Open Chronicles Coils Amidst the Den

[Medja]

For some these were exciting and uncertain times. Rumors ran rampant in instances such as these, after all. Some whispered of the Smiter's disappearance, of her retirement, her assassination. Others spoke of her ever burgeoning rise, of her treachery to the throne. Some spoke that in times such as these, the Mistress was gathering the Medjites in a holy war against the Gerrites! Rumors and talk, ruin and prosperity. Indeed, for some, the times where Medja of Ragash suddenly slipped from the sights of the public were hectic at best.

For Medja, however, these were the simplest of times. These were her days off. A rarity, to be sure, but an exceedingly necessary one, she'd told herself. A single day once every few weeks (or months) wasn't going to bring about the end of the Empire, surely. Sometimes a bit of self-care was needed, or at the very least some breathing room.

Tonight, Medja had decided to get back to her roots a little. That infamously seedy tavern on what counted for the "bad" side of Ragash, if indeed the glistening city of bronze did have one. The familiar scene of a low-lit space, assorted piles of lush cushions and hookah pipes, a mix of fine booths and tables, and dancers of every species and sex the deserts of Amol-Kalit could provide. This was the Viper's Den, and tonight, once again, Medja sat at her "throne," the elevated series of plush, luxurious couches surrounding an equally extravagant seat that she herself occupied.

It was an area only just separate from the rest of the club, where she could be seen by those who were looking, and approached by those who were brave enough. As Medja sipped delicately at a golden cup filled with some exotic wine her lovely consort, Fieravene, had brought her in scores, the regent wondered who she might share company with this evening.

 

[Juancho Ricco]

Before stepping into the tavern Juancho dismissed his pixie travel partner, letting them know they can spend the evening how she pleased, but to come back to the tavern before it got too late, as they’d likely be leaving in the morning unless something came up. Sophie cheered as she fluttered away.

After which the hooded man finally walked into the tavern. As he did, the heavy odor of the hookah pipes was the first thing he noticed. A few intriguing dancers and patrons were noted as well. However, Juancho was here for accommodations, and preferably ones that were mutually beneficial. Approaching the presumed owner or manager of the establishment to speak to them. A few moments of polite bartering commenced before Juancho could score himself a bed for the night. In exchange for his musical talents. Junacho would get to keep 75% of any tips he may receive as well. Which was fine with him so long as a bed and food was covered.

He was simply passing by the city of Ragash, and would continue his travels back to his homeland of Cortos via the Baal-Asha river. Juancho looked around some to find a spot. Even noticing the rather “regal” accommodation one of the patrons had in their own corner it seemed. Perhaps the woman who occupied it was a VIP, or maybe something more?

Finding a decent spot for himself which would provide worthy acoustics. Jauncho positioned a few cushions for himself before reaching into his rather small pouch. Sticking his whole arm in and hosting out an impossibly large contraption of an instrument from the small bag. Though that was not all, he again pulled out a long stringed instrument and set it beside himself as well. Placing the first instrument, his hurdy-gurdy, on his lap he drew his wand. Rhythmically swishing it and tapping the sitar a few times like a musical conductor preparing a concert. After he did an invisible force took up the sitar and readied the instrument. Holstering his wand, Juancho took a deep breath and soon turned the crank of his hurdy-gurdy and began to play for the establishment. The enchanted sitar strumming along as if being played by and unseen musician. (♫♫♫)

 

[Haatim el-Amara]

Haatim had no real idea where he was going or who he'd see. It was always a toss up, when he was home. Sometimes he'd end up at some random party being tossed, and others he'd end up at the Viper's Den. He preferred the latter. When he reached the establishment, he shouldered open the door and entered, not expecting to be greeted with the melodies of a hurdy-gurdy. Especially one played so well. When he glanced its way, he was surprised to see that it was playing itself. Of course it'd sound that good when magic was at hand. That particular brand of magic was beyond his ken.

