A Feast of Wolves and Sheep

[Lord_Fartknuckle]

Grand, echoing halls filled with wavering torch light shining from below. The stone gargoyles looked down with distaste at all the light covered from their dark grey pillars, barring their fangs and digging their claws into stone perches. What they gazed at were four rows and two columns of long tables filled covered in the cooked legs of various animals, odd dishes one would only find in swampland and ale. And dispersed among all this were people. many wore different banners and cloths, with those similar sitting at the same table. Some were prominent amongst their group, wearing finer clothing and carrying themselves with more pride. What seemed to tie them all together was an air of corruption. Whether it was subtle malicious looks, outright harmful intent or a sickly demeanor everyone in the hall seemed to sport at least one of these features.

Personally, Goinin preferred the gargoyles. The thought had just come to the prince as he overlooked all of them on a slightly more elevated part of the room behind a table standing before all the others. These people were from some of the most prestigious families in Utorion, invited by their king to build their relations with a feast. Of course, when they'd arrived, King Driijak had locked himself in his war room and charged his son with playing the host. Ever dutiful, Goinin accepted without protest.

Now, the prince had to sit around, overlooking lords and ladies trying to bring up their social standing and others too drunk or stupid to do so (mostly men at arms). At either side of him were two guards in full plate armour and armed with maces. On the table in front of him was a hot dish of soup and a silver cup of whine, neither of which he'd touched. In the chair next to him was old lord Silvan, a man who had been trying hint that he would like a large portion of his men out fighting Albacus to return home for the past five minutes.

"Lamb legs this big and this many are rarity nowadays." He insisted, waving around a bone. "Men are needed here. How else will we keep our soldiers from starving without people tending to livestock and land?"

"Perhaps if we sent your silvani men out at the Albacus line we'd have we could divide rations more easily." Goinin replied, only half listening.

Silvani was the third lord to be invited to dine with him and there were about ten more all very vocal and none renowned for their generosity.

If only father had invited an assassin, he thought.Then I might finally have some peace.

[Drunken_Shinobi]

It was a miserable night in Utorion, as every other night since the genesis of the kingdom have proved to be. Thick rainclouds of an oppressive grey spat their frigid contents onto the muddy ground below, leaving the crudely paved streets of Utoria caked to the ankle in mud. No street torches illuminated the winding roads, and no merchants hawked their wares. The windows were grated with bars of steel, and the doors were all double bolted. This was a place forsaken by the touch of Cosmos, and nary a heart was free of malice. Many people described Utoria as quite possible the most fowl place inhabited by the intelligent races, and none of them would be wrong.

However, despite the appalling surroundings and unpleasant company he would soon be keeping, Solaufein couldn’t help but wear a wide smile upon his slender lips. Solaufein had more then a few things planned for the night, which at the very least would liven things up in Castle Drijak. He had been cordially invited to another feast thrown by the imprudent King, who wholeheartedly believed the Dark Elf to be his most talented assassin and a trusted adviser. This, of course, was simply one of the countless personas the man played to perfection. In reality, he answered to no one but Ramael himself.

As he approach the front gates to Castle Drijak Solaufein look down at himself with an approving nod, pleased to see that the enchantment placed upon his calf high boots had indeed kept the particles of mud and water from touching the mixed fabrics of his needlessly lavish ensemble.

The guard stationed at the top of the portcullis was one who had seen the Dark Elf before on several occasions and possessed intelligence enough to eschew the typical procedure of demanding what he-who-stood-at-the-foot-of-the-gate was doing coming so close to the restricted fortress, opting instead to simply pull the gate open. Saying nothing more then a simple “G’day, sir.”. It was a choice that had saved Solaufein from taking a life this early in the night.

Shrugging away the woven cloak of Spider’s silk, which had been charmed to constantly produce a trail of snowflakes behind the wearer, he offer the guard a quick wave. “Thank you kindly.”

The uneducated man could barely understand Solaufein’s accent, which left him believing he had just been sung at in a dulcet tone. “Prettiest damn voice I’ve ever heard from a man…” He shrug his shoulders and turn back to his designated spot.

Solaufein turn his gaze quickly to each of the six men stationed around the entrance to the grand hallway, flashing a disarming smile to the group and he step past them. Pushing the doors open without being the permission to do so.

After all, not a man in this kingdom possessed the desire or ability to stop him.

[Lord_Fartknuckle]

Goinin sat at his table, idly stirring his soup with a spoon. Silvani had since left in displeasure, leaving behind a guarded insult. Lord Dalbiir, a man owning some of the most profitable lands in Utorion had taken his place at the giant's side. With brusque pleasantries, he made it clear he was not happy talking with someone less than the king himself. However,it did little to keep him from pushing his agenda.

"Our majesty never comes out to these feasts. He's obsessed with the war." Dalbiir stated in a matter of fact tone.

"I'd say his real fixation is on cutting off snake's tongues." Goinin replied, repulsing mostly himself with the idea of cold steel slipping through his tongue.

The lord leaned in closer till he looked like a hawk about to leave it's perch. "This war with Albacus is not worth our time. He's wasting resources and making enemies of all his vassals."

"Then it is a good thing we sent all their men away from us; evidently most of the resources sent to them are yours."

While lord Dalbiir remained calm and collected, a strange air of disapproval had claimed itself to him. " You're content to make jokes while this kingdom is destroyed from within? Utorion could be great, but not under your father and not if Albacus brings about our downfall through attrition. We need a new leader. One who has no bad blood between our neighbors and can lead all of Utorion to a new age with new idea that only a man in his prime would think of. You could do that, my king?" As the last statement fell from his lips, he leaned back into his chair to a more proper position.

Goinin sighed and and took a long swig of ale."Lord Dalbiir, I am afraid you've mistaken my youth for the rebellious sort. Ever since I could understand his words I've followed them to the letter. Besides, I don't believe for a second you want me to actually rule. You could easily band my own vassals against me as soon as word spread that a three-armed, inexperienced king was sitting on the throne. Now, would you return to your seat among your people. I am thoroughly tired of this conversation."

The lord stood up and left as composed as ever. Goinin turned his attention back to the tables before him. Nearly everyone was utterly drunk and the hall started to fill uninhibited shouts and pool of drinking songs clashing against each other. Servants were grabbed and many were in the process of awkward fighting or uncoordinated dancing. Even in this chaotic environment, Goinin still managed to spot the large wooden doors to the hall opening and a dark elf slipping elegantly into view. There was pride and confidence in the way the dark skinned creature carried himself; and, unlike the lords surrounding him, it did not come off as forced. The prince recognized him as an associate of his father. He'd never spoken to the elf himself and he'd only seen him on rare occasions. Curiosity began to grip at him as he speculated why he might be here. He even contemplated sending for him. Right before he called for a servant to fetch the elf he remembered his father in his war room. The dark elf would be here for that most likely and his Driijak wouldn't want his time to be wasted. It was best if he just left it alone.