MEETUP: Divine Right

MEETUP: Divine Right - A Charneth warship arrives at the docks beneath a flag of truce. An expected claim is to be collected.

Participants: Aya, Munch, Walery, Darius, Razen, Fazahd, Yelrona (most emits are Yelrona, as is the Duke)

It's Ceriday, Callem 25 23:38:39 1020. The full moon isn't up. The tide is low and rising. The night is warm and sultry, and dark clouds hide the stars in patches. Elsewhere they shine brightly. Dew forms on the ground.

Ordinarily, the Port is a busy, almost frenetic, place, with multiple ships coming in and out and workers running, screaming, and trying to avoid massive collisions.

Not today, though.

The Charneth warship that slowly glides into the Port has captured everyone's attention, as has the contingent of City Guards that has been assigned to... greet it. Diplomatically, of course. It is flying a flag of truce, after all.

All other traffic into and out of the Port has been shut down, much to the ENORMOUS irritation of both the ship captains and the merchants awaiting their goods... but for now everyone is quiet, waiting to see what will happen.

Munch is mostly quiet. He's trying. But the big metal barbarian isn't exactly good with subtle. He is however very good with breaking things and hurting people. And just in case either of those need to happen, he's come down to the docks to watch the Charnish warship. Maybe they'll have some of those tri-gon things. And maybe he'll get to eat one. It's not likely, but he's a golem barbarian with a sorcerer greatax, he's very used to unlikely things.

Walery has arrived.

The tall and muscular warrior, Darius, was asked by the Guild to come here to provide bodyguarding services. Because that went SO well the other day. However, the pay is good and so, here he is to provide his bulk as a meat shield and bludgeon should the need arise.

A large man in scale mail who has perhaps seen better days watches the ship come in with trepitdition. It's clear by looking at him that he's been sleeping out doors, and it is also clear that the half-oruch is uncertain what to make of the ship as Razen watches it come in from the safety of an alleyway. He heaves a sigh and scrubs a hand over his hair and keeps to the shadows as much as he can. Like some he simply can't hide that much bulk, but at least he has the alleyway as cover.

Like a crimson sculpture of war does Fazahd stand on the rim of the seawall, clad in the mana-driven, mechanised armor - rather like Munch in appearance, though the dark crystal visor of his helm is flipped up to reveal the leather-coiffed face of a man instead of a living machine. Cloak fluttering in the sea wind, he watches the ship dispassionately, though the enormous gauntlets of his suit flex ever so slightly in what may well be a betrayal of anticipation.

Aya has been awaiting this arrival for some time, or at least news of the vessels whereabouts. Arrival, returned to port of origin, devoured by a wandering kraken... Honestly, she would have preferred one of the latter. She stands, arms crossed before her, not far behind the city watch... and only because they insisted on such. Whether she wanted the ship to reach Alexandria or not, it is here, and she stands to meet it.

Walery is just taking a walk out be the docks. He occasionally takes walks out in town, since it's good for his health. Unless he's getting mugged or something. But the death ray over his shoulders makes most muggers think twice. He looks curiously over at Munch and Fazahd, the intricacies of Faz's armor quite intriguing. He hasn't noticed the ship yet.

The ship slowly settles into its designated dock. It is bristling with weapons, and those who can recognize such things will recognize a variety of combat enchantments, but none of them are currently being readied or aimed. There are armed soldiers on deck, but they are standing at ease.

The Alexandrian Guard does the same, with obvious relief. Apparently the truce is to be honored.

For now, at least.

Razen notices Aya standing down, far more in plain view and decides to head down to where she is. He makes a lot of noise as he walks; scale mail was not made to be quiet, and even if it were Razen wouldn't know how to walk quietly in it. The young half-orc does know how and when to keep his voice down however and does so as he speaks to Aya. "Hello. Know anything about this?"

