Date: March 18, 1998
Place: Rialto, Meeting Hall - Delphic Citadel - Haven
Cast: Adar, Aillil, Appolonia, Cassandra, Cepheus, Damaris, GreyWolf, Hepzibah, Jason (I), Justinius, Khalid (I/III), Khamseen, Larex, Liora, Lucian, Minowee, Myria, Pelagria, Raziel, Red-Tail, Stavros, Suri, Valin, Zurain
Scene: A meeting is called between various faction leaders so that Justinius might outline his plan for a peace treaty with the Varati. Tragedy strikes, however, and peace is the last thing on anyone's mind...

Damaris enters the hustle and bustle of the Rialto from the northeast.

Lucian looks incredulously at the vendor. "What do you mean, 50? Bah, I'll not give more than 35!"

Minowee crouches on a southwestern rooftop, wings half-spread.

Damaris enters the area of the Rialto, two other Empyreans bearing the owl emblem of House Tritonis flanking her as she touches down.

Justinius arrives in style--surrounded by a small group of Praetorian soldiers. Despite the stories of his ill health, Justinius looks remarkably hearty, and he nods and waves to the crowd, barely even using the cane that he holds in one gnarled fist.

Red-Tail sits drunkenly on a bench.

Whatever the question the man asks Zurain, the answer is deferent negative. She indicates the center of the Rialto, murmurs a further apology and bows her head, before his scowl, his departure. When he is gone, Zurain looks up, probably expressionless, and continues her watching.

Appolonia smiles, dropping a courtesy to her Emperor as he approaches the Tower.

Despite her drunken state, Red-Tail has enough presence of mind to make her way to a spot to watch the Emperor's arrival. She stares wide-eyed at his entrance.

The sudden change in the sound of the crowd distracts Lucian, who wheels about. Seeing his Emperor and entourage, he gasps softly and drops to bent knee, forgetting about the jar of spices.

Lurking in the shadow of a vendor's stall--or perhaps just seeking shelter from the rain--Liora's eyes drift away from Lucian to the other Empyreans entering, passive in their recognition of the Lady Tritonides... and curious at the older one, with all the guards, to whom all seem to bow.

Pausing at sight of the immense white tower, the Emperor cranes his silver head back, looking awed--for though his own city is said to be a place of wonders, even it has nothing like the Delphic Citadel. The Praetorians keep a close circle around him, watching the other passersby warily.

Valin, Khalid, and Hepzibah enter from the north.

Minowee watches both Justinius' and Damaris' entrances from her damp perch (on a southwestern rooftop, wings half-spread).

Lucian rises to his feet, smiling as he follows the Emperor's gaze.

Appolonia straightens, standing demurely, hands clasped before her, her hood shadowing her face.

Damaris smoothes her toga after she lands, and murmurs a few words to the two House Guards with her. They nod, and accompany her as she approaches the general direction of Justinius and entourage. Her own gaze drifts up to the citadel, and she smiles slightly at the Emperor's awe.

Justinius is somewhere in the midst of the rialto, surrounded by a group of formally-clad Praetorian soldiers. He is wearing finery as befits the occasion, though his exalted rank doesn't prevent him from gazing wide-eyed at the tower.

The outcast on the outskirts of the crowd, Liora presses back into the shadow of a stall, eyes drawn now to the north, flashing darkly as the Varati arrive.

Cutting their way through the crowds, the entourage of thirteen wyverns is utterly unmistakable. Decked out in formal armor and parade attire, the huge beasts plow their way into the Rialto. Six wyverns lead the guard, followed by the wyvern queen ridden by Khalid Atar, and protected by the rear with another six wyverns of the Agni-Haidar.

GreyWolf and Myria enter the Rialto from the western part of Main street.

Red-Tail watches the entrance with interest yet not the awe she had for the Empyreal emperor.

Aillil, Suri, and Cepheus are lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.

Justinius looks fairly insignificant next to those powerful wyvern steeds and all the finery of the god-king of the Varati. But he doesn't seem to mind. The reports of his ill health must have been exaggerated, for he's standing at ease, without leaning on his cane, and his wings flex and resettle against his back casually. Turning and scanning the crowd for Damaris, he tips his head towards the Citadel.

GreyWolf and Myria enter from the east, walking very close together. They occasionally look at one another passing a few words.

Damaris smoothly cuts through the crowd to Justinius, and bows low to him for a moment, the words, "Your Imperial Majesty" shaping her lips if they can't be heard over the ruckus in the Rialto. She then turns and regards the arrival of Khalid, flanked by her own guards at his advice, a faint smile touching her lips as she bows a bit more briefly.

Myria enters the Rialto, her hand lightly held in GreyWolf's... though as the two walk further into the loud marketplace, her grip tightens somewhat. She's obviously less than comfortable... but fully capable of putting on a brave face. She nods and smiles slightly to any that catch her eye and acknowledge her presence.

From the north come the footsteps of three, those being: Cepheus, Aillil, and Suri. Two Hounds and a companion, the two men being Reeves as well.

Pelagria and Raziel arrive in the Rialto.

Appolonia casts a cold gaze to the pomp and circumstance of the Varati entrance, and drifts closer to her Emperor.

Raziel lands on a corner of a building, sitting there quietly.

Minowee crouches, slightly damp wings half-spread, on the roof of some convenient southwestern building as she takes in the goings-on.

With a stately, dignified stride and shunning the use of his cane, the Emperor Justinius starts toward the gates of the Delphi Citadel, his guards moving in tandem. Occasionally, the old man will nod cordially to anyone who catches his gaze.

Still, by the cloth merchant's booth, Zurain watches. She is safe, expressionless and motionless within the cover of wet robes that disguise her features, age and reactions. Through is her regard, slow and clinical, and on the nobles and commoners of all the races.

Hepzibah eases in several moments after the arrival of her god and king, snatches of her crimson attire visible past the broad figures of her own guard contingent.