His gray eyes swept the entrance area, then moved back toward the VIP room, where Medja waited. For who, he didn't know, but he was going to be there. He maneuvered his way through the tables toward that room and stuck his head in, eyes searching the room for anyone he might know, but only Medja was present in that room. He'd been advised to talk to her, but about what he couldn't remember. Instead, he dipped into a bow to the regent.

"Good evening," he said, before straightening up once more.

Haatim wasn't sure if that's how he should greet her. The one that had told him to seek her had said nothing about her being a ruler, though the two and two should have clicked in his head a lot sooner than now. But he was a man, and if you asked a woman, he was probably stupid.

Medja Juancho Ricco

 

[Medja]

The Viper's Den was no strange place to hear music. After all, what was a club full of dancers without something to dance to? The music produced by this strange, foreign musician, however, was both haunting and enthralling. While it didn't fit the usual vibe of the Den, it had its charm all the same, and was a wonderful change of pace that Medja did not find unwelcome. The hurdy-gurdy already produced a multitude of sounds; playing the sitar simultaneously easily made this odd bard sound like a one-man-band.

A throaty hum welled up from the regent as she listened, pleasantly surprised with the impromptu entertainment. She hooked a finger at of her present Hands and indicated the musician once said Hand had come to her side.
"Keep an eye on that one for me. I enjoy the...novelty...he offers."

It was around this time that a guest approached her. This one, at least, had some precedent for being here. One Haatim el-Amara, one of Amol-Kalit's ever rare and valuable necromancers. His field of magic had been something increasingly of interest to Medja as of late, ever since the disposal of Sultana Nymeasha's dissident uncle and the subsequent recovery of his own magical studies. That, and the Emperor himself had tasked Medja some time ago with cultivating a cabal of these sorts of mages, a side project she had been neglecting as of late in light of her more pressing pursuits.

The earthen sorcereress eyed Haatim keenly as he stepped into her space, a knowing smile already creeping across her lips. A polite bow and a short "good evening" was all he offered in greeting; this took Medja as curious, but then, necromancers were usually the more introverted sort. It was wholly possible that he did not understand the stature of the woman he now stood before.

"Welcome, Haatim al-Amara. Please, have a seat," Medja insisted with a gesture, meanwhile reclining into her own illustrious chair. "I believe we have much to discuss."

 

[DeeHaxs]

The komodi walks in and immediately goes to ”his” corner, he gets some tea and then started writing and making sketches far into the night and when he looked up he found that he had no more paper and muttered under his breath “Drat, Astorot needs to get a job for money for paper now does he.”

 

[Roland Grayson]

Far and wide does the path branch ever out for the wanderer, the traveler, the rover. Long be their legs so they might gaze upon all the sights in bounding strides. Gods, both familiar and foreign, bless their way so they never miss a meal or be forced to sleep under not but the twinkling light of the moons and stars.

Roland never did care for the scholarly attempts back home to figure out which famous poet wrote that famous prose back home in Vinvale. He suspected none of the names thrown around had and were all just trying to claim credit for the brilliance of a long forgotten soul. What he cared about was how much he personally enjoyed it and how well it fit his current situation.

The Shortspear was having a grand time. A job guarding a caravan from Lazular to Ragash had gone boring which meant it had gone well. The pay was as large as the supposed God-King of the Empire was rumored to be tall and he had a possible second job on the way back in a few days to a couple weeks when the caravan was ready to return home.

Life was going well and this Viper's Den knew how to make it better.

Princess was in his lap as her owner lounged. He had bought some local clothes in hues of muted azure that felt like cool water draped over his skin after the heat of his armor was shed for the night. A dagger hung on his belt more to persuade pickpockets and thugs away more than for any physical use. One might think him a local the way he so easily slipped into the comfort of it all if not for his obviously foreign features. That Vinvale face and skin was hard to miss in Amol-Kalit.