Munch is not the pacient sort. After a minute or so of standing mostly quietly, the metal man being to peer around in boredom, searching the assorted clutter of the dock. Cheerfully, he finds an old barrel, one side caved in, and happily rips off a plank. His metal face splits open, parting along the horizontal and vertial axis to reveil row upon row of gleaming nightmare fangs within, wet with greenish acid. With a slight lunge, the TerrorMaw snaps close upon the hapless wood. A moment of soft grinding, and he takes another bite, chewing happily.

One advantage of Yelrona's influence within the Warehouse district is that when something happens to disrupt the ordinary flow of traffic into and out of the District, she hears about it. In this particular case she was celebrating a friend's daughter's birthday when she got word about the warship arriving and commerce being disrupted, and she decided to come check it out. She is still wearing a festive party hat and a colorful dress as she arrives and wanders over to join Aya. She has a piece of chocolate cake with buttercream frosting that she tentatively offers the monk.

Darius sighs and draws his oversized hooded cloak tightly around him as he watches the goings on. He glances at Razen and Aya and Yelrona who he knows and says quietly, "Either of you have the feeling that this going to go south very quickly once the warship docks?" He asks as he checks that his greatsword is free of the scabbard.

Omens notwithstanding, the ship docks without incident.

Not too much time passes before, with great fanfare, some figures depart the ship and march onto the dock.

The first Charneth to leave the ship are three Mul'niessa youths, apparently identical triplets, each waving a banner.

One banner shows a broken black disk on a red field, easily recognized as the Shattered Disk of Maugrim. Another shows the black silhouette of a winged four-legged beast, easily recognized as the Black Dragon Passant of Charn.

The third banner is not so easily recognized... a silhouette of a two-legged winged beast walking left while turning to face right.

GAME: Walery rolls Knowledge/Military Theory: (1)+11: 12 (EPIC FAIL)

The clank of Fazahd's armor upon the stones breaks the general silence as the ship comes in; the Enginebreaker descends the stairs toward the docks, keeping the helm of his visor up as he rattles and gushes steam and ozone from the exhaust pipes running out of the back of the suit. By the time he's reached Aya, he has no doubt summoned attention. "Good evening," he says to the monk, and drapes his cloak over her right shoulder - just enough to demonstrate that he is, n whatever capacity, with her. It's almost protective.

Walery's attention is drawn to Munch devouring a helpless barrel. He watches in fascinated horror. He barely notes the arrival of the armed ship, for all he knows, that sort of thing is normal? He hasn't paid attention to the flags yet, or the advancing party.

GAME: Yelrona rolls knowledge/local: (19)+4: 23

The grainy texture of the wood, long hours soaked in the sun, doused in a thousand days of sea air, plus the tang of fish that used to be stored within. Munch is very content with the flavor of the barrel he's eating. You can't get complex flavor like this just anywhere. The trio of flags get a glance, but it's just so much colored cloth to him.

GAME: Yelrona rolls knowledge/history: (2)+4: 6

GAME: Yelrona rolls knowledge/military theory: (2)+7: 9

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/nobility: (10)+5: 15

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/military theory: (5)+10: 15

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/history: (6)+13: 19

GAME: Fazahd rolls knowledge/local: (5)+7: 12

Razen knows nothing about the flags. None of them are recognizable to him, but he knows what they stand for. The nations that are meant to be here. He stares at the last one and frowns. The shape of it seems familiar to him. Not in that he knows what it means but... "Is that a Thygon?" He keeps his voice low as he addresses Yelrona and Aya." His eyes flickering toward the man he doesn't recognize who seems familiar with Aya, and nods toward the other man he does. In truth his own hand is near both his own weapons..

"I'm pleased that you could make the gathering," Aya notes to her arrived cloaker while keeping eyes on the procession, "even if it may be quite brief, if I have any influence on it." She watches the fanfare dispassionately and is painfully aware of the nature to most, if not all three of the crests. In face, before the group grows too near, she makes a point to welcome it with a roll of eyes. Some may even note some tension in her jaw as she curtails commenting just yet.