Trying to remain unobtrusive, Liora slips quietly from her hiding place into the gathering crowds, trying to get a better look.

Lucian blinks in astonishment as Justinius approaches. "The Emperor? Coming here?"

Pelagria walks in silently as her sea-foam green eyes scan her surroundings, her garments gently caressing her skin as if being moved by some unseen breeze or current. She finds a place to sit or stand as she folds her hands in front of her, a soft smile upon her lips as she bows her head respectfully to those she knows as she seems to float to the spot she wishes to be.

Drawing his ebony sword from the blue sash at his waist, Khalid pursues the crowd with some level of interest. The wyvern queen snarls softly and flaps her wings, as indication to her irritation to the large crowd, but a calming word from her master soothes the savage beast. Still studying the crowds, Khalid finally spies Justinius and offers him a salute with the blade, before extending the same courtesy to Damaris.

"Mind your manners, boy," barks one of the Praetorians to the lad who spoke--Lucian. But Justinius himself holds up one hand, his silvered brows drawing together as he nears the youth. "Step forward," he requests, and his scratchy, harsh whisper may be indecipherable to any but those nearest the group.

Appolonia blinks, watching Justinius.

GreyWolf and his companion hang a small distance back from the masses, GreyWolf's eyes scanning over the precession at the gates of the Delphi citadel.

Lucian's face pales notably, but he quickly smoothes out his robes and steps forward with an almost audible gulp.

Damaris pauses rather than following the Emperor directly into the Citadel, folding her hands before her composedly as she watches Khalid. Perhaps she waits for him to follow Justinius after all is in order with his Varati entourage.

Lucian bows deeply. "Gr-greetings, your Majesty..." His hands play nervously with the sides of his robes.

Slipping off the saddle of the Queen, Khalid smoothly sheathes the blade of ebony within his sash, then hands off the reins to a stableboy that arrived with the entourage. The Agni-Haidar, in unison, follow the actions of their lord and assemble around the god-king as he begins to stride towards the Citadel.

The Emperor's pale blue eyes light up with interest as he scrutinizes the black-garbed youth. "Ahh, you must be the one," he murmurs to himself. Then, louder, he asks, "Tell me, dominus--" a prestigious title for a boy who hasn't passed his nineteenth year, "--what magic do you wield, that would earn you that robe?" He completely disregards Lucian's nervous greeting.

Hepzibah's dark lashes lift to follow the Khalid Atar as she steps forward to peer between the biceps of her guards, amethyst eyes studying him with worried warmth.

Cepheus stands next to Aillil and Suri. His eyes not looking at the happenings, but instead the crowds. They scan the masses coldly, looking for trouble in the may forms it might take.

Myria tilts her head very slightly as she observes with frank curiosity, the exchange between Lucian and the Emperor. She remains utterly silent and unobtrusive by GreyWolf's side.

Appolonia rubs one arm nervously, watching the meeting between old and young Empyrean with something akin to wonder.

Valin slowly strides over and takes up a path beside his god, remaining silent and rather stolid the entire time. His expression betrays no emotion at all.

Lucian looks around, wide eyes wishing someone else were being addressed. His voice caught in his throat, he manages to whisper, "Elementalism, your Majesty. The winds." He swallows, then quickly adds, "And an Esper..."

Larex enters the hustle and bustle of the Rialto from the northeast.

Damaris turns briefly to watch the exchange that has arrest Justinius' progress into the Citadel. Seeing that it is Lucian he addresses with such interest, she nods slightly to herself, as if speculations have been confirmed. She smiles encouragingly at the lad as he glances around.

Stavros is lured in from the north by the aroma of baked goods.

"The winds," Justinius remarks, and an odd little smile flashes across his lips. Both approving and... wistful. "A useful talent," he says, and, not entirely by coincidence, a sudden breeze flits through the Rialto, ruffling clothing, wings, hair, and swirling in a playful eddy around the black-clad Empyrean youth before Justinius. "Useful indeed," he says with a smile.

Certainly a busy summer morning this morning, as Stavros makes his way into the Rialto from the north.

Following Justinius' gaze, Khalid takes note of Lucian and a wry smile creeps across the edges of his lips. His left eyelid flickers in a brief, hidden wink at the young man-boy of an Empyrean. A moment more and the smile smoothes out into the impassive demeanor that the Varati are known for.

Giving up on trying to elbow through the crowds, Liora finally arches her wings and rises above the throng, to settle on the roof of the stall she had formerly hidden by. She shakes the drizzle from her wings and folds them behind her again, trying once again to be unnoticeable.

Pelagria stands near the side of the crowd, unattended by maids or guards as she stands stoically, her posture seeming delicate and feminine as she continues smiling politely, bowing her head respectfully to those she knows.

Red-Tail stands perfectly still near the edge of the crowd, not saying a thing and for once managing to blend in.

Lucian's arms work frantically to keep his robes neatly in order. His face flushing crimson, he tries to manage a smile. "Useful, yes, your Majesty."

Myria bites her lip as she glances around at the assembled gathering of nobles and gods and queens and whatever might fall in between. None of it is anything she's ever had any experience with. "Ani?" she whispers, turning to her companion. "What are we doing here? I... I don't want to offend anyone with my presence..."

Blink. Well... this place is unusually - active this morning. That seems to be the expression on Stavros' features, moistened by the drizzle, which also serves to plaster his hair to his back, as he makes his way in, looking around slowly, as if to gauge the situation, and/or if his presence is needed.

"Shall we continue, then?" Justinius' voice calls out, holding some echo of the power with which he could rouse crowds in his younger days. His wings twitch and settle along his back, and he glances over his shoulder to Damaris, then to the god-king of the Varati. It is on the latter that his gaze rests longest.

Appolonia blinks.

GreyWolf smiles at Myria, leaning over to whisper in her ear....