His current focus was on enjoying the music the musician was playing and yelling an offer to pay for the next ten drinks ordered. A little competitive scramble for free booze was always worth the cost in its entertainment value. Hopefully it didn't inspire a couple dozen brawls to break out. Place felt fancy enough for it to not happen.... Or was it the fancy places that it was more likely to happen?

His eyes went to the hookah pipe in his hand. What was he even smoking right now?

Medja Juancho Ricco Haatim el-Amara DeeHaxs

 

[Juancho Ricco]

For the moment Junacho continued playing his somewhat outlandish music to the denizens of the tavern. Turning the wheel of his instrument in one hand and playing the notes in another. Where he was from the musical qualities of the drone was highly desired. But that was a lifetime ago and trends in fashion, music and society have not favored his chosen instrument. Some kingdoms and fiefdoms relegated it to a rowdy beggars instrument.

Far off cultures who’ve never heard of or seen the Hurdy-Gurdy. One time a court socialite deemed Jauncho’s music as an omen. But given his past, it was hard to argue against such a claim. Nonetheless his current melody earned him a few tips from passing patrons.

Jauncho placed the last few notes of the song. But one song wouldn’t be enough to earn his keep for the night. Reaching with one of his hands he grabbed a cup of ale to take a few swigs. As he did he finally noticed the attention he got from the regal madam in their corner. Perhaps she enjoyed his tune, though she was engaged with another individual, perhaps later he could make an acquaintance. Setting his cup down he pulled from a weather corn pipe from his bag as well as a few dried herbs to fill it with. Sure there were hookahs abound in the establishment. But they likely didn’t have what he was craving.

Placing it in his mouth he snapped his fingers and conjured a tiny candle flame at the tip of his thumb and lighted herbs and drew in the earthy smoke. Jauncho did have a love for the ‘Halfling’s leaf”. He always made sure to acquire some whenever he traveled through smallfolk’s domain in Fairbairn. With his pipe in his mouth he brought his hands back down to his instrument and started to play another song, again harmonizing with the enchanted sitar next to him.

 

[Gabriel Elbion]

Raziya entered into the The Viper’s Den, a frown upon her face as she practically dragged, in this instance, her “buddy” Sarvik through the entrance as well.

“Yer da best bud evah, Zizi.” The large warrior burped out, grinning like a damn fool. His commander rolled her ethereal eyes, her full lips only tugging down further in contempt. Sarvik, despite his large stature, was a lightweight, and she knew, by the Zodiac she knew that drinking with him would cause her to also babysit him tonight.

“Shut up.”

“I mean eet, yew… yew… I would die fer yew.”

“That’s the point.”

It was rare for either of them to spare a moment that wasn’t focusing on wartime preparation or advancements of some sort. And in Ragash they ended up with nothing to do but to relax. How were soldiers expected to relax? To drink out their woes and miseries and apparently, confess their undying friendship to each other if one were to ask Sarvik.

Using one strong arm to lead Sarvik along, she looked around. This place, at least, seemed it offered a much more relaxed vibe than the last place they had been. Raziya hadn’t enjoyed it, lots of young people partnering off to grind against one another against a beam or column, and the beer had been…hot. Warm beer Raziya could handle, but not hot. She was under the sun enough as it was.

Walking toward a man of fair complexion, she shoved Sarvik towards Roland, giving him a harsh look. “Watch him while I get myself a drink.” She turned, then paused, and turned back to look at Roland. “If he’s unharmed and not puking everywhere I’ll give you one as well. If not, then both are for me.” She said, stomping off to find something strong.

There was nothing worse than being sober when everyone else was drunk.

Medja Juancho Ricco DeeHaxs Roland Grayson

 

[Medja]

The talks with Haatim were short and, ultimately, fruitless. How grating. In truth, Medja hadn't come here to do business anyways. She got enough of that in her day to day. Tonight she was here for something more stimulating.