"An... owlbear, I think?" Rona says uncertainly to Razen. "It's hard to keep track of all the local noblemen's crests."

Darius moves to watch the angry merchants and the gathering masses with concern and says, "This could turn to riot if we're not careful... a call to the guards for more reinforcements if only for crowd control might be an idea."

The fourth person to leave the ship is a herald, an oruch clearly chosen for his bellowing voice, wearing livery with the third symbol and a slave's collar.

"ANNOUNCING HIS EXCELLENCE, CONQUEROR OF THE UNUTTERABLE NAME, WARLORD OF THE STYGIAN EMPIRE, DUKE OF THE SUNSET REALM, VICTOR OF THE BATTLE OF THREE RIVERS, GENERAL OF THE BLOODED PHALANX, ..." the list of titles goes on for some time.

Eventually it winds down and another figure emerges... what is presumably the Duke himself, to judge from his regalia.

"...HIS EXCELLENCY DUKE ARCHELLIUS!!!"

Trumpets blare.

GAME: Walery rolls Knowledge/Engineering: (10)+11: 21

SQUEAK! SNAP! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Crunch! Crunch.

Munch snaps off the metal rim of the barrel, taking a bite of the rusted metal. He does not seem impressed by the list of titles.

A muscle in Razen's jaw twitches as he looks at the ourch. A vein in his temple pulses and his muscles cord with tension. "That oruch... He's a /slave/." Razen says it like it's a dirty word and his storm-green eyes look far more stormy than they usually do. Anyone that knows him can recognize the look in his eyes that says his anger's brewing up, and read the tension in his shoulders that will likely lead to a stupid decision any moment now.

This is enough that Aya's jaw muscles lose the battle against her wit. "... Ignorer of the Obvious... Overblown With Ego..." She adds a few titles of her own in a mutter that is far quieter than the herald, but perhaps loud enough to carry to some.

Walery's attention is drawn by the shouty man and the long list of titles. That's a lot of titles. The ship is pretty impressive, too. He looks thoughtfully at some of the rigging, and the lines of the hull. His expression changes to an amused one for a moment before he looks over to check out this official-seeming party. And is there going to be a mob? That seems possible.

The Duke sits stiffly atop a large black warhorse whose steel barding is marked with the same three symbols as the banners. His full plate armor gleams in the sun... a bit much, perhaps, for a supposedly diplomatic gathering. A dazzling assortment of medals hangs from a black sash across his chest, and a black plume over a foot high waves proudly from his visored helmet.

Behind him emerges an entourage of men-at-arms. When the entourage stops, not far from where y'all are gathered, the Duke removes his helmet and hands it to an attendant running alongside, revealing clean-shaven dark skin and luxurious black hair.

"Soon to be unhappy with me in particular," Fazhad adds, adding to Aya's murmurs. "This is going to be fun." Mind you, he actually seems to /mean/ it.

GAME: Fazahd rolls perception: (17)+10: 27

GAME: Walery rolls perception: (2)+8: 10

GAME: Darius rolls perception: (8)+0: 8

GAME: Aya rolls perception: (17)+23: 40

GAME: Munch rolls perception: (8)+17: 25

GAME: Razen rolls perception: (6)+8: 14

Munch doesn't have hair himself, so doesn't really understand the issue, but his magicite eyes do focus in on the hairpiece. "....what's with the hairy hat on the bald guy?" He's not exactly loud, but he doesn't do quiet.