A wash of relief passes across Lucian's face as he steps back, watching the group head into the tower.

Raziel huddles down into his cloak, wrapping it tightly around him. He stays in the shadows, on a rooftop. Perhaps the brash young nobleman is ill.

Damaris nods slowly, elegantly to Justinius, but still waits for the approach of Khalid. The two leaders can lead the way into the citadel.

Minowee straightens, making her way to the edge of the roof, where she drops again into a crouch.

The problem with these over-tall Empyreans is not just that they're over-tall, but they are attached to those wings, which add feet more onto their height, or width. And only a few are having the very good sense to leave the pedestrians the street, and to themselves take the roofs, to watch. One, directly in front of Zurain, suddenly lets out a yelp and whirls, his wings tucked in and back in defensive posture. Seems someone plucked a feather. Imagine that. And the culprit...Is nowhere to be scene. Certainly not hiding under the robes of the lone Varati woman standing there, who could be imagined to be arching an eyebrow up at the unhappy Empyrean, who eventually takes his picked-upon (plucked-upon?) hide to the rooftops, like the wiser halfbreeds and outcasts.

Myria smiles very slightly at GreyWolf's whispered words to her and bows her head briefly, her cheeks flushing. When she looks up again, the procession has already begun.

Hepzibah hangs back within the protective circle of her quartet of attending Agni-Haidar, but her eyes watch everything intently over the edge of her veil.

Stavros makes his way further into the throng of individuals, tending to be taller than most of these 'over-tall' Empyreans, his wings folded tightly against his back. A few familiar forms seem to have caught his eye, and it is those that the Praetorian makes his way towards.

Inclining his chin to Justinius, Khalid leads the Varati royal guard until they are side by side with the Praetorian guard. The god-king glances to the side, towards his 'arch-rival' and fellow monarch, before issuing a second nod and marching forward into the Citadel.

Dripping passively, Liora watches the procession gathering at the Citadel's gates--though the slightest of smiles seems to make its way to her face as she spots one taller-than-over-tall Empyrean.

A small group of Praetorians surround the Emperor's slight form, and they stand up just a tad straighter when Stavros approaches, eager to look good in front of their Imperator. Then, when Justinius starts moving into the Citadel, they follow suit.

[Courtyard - Delphic Citadel - Haven]

Stavros follows in quietly. Given the familiar faces he saw move this way, not only is his curiosity piqued, but so is his duty...

Justinius proceeds toward the tower, surrounded by a group of guards. They continue into the Citadel.

Meeting Hall - Delphic Citadel - Haven:
     It is said that all learning originates at the Citadel, and that all recorded history may be found among the shelves of the Tower's great libraries. One of the smaller libraries in the compound, this room boasts a larger collection of tomes than many lords have seen in their lifetimes. The vast chamber is lined with shelves. Halfway up the wall a narrow walkway encircles the room, reachable by small sets of spiraling iron staircases spaced across the length of the chamber. From the walkway up, the great shelves continue until they very nearly reach the ceiling. The highest shelf of books is reachable only by long ladders, not for the faint of heart.
     Poorly lit, the room is shrouded in heavy shadows and has the smell of forgotten memories. What light is allowed is carefully attended lest a stray spark ignite the entire collection. Though the books are always under a watchful eye, many students come here to study and gather for meetings, as this is the most accessible and public of the many other rooms in Tower.

Khalid, Valin, Stavros, Damaris, Khamseen, Cassandra, Jason, and Larex step into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

Still side by side with Justinius, Khalid gives the room a cursory glance, before nodding sharply to Valin.

A grand table has been cleared and polished to provide a spot where the faction leaders and their retinues may sit. It is to one end of the table that Justinius goes, unfurling his wings grandly before settling into a high-backed, throne-like chair. He tips his head to the other end of the table, indicating where the god-king should sit--for apparently the Varati monarch is the whole reason for this meeting, if rumors are to be trusted. A gesture to Damaris indicates a seat at Justinius' right, and Stavros apparently is to sit at his left.

Without a word or change of expression, Stavros makes his way towards his Emperor's left side, and pauses there for a moment, glancing down towards his liege, hands folded behind his back in a somewhat casual, but still military, stance. Perhaps he wishes to stand. Either way, he seems to wait for word from Justinius before he would even deign to sit.

Valin motions with a wave of his hand and the Agni-Haidar fan out within the Meeting Hall. Each positions himself in a defensive posture to protect their god if necessary. Valin himself merely takes a step to the side and remains with Khalid, his expression still totally neutral.

And through the doors to the hall, comes a rather unlikely pair, walking in. Cassandra, former Sibyl of Delphi, making an entrance, with Khamseen Al-Fajr, stern as ever, eyes sharp, at her arm. A rather malicious smile twitches the corner of his lips as his eyes catch the different subtleties of the room and its occupants.

Jason enters the room, alone and dressed in the plainest of garments. When he has taken a few steps inside, his gaze trails about the forms of those in attendance. On some, it lingers longer, while it barely brushes past others. He bridges the distance separating him from the table, with no hesitation.

Among the servants, Larex works silently to help set out the chairs for those guests who wish to sit.

Damaris nods to Justinius, then to her house guard, and glides over to the seat indicated. She flexes her wings briefly--this could be a long meeting. One of the guard slides her chair back, and she lowers herself gracefully into it, the guards taking up positions behind her.

With smooth, practiced steps, Khalid crosses the distance towards his own 'throne', which is drawn out for him by one of his ever-present silver-and-black Agni-Haidar. The god-king of the Varati settles down into the chair, but only after his wings are pulled close against his firm back. His arms lie comfortably on the rests of the chair. Fiery blue eyes flicker towards Valin, then to the seat at his right.

Valin makes his way over toward the seat alongside his god and slowly sits down. He continues to look about the room warily, making sure each of his men are paying attention, and are at the ready.