Mingling with the socialites, the nobility, the Imperial officials, it was all well and good, but now and again Medja enjoyed getting back to her roots. What interest could she pull from the traveling sellsword, the wandering minstrel, the dancer, the thief?

Medja rose from her seat and drifted lazily to the rail at the edge of her "private" section, overlooking the rest of the Viper's Den. Ah, the night life. What intrigues awaited her among the crowd? One way to find out. She spoke, projecting her voice in that practiced fashion she'd earned as a woman of influence, above the din of the club.

"Patrons! Tonight, your hostess is present! Let any who would fancy themselves bold or worthy enough to do so approach my loft. And try not to bore me!"

Some of the less experienced Hands and security shifted uncomfortably at this announcement. They might have expected the Den to immediately descend into bedlam as patrons clamored over each other for the opportunity of being up close and personal with Medja of Ragash. This was not the case. Here, she was still recognized as "the Smiter," after all. The fear and respect she commanded was tangible.

Of course, this was not the first time Medja had done this, either. She knew what to expect and thoroughly enjoyed the entertainment that usually resulted. At worst, a drunkard might approach and be removed from the Den. At best, well...the private rooms above the club did exist for a reason.

 

[Roland Grayson]

While Roland was mulling over his internal questions and trying to figure out if he had made a mistake smoking from the hookah, his offer to pay for the next ten drinks had its desired effect. Drunks and cheapskates began to scramble to claim one of them. Each getting into the other's way and several little shouting matches and brawls broke out.

Suddenly a dark skinned goddess deposited a drunk upon Roland. He gave the woman a smile but didn't get the chance to speak before she had left. Her words were clear. He just needed to watch his ebon goddess' companion while she got him and her a drink.

Easy eno-

His eyes noticed the state the man was in. He knew that look on Sarvik's face. A jug ready to spill all of its contents out. The direction being faced would mean said contents would be spilled all over him and Princess. Not good.

The sellsword set his cat onto the table, which annoyed her as it meant a pause in the petting, and moved over to Sarvik. He moved the man to face towards the side and then called to get the attention of one of the staff. They were busy dealing with chaos he had unleashed upon them earlier. Roland tried to call one of them over again. This time the sound of a man who's body was actively rejecting his own guts all over the floor in the background.

Princess just looked down upon Sarvik with a slightly amused but mostly disappointed look on her face. Her long, fluffy tail swishing from side to side. Medja might think she was the one in charge, but Princess knew she was. And she was harshly judging the one who had caused her pets from her human to stop.

Raziya would manage to get whatever she wanted for free. If she asked why then she would be informed that it was because Roland (who was currently patting and rubbing Sarvik's back and whispering supportive nothings to the man as if speaking to a child with an upset stomach while one of the staff cleaned up the large pool of bile off the floor in a panic) was paying for them.

Medja and Juancho would have their drink orders added onto Roland's tab as well by the barkeep out of respect for them, and partly out of petty spite for causing them so much trouble. Medja would even be informed of how generously the sellsword had set out the jug of flammable oil then immediately tossed a lit torch onto it this evening.

Medja Juancho Ricco Raziya DeeHaxs

 

[Juancho Ricco]

Jauncho’s focus was largely on his music. For now he had a job to do to earn his night here. His body perked up some though as the hostess made an announcement. Looking up with his hood face at her while still playing his melody. He hadn’t realized just how much of a “VIP” she really was. Not much long after there was a commotion closer to the bar.

Folks clambering over one another to get paid for drinks sparked a fair amount of chaos. All the while Jauncho puffed out a small cloud of smoke from the pipe in his mouth. However, for a brief moment he stopped his playing and the turning of the wheel on his instrument. The sitar next to him also ended abruptly as the sound of his music was suddenly overshadowed by the noise of someone practically spilling their innards out onto the floor. The abrupt stop of the sitar letting out a high bitched out of tune note echo through the tavern some. All the while Jauncho’s purple eyes looked over at all the hubbub.