The Duke glares at Munch. The herald continues screaming what is clearly a memorized message. It's hardly necessary... you're all within easy conversational range at this point, and honestly it's kind of uncomfortably loud... but he does it anyway:

"HIS EXCELLENCY THE DUKE ARCHELLIUS, TERROR OF THE SOUTHERN REACHES, ...." and we're off again, but finally he winds up with "HAS COME TO ALEXANDRIA TO LAY CLAIM TO HIS CONSORT APPARENT, AYAXANDREA RROSTOAVAE! SHE HAS BEEN BLESSED WITH THE HONOR OF HIS FAVOR, AND WILL ASCEND WITH HIM TO THE BONE THRONE, TO SIT AS THE _LADY DUCHESS_ AYAXANDREA ARCHELLIUS!!! LET ALL THE LANDS --" the oruch has a bit of a coughing fit, and looks briefly terrified, and the Duke glares at him in ways that suggest he has reason to be, "LET ALL THE LANDS REJOICE!!!"

Darius sighs as he watches and then listens to Razen and then Aya. He eyes the Duke and then the crowd and then says, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a job to do, leave the personal opinions at home..." He tries at least to keep their minds on the job at hand even though privately he agrees with them both. He places a hand on Razen's shoulder, "Easy neighbour, we won't get paid if you attack him, and you'll end up killed by the guards."

Yelrona can be heard giggling in a corner.

Munch blinks innocently. He's honestly curious. "So... the guy is getting married to some A-san-ra Ro-to-e person?" He obviously didn't catch the name in all the titles. "Why not just say that? Fleshies are weird."

Razen makes a choked noise and looks at Darius. "I do not care about getting /paid/." He looks at Aya though, recognizing that this is... well the person annoucned to be this guy's consort is... /her/. He eyes the ourch slave and is mindful of the barely whispered words she herself said about this guy and lowers his voice but perhaps not enough. "Can I challenge him to single combat?" He's uncertain if she'll want him to.

With the exception of a few voices, the Docks are silent.

The silence stretches awkwardly, and Razen's voice carries perhaps more than he meant it to.

The Duke grows a bit redfaced and glares meaningfully at the herald, who seems to have come to the end of his script. "LET ALL THE LANDS REJOICE!!!" he repeats, a little desperately. The men-at-arms and banner-bearers all cheer, unconvincingly but loudly.

"Oh, to Maugrim's Maw with it: Ayaxandrea! Present yourself to receive this honor!"

He's a lot quieter than the herald, though still really quite a bit louder than necessary.

Darius sighs, and draws his greatsword then and starts to shove his way towards the Duke, giving Razen a wedge to use since he's not going to heed him.

"Get in line, brother," Fazahd says lowly to Razen, looking to the man with iron eye and a kindly smile. "Please. Do not steal the moment from the lady."

Munch has utterly lost track of what's going on. Not that he really knew in the first place. "Combat? I'll take the winner. Or loser. Both at once. Whatever, really." He just likes to fight.

Aya's eyes shift askance to to Darius and the comment on personal opinions. "I would have, given the option..." she notes to him. In passing, as her arms lower and she takes several steps forward towards her 'fiance.'

"I am here," she announces firmly, "but you should not be. You ignored my responses to your ridiculous claim to travel all this way only to be denied." She comes to a stop before him to stand defiant, despite that he rises far, far above her on his high horse. The more apparent fact about this alleged consort is that she is most assuredly not.

"OH!" Razen emits the word loudly and grins at Fazahd. "Yes let her." He seems to agree completely with what he thinks is the idea that Aya will challenge this guy to single combat.

Walery just watches all this curiously. This is an interesting turn of events.

Darius sighs, why did she have to do that in public, a private refusal where the Duke could save face might prevent the coming catastrophe that he sees coming like a direbear bearing down on humanoids threatening her cubs.

The Duke seems unsure how to respond to that. Everyone else in his entourage responds to it with terror, masked more or less skillfully.

After a long moment where an aneurysm seems entirely possible, he laughs. It's a forced, artificial, entirely unconvincing laugh. "Ha. Ha. Ha. Well do I remember your humor. One of your most delightful qualities. Enough of your jokes for now, though... mount behind me and we will return to Charn together. My men will bring your things."