A slight, cordial smile curls the Emperor Justinius' lips as he gazes down the length of the table. "Please," he asks, "let us not all look so grave. This will be a day of celebration, sure to be spoken of for many years to come. Some refreshment, to put us at ease." He glances around, eyebrows lifted and seeking a likely-looking servant. "Then we can get down to the reason why I asked all of you here."

Stavros makes no motion, save a nod towards Justinius, deep and respectful, before his gaze crosses the table to the god-king and his own personal counterpart, to both of whom he offers a like nod of silent greetings.

Larex catches up wine pot, bringing it as requested, bowing low as he presents it.

Damaris watches faces, with a curious examination of Jason, and noting Khamseen's expression. She then glances at Khalid again, that faint smile touching her lips, before she turns her attention to Justinius. Her smile widens slightly at his plea for less morosity.

Khamseen proceeds along at Cassandra's side and pulls a chair for her, towards the middle of the table, as he nods his head in reverence to both kings and a slighter nod is favored to the other dignitaries.

Jason also settles into a chair, which is neither close to the Emperor's, nor to the Varati God-King. He lays his palms down against the arms of his chair and grants Justinius his attention, by fixing his gaze upon the aging Empyrean.

Apparently the wine meets with the Emperor's satisfaction--he nods after a quick, cursory glance, then turns his attention to the assembled faction leaders. His brows draw together in a faint wrinkle as he spies Jason, but he says only, "First of all, I thank you on behalf of my Empyre for meeting with us. It is an honor to meet with all of you at last." His voice has a grating edge--the effect of age--but it is not unpleasant.

Raziel steps into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

Cassandra moves with slow and unhurried steps towards the table. So slow, it is almost akin to reluctance. Hair hangs forward as her head dips low in a bowing motion, before she seats herself. White-knuckled hands wring against her lap as a furtive gaze peers out from behind the curtain of hair to regard those seated.

Damaris' grey eyes flicker to Raziel's entry, and for some reason she can't maintain her slight smile any longer. Her expression now impassive, she watches the servants prepare the refreshments.

After pushing Cassandra's seat in for her, Khamseen, in turns follows suit by plopping down, with a tad less ceremony, upon the chair next to hers. Again, his face a mask of sternness and placidity, as only his eyes betray any remote interest in the proceedings, by their more than furtive scans of the different proponents.

A momentary frown mars Justinius' brow as he notes the arrival of Raziel. He exchanges a silent glance with Damaris, but says nothing. After a moment, his eyes go to the end of the table where Khalid Atar sits. "As many of you know," he begins in a quiet voice, "the Empyre and the kingdom of the Varati have not always been on the... best of terms." It is an understatement if ever there was one--even now the tension among the Praetorian soldiers is apparent as they, likewise, gaze down the length of the table toward the Agni-Haidar.

Raziel curls up in his seat, his eyes rapt upon his emperor.

After the Emperor has begun speaking, Jason settles back into his chair. He, is massive stillness, an immobility. To the servant offering him wine, he answers nothing. His eyes are half-closed, lips tightly sealed. Yet even silent and still, his presence fills the room.

Perhaps unlike many of those beneath him in rank, Stavros doesn't even stiffen at the remark, his own reminder constantly on his features, whether he wishes it there or not. He simply stands there, impassive, hands behind his back as always, looking attentively at whomever is speaking at the time.

One servant delivers splashes of wine to those along Justinius' side of the table. He retreats to the back of the room, and another servant takes a turn at bringing wine to the guests.

Pelagria steps into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

My, my, isn't it a gathering of stern impassive men. Looks like Khamseen will fit right in, as the Varati man brings his arms together, crossing over his chest, and turns his head markedly towards the current speaker, namely the emperor.

Raziel shivers and stifles a sneeze. He's obviously trying to shrink down into his seat and become invisible.

Pelagria slips inside silently and unattended by either guards or maids, her garments seeming to flow around her on a mysterious and unseen current as she makes her way to an empty seat.

Stavros favors Raziel with a glance, briefly, and it is not unkind, but nor is it any sort of benign one, either, before he looks back towards Justinius quietly, stoic in his expression, wordless as is his current place.

Pelagria bows her head respectfully to those present as she gives an apologetic smile to her tardiness before slipping into a seat gracefully, her long webbed fingers folding delicately in her lap.

Silent throughout Justinius' speech, Khalid Atar seems to drink in the words of his counterpart with unfeigned interest. His left hand drops into his lap, so as to idly stroke the hilt of his ebony blade, while the forefinger of his right hand taps against the armrest of his seat. For a moment or two his attention wavers and is captured by Jason, but it is a brief interlude at best.

"I had hoped we might try to bridge that gap between our nations, tonight," Justinius states, still keeping his blue-eyed gaze on the Varati god-king. "By an offering of peace." Now, those pale eyes sweep the room. "And that is why I have asked all of you here--to be witnesses. Perhaps, with this one step, there may come a day when Haven is not the only city where all the races may mingle freely, as brethren." His wrinkled old face is set in determination, as if daring anyone to challenge his words.

Challenging? No. But intent curiosity now marks Khamseen's features as he scrutinizes the emperor? Aside from that, the man remains the usual block of rock he is known to be by those who have encountered him in the past.

Khalid's gaze passes over Jason, only to fix upon Cassandra for a spare moment or two. But in that moment, deep interest etches its way across his strong, handsome features. He acknowledges her with a nod, before turning his regard back to Justinius. He allows himself a small smile of sorts as he continues to listen to the Emperor.

Raziel, shivering, smiles widely at his emperor.

Pelagria smiles and nods in agreement to the passive yet wise words of the Empyrean Emperor.

What could be considered a smile touches Stavros' lips, perhaps simply being a silent remark to himself, and those he has spoken to, that such efforts have already been made, in small respects and within more private circles, as it were.

