dragons shape-shiftlike you can? What does your true form look like? Does it match this one in coloring?"

Ryath smiled at Shaaz's curiosity, it was far more refreshing than the fear she was usually greeted with when explaining to those outside of Khadrim that she was actually a dragon. Whilst she had also heard the nearby mercenary comments, Ryath chose to ignore such things. Boris had explained to her in great detail the behaviour of human men around what they considered attractive women and that it's best not to worry about idle comments.

"I can only speak regarding the dragons of Khadrim. There are four distinct species, obvious by the colouring of our scales. I am a golden dragon and what you call shape-shifting is a unique ability to golden dragons alone. We can shift our mass to appear as anything we can imagine or know well enough to copy."

"I'm sorry, I must seem like a child, pestering you with so many questions."

"It's no problem at all. Perhaps we can learn from each other. Boris tells me you are a Moroii. Is that a species of vampire? We do not have such variations of humanity within Khadrim so I'm fairly ignorant on such things."

Whilst Ryath was busy answering Shaaz's questions, Boris turned to Dekker and Whiptail. He'd noted the moroii's look but wasn't going to make any issue of the comments. So long as no one was hurt he saw no problem in letting people have their fun.

[The Batorys]

"It is, as you rightly guess, a variety of vampire, for lack of a better word." Shaaz paused to think for a moment. She had not often been called upon to describe her kind. In the Empire, everyone knew what a moroii was without explanation being necessary, and in the various criminal underworlds outside it, she'd hid the truth of her vampiric status, which had been surprisingly easy, given that she could usually just pass herself off as an odd woman with teeth extensions. Obviously the rest of the Bastards knew, but they weren't the type to ask questions, and so information came out in small snippets.

Slender fingers went to her chin in thought. "I think we're technically Homo sapiens, but a different subspecies... one that's specifically adapted to hunt other humans." At this the assassin gave a wicked, if somewhat joking, half smile. "I learned in other cultures that vampires are usually thought of as dead. We are living. For some complicated anatomy reason, we must consume human blood to survive. That's in addition to regular food, so back before the Empire, which enforced co-existence, we just hunted and ate humans as well as drinking blood." She shrugged. Her accent came through a bit more strongly as she was called on to speak of subjects a bit more intellectual than she was used to discussing in any language but her own. "No one's quite sure why we developed that way. In old times, we believed that we were Ithtyr's children, and so she created us this way, but few adhere to that literally anymore."

"I suppose it's odd for both of us, explaining things that in both our homelands are common knowledge. Moroii are fairly mundane in the core of the Empire... it's ruled by a moroii clan, in fact, and always has been. I would have been feared much more for my occupation than for my race." Shaaz looked as if a thought had suddenly occurred to her. "I suppose dragons must not be seen as all that strange in Khadrim, then? Still, I can't imagine a society having to work out all the issues that must arise. But then for you it's probably normal and not even given a second thought." At mention of Ryath's ability to shift her mass, one of Shaaz' other questions, one she'd been afraid to voice, had been answered, in that apparently in the form of a woman the same size as herself, Ryath did not carry her full draconic weight.

OOC: sorry if parts aren't especially coherent, it's rather late...

[Brays Bastards]

The duo shot one another knowing looks before turning down the hooligan factor a bit. Sam, on the other hand, had been listening intently to the conversation...

"Ten years ago, I'd have never thought I'd be sitting down to a state dinner, having a conversation with a vampire and a dragon. There's also the strange company Dad keeps, so I don't know why to I'd think that..."

The younger Bray took a swig of his drink, casting a glance towards his father and what was basically his reptillian uncle...

[Assington]

Ryath nodded in comprehension and agreement to her comments. Whilst certainly not an expert on humans, her species had inhabited Khadrim long before humans had evolved into what they are today and they had taken note of humanity's highly adaptable nature and how certain conditions could significantly alter their development. The difference between the humans of Khadrim and Assington was certainly apparent. Whilst physically and genetically very similar, their respective societies differed greatly to the point where it was difficult to believe they were the same people.

"Khadrim has always been a very isolated nation. It is essentially divided into four territories occupied by humans, elves, dwarves and dragons. Very few of us leave the borders of our nation so we have next to no knowledge of outside nations or the peoples that occupy them. It has been a strange adjustment over the years but we've come to understand the benefits of good relations with our regional neighbours far outweighs any apprehension we may feel."

At that point Boris decided to jump into the conversation, never shying away from an opportunity to stir up his Khadri colleague.

"How could you stay all couped up in your own nation when you have such wonderful neighbours like Assington."

"Ten years ago, I'd have never thought I'd be sitting down to a state dinner, having a conversation with a vampire and a dragon. There's also the strange company Dad keeps, so I don't know why to I'd think that..."

Raising his glass in agreement, Boris concurred with the younger Bray.

"Too true. The strange company makes these dinners much more interesting though. Perhaps we should bring some demons along next time?"