Munch blinks, but keeps watching. He doesn't understand why the guy is laughing, but he doesn't understand a lot of jokes.

Because he doesn't take a private 'no' for an answer. Now Fazahd takes a step forward, towering behind the tiny hurricane that is Aya; his visor up, the Inquisitor favors the Duke with a bow that grinds steel and makes hydraulics sing. "Begging your pardon, Your Grace," says the tall young man, made all the taller in his monstrous armor. "But it will be impossible, I think, for Mistress Rrostovae to be your consort. She does not meet the requirements of your society." A beat. "She is, you see, pledged to me - as a novitiate of the Temple of Reos."

So. There's that.

Yelrona , who has been watching all of this from a distance, bursts out laughing and rolls over onto her back, kicking her heels in the air delightedly.

GAME: Fazahd rolls diplomacy: (10)+14: 24

The half orc takes a small step forward sensing that they might try to take Aya away /without/ the combat and /without/ her permission. "I think you will find it very hard to take her without her permision. Duke of Many Names." His tone is surprisingly polite, but low and dangerous.

Munch -so- does not understand the humor. Maybe Yelrona will explain it later.

Walery hrms, lookning back and forth between Aya and the Charnese fellow. This certainly looks like it could go badly, this fellow looks unaccustomed to taking no for an answer. Well, he's got a death ray if things go south, so he will wait and see how this plays out.

The Duke's entourage seems genuinely confused by this news. The Duke himself ignores Fazahd completely at first, then his attention is grabbed despite himself by the Enginebreaker's claim.

"She... WHAT?!?"

Hey, look at that. The man can still bellow.

Darius sighs again, and looks around and says intimidatingly to the Duke in a low threatening bass of a voice, "Leave... or die..." Yep, so much for getting paid for this job, it's already FUBARed.

GAME: Darius rolls intimidate: (1)+7: 8 (EPIC FAIL)

The Duke ignores Darius altogether, but one of the closer men-at-arms bristles and places a hand on his sword-hilt... but does not draw it. Yet.

"He speaks the truth," Aya concurs, gesturing fingers to the broach on the shoulder of her wrap. While decorative, it is also recognizable to those knowledgeable as an uncharged manar lattice. "I will not be carried off by your horse anymore than you could carry your steed yourself. As for my belongings, all I have is here," her eyes flit to the shocked retinue, "and any man who attempts to fetch me will never again be able to grasp anything else. You have no claim here. I suggest that you leave while you still have some semblance of your dignity and hairpiece still in place."

"PSSST! FAZAHD!" Munch is not good at whispering. "If this gets violent, should I take out the guys, or take out the ship? The ship looks kinda dangerous." Implying the men-at-arms do not.

The men-at-arms have apparently decided that Aya is the Duke's problem, but they form a defensive line facing Munch and Fazahd.

Which means they've forgotten Razen entirely, but that's okay with Razen. He takes a step forward and grins at the Duke. It is not a very nice grin.

The Duke is clearly trying VERY hard to contain his temper. "Now, Aya," he replies, his voice that of a parent pushed to the edge of endurance, "I may... ENJOY your little jibes, but our lessers may get the wrong idea. They lack the sophistication to... APPRECIATE... your ironic humor." He is forcing words through his teeth. "Let's continue this discussion aboard my vessel. "

An uncharged manar lattice that - as Fazahd touches the trio of pearls that fill the 'cup' the strange, skeletal flower that makes up the brooch with a giant armored finger - unfurls its 'petals' to form a toothed gear.

"The lady attempted to inform you in such a way as to keep your honor, Your Grace," Fazahd says, gesturing with that giant hand to the brooch at her shoulder. "It is unfortunate that you would need to learn this way. Unfortunately, even steely resolve is blunted by the truth.