Setting his instrument aside he wave his hand to the sitar, dismissing the invisible enchantment over it as the stringed instrument set itself down. Taking the cup in hand Jauncho finished his ale before standing up from his cushioned seat and setting his pipe and cut aside. Letting out a sigh the man looked back up to the hostess, viewing her prior declaration as a bit of a challenge. He fancied himself bold and worthy afterall.

Pulling his hood back and his cloak up more onto his shoulders to obtain a less pedestrian and more well mannered look. Not wishing to conceal his short dark hair and olive skin. Maybe it was foolish for a lowly minstrel like him to approach the hostess, maybe not. Jauncho didn’t recognize her like many of the patrons likely already did. Though brought up in the courts of cortos, it was improper to address a “social superior” first. But with her prior statement to the establishment it wouldn’t necessarily be seen as rude. Plus this wasn’t his homeland, this was Ragash. Junacho greeted himself.

“Good evening, our most prestigious hostess…” His accent gives away his cortosi heritage. “Regrettably as a simple traveler I am unfamiliar with Ragash, even though it isn’t too far from my homeland south along the river. I am glad to have shared some of my melodies with you my lady. Who if I may, inquire the name of.” Jauncho spoke politely, almost too politely before giving a bow. Before his eyes flicked a look to Medja’s hands and security. Hoping they would not protest his desire to meet their hostess. Straightening his posture back up he offered a friendly smile to her. Perhaps he could act as a pleasant distraction from the clambering chaos of the other patrons.

Medja | Roland Grayson | Raziya | DeeHaxs

 

[Gabriel Elbion]

“What do you mean the drinks are paid for?” Raziya asked one of the bartenders as quizically as one could.

“He said he’s paying.” They replied, shrugging their shoulders and pointing at Roland. Raziya looked back over her shoulder and made a face. Him? He was paying? That made… no sense. He looked broke. After all he had some stray mangy cat right beside him. She groaned, seeing Sarvik puke on the floor. How on Arethil could someone bigger than her be such a baby?

“If you want to make sure you’re not broke tonight, take my coin,” Raziya said once she turned her head around. The woman felt a man nudge her out of the way, wanting to get to the bartender. The commander made a face, her nose and lips twisting up in annoyance. With a huff, she elbowed him out of the way, grabbing his shirt with a tight fist. “Wait. Your. Turn.” The commander ordered and then looked back at the bartender. “What’s the strongest thing you got?”

“Like… beer or…?”

“The strongest drink that will get me drunker faster. Which one is it?”

“Ah, I guess it’d be a Stinging Boomslang. But that’s—“ Raziya held up two fingers. “You sure?”

“Yeah, and make them doubles.” Without hesitating, and because even Raziya knew that coin spoke more than one often imagined, she slid a few shiny pieces towards the bartender. They paused, then took the coin and got to work. Soon enough, Raziya had two drinks in her hand, the glass somehow cool against her warm palms. She walked back to Roland and without hesitating tapped his behind with her foot.

“He puked, huh.” Raziya said plainly, then looked up and over to where Medja and a unknown man were conversing. It wasn’t necessarily her first time seeing Medja, although it might have been. The first time had been… well, it had been work. This time, the situation was different. There wasn’t a giant fruit out in the middle of the desert. Her effervescent gaze went back to Roland and she gulped down one drink with ease, making a slight face at the burn but then handed him the other glass, the one that was full. “Because you patted his back. He likes being babied.” She explained.

Medja Roland Grayson Juancho Ricco

 

[Medja]

Medja's announcement did not rile up the crowd below to any violent degree, but the promise of free alcohol to a nondescript ten individuals somehow managed to. The regent sighed. Some things never changed among the masses, even in the presence of the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, the sovereign of the Empire. Oh well, this would assuredly work itself out, one way or another.

