Terrador

[Not again. Engel help me, not again.] Serge's words, hailing Laudine's group, hammered the mooncalf with immediate and terrifying context. He couldn't have been said to think as he rode, wheeling by habit back to combat. The tremendous beasts held Angus' rapt and mindless attention, powerful buffeting unable to drown out one voice. Then another! That cry for help was more important than any number of holy lizard-riders. Through the trees Angus weaved, finally hooking an arm around his friend before disappearing from the mages' baleful eyes. His mount's stamina lasts until just into open turf; those wyverns would be catching up any moment now. They didn't. These likely Reliants hadn't moved. A moment's reprieve, beyond Angus' explanation but not his appreciation. "Help", the knight coarsely asks of the nearest familiar face; he was having enough trouble keeping himself on the horse. Angus to (12,12), rescue Cass, Canto to (10,12) Emily to (10,11), take Cass, drop to (10,10) --- Esclabor to (8,8)

Angus nods in hasty affirmation. If not the brigand, and not the writer, then... Thomas! The knight closes just a bit, hurling his axe before turning tail and bailing as quickly as he could. With Adele swiftly dispatching the brigand that nearly mauled him, the mooncalf finally offers his wound an exploratory hand. ...At least the beast under his breeches and the beast in them were still intact. He could make do with that. Angus to (12,9), attacks Brigand D with Hand Axe Angus Cantoes to (10,11)

[Don't look at it, don't think about it, it's not there--] Angus lashes with his own weapon, but it's caught by the ripping, retreating halberd. He could ignore his injury for a moment, but not he was in some pretty deep trouble. "Thomas!" Angus implores, making a desperate attempt to fence with the brigand. He was losing control of the fight with alarming speed, and at any moment that cur would-- Be plowed through by an arrow? [Emmet!] Offering the briefest prayer of thanks, Angus swivels his head wildly. Not terribly much could have changed, could it? Thomas was in deeper cow leavings than he was, and already a ways away. Wyvern knights. Those were not there. And that horse-bird-thing was much too close. Adele's arrival was the knockout blow. She wasn't there a moment ago, Angus knew it! He puzzled for a bare handful of further seconds. Only the compelling instruction of a rising axe startled the mooncalf to action, galloping away to the lady's side. "Adele! How! WhaddoIdo?!" The flier, the brigand, help Thomas, get Adele out, just get the hell out himself? Too much was happening too quickly. Angus had only his blind, if perhaps well-founded, trust at hand.

[That name. That wretched name.] Angus' concern for the fallen diplomat was brushed aside, swept away by cutting winds and frothing rage. Had there been any foe in reach, away would Angus have flown. Instead, devoid of immediate dangers, the knight's bitter stare carves across the horizon. Something in the mountains, but certainly not the wizard. Nothing else unexpected. Angus draws a ragged breath, taking cover behind some raggy, stony edifice. The worm's worms would come to pry him out shortly, and the boy knight had patience enough for that. Angus to (11,11), equip Iron Axe -- Esclabor to (8,10) Emily to (4,12)

On his way back to the front, Angus couldn't help but notice a familiar, eternally-grumpy face. He waves, calling the baron closer. "Ho, Thomas! C'mon, would you? We need you a mite closer~!" Esclabor to (7,10) The mooncalf looks him up and down--he knew that gait well, favoring some wound that so recently existed. "Sooo, how you holdin' up?", Angus ribs. "I'd assume any bloke takin' a swing at you came to regret it--tell me how you got 'im!" Something about the sour man always brought a smile to Angus' face, and it did even here. Maybe, just maybe, he could be jostled to good humor! --- Emmet correction! To (5,8), cast Heal on Owen [spoiler=no CC here][2:48:37 AM] Terrador: [2:46:00 AM] SB: Emmet needs to fix his tile [2:46:08 AM] SB: Hes attempting the impossible [2:48:16 AM] Terrador: he needs to be on (4,8) or (5,9), yes? [2:48:44 AM] Terrador: Owen's on (5,8), so (4,9) isn't adjacent [3:24:17 AM | Edited 3:24:25 AM] Jotari: Emmet’s really going full force with these impossible moves. [3:25:03 AM] Terrador: lewl [3:25:05 AM] Terrador: it happens m9 [3:25:27 AM] Jotari: Not sure if I have time to edit right now. So just tell Shin to process 5,8 [3:29:18 AM] Terrador: gggggot it

"Hey, I haven't seen what them wizards are packin' yet!", the mooncalf reminds Cassandra. "You can handle 'em this time though, eh~?" If the heavies and hunters were anything to judge by, there'd be no repeat of that fateful forest ambush. At very least, Angus didn't imagine he'd adopt some new, strange creature today! A similarity did come to mind as he wheeled past one hunter, however. A moment of levity confronting... a wyvern knight. That thought didn't need finishing. Angus to (9,15), attack Hunter #2 with Iron Axe Angus Canto to (7,11)

