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--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----Trey wrote:
Guennarr wrote:
(...) So Tandor's earthly analogue is the U.K.?[PF 1850]
I was thinking there was a bit of the Byzantine in there, too.
Both analogues don't bode well for Taldor's chances of reacquiring their old position. ;)
Still as mentioned elsewhere: Certainly the most exclusive - aahhm fraction to choose.
Cheers,
GüntherEDIT P.S.
Maybe there is also a bit of ancient Greece in it - a lot of squabbling, tendencies of hedonism (at least in the later upper class) and such a rich heritage its descendants are still feeding on...
Taldor is definitely an interesting choice.
sidles up to Seebo Marnig (the host of this party)
"My lord may wish to steer his favored guests away from the spiced mushroom tarts. They're intended for that gendarme whose been harasing the upstairs maids again. He'll spend a few days in the jakes, which should give the girls a refreshing break. And put paid to the chances of his promotion."
As Leonadis looks around the party, he keeps an eye out for any un-escorted, or escorted by a soon to be passed out drunk date, Celaxian Girl. They are no fun for a long term thing but for tonight... (You know, lots of fire and spirit, but no substance...
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This may not be garden party chit chat, but there are still some of us who believe our mighty empire can rise again! It will not be on the backs of the fops and nobles, but by returning to the old ways. Support the training of a mighty army and pay our respects to all the gods and we can once again bring the imperial peace to all peoples of this land!
(Klovanos looks around awkwardly)
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Contributor
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It will not be easy, friends, but the wine is well aged, and the table is certainly set in our favor.- Arregus Estanos Thaygurat, Minister of the Third Entropic Chamber and Bound Timekeeper of the Reformation.
Agreed in all particulars, my lord. Most excellently put. But I must ask *whispers loudly* who let all these sartorially challenged fellows in the door?
- Lord Siuol Atserga, Master Duelist to House Atserga
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Ya tink dees Chels can fight? Seem like a bunch of posturin' ta me.
All hen, no c~!~, if ya follow.
While still chewing a bit food the half-orc responds, "Follow what?"
He then takes a swig of wine to wash down the remnants of the food before adding, "Either way, the Chels can certainly fight. I was brawling with them last week. At least I think they were Chels."
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"I was at the bar minding my own business, when men at the table decided to cause trouble for me. They kept on lobbing insults at me while I was having a bit of a drink"
"Normally, I just make an angry face at people who insult me and leave it at that, but they decided to insult my mother. I can't stand by when that happens."
"So it pops into my head that when people of importance was insult they would take their glove and slap the jerk with it. In this case though I felt this deserved more than a glove slap. So I just picked up a nearby table and swung it at his head."
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Hrumph, party indeed. Whoever taught you to throw parties spent too much time listening to some foreigner's idea of what a proper party is. This is more like a casual gathering...party indeed.
You call this wine? Wine from outside our spectacular vineyards tastes more akin to dirty water than wine. It's probably closer to the taste of the feet of the Andoran's who's been stomping the grapes.
The cake looks like it was built by dirty peasant hands, I'd hate to even consider what it tastes like. Probably gritty with the sand from the Qadiran ship you bought it from.
You're lucky my parents aren't here, they'd laugh you out of town. If it weren't the only party in town, I'd not even embarrass myself with my presence.
*waives his hand haughty*
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This has been pleasant. Who am I? Why I've been here for hours, haven't you noticed? I have that effect on people sometimes. Find me after a few more glasses of this wine and I'll recite the Ballad of Margral, Head Chef of the Second Army of Exploration. It's a short one - only about two hours if I hurry and skip the genealogies - quite suitable for parties.
I see Krovak suddenly looks interested - is that because there is food or armies involved? Perhaps a little of both.
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Arriving fashionably late, as all true Taldan do, Anastasius acquires a glass of wine and a pair of cucumber sandwiches from the passing halfling. Meandering about the garden, he carefully drops a cucumber sandwich into the infernal engine, causing it to splutter and grind to a halt when activated by the rotund Andoran. Small puffs of steam escape the device, which tips over and knocks into one of the Chelish "guests."
"Oh my. Dreadfully sorry about the cloak there--oil is such a bother to have removed. It was peculiar of that gentleman--of Andoran extraction, by the smell--to leave such an.. active objet d'art as a gift for our host.
I do believe it's left a divot in addition to the damage to your cloak, though perhaps it's for the best that you'll have to replace it. I should speak with the gentleman about some kind of cleaning bill. I think I saw him attempting to exeunt past the dueling door guards at the front. Artists. Never keen to stand the criticism."
He nibbles the second sandwich contentedly.
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Yori returns from assisting a guest (and summoning a healer) just in time to see the arrival of the young Lord Blackcairn. After watching the elegance with which the lordling acts, he manages to catch his eye, then bows with approval.
Anastasius returns the bow, and sips from his wine, observing both the Taldan present and the interlopers.
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Milosh Castille, Renown Varisian Dancer arrives wearing a number of Colorful Scarves draped around his body.
"Greetings all, we should have music and dancing, where are the drummers."
He bows to a few Chelaxians he recognizes and winks.
"Let's not bring our differences to this party." He swipes a drink holds it high.
"To the Pathfinders!"
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Sil scurries towad Anastasius and Krovak bearing a platter full of yet more cucumber sandwiches. "Sandwiches, m'lords," she says casting a sideways glance at the now defunct infernal device. "I hope that man from Galt is not too sad about his fireworks."
Krovak nudges Anastasius slightly with his elbow, "I think the nice lady brought sandwiches for you."
"Fireworks." He then stops and to think about something. "Why do you need a building to make fire?"
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Relieved of her burden, Sil sighs and takes a seat under the table at Krovak's feet. Tugging on the half-orc's pants, she whispers, "if you see any of the party's hosts, give me a nudge...don't want to get caught sitting down on the job you know. Oh, and please try not to hit anyone with this table, at least while I'm sitting here."
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Somewhat surprised by the sudden gathering about him, Anastasius smiles with aplomb despite the slightly shaking wineglass and plucks a couple of sandwiches from the tray now held by the half-orc.
"Why thank you, my good.. er, my good sir! Ah, the traditional cucumber sandwich. Takes me back to my youth in Cassomir, truly. These appear to have the tang of true Taldan cucumbers, as well. Our host spares no expense, despite the mangled guest list."
He turns to the boxer. "Of course she's a spy. We're all spies here, particularly those from places that have known the sweet taste of true nobility. If one wishes to try and match one's betters, what else but to spy on them? And one's betters must perforce spy on the lesser nations in return, lest they emulate too well and overturn the rightful order."
Grabbing a cloth from the table, he covers the top of the slowly cooling infernal machine, and rests his wineglass on it. The smile returns, briefly.
"If nothing else it provides diversion before the dancing."