He fixes his eyes upon the man, dark eyes like adamantine, as is his tone. "You will take her only through necromancy, for you will only have her after she's dead - and I will haunt you after. In the name of the Temple of the Father, I, Fazahd Masterbuilder of Ironhold, Enginebreaker of Reos, warn you now, Your Grace. Turn. Back."

GAME: Razen rolls intimidate: (4)+11: 15

GAME: Fazahd rolls intimidate+2: (12)+19+2: 33

GAME: Darius rolls attack1: (17)+attack1: 17

GAME: Darius rolls damage1: aliased to 2D6+6: (8)+6: 14

GAME: Darius rolls weapon1: (4)+8: 12

As soon as the man-at-arms take up a defensive line and the Duke isn't giving this up as a lost cause, Darius sees this deteriorating quickly, and so in one smooth motion draws his greatsword and slashes through the closest man-at-arms, missing the one next to him as his swing follows through and he says, "If you won't take no for answer, then maybe you'll accept it when it's at the point of a sword."

The entourage's attention is mostly captured by Fazahd's challenge. So is most of the Docks', for that matter. The stillness is... oppressive.

Then Darius breaks the stillness by attacking two of the guards, one of whom bleeds copiously all over his weapon and several of his fellow fighters.

The result is chaos.

The Duke's horse rears. The men-at-arms seem intimidated as heck, not to mention taken entirely by surprise by the unexpected attack at a party flying a flag of truce.

GAME: Munch refreshes spells.

GAME: Munch casts Displacement. Caster Level: 6 DC: 15

"ENOUGH!"

The demand is loud and clear, even as darkness envelopes Aya, the Duke, much of the honor guard, likely Darius and Fazahd and possibly others. An angry, cold, and nearly palpable darkness that may be enough to make one's imagination fill in horrors when all else is unseen.

The darkness then recedes, leaving Aya glaring at the Duke for his obstinate stupidity, yet broadened to include others, good-intended or not. She rarely speaks loudly, much less direct. Now her words are both. "If you would stow your misplaced heroism," she eyes those striking at the Charneth, then to the Duke, "and your pitiful attempts to keep your ego inflated, I will provide irrefutable proof denying your claim."

Munch mutters something low and quiet, his tiny scales glittering and shimmering oddly in the light. Reaching up, the metal man draws his massive greataxe from his back, the weapon larger than some of the men-at-arms. He otherwise keeps still, looking to Fazahd.

Darius raise an eyebrow, but takes a step back, his sword still raised, but he's at least disengaged for the moment (unless they attack him).

Razen takes a step toward Darius and clasps the man on the shoulder. "This part is Aya's fight my friend." He says it low and glances toward Aya.

Munch lowers his weapon at the display and words, but keeps the axe in his grip, his focus shifting to Aya and Duke Baldy.

"Stand down," roars Fazahd as the darkness begins to boil bout them all. "Stand /down/!" His expression grows ever more steely as he sees the man laid out on the ground in a pool of his own blood, torn between his desire to keep step with Aya, to help the fallen man-at-arms, and to strike Darius to the ground. "Let her deal with this. The matter is hers!"

Being attacked by soldiers with weapons is one thing, but the combination of Fazahd's performance and Aya's... whatever-that-was... is more than these troops are prepared to withstand. Among other things, it becomes clear that they haven't actually been terribly well-trained, and are perhaps more for show than for serious battle. The Alexandran Guard, by contrast, shows enormous discipline... but is clearly ready to descend on the Charneth if battle breaks out, truce or no truce.

"Remember this moment," the Duke seethes. It's not entirely clear who he's talking to. Possibly he's just performing. "When you ask yourself why you are bleeding in a cage, rather than reigning over a duchy... know that it is the doing of your own ill-trained slaves."

With that he whirls his horse around and returns to his ship, his men-at-arms forming a retreating defensive line behind him... at least, assuming nobody else attacks them.