Angus whistles softly, soothing his mount against the crack of thunder. Already, the field was thinning, and it was time for Angus to do as Angus did best. Tossing Esclabor a taunting wink as he rides by, the knight collides viciously with an armored soldier. The Baron would give no quarter for these petty villains, not after the wizard. "I could swear I heard somethin' 'bout an ambush," Angus remarks facetiously, leering imperiously at each foe near enough to strike. "This is... wha', four on one?" Not enough to take him down by half, but perhaps enough to tempt them. Angus to (9,14), attack Armour #3 with Hammer

Angus to (6,14), attack Armor 2 with Hammer, Canto to (4,12)

[spoiler=Royal Fealty] Having finished speaking with nearly everyone that day, Cass figured that it would be best to get the one talk she had been dreading out of the way. Surprised to not find Angus at the farm, she wandered the town until she spotted him in a rare moment of relaxation, spending time with Geoffrey. You'd almost think him normal, in a setting like this. "Angus, hello..." she approached with, voice quiet and unsure. "How... How are you feeling, after last night? I didn't see you; did you drink yourself into a stupor like I did? It was quite the party, heh... Might have cured my fears about stepping into such establishments, honestly." The small talk would likely come to an end soon. If Angus didn't have any questions for her, then she still had things to talk about... And apologize for. --- Bad Decisions Angus leans slowly upright, a tired chuckle escaping him along the way. "Didn' see me?" the mooncalf offers, just slightly incredulous. "I don' remember much of last night, but I can tell you my boy here goes harder'n me. Drank me under the table, for an audience, even!" Even at this fond memory, the Kearney is quiet; a day of farm work with a hangover was enough, even for him. He smiles down at Geoffrey, scratching gently at his shoulders. "Li'l guy had a rough day, though; I'd give him 'is distance." As if cued, the bear emits some sort of rumbling noise, though thankfully nothing else. Patting the grass on his other side was Angus' solution, absently grinning at Cass. "Can't say I remember much else. You do anythin' you regret?" His words belied no particular suspicions; he simply knew too well the feeling of cursing the drunk bastard puppeteering him the night before. --- "I didn't, no... It's good to know you had a good time. You and Geoffrey both. Heh..." To know Angus was still able to enjoy himself was relieving to hear, but it didn't solve the issue at hand. "I was... Busy. Pushing into my brother's love life, in front of a crowd. ... K-Kissing Adele." She glanced at him; had he seen? "That's... What I came to talk to you about." She took the seat next to him, folding her dress underneath her as she sat. "Anything I regret? Bossing my way into what Owen's doing with Sidney. All out of petty jealousy... I knew the drink made you stupid, but not that stupid. I suppose it was my first time, but even then... It was quite the show. A poor show... But, that would be it. And it's something I have to fix, with Owen, and with Sidney." She glanced at him, running her finger in a circle in the dirt in front of her. "What about you? Do you regret anything about last night?" --- ​Girl Troubles [Kissing Adele... wait. Bar. Claire. Shit.] Angus palms his forehead, pushing a lock of hair over his head before rubbing his neck absently. They'd be discussing their "arrangement" all too soon, a disquieting thought for the boy. His gaze stayed, mesmerized, mindless at the rippling glass before him, still attentive to Cass' words. He was in no hurry to speak, but nor would he ignore his friend's question. "Eh... think I said somethin' I shouldn't. Maybe a lotta things." Hedging for want of memory, however, wasn't out of the question! Still, Angus remembered his peer's mention of a heroic dive in flight of Nona--if those sisters came up, well, Angus had heard more than once that he was fond of spinning a drunken yarn. A dog-like shake of his head, jowls left free to flap, prefaces a turn to Cass. She really did seem torn up about whatever she'd done to her brother, and Angus would far sooner address that. "Tell you th'truth, Cass, I wasn' so kind t'the Lady Montana at first either. Didn' trust a thief, an' don't trust anyone gettin' so close to Owen. Trust him, though, so even if she makes my skin crawl jus' a bit..." Angus makes a paltry attempt to dismiss the thought with a shrug. "Been in that boat. Can't say I know how to make nice with 'er, but Owen? C'mon. Unless you left a hunk o'Charlotte in that bar, you two should smooth things over, eh~?" He taps Cass' arm with a loose fist, offering a wink of encouragement. "Just don't go askin' me to help with that woman, mind! Bullion to bread odds says she'd gut me if she could get away with it!" Angus grins, shaking his head more softly this time. That was something he'd just have to live with, or so his guts told him while they could. --- "I know... Heh, I went with him earlier to see the seer, and he seemed alright, but I'll still be buying him a present to make up for my actions-- or start to. Hopefully the talk we had after that ends up settling well with him. Things might not be as cozy in the Owen Sidney relationship, tell you the truth. But, we'll see." She offers him a wry smile at his nudge, before sighing again. "Right, that's not all I regret... Nothing from last night, but... A-Angus, stand up." She ordered him to move, getting up herself, but instead of standing to meet him, she rested her knee on the ground, and hung her head, arm on her knee. With a pensive moment of struggling to find the words, she finally began, hoping she had them all. "I have not been what you deserve when it comes to a lord. I don't quite know what that is, but I do know I haven't been it. Not to you. Not to a lot of people here-- but especially, not to you..." She slowly looked up at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking, if there was anything. "I'm calling off this whole deal between us... I... You've been forced back and forth because of me. It's not fair to you, Angus. Not fair for you to have to pretend while I go off and ruin things either way. I'll be announcing... My marriage to Adele, once we return to Wyke. And between now and then, you're free to chase after whoever you want to. Please, for the sake of my guilt... Just... Be happy, and be with who makes you happy." Another