And it did. One of the quarrelers inadvertently bumped into one of the dancers; Medja had strict rules on bringing or even threatening harm to her dancers. Security promptly stepped in. The inebriated promptly remembered their manners. Such brazen disrespect would not be tolerated in the presence of the Smiter.

All this was for the best, of course. Senseless chaos for its own sake was remarkably dull. Thankfully, someone bothered to step up to Medja's platform and make himself known.

The regent turned from her place on the rail overlooking the rest of the room to acknowledge the man who'd addressed her. Her lips curled into a coy grin. She waved lazily at the Hands around her and the club security let the man in, the guards in general taking more relaxed postures.

"A Cortosi...interesting. Your people are a rarity in Amol-Kalit these days." The thought crossed Medja's mind that he could have been some eccentric assassin sent to dispatch her over the aggressions Gerra had enacted against Cortos not long ago. She somehow doubted that was the case, though. If he was truly ignorant of her status, she thought she might make a game of that fact. "I am Medja of Ragash, proprietor of the Viper's Den. And whom may I ask do I share my company with this evening, dear 'traveler?'"

 

[Roland Grayson]

Many a companion had been hunched over a seat or table puking their guts out with Roland needing to sooth them with those customary back pats. The positions also reversed with Roland being the one reminded of his meals that day as well. What it meant to drink to that point in the presence of company. And with this stranger's companion having asked him to look after the man, it was Roland's job right now.

Thankfully the staff here was good and quick to respond to the situation once things had calmed down over the ten free drinks. Roland made a mental note not to do that again here. Crowd was rowdier than he thought they would be. He expected a bit of pushing and shoving and maybe an argument not a brawl. Even Princess wasn't happy with the aggression of it all and she was a being that thrived on watching drunks being energetic.

When Raziya returned, Roland smiled up to her. Woman seemed rather unconcerned with the state of her friend. Probably not a rare thing for him to do. She downed a shot of some liquor and made a slight face. Strong drink most likely. Was that kind of face.

As the full glass was offered to him, Roland said reaching to take it, "As generous as you are lovely. Thank you. Name is Roland. What are you called outside of beautiful?"

He gave her a wink and smirk after his oh so witty comment. Then he downed the double shot of strong liquor with the gusto of a lost man in the desert being given a drink of water.

And then he began to cough up his lungs.

After having only really smoked and not drank too much that evening, the hard liquor about killed him. He had yet to properly burn the feeling out of his throat so he felt all of the burn. A rookie mistake. At least he had set fire to every nerve down his throat now.

"Strong.... stuff.... As strong.... as the lady.... who gave it to me...." Roland did his best to say between coughs. Tears had welled up in his eyes as he smirked and gave Raziya another wink.

Medja Juancho Ricco

 

[Juancho Ricco]

After the woman seemed to signal to her servants Jauncho stepped a bit closer. The hostess had managed to recognize his accent, and he nodded before she gave her name. Even still he did not know of her full status. “A pleasure Madam Medja, I am Jauncho, Jauncho Ricco the traveling entertainer.” He felt it was okay to give his name. He wasn’t in cortos now and it had been a lifetime since he’d been exiled that he had doubts that she would know of him.

It would likely be that the two of them would be ignorant of the other's true status and history. Medja the regal proprietor of the Viper’s Den, and Jauncho the mere traveling bard. “You also astutely recognized my accent. I have been making my way back to my homeland from Epressa for some time.” He explained to Medja and possibly gave some insight as to why he was in Amol-Kalit. He raised and eyebrow and looked away for a second as one of the other patrons got into a coughing fit before flashing Medja another smile.

“So unfortunately I don’t plan on staying in Ragash very long.” He thought for a moment before what seemed like a figurative lantern sparked to life above his head. “But that is not an excuse to not leave behind a good impression while I’m here.” Juancho reached for a pocket under his vest and pulled out a little seed in his upturned palm. Closing his fingers around it he opened his and once more with a small puff of smoke where a full red rose suddenly appeared in his hand. Looking as though he magically turned the single seed into a blooming flower. In his grip he avoided the numerous thorns that stuck out from the stem.

Offering it to Medja Junacho spoke. “For you Miss Medja of Ragash, a vibrant token of my affection. Like my time here in Ragash, so spirited yet so temporary.” He proclaimed, as he did Jauncho placed his free hand against his chest over his heart. His mother stretched out to present the rose for Medja to take. If it wasn’t clear before it likely was now. Jauncho was definitely a showman. Even trying to give the fairly simple act of gifting a flower as some symbolic metaphor. He was glad his pixie familiar wasn’t with him currently, otherwise she’d likely undermine his dramatic antics, and maybe even get jealous for his attention.

Medja | Roland Grayson | Raziya

 

[Gabriel Elbion]

Raziya stared hard at Roland. Silent. Intense. Not a single muscle twitched.

“They call me dangerous. Ruthless. Victor. Commander.” Raziya said finally after Roland had stopped sputtering from the drink, seeing the tears in his eyes. And… that wink. Dear Prophet of the Zodiac, did this man have no sense of self preservation? He surely didn’t if he were attempting to flirt with Raziya. Despite her name literally meaning ‘agreeable’ she was far from it— as Roland, the poor man, would soon learn.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” She asked, firmly, almost as if she were ordering him to answer her.

Roland Grayson

 

[Medja]

For now, Juancho had certainly managed to capture Mistress Medja's attentions. It was a shame that Cortos had to be a rival nation of the Empire. Medja found the Cortosi to be generally quite fun, and Juancho was no exception. It was clear that he had no idea who she really was, and she was very much enjoying that fact.

That enjoyment became especially clear when the wandering bard produced a flower from thin air and offered it to the regent. It was, of course, a parlor trick, but one that earned an instant, brimming smile from Medja. The thought suddenly occurred to her that she was being wooed, a concept which took her aback. When was the last time that happened? Centuries past, perhaps? She couldn't recall.

"My, my, what a charmer!" Medja beamed, accepting the token of favor with a wink. "Well, Juancho Ricco of Cortos, you are certainly off to a good start in leaving that good impression."

The sorceress' fingers deftly, lightly grasped the stem without allowing the thorns to pierce her skin, and she brought the flower up to her nose to drink in its scent.
"Beautiful, yet dangerous to the unwary..." She mused, casting her gaze down at the rose. The bard's metaphor had not been lost on her, and she did so enjoy playing these sorts of games. A thin trickle of sand, willed by Medja's own magic, slithered its way from some unseen place, up Medja's wrist and onto the stem of the rose, pulling the flower into the air. She spun it daintily and aloft, fingers gently moving like a puppeteer pulling unseen strings. "I am certainly glad you approached first, dear entertainer. It is not often one manages to catch my attention so quickly."

Vibrant green eyes, subtly glowing like dim, emerald flames in the low light of the Den, locked steadily on Juancho. That amused smile never parted from the sorceress' lips as she stared the bard down.
"I do wonder what you might do to keep it."

 

[Roland Grayson]

The recovery was thankfully swift as Roland's new companion began to name off everything she was called. All of it felt true from their limited interactions so far. A hard woman with a will to stomp right over whoever was in her way. Gods did that type present a fun challenge and make for the most interesting nights.... Assuming she didn't actually kill him before the end.

That smirk didn't leave his lips and the tears were just beginning to dry from his eyes. "Teared up from the sight of such beauty is all. Overwhelmed by your radiance. Like a man lost in a cave without a torch finally getting his first glimpse of light in days."

Another wink was given. She had already spelled out for him what was likely to happen if he continued. But what kind of man would he be to walk away from a challenge? Besides it was the greatest of crimes to let a lady go without hearing how lovely she was. All the more the ones that might bite you for it.

Gods he hoped she did bite.