Jason's fingers run along the side of his jaw, distractedly, as he appears to lose himself in thought. His eyes, now, are fully closed as his head lightly touches the back of his chair.

Nodding to himself, and perhaps even slightly relieved at the reaction to his statement, Justinius nudges his wine toward the Praetorian on his left before he himself will take a sip. Meanwhile, he continues. "But words are only so much wind--easily spoken, and easily forgotten. Something more...tangible is needed, to be given as a token of our goodwill toward those who have been our enemies for so long." Again, Justinius gazes toward the Khalid. "Therefore, I plan to relinquish some of our lands--our holdings--to the Varati, to make up for the city that they lost." He must be speaking of the attack on Amineh-Thurayya, for those of you not up-to-date on current events.

Damaris is certainly not going to challenge the emperor's words. She smiles warmly at Pelagria, and scans the rest of the table, with what appears to be a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Pelagria gives a private yet friendly smile towards Damaris as she then turns her sea-foam green eyes once more towards Justinius and smiles at the obviously thoughtful and honorable gift.

Raziel sneezes, trying to pay attention through watery eyes.

Stavros glances down towards his Emperor, seemingly perhaps somewhat mildly surprised by the offer, and rather not by the beneficence offered within it. Reaching down quietly, he takes the offered glass, and lifts it to take a quiet, small, sip before setting it back down again, nodding faintly.

Unlike Stavros, Khalid appears to be prepared for this, or so it would seem from his calm countenance. Both hands settle into his lap as he monitors Justinius from across the room.

Perhaps the faction-leaders are not troubled by the Emperor's 'gift,' but there is a ripple of displeasure among the Praetorians at his back. It passes quickly, however--they are well-trained, and know better than to voice their disapproval in such surroundings. But they stare with even greater intensity toward the Agni-Haidar at the other end of the table.

Damaris picks up her own glass as the Emperor brings up the matter of releasing holdings to the Varati, and takes a long, slow sip--her expression once again impassive as she sets the glass down. She does not seem surprised, either, but gauges the reactions of others.

Cassandra listens in silence, in stillness...save her eyes, ever wandering with some small note of anxiety. Justinius' words are absorbed with blank thoughtfulness, as her hair is drawn back out of her eyes for a more intent study of the room. Slinking a bit lower in her chair, Khalid is studied unblinkingly before restless eyes manage to return to Justinius. She shows no visible reactions to this announcement, or any recognition that the announcement was even heard.

Among the servants there's a few quiet words. Some almost sound heated, but whatever is said is brief. A servant comes forward to replenish the cups.

When Jason's pale blue orbs are unveiled again, as he shifts in his seat, they settle fully upon Cassandra, first. With something akin to clinical detachment, he studies the once sibyl before infinitesimally turning his head, and appraising the Varati God-King. Khalid.

Khamseen's eyes shift minutely from Justinius to the Varati king, as if to gauge for the man-god's potential expression, reaction or what have you.

If the Emperor is uncomfortable, he's hiding it well. Only an indrawn breath and another quick sip of wine to fortify his nerves betray any tension. Then, he plunges on, flicking a quick gaze to the Head of House Thanatos, so unsuccessfully trying to stifle his sneezes. "But which lands can the Empyre afford to relinquish? And what will happen to those who live there? By my decree, they will be given quarters in the Civitas Dei. However..." his eyes dart toward Damaris, then back to Raziel, "those lands will undeniably be property of the Varati. And all their resources will pass into Varati hands." If there's a reason why he's looking so intently at Raziel, perhaps Justinius will get to it in a moment...

The only reaction Stavros seems to have is, one, a faint nod towards his liege, two, a glance offered back towards his Praetorian, a faint scowl crossing his lips at their displeased murmurings, and three, a final look towards first Raziel, then towards Khalid, looking for reaction, if one is to be present.

And here it is: Justinius drops the bomb, while his gaze remains fixed on Raziel. "Because of their insults to the Varati, and to the Khalid in particular, the holdings of House Thanatos will be relinquished, their title stripped, and a public apology demanded of them for their insolence to our newly-acquired allies." With that said, Justinius expels a breath, and waits.

Interestingly enough, Khalid mirrors Justinius' rapt regard of Raziel as dark blue eyes hood over. Peering through thick, black lashes, the god-king of the Varati inspects the Head of House Thanatos with calm appraisal, before he glances in the general direction of Damaris. He appears to lick his lips. The Agni-Haidar continue to hold their silent vigil.

Damaris does not meet Justinius' darting glance; she seemed so pleased at his talk of peace, but now her expression is as immobile as that of a marble statue. At the Emperor's next words, she closes her eyes briefly, as if pained.

If that was a bomb, it was either lost or anticipated or at least...something...by Khamseen. A quirk of the brow is about all the audience is given from this fella.

Perhaps it is a lucky thing that most of the Aegis is not present tonight. Surely they would shout their disapproval at this decree. Maybe the Emperor realizes that--he's looking a touch paler than usual in any case, but he keep his gaze firmly fixed on Raziel.

Pelagria arches a delicate coral colored brow as she crosses her legs silently, seeming to study those present. At the second part of the news by the Emperor, Pelagria turns her attention towards the head of House Thanatos before nodding in approval, seeming to feel the pain of those around her, a look of understanding crossing her young features hinting to a knowledge and wisdom beyond her apparent years.

Raziel rises to his feet, shaking. "May I address this assemblage?"

Damaris' grey eyes flicker open again, and she forces herself to regard Raziel as well. Her posture is stiff, until she realizes it and calmly raises her glass to her lips again. Draining it. Watching the head of House Thanatos over the rim.

Stavros glances down towards his Emperor, a touch of concern crossing his features as he gazes at his king, questioning in their expression, but nevertheless, holding approval towards the decision that was made. He glances up quietly, as Raziel speaks, fixing him with his firm, one-eyed gaze.