sigh, she lowered her head. "I'm sorry, for being such a mistake of a lord. I'll do what I can to make up for it, with time. I can only hope that you'll forgive me..." --- 2friends1condition "W-wuh?" Angus hesitated to stand, but whatever Cass was doing was serious business. He rises quietly to his feet, hands fidgeting slightly. Eventually, the mooncalf settles on tucking his hands behind his back, turning his head but still keeping his eyes on his counterpart. He has time for one more mental intrusion before Cass speaks: [What I wouldn't give for ol' Esclabor t'see this. It'd drive the poor bastard mad.] Angus masks himself with one hand, trying to take in the Princess' appeal for his forgiveness. At first, he wonders if Cass had actually wronged him. As she spoke, though, a handful of moments leaped into his mind--moments she could have handled better, that's for sure. They didn't stay long, though. What grudge could keep them there? Instead, Angus rests a palm on Cass' head, tussling her hair gently before resting a knuckle under her chin. "Up," the Kearney asks softly. Sure enough, she rises--and just as soon, he snatches her shoulder, tucking her into a hug. "Enough o'that. All's forgiven." Angus steps back, a wry smile on his lips. "Puttin' aside that I'm not half the man I should be, either--you're tellin' Morta 'bout all this, alright? I've had enough trippin' over my own face 'til we get to Raewald!" --- "Up? B-But..." Cass slowly rose to meet him, letting him have his small hug, but not entirely accepting his forgiveness-- a selfish gesture, a stubborn one, but she still felt it wasn't all that deserved... Was this relationship business not a big deal to the others? It made her life miles better, but maybe that was due to how she'd been looking at everything thus far. Was she truly as held back as she thought? Perhaps she should have just... Done what she'd wished for from the beginning. Not let herself be held back by rules and stipulations set by her father and her life. She'd been doing that for a month now, and already, she'd learned so much! She'd changed so much... Even Cass could think back to her first meetings with people like Sidney and earlier dealings with Angus-- Gods, what a horrible brat she'd been. More than that, just... Just a wretched child. And all that guilt was finally starting to weigh on her. Would changing now rid her of it? Only time would tell. She let herself smile-- gave herself that privilege. If Angus was truly alright, there was no reason to force the issue. She wished to, but that would ruin the reason for her apologizing in the first place. With another sigh, she flushed faintly at his mention of Morta. "I... Mmmmay have already told her. So... Well, all three of them may know already. Not about myself and Adele, but... That we were a hoax. I, er... L-Listen, I don't know much interest you have in any of them, but they may, start... Coming after you, again. Is that alright? ...A-And thank you. Haha..." --- Dating Market Angus groans softly, turning on his heels to face the pond again. He leans back, falling on his behind, then farther still, until his feet are over his head--soon, crashing dejectedly to the ground. "Not mad at you or nothin'," the mooncalf offers. "Just... I have one go at one of 'em, and that turned out..." The Kearney inhales sharply through his nose before blowing a monster of a raspberry. Wiping the drool from his chin, he rolls to face Cassandra. "You know... how do you figure that out?" Angus taps his noggin with a finger, prompting nothing of worth to leak out. "I always thought Pa'd set me up some ten years out, but Fargus taught me a li'l secret not too long ago: ain't nobody gets just one girl, eh?" The baron's right shoulder reunites with the ground; better than a throne or high seat of any kind, that's for sure. "What I do matters now, 'least sometimes. An' I've heard some stories--for every knight robbed blind by the missus, there's another who'd be dead without!" Angus' flings his arms towards the endless aether, lost like the pillowy nomads that roamed it. "So, eh... know anythin' about that?" --- "I got just one girl," Cass pouted in response, almost jealous of Angus' popularity, Almost. She'd found her number one, so while it would've been enjoyable to have some number twos and threes floating about, giving her the chance to pick and choose before settling, she only envied his popularity, not so much his position... Nor his decision to collapse onto the ground. She was going to stay... No, she'd sit, but she wasn't about to collapse like he had. Settling back onto the grass, she took a moment to think. How to pick, huh... "Which one of them... Which one makes you feel the most... This is awfully worded. Ugh." Cass shook her head, scratching at her temple, and furrowed a struggling brow towards the ground. "You can be Angus when you're around me, right? Not... Not Baron Kearney, not one of Owen's Vassals, just... Angus. Lovable idiot raising a bear. Which one of the Valters makes you feel like you can just, be Angus? That you don't have to put on airs or act like a baron, that you can... Still be sixteen around?" It was a weird question. She knew it was. But it was probably the most important one. "I don't have to be the princess around Adele. I can be Cass. Just Cass. She doesn't care about my title, she doesn't treat me like her better, she's not afraid to speak her mind. She definitely not afraid to man handle me... I would say much to my chagrin, but in our own quarters, sometimes it's nice to let someone else push you around... A-Anyway! That's not the point, erm..." With a faint blush, she shook her head, staring at Angus. "Do any of them give you that?" --- No Hats Needed? Angus reclines in silence while Cass speaks, too pensive for any real serenity. Putting aside any "manhandling" talk for the time being (hopefully forever), the Kearney instead considers each of the sisters in turn. With whom was it easy? Such a simple question, but a towering riddle for a mooncalf. With Morta, things had been natural enough in the evening, calming her down took no little patience. There was no relaxing around Nona. And Decima--Engel above, what did Angus even know about the girl? Really, about any of them? Eventually, he gives shape to his scattered thoughts. "If I'm lookin' for someone easy... far as I can figure yet, it ain't one of them." Angus chuckles slightly in remembrance of the morning after. "And that ain't countin' their old man!" The