Raziya Medja Juancho Ricco

 

[Juancho Ricco]

Seeing that Medja was pleased by his own showmanship brought a wider smile to Juancho’s face. That along with how she played along with his metaphor with an addition of her own. Unbeknownst to the two was likely eachothers history. Ignorant to one another’s deceptively long lives and geriatric nature.

Juancho eyed the sands that coiled around the rose. A little enthralled by the psammokinesis she displayed. Hearing her Medja explain how she was glad for approaching, and how he managed to catch her attention he would reply. “I’m delighted to hear such kind words from our esteemed hostess. In my trade, capturing one’s attention can make or break your career. Even the most foul entertainer can grab the eye of the masses, but if their art is no good then it might have been best for them to go unnoticed.” He explained to Medja. An exiled jester like himself likely knew more than anyone that not all attention was good attention.

Listening to what she said about what he might do to maintain her attention made him chuckle some. “Well that does make it sound like the stakes are rather high. May I be so bold as to ask for any guidance on how to do so. I am a stranger to these lands, and I would hate to commit a social taboo while attempting to court a fair lady such as you Miss Medja.” For Juancho Ragash was a blind spot when it came to cultural know how and customs. He basically just admitted such a shortcoming, but also deflected some and put some of the responsibility of this engagement on his hostess.

Medja | Roland Grayson | Raziya

 

[Gabriel Elbion]

Raziya looked at Roland. A hard, long stare.

The alcohol wasn’t working, she was far too sober to be hit on. Her ephemeral blue eyes bore into Roland’s eyes, her lips in a grim line. She placed her glass on a table, moved around Roland, and picked up Sarvik, haphazardly but well enough.

Without a word, Raziya left.

 

[Percy Slayer]

Percy peeked into the bar, noticing the different people and the amount of money he could take from them. He grinned with anticipation, eager to fill has satchel with different goods from the different species of man and women, as well as anyone in between. The rabbit eagerly walked (it was more of a hop, really,) into the building, noticing that it was more of a club once he was inside. Plush pillows and different dancers were scattered around the room, and Percy's ears twitched with over stimulation of noise, trying to concentrate on as many conversations as possible.

The smell of the hookahs filled his nose, and he wrinkled it in disgust. What was I to expect, he thought, It is a club, after all.

Percy made his way over to the bar, and held up a coin. "Something light... and fruity," he asked, and the bartender set to work, handing him a drink the color of the inside of strawberries. Percy eagerly swiped the drink, taking a sip and tossing the coin into the bartender's hand, who looked at him with a grimace.

"Aren't you a little young to be in an establishment like this, sir?"

"Aren't you a little too old to be alive?" He shot back, smiling politely and drinking his fruity drink happily, all while skip-walking away, the urge to binky around the room setting in, though it was too crowded to do anything of the sort. He looked at his drink and stirred it with his finger, licking it as the taste of the strawberries thoroughly coated his mouth in the sugary taste.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, setting his sights on a pretty lady seated on a throne of pillows, and couldn't help but stare into the room, interested and eyes gleaming like coins.

 

[Medja]

"...the stakes are rather high..."

Mischief wrote itself all over Medja's mien. Now they were fully entrenched in the game. Gods, how long had it been since last she'd gotten to have someone dance upon her strings? Far too long. She'd been much too busy with her Imperial responsibilities. Then again, that just made it all the sweeter when she did decide to dive back into her more...hedonistic tendencies.

Yet now the man was asking for advice on how to play the game? Tsk tsk. A faux pas in and of itself. She quirked a brow playfully at the traveler.
"Why don't you come sit closer? I think I'd rather you show me how you'd 'court a fair lady' in Cortos, Sir Ricco." Medja chimed, hooking a finger at the man.

---

Of course, Medja's earlier offer was still open. There would be little resistance meeting the rabbitfolk below if he found himself bold enough to speak to the Den's hostess, and Medja welcomed the added interest of dueling parties vying for her attention. Perhaps she and Juancho would soon have company.