"You are not a member of the Aegis, and soon, you will no longer be a member of the nobility," Justinius states as his eyes rest on Raziel. "But for now, speak. And mind your tongue." His words have taken on a raspier edge, and there is little color left in his waxy cheeks.

Khalid's careful study of Raziel has not wavered in any way by Justinius' decree and as the Head of House Thanatos rises, the scratching of metal brushing against metal can be heard as the Agni-Haidar pivot slightly to appraise and considered the Empyrean--and his potential threat to their own liege.

Shifting in his seat slightly, to accommodate a better viewing angle of the 'victim', Khamseen turns his slitted eyes on Raziel now.

A hint of a smile touches Jason's lips, for what seems like an eternity, but is really but a fleeting moment. It has, indeed, faded, once you look back.

No sooner has the emperor spoken his words, than a dark, almost spectral voice arises from the side of the table. Far be it from being any apparition from another realm, the voice is that of Khamseen, as it cuts through the room and echoes of the high ceilings. "Peace is not a commodity that can be purchased. Peace is a token felt inside, in the heart. But until then, the blind shall linger in the fantasies of a fabricated peace."

Raziel clears his throat. "Nobility is not a matter of titles, my lord. That you can take away from me, indeed, I would give you freely. Neither is it a matter of blood. That, you cannot take away from me. Whether there exists a house of Thanatos or no, I will always be the great grandson of Erechtheus, and cousin in some fashion to every one of the royal houses--including your own, Imperial Majesty. As for apologies, I have already offered them to the Khalid. I cannot, of course, apologize for having reminded the Khalid of the laws of Haven, for that I did on behalf of the arch-magus, Samein, and to now apologize for this, would be to insult the Delphi, within their own city. I am, however, sorry that I was placed in a position that I was required by honor--by dharma, to use the Varati word--to speak thusly to the eternal one of the noble Varati, and I am sorry offense was taken. As for my aunt, with the death of her husband, my uncle, she ceased to be a member of the house of Thanatos, it is only out of respect for her grief that she is given shelter. I cannot, therefore, offer apologies on her behalf. On behalf, however, of the hundreds of members of my house who no longer have a place to sleep--they, your majesty, are sorry."

Raziel having held the floor this long, collapses into his chair, and begins to cough quietly.

"As I have stated, the residents of your lands will be given new homes within Civitas Dei," Justinius answers levelly, but his pallor is not truly ghastly. He blinks a couple of times, and has trouble focusing on the head of House Thanatos. "But my offering stands. We all must make sacrifices, if there is to be... peace..." His words falter toward the end, and some indecipherable expression crosses his face. His silver wings, previously in repose, now flutter in agitation. All of a sudden he croaks out, "Water..."

Pelagria watches Raziel carefully, as if studying more than his expression and features.

Stavros leans forward a bit, planting one firm hand on the table beneath him, his eyes narrowed faintly, a grim scowl across his lips, drawn into a tight line. "My Emperor..." he manages to breathe out quietly, voice forceful.

Among the servants there is a rush as several, then two, then only one bring forth jugs of spring water at Justinius' command.

Damaris has been listening tight-lipped to the oration and reply, but as Justinius falters, she turns her head in alarm. She rises to make room for the servants, shoving her chair out of the way.

Slender black eyebrows knit as Khalid listens attentively to Raziel's words, yet the god-king gives no other outward sign of his pleasure or displeasure at the monologue delivered by the one-time Empyreal nobleman. His purview of Raziel ends as Justinius' coughing initiates; the Varati monarch turns his attention to the Emperor and actual concern mars his handsome features. He speaks, "I accept your gracious offer, Emperor Justinius. You seem ill, however. Perhaps we may continue this at a later time of your own convenience?"

The Emperor fumbles for the jug, snatching it out of the servant's hands, and any thought of the 'peace treaty' seems to have left him. Gasping, he tries to pour himself a cup, but the jug falls from his hands and shatters on the floor, splashing those nearby. The Emperor has gone white. His blue eyes are wide, and he lifts one claw-like hand to tear at his throat as he struggles for breath.

Pelagria narrows her gaze for only a flicker of a moment as she looks to Khamseen, her expression shortly afterwards returning back to its normal passive and delicate features.

Pushing back his seat with such force as to knock it off of its legs, Khalid rises to his feet and begins to approach Justinius, albeit with the Praetorian's positions in the room in mind. He shoots a quick look over to Jason.

"Get a healer... now!" Stavros does his best to straighten up, his own cheeks a bit paler, as his eyes widen, as he looks around the room. Clutching faintly to his chest, he calls out, "Poison!..."

Even as the Emperor struggles for breath, Jason stands and pushes his chair aside. When he tries to take a step towards the Empyreal entourage, he is blocked by servants and other Empyreans.

The first servant to reach the Emperor backs from the puddle and shards of clay.

Damaris turns to Jason, fixing her gaze on him. In a voice raised but hoarse, she cries, "Healer...assist if you can!"

Justinius half-rises from his chair, then stumbles and falls out of it, wings flapping. "Aidoneus... not now..." he manages to whisper as he drops to the floor.

Valin stands and moves with Khalid as he stands, his gaze moving from the fallen emperor to the rest of the room, overly cautious now.

Stavros drops to his knees, and slips his arms under Justinius' back, in a vain effort to support him, lifting him slightly, and tilting his head to allow easiest breath, despite the pallid color that darkens his own normally tanned cheeks. "Gods be damned..." he murmurs quietly, voice hoarse. "No... do not leave now... no!"

Appolonia and Lucian race into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

It takes that crucial second for Jason to push, with astonishing vigor, both servants and Empyreans aside and reach Justinius' side. When he does, however, it is too late.

Pelagria stands slowly and quietly as her eyes widen in an expression of shock at the abhorrent thought of anyone being poisoned, especially the Empyreal Emperor at such an important meeting.

Khamseen steps into the audience chamber.