question would stay with the baron, though. With whom was it easy for Angus to just... be Angus, madness and all? --- "Not a one?" Cass looked fairly shocked, staring at Angus with a dumbfounded, empty gaze, before scoffing and staring towards the water. "Then good luck! Those girls are head over heels for Baron Kearney, and-- well, why would you mess around with them if you weren't interested? I can't understand something like that. Isn't that reserved for someone you love? Someone you're willing to spend part of your life with? I know relationships aren't all smiles and roses; they can end, and the people involved can drift apart, but is that act truly such a casual thing as to not be put after considering things?" Cass wasn't upset at Angus-- far from it, she was entirely confused how someone could wish to sleep with someone without first developing an attraction past their bodies. "How interesting... A-And is this, is this normal? Do a lot of people engage in... I'm dancing around the word because it is not a term I should be throwing around so lightly, but I feel like a fool for doing so, so!" "Is... s-sex, really that common?" --- The Bears and the Bees Angus grunts uncomfortably, rising to a seated position and turning pointedly to his bear. Not even Engel could compel him to get into the finer points of all that with Cass, but... perhaps... it just might be alright if she overheard him confiding in his pet. Angus rubs the cub's ear gently, wishing that he could instead take a ride through Garath's mines once more. If only he could be so lucky. "Wellll, Geoffrey," the mooncalf begins, in raised voice and subdued tone, "You see, a lot of folks wind up... together, 'stead of married. Or with others, even. They, ah... well, bein' married and wantin' someone, those two don't always mix. An' sometimes, you know better, and things jus'... happen." Angus draws idly in the dirt with his finger for a moment, head inclined. "It ain't wrong like stabbin' a fellow; more like droppin' out drunk. Happens all th'time, but shit happens around it, so... better t'be good, 'kay, buddy?" The miscreant knight stays huddled over his pet, unwilling (perhaps unable) to offer any more on the subject. --- "Angus!" she scoffed, blushing and furrowing her brow. "Come on, I'm seventeen. I'm not some naive maiden who's ears must be protected from all that is unholy. I've already... A-Anyway, don't speak to your bear instead of me. Wait, know better... So, s-so what, were the Valter girls-- h-how many, did you...?" Cass hadn't heard the finer details of Angus' adventures with the girls Valter, only that he had done something, and when questioned, it became apparent of what it had been. But with which one? "Oh my God." A sudden assumption. Cass put a hand over her mouth, slipping back a few inches. "All three?" she spoke with an incredulous whisper. No way. Not even one would be believable, even though it had happened. --- Perks? Angus' shoulders flinch noticeably at Cass' inquiry. His head tilts and turns, bugged eyes drilling into the Princess before he finally loses his breath. The mooncalf's affect falls, and he orients himself as a conversing adult ought, too amused at the idea to be mortified any longer. "Just Morta", he admits. "Bein' honest, th'temptation was there for all three. My head just wasn't workin' that late!" Angus chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Least I did somethin' smart, even if I didn' know it. With those three comin' along, I'll know quite a bit sooner if Engel decides I've, ah... own up." Even in the context of this entirely-too-personal conversation, mentioning it so explicitly to Cass was beyond the mooncalf. Surely, she knew what he was on about. --- "I'm not sure what would make for a worse scandal... The princess and the daughter of Tobias Herman getting married, or the newly appointed Baron Kearney sleeping with all three Valter girls. I suppose we won't be able to find out, unfortunately," Cass joked with a wry smile. She was glad it had only been the one, though his thinking of all three in one night was... Well, it was something, but Cass wasn't quite sure what. It made her feel awkward? Like, she couldn't think of being with Adele and someone else, even if it was just for that. She wasn't about to judge Angus for it. No, not after his next lovely mention. "Oh. Oh my God. Are you... Oh my God." She placed a hand on her face and smiled at him, not sure what else to do. "You're going to be father Kearney, aren't you?" She couldn't stop a chuckle, letting it grow into a full laugh, flopping back onto the grass and clutching her stomach. "That's just like you, Angus! Leave no stone unturned, and no job unfinished! Hehahaha~" --- Beyond imagination Angus blushes an unbelievable red, turning away from Cassandra and crouching over his pet. "N-no. 'Least, I hope not... it only happens sometimes!" The mooncalf scoops the cub up into his arms, sparing only a glance over his shoulder before hoofing it with tremendous haste. "I've, eh... gotta go feed th'barn! ...muck the cows!!" Angus' fleeing excuses were far from believable, but at least he was getting away from that dreadful idea. If he had to face it one day, he had to face it, but Engel help him if he'd spend any more thought on it than was needed. Hopefully, Cass didn't hear the nervous chuckle that escaped him for just a moment on his way out. "More cheap killers too big f'r their pants", the baron Kearney muses to himself. He could only wonder at why anyone would bother coming after them anymore--did nobody know out here that the Prince ate assassination attempts for breakfast and kidnappings with supper? Still, these were more welcome than... really, anything Angus had seen since leaving Wyke. That delightful bull-head, Thomas, was still short anything useful at all by the time Angus was done arming himself. A friendly whistle and the clatter of steel would serve to garner his attention. "Will you lookit this now, mate!", the mooncalf exhorts. "We're lookin' to be only down two t'one! Think you c'n handle two o'these, Esclabor?" Maybe Angus' mirth wasn't so called for, but he couldn't deny one sliver of anticipation. That Thomas could hardly stomach honest work, but he'd survived so long on bandit turf for a reason. What was he made of? Give Esclabor: Angus' Hand Axe (8/20), Convoy's Iron Axe (45/45), Convoy's Bronze Axe Angus deposits Angus' Vulnerary (2/3) Angus takes Lars' Hammer, Convoy's Foreign Charm Angus deploys to (6,11)