Razen watches the men leave with a sigh, his eyes following the slave ourch until he sees the other man no longer. There's pain in his gaze and then it drops to Aya. There it becomes guilt. "Aya. I did not even know you were engaged." He nods to the man in question and scrubs a hand over his head. He did not start the fight, but he feels guilty for it nonetheless.

Darius waits until the men-at-arms are back on the ship before he relaxes wipes the blood off of his blade and then offers it to Razen, "Hold on to this for me when the Guard get to us, I will be surrendering peacefully since I was the one who drew first blood."

Munch peers around. "....so... we're not sinking the ship, right? I just wanna be sure on that. Because I could totally sink that." He may have an over estimation of his own abilities.

One would think that Aya would be delighted that Archellius is tucking tail... and she will be, but she did not yet say her final piece. A finger is held to delay Razen's apology, though it almost immediately fades, along with the rest of her, in a puff of shadow. There is another puff of miasma as she re-appears on the jetty before the Duke and his entourage. She mentioned proof, and she intends to display it, lest he decide to return again, or attempt some cowardly force of action.

"Now -you- will heed me, -Conqueror-," she begins as she unwraps the strips of cloth from her right forearm before holding it up, palm facing them. Upon her forearm is a brand, still sharp and clear, burnt white onto her dark skin: the same broken disc that flies black on red so proudly above the procession. It is a mark that any of the slaves or 'conscripted volunteers' amidst the entourage may well be personally familiar with

"You are not the first to attempt to claim me. Your own, The Tyrant Himself did so once. Yet here I stand, free to choose my own path. If -HE- could not hold me, there is no hope that -YOU- could ever do so."

Aya then relocates once more, returning to her original position, clearing the way for the Charneth delegation... and watch them go with tails tucked from a much better vantage point.

The Duke opens his mouth as though about to reply... and then Aya is gone. He turns back to the Dock, as though about to say something... then thinks better of it. The Charneth vanish into their ship quite a bit more quickly than they left it.

Yelrona returns from whatever it was that pulled her away at PRECISELY the wrong moment, and watches incredulously as the Charneth delegation flees ignominiously. Then the Guard begins to move around, taking people's stories and dispersing the crowd. Rona decides discretion is the better part of valor as far as the Guard is concerned and hides until they finish their proceedings.

Razen takes Darius's weapon carefully and nods to the other man before noticing that Aya has returned. Quietly he clears his throat. "I am sorry if I made things worse Aya."

Darius nods to Razen, "My thanks, I'll get it back from you if I escape prison or execution..." He says this drily as he stands unthreateningly, following any and all commands from the Guard who likely take him into custody while they investigate at the very least.

Munch waits a few moments more, just to be sure there isn't any violence in the near future, and retuns his weapon to it's spot on his back, a number of small fleshy fingers holding the axe firmly in place. "So, was this one of those Blind Date things I hear about?" He really doesn't understand courtship.

Fazahd is merely content to let Aya command the situation - he was always ever here for backup, and has discharged his duty. "That could have gone better," he tells her, though he shoots a withering glance at Darius before willing his visor to hinge down over his face, sealing it away behind black crystal. "Aya. I will go where you follow."

Aya is already re-wrapping her arm and waves the same hand dismissively to Razen. "You did not make matters worse, and most did not know. You are not at fault for that." She glances to Fazahd and one corner of her mouth lifts in an uneven smile. "It could have been far worse. I am satisfied."

Yelrona approaches the pair as the Guard wander off. "Well. That was certainly... something. Ah... so, I'm guessing the wedding is off?"

Darius is being taken to the nearest Guard house to be interrogated and as he passes by Aya he says, "If I don't get a chance after this because I am imprisoned or executed, live free and be well..." He then inclines his head to Fazahd, "Feel free to condemn me, it worked, in a fashion."

"As you say, my lady." Fazahd's voice is amplified by the helmet, not entirely convinced, and there is no disguising the irritation in his voice. He turns to look at Yelrona so that her face is reflected in his visor, then at Darius as he passes, silent now.