The Praetorians, initially startled at the sudden collapse of the Emperor, now turn their thoughts to discovering the cause. And at the word 'poison,' naturally, their first instinct is to blame the Varati. One or two of them draw weapons, and another snarls, "Murderers!" glaring at the Agni-Haidar.

Damaris' gaze flickers for some reason to the door, noting but barely registering Khamseen's departure.

Valin looks down at Stavros, then at his god. He calls out, "Seal the citadel, whoever murdered the emperor must not leave."

Stavros waves his hand dismissively, towards the Praetorians, glancing up towards them. "Not them, you idiots!" he barely manages to yell out. "Get every servant under arrest! Anyone who would have touched the wine!..."

"Out of his way!" snarls Khalid as he literally knocks aside the servants barring Jason from Justinius. Unfortunately, it is indeed too late, though the god-king quickly glances after the departing Khamseen. The cries of the Praetorians also reach his ears, as does the drawing of steel and his own ebony blade and dagger are quickly within his hands.

Justinius' wings flap a few more times before going still. He lies on the floor, half-cradled in Stavros' arms, pale and white. His blue eyes are still open, but is doubtful they see anything, now....

Lucian shakes his head, not wishing to believe a bit of this. "No...NO!"

Raziel rises shakily to his feet, and clutches his hands to his breast, tears rolling unfettered down his cheeks. "Your Majesty...." He pushes towards the fallen emperor, beating his wings furiously, "Your Majesty!" he screams.

Valin motions for the Royal Guard to come forward. He mutters sharply to them and points toward the exit. Half of them go, the others remain and stand around Khalid, all standing at the ready.

Cassandra straightens in her chair, attention finally alive and upon the fallen Emperor. Brow creased deeply, he is regarded through thinly lidded eyes, as though watching something unavoidable. Lip cradled against her teeth, she is unmoving within her stiffness, gaze and all. As though her searching throughout the evening had come to an end...

Only a couple of the Praetorians heed Stavros' shout. The others have already advanced on the Varati. "Murdering dogs!" shouts the one. "After he offered peace!"

Jason raises his voice, slightly but authoritatively. It resonates in the room, as he states to the intention of both Agni-Haidar and Praetorians, "None of this. Sheathe your blades, now." Throughout the ordeal, he remains calm and speaks with the authority of one used to being obeyed.

Appolonia moves to the Emperor's side, stricken, reaching for a hand to hold as she searches his face for any sign.

Stavros lifts his head slowly, and states aloud, voice husky. "He's gone..." Slowly, he lets the Emperor slip from his arms and stands, knees shaking as he arises, doing his best, now, to prevent any more deaths today. "Enough!" he shouts through a strained through to the Praetorians. "To my side! That is an order!"

Unfortunately, the Agni-Haidar--those not sent by Valin--also seem eager to fight as their weapons are drawn and readied. They move quickly and sharply into a defensive position around Khalid Atar.

Frightened pleas of innocence erupt from the servants, many of whom back into the safety of the shadows, others yell and break for the doors.

Jason glances a single time at Khalid. It is clear that Jason expects the Varati to mimic Stavros and both call back and calm his men.

Appolonia closes her eyes as tears fall from her cheeks, squeezing the old man's hand tightly as she bows her forehead to it, shoulders shaking.

Raziel, trying to get to Justinius' side, trips and falls to the ground, his wings splayed out around him. "No..." he moans, over and over.

Amid the bedlam, Justinius lies silent and still, the light fading from those blue eyes. For a moment, there is a spark--something passes across his face at the touch of Appolonia's hand. His wings stir, for just a moment. But whatever it was, that elusive spark flees, just as a whisper of wind circles through the room--the last act of a dying Emperor.

Damaris climbs onto the table, to escape the ruckus surrounding it. She begins shouting directions, as if her panic has taken on the form of a desperate search for order. "Praetorians, stand off!! Imperator, secure the servants. And you--" she points top Cassandra. "Who was the man you walked in with? The one who spoke just before this incident!?"

The Praetorians are hard-pressed to obey the shouted order from Stavros--all but one of them sheathes his weapon. The last, that hothead who'd shouted, is too crazed with anger to hear, and he swings at one of the Varati warriors.

Appolonia looks up as she seems to feel the spark, hope wild in her eyes, then, just as fleeting as an old man's soul, fades. She bites her lower lip and reaches up to gently touch the noble man's cheek.

Stavros tries to move, but leans heavily against the table, coughing, teeth gritted, eyes squeezed shut, too slowed by the same poison that killed his liege to act.

Appolonia kisses the old man's forehead, and stands, the back of her hand making one careless swipe at her cheek. She frowns and moves to Stavros, face ravaged by worry and concern. "Captain?" She touches his shoulder gently.

Raziel, for a man who had just been stripped of his rank by the emperor, is taking the man's falling extraordinarily harshly. Raziel can barely breath, he's sobbing so hard, and his hands are clenched to his head as if it was about to explode.

Stavros' forehead is covered with a faint sheen of sweat, his eyes opening quietly at the faint touch. "Stop them... fighting..." he manages to murmur, the veins on his arms sticking out, as he does his best to try to fully stand, without success.

Damaris stares at Stavros for a moment, then cries to Jason again, "Healer...please...while you can! To the Imperator!" she gestures violently to Stavros. Then, again, "Praetorians, stand OFF!" in the direction of the hothead. She turns desperately to Khalid, a plea in her eyes that he'll control his guard. She storms across the table to Cassandra, awaiting an answer to her question.

"Hold positions!" snarls Khalid, as his order echoes throughout the hall. The Agni-Haidar, seasoned and trained warriors as they are, maintain their stance even as the Praetorian soldier rushes the assembled guard.

Appolonia puts a soothing hand to Stavros' forehead, murmuring to him as one might a feverish child.