Comeuppance "Really, I'm here 'cause this'un..." (here, a gesture towards Esclabor) "...that'n with Perroy..." (now, a finger directed at his little one) "...an' this fool righ' here!" (finally, two thumbs up for Wyke's most inept mother) "We made a few bad decisions, an' we gotta pay th'toll." The farm-ready boy finds no small laughter in the fleeing pig, and even more at the scowl on Esclabor's face. As much as one can think through gales of laughter, Angus imagined that image as the kind that inspired men to a lifetime's devotion to art, the sort of "I saw Engel on the mountain" experience that brought around a whole lot of fancy glass! Struggling against his enthrallment (not made easier by coming closer, mind!), Angus reaches for Esclabor's right hand. The youth sputters for a moment, blowing a tremendous raspberry to find the composure to speak. An enormous grin exhorts Thomas to admit defeat. "You heard 'er! This is it, buddy, this is your out~!" [Don't look 'im in the eye, don't look 'im in the eye, you're gonna lose your shit again!], Angus implores of himself. His only hope: something sobering to fix his gaze on. Cass--nope. The fields Esclabor was being subjected to--definitely not. The shit-eating face on Orpheus? No hope after that one.

Banjos intensify Angus offers the boy Percy a gentle nod of the head--to get down on his level would disturb the bear, and that wasn't acceptable. "I was actually told your papa ain't jus' good with people," Angus explains. His attention then turns to Perroy. "You know that grass merchant you lot have?", he inquires, giving Geoffrey a reassuring pet on the back. "Well, it's been two days since this one got drunk, an' he's not back to normal. The graybeard told me you'd be the man t'ask, so..." Angus rests Geoffrey gently on the ground, opening his arms to indicate the cub. "I'll, ah... I'll be in the way. Don't worry; 'e's harmless!" Angus rubs his pet's ear one last time before rising, turning away to a most welcome sight. He trudges in Cassandra's direction to greet her, only to find that Geoffrey wasn't the only animal that seemed to be fond of her! "Weeelll, lookit who the cat dragged in!" The mooncalf can't hold quite all of his laughs, and doesn't even try. "Better get 'im, Cass! You would not believe how far one o' them suckers can run!"

Nope. [The bear... might have died?] Angus had heard more than enough. With a halfhearted wave and nod--perhaps Perroy would know how to handle a hungover bear--he steps quickly backwards from the rank odor and careless herbalist. True to the herbalist's suggestion, man and bear return to the farm. On a hunch, Angus returns to where he first met the old farmer; perhaps he could be found there? Angus goes to the farm!

Drinking sucks, so let's go find some herb Two nights and a day later, Geoffrey still was still sick. Such a thing even after a day's hard work wasn't heard of in the Kearney family--if one of theirs wasn't chipper after a day of shoveling crap, that was their special omen of disaster. Sure, the bear himself didn't and couldn't work himself to exhaustion, but a day in the sun should've been more than enough! Angus dismisses the worry of yet more serious resistance in the few remaining days until Raewald. Instead, he hauls his groggy pet (after several inquiries and no few laughs of recognition) to one place that might assist him. "Oei, eh, 'scuse me." The mooncalf taps the door open, bear hanging over his shoulder like so many potatoes. "You got anythin' for too much o'the drink? My boy here, well... we had a night." His regret was palpable, even if not wholehearted. No mother could wish any pain on his little one, of course! Sometimes it was still worth it, though. Like letting the sprouts play with fire, but with less crying and bowel control. Angus visits the Herbalist!

Too Hosed Angus blinked at Claire in surprise--that bard as a killer seemed about as likely as Geoffrey being mistaken for a man! [Claire wouldn't lie abou--axe. Heee's got an axe.] The mooncalf shakes his head, like a dog ridding his jowls of some stubborn detritus. Angus gives the mage a gentle (or so he hopes...) push barnwards before stepping in front of Thomas. "Beard. Barrd." The slurring mooncalf throws up his arms, waving them frantically. "Git! Shoo! Outta heeere! Beadet! Raarrgh!" The bear roars, too: a pathetic thing, more a mewling burp than a rumbling terror. Angus still staggers a step back, checked by someone quite a bit more sober and more grumpy than he. Baron to baron, Angus whispers a most confidential secret, turning his back to the overtly threatening, overwhelmingly-armed Scuttle. "We're tooooo dunk," he flatly asserts. "Member tha' Nelon guy? Lesssssss go seem. 'sides, shaint got nothin'!" An attempted elbow tap to the ribs certainly wasn't helping matters, but try for it Angus did regardless. "I'm work morrow; you c'n spend allllll day give ner a height reduck shin! Long's Claire's with you, th'board c'n wait, noooooooooo~?" To Angus' imagination, everyone present (with the possible exception of Scuttle) was too drunk for a real fight--some too drunk even for a brisk walk! "Who stabbed who" could wait until everyone was at least sober. "Er... wazzit whom..." Definitely better for Angus to not be fighting, at least.

A new mount appears! A visitor to Angus' dirt party arrived! Claire's apology puzzled Angus; she had nothing to apologize for. At any rate, something behooved him to stand, quickly, after she spoke. Something with a wet nose. Something gurgling very familiarly. The mooncalf sprang to his feet, grabbing Claire's cloak and yanking her along with him. A forward stagger saves him from Geoffrey's vomit, but Claire was not so lucky: she flew forward, clotheslined at the waist by Angus' shoulder. A gentleman would have promptly set the lady on the ground, but Angus' thoughts flew off to uncharted and uncouth lands. "Y'knowww... lady shouldn' hafta walk nowhere drunk!", the mooncalf pontificates, finally taking a few meaningful steps in the barn's direction. Her protesting writhes were ignored by Angus--stumble sideways though he did under her wriggling weight, the lunatic had finally found his feet. "Heere. I'll do thisssss, an' you c'n grab the bar!" If only he could find his marbles; even after this short time, Angus had almost entirely forgotten that his furry little pet was a wild animal most men, drunk or not, cared for no business with at all. Not as if that really mattered. Even drunk, a cub knows to follow his mother, right?

Who needs to be smooth when you can be unintelligible? Angus groans at Claire's revelation, crashing on his ass beside his pet. He leans left--"Arrrrrrrggggh." He droops to the right, not so much a building erected and toppled as a top's final seconds. "Urrrrrrrrrrgggh." The details were hard to string together in his stupor, but the idea was for the whole girls' love thing to stay under wraps, wasn't it? He had to say something, anything--but all he could do was be disappointed. "Least I look less've a cad if she's pageant..." was the only muttering that escaped--some small upside, that he could do the proper thing if that night with Morta took. The wasted knight takes no little curiosity to the slam of boots on the dirt. Legs flung into the air, one arm contorted into a posture beyond Angus' understanding, marched his comrade and savior, Doug! [He... wasn't at the tavern already. So he ain't drunk yet?] Angus quickly abandoned any hope of understanding that master of the prettiest pegasus, instead offering a helpful bit of advice. "Urrrr, I spilled meads. Don' *hic* trip!" He pauses. "Rizz that a slip..."

Note to the world: Angus can't search for beans Angus could find which limbs were his legs, all right; he was simply trying to muster the strength to pull Geoffrey bodily away from the spilled booze, despite whatever unholy slippery spell was cast on his boots with every drop he drank. Progress was slow, but step by step, the mooncalf dragged his pet, its resistance flagging as its mother removed it from the tasties. Somehow, Esclabor was still angry about that boy. This brought a grin to Angus' face, even if Claire and Thomas were only in any position to see his rear end. "Iiii like 'im," Angus finally finds. "If you didn'no work, why, ah... valiant... volume... ... vindicate..." The baron goes on a most private treasure hunt, offering only the grunts of exertion until they made it to the door. The wind carried him a word, that word he searched for for so long! "Volunteer!" This time, spares Claire a beaming smile, as if that performance would earn him a place at the bright kids' table. "Whydee volunteer then?? Seeeeeems like a bad decision!" Angus affectionately rubs Geoffrey's side. The ambitious cub actually tips at the touch, and that joyful, drunken non-regret overtakes the man. "Jus' like this'nn!"

Did you not see me admit defeat to my pet bear Angus again claws his way to the heights at which people lived, this time preventing the inevitable with a most noble and helpful chair. Another mead beside his own threatened in more than one way to floor him: it seemed old Esclabor thought Angus had any hope of draining another. He shakes his head, a hiccuping cough. "Na'chance. I'm wrecked! Wrecked on th'sea of honeys an' why d'that mean th'world still gotta spin, a momute, gimme a minent." Angus' blurry eyes told him of four glasses on the table: Geoffrey's, two of his, and Thomas'. Left hand, forward; yup, mead. Right hand, forward; mead again. Wasn't seeing double. With a mad grin, he offers his peer an option that might liven things up for everyone. "Iiiiii'm done. Th'boy, he can't--he can't anymore. Don' got 'nother in 'im." Clumsy arms gather up the three--er, two, after spilling one all over the table, planting them with a slosh at Esclabor's seat. "Howwwww 'bout... whatif you-you-you're better at drinkin' than the boyr, the bar, bear. Bear." The last repitition delivered with a final, brief emphasis, Angus takes on a smug countenance, even if he dare not lean back. He looks left. He looks right. Did anybody else want to see this?

Angus giggles madly to himself under the table, his pet's thirsty slobbering quite a sight. One hand pulls up on the table, his feet scrambling for a foothold. Shaky, lopsided, he rises, coming eye-to-eye with that sweet-smelling alcohol... and feels the warm burn of bile in his throat. Geoffrey was still in working order, it seemed; already, he moved on the next glass placed before him. In Angus' eyes, that more than settled it. It takes more than a moment to ensure he would remain standing, but once he does, Angus lifts his barely more sober pet into the air. His slurring voice announces the winner, in as sensationally deep a tone as he can manage. "Th'winnerrr! Geoffreyyyy the bearrrrr!!" The knight's purchase on the ground was really more of a lease, and soon he tumbled on his ass, Geoffrey crashing atop him. Too drunk to pay merit to the pain, Angus outright cackles, still holding the pet close. Above him, in the crowd... Decima? Morta? Prone, the ruined mooncalf pleas playfully for aid. "Lookie there, buddy! Thar's some *hic* friendly faces~! Hullo, girls! Would y'be sooo kind as t'get me upupupup, uppers, up-skyward, upoff th'floor~? My legs, they've betrayed me! Lo, taterous stumps!" Angus contorts his face into a puzzled grimace. "Taterous? Traiaitorus. Yeah, close 'nough!" Again, the humor of the night assaults him--even Geoffrey seemed surprised by his mother's antics, baying with a warbling voice.

The mooncalf studies his pet for a moment, pondering Emmet's question. Eventually, he finds his answer in the fog. "Nah. 'e's been messed up for a bit; I'd be righ' surprised if 'e woke up tonight, even if all went well with Perroy. Couldn' tell you anythin' about 'im as a healer, either. Th'way I figure, it's outta my hands, has been since we got back." The crowd's presence silenced any thought of mentioning that world. Their jeering, cheering, taunts... those put aside the desire. His sweet boy, he lapped at the mead like a grown man. The night was young. The voices of friendly strangers cocooned him, drawing him out of his own life and into this brief paradise. Angus holds up three fingers--soon enough, three more flagons found their way to the table. The baron shoves one to Emmet with a wink, a wink that asked "why not join us?", even with the answer sitting at that very table. Angus, however, takes to his feet, flagon soaring above his head. "T'all us crazy bastards what're still kickin'!", the mooncalf hollers, deluging himself with tasty, tasty poison. The room swam, and Angus plummeted onto his rear, laughing at the marvel of how such a furry thing could sit like a man... At least, until the booze kicked in. Angus +1 Mead Geoffrey +1 Mead (please don't drink Emmet's too, bud)

Challenge Accepted Even the specter of the wizard couldn't keep Angus' attention from the shouting crowd; it was too ridiculous to contemplate. A drinking contest with his bear? The mother twists his chair around, eyeing the friendly (if soused) tide of people. "You all know 'e's just a boy, righ'?" He giggles, shakes his head, considering two tankards offered by one of the patrons... but Geoffrey's nose dictates his actions. Who was he to deny the little guy a fun night, if he enjoyed the drink so much? Angus hadn't seen anything faze the little beast since he found him, at any rate. "Arrrrrrrright, some o' you stay sober so I remember this!", the mooncalf exhorts, taking up the drink and setting one in front of Geoffrey. Another hearty quaff--like honey. [Are bears big on honey? Right. Emmet. That wizard, and Nelon.] Angus retrieves a copper piece from his pocket, flicking it onto the table between the two. "Hopin' you're right on the wizard; makin' that happen, now that's a whole 'nother song an' dance, eh?" Another drink--a fuzzy friend began to nudge the knight's skull, and not the one threatening to strew glassware all over the Boot. "Nelon, ech... Perroy's a good man, but I wonder if 'e could do any good. Don't by half seem the type t'do somethin' daft and kill 'im, at least! He should keep for the time bein'." The lunatic Kearney drains his glass, lobbing it high over his shoulder as a token for some lucky patron--or unsuspecting noggin. Unless Angus found himself the first man in history to be drunk under the table by a bear (as he had every chance of doing), it was going to be one hell of a night. Angus +1 Mead! Geoffrey +1 Mead!

His SKL really isn't high enough to shoot the breeze "Cheers." Angus raises his glass, taking a great gulp before plunking it unceremoniously back down on the table. "Aye, I got somethin'. Wanted t'know what you thought about... everything that happened, a few days ago." Angus definitely needed another drink, bringing that up. "You were right about that bastard. I'm just wonderin' what you think about th'whole mess, honestly. I wasn't the closest to 'im when we were workin' together, and seein' as you were part of that trip..." yet again, Angus quaffs his mead, disappointed to find it nearly empty. "Well, I was hopin' you could make better sense of it than I could. Haven't figured out a damn thing, 'sides that it all happened." The boy drains the last of his tankard, only to start at the solid crack of glass hitting wood to his right. Judging by the surprisingly small splash, the bear had already made it through his! Angus scratches the furry noggin, looking to Emmet. For answers, maybe? Or maybe just someone to hash it out with.

If you lead a bear to booze, can you teach him to drink? Angus is far from the first to wander into the Farmer's Boot, carrying an animal that reeked of duck leavings and other delightful pond detritus even worse than he did. Strangers bumped him on each side as he searched for a table, balancing a grip on two meads in one hand and Geoffrey in the other. Soon enough, he happened to be shoulder-to-shoulder with that bowman-cleric, Emmet. Had it really only been a handful of days since that fight? And... he'd made a right fool of himself not long before that, hadn't he. "Oei, Emmet." Significantly friendlier than the last time he'd said those two words, but still not quite what Angus was hoping for. "I'll be sat over there; maybe swing by once you've got yours, eh? I'm thinkin' we oughtta talk." Flubbed, for the second time in a row that day, but it was no terribly great matter. At least he had some small joy ahead of him. The mooncalf seats his bear beside him, setting a drink in front of the beast. He would only be allowed the one, of course, but Angus could only wonder. Angus has a mead! Geoffrey is offered a mead!

Dumber and Dumberer Angus chuckles weakly, at a loss for how to handle this woman. His words soared like ducks over her head, but at least one of the three wasn't planning his demise. Progress! The last insinuation, however, elicited a genuine laugh, and a slap that sprayed water over the airhead rider. "Believe me, I don't go lookin' for trouble--it jus' follows me around!" Geoffrey is once again lifted from the water, dripping water onto Angus' already-sopping skull as he looks up at the furry beast. "Ain't that righ', Trouble?" Trouble vocalized in response, a roar so quiet and protracted one might imagine a cat in his place. Once again, he's set free to swim, as Angus leans back into the water--a calm and enjoyable hour for him, even if not for everyone else.

Angus, Please Stop Talking What triumph! Such majesty! Incredible excellence! Geoffrey was swimming like a fish! The waiting arms of his mother fling him upwards in celebration, allowing the furry cannonball to carve out an aquatic crater. That great black nose, cresting from his dive as if nothing happened, warmed Angus in a way the pond could never hope to chill. Not even Nona's attention could frighten him at that point. "Nah; if I cared, I'd have done it 'fore meetin' Perroy!" Angus nuzzles the bear's wet fur before releasing him. Geoffrey swam free, eyeing the ducks but staying close regardless. No doubt he considered the hunt hopeless. Speaking of hopelessness and fliers, the young Kearney only then recalled that he had no little unfinished business with the sisters. And... had he just been staring at Nona for the last few seconds...? Without a word, Angus baptised himself for a few seconds, enjoying the cold before what he had to say. "Arright. Now, Nona... do me a great favor an' pass this on t'your sisters, would you?" Angus sighs, now diverting his eyes rather purposefully. "I'm sorry, for all o'this. I didn' think we'd have more'n token resistance gettin' out here. Those twins? Tha' thrice-damned wizard? Ywein? Engel above. Too much for me by half, even." Angus runs a hand through his sopping hair, the other nudged by his pet's muzzle; he hadn't admitted to being overwhelmed before, and it only added to his growing discomfort. "Funny thing is, this was my idea of makin' it up t'you three! 'less I can't see straight, you an' your sisters were miserable at home, righ'?" Only for the briefest moment does Angus meet Nona's eye. "So I says to myself, 'Kearney, you right bastard, take 'em on this nice diploma'ic trip, give 'em good reason t'leave that bug-eyed old-timer for a spell', knowin' full well how things shook out, what with you an' Decima an' Morta an' Cass..." Each name brought difficult, specific memories to mind, and surely some too for Nona. "Well... it wasn' right, any of it. With Cass, tha' was overnigh', an' I... couldn' have done that any other way." The details of his arrangement with the Princess rather pointedly omitted, Angus continued to babble. "But tellin' you lot with a damned letter? Not even stickin' around for an hour t'hash anythin' out that mornin'? Not a word to any of you 'til jus' now?" The knight shakes his head, fully turned away from Nona at this point. "Disgraceful. I'm sorry, 'bout all of it. ...tha's all." Once again, Angus submerged, a rather pitiful and half-hearted attempt to hide from Nona; this time, though, he popped up in a different place, surprising the paddling bear. With any luck, Nona would not feel the need to respond to that rambling mess, and take this opportunity to depart.