Servants are running every which way, guards of both fighting factions look ready to re-enact the famous battles throughout history right there in the meeting hall. It is only the order of the Imperator and the Aegian that keeps the Praetorians at bay--save for that one fool who'd just swung at Valin.

Pelagria looks towards the commotion as she stands next to the table, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she seems to take on the illusion of a calmness in a sea of chaos, only a slight glimmer of distress and sorrow shining in her usually bright and hopeful eyes.

Cassandra reluctantly lifts her gaze from the Emperor to settle blearily upon Damaris, expression marked with confusion, or perhaps disorientation. "Khamseen. Delphi," she mutters in a low voice, slightly irregular with disuse. Attention slipping away as a frown settles over her lips, the arms of her chair are grasped firmly as Cassandra lifts herself stiffly to a standing position.

One servant who has rushed to the door dodges around the Praetorians, skirting close to the Agni-Haidar in hopes of the elite guard becoming distracted.

Something indefinable causes the very air to tremble, a sense of grief and anguish that swells up as if from the deepest depths of the earth. And to those who have minds that can hear such things, there is a wordless scream.

Damaris nods briskly to Cassandra, then shouts, "Praetorians, secure the servants! You--!" she points to one. "Seek out the one known as Khamseen, who spoke just as the Emperor was poisoned!"

Distracted by Appolonia for a moment, Jason remains oblivious to Damaris' pleas. When Khalid's voice rings out in the Hall, he nods a single time, content with his reaction. Then, he closes his eyes, listening to words unspoken.

The mountainous Captain of the Royal Guard takes a few steps forward, toward the charging Praetor. Even as the man swings, Valin remains staunch in his position. He swipes an arm out, taking the brunt of the swing on his forearm which is armored, but even that cannot protect him fully. He growls lowly at the Praetor as blood rises from the wound. Several of his soldiers, appalled that their captain has been struck without provocation, charge forward toward the Praetorians.

Stavros turns his gaze towards Appolonia quietly, nodding silent thanks to her, as he straightens a bit, still pale, but with a bit more strength than he had a moment ago. "I want those servants caught!" he repeats, to his Praetorians. "Any who would have touched that..." He coughs loudly, clutching his abdomen briefly. "Wine..."

Command or no, the Praetorians aren't going to stand down at this assault. Those who'd sheathed their blades now draw them again and take up fighting stances, ready to engage the Agni-Haidar.

Pelagria closes her eyes tightly as she tilts her head towards the sky, seeming to sense the pain and agony flowing through the room, her own breathing seeming to suddenly cease for a short period as she becomes awashed in the emotions in the room, seeming to close tightly in upon her. After a long moment, she opens her eyes once more, a deep sorrow seeming to dull her normally bright and cheerful expression.

Appolonia supports Stavros, lower lip trembling as she looks back towards the Emperor.

Somewhere in the rush the servant at watch over a candelabra has abandoned his station. The stand of nine candles bringing light to this dusty room is too close to the table where the important business was to be discussed. Too close until it's knocked over, sending candles rolling across the floor..

Stavros rests a hand on Appolonia's shoulder, heavily, grateful for the support. "Blades away!" he shouts loudly, eyes flaring. "This instant!" he manages to get out.

Damaris watches from the table as the candelabrum is tipped, and shouts orders to her own two guards, gesturing with both hands and an emphatic stretch of her wings toward the candles. The push their way between people, chasing after the candles, trying to stomp them out with sandalled feet.

The shouts of the Imperator go unheard by his men--amid all the chaos, who's to hear one more shout? Blades flash as the winged soldiers confront their long-time enemies, and in moments, the clang of metal on metal echoes throughout the hall.

An elderly handmaiden falls to the feet of a Praetorian guard, wailing her innocence and clutching around his legs.

Appolonia almost buckles under the weight of the Imperator, wings stretching and flapping briefly to accommodate his weight. She looks about the room, horrified, shaking her head.

Lucian quickly runs over to Appolonia, placing a hand on her shoulder. Looking to Stavros, his face a mask, he states "Can you walk, Imperator? We must remove His Majesty from this place."

In turn, the Varati guardsmen rush forward into the fray with deadly intent. Long, curved blades rise and fall as the Agni-Haidar engage their immortal adversaries in a bloodied fight.

Raziel's breathing begins to come easier, and he whispers softly, "Kronian, take up your beloved son. Crataeis, your will is unquestioned. Aidoneus, be gentle..."

Two very young pages flee through the doors.

Stavros picks himself away from Appolonia, towards the fighting. "I must stop this..." he states quietly, his posture still somewhat weak, as he begins to make his way forwards, regardless of flashing blades, to push his own men back, one by one, if he has to.

Appolonia shakes her head, watching the fray. "In the halls of the tower...at the emperor's death..." Her eyes fill with tears.

Aillil and Cepheus swiftly enter the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

Valin steps back just a bit and casts off his damaged gauntlet and he holds out his arm before Khalid, "Highness, if you would be so generous?" he draws his sword with the other hand, awaiting any Praetorian who dares advance on the god-king.

When he opens his eyes again, Jason gives the hall a cursory glance, to appraise the situation. Only then, does he notice the extent of the chaos created by the Emperor's passing--blades drawn, lit candles menacing to set fire and an assemblage of hysterical servants and followers. It is useless to shout, now, so he merely turns towards Khalid and stares at the Varati before murmuring, "Your men."

Aillil slips into this room with his steel already drawn, ready to use it is he must assist in stopping the racial clashing that takes place right now.

Adar steps into the meeting hall from the audience chamber and rushes upon the nearest armed Praetor with a snarling oath.

The Emperor may not be the only one to die this day, if the Praetorians have anything to say about it. They're fully intent on sending the Varati 'dogs' to their makers, and the clash of steel rings out again and again.

Raziel sways slightly, his prayers now almost too quiet to be heard. Divanus he calls on, that the transition from emperor to lare may be smooth, and then Tritonia, that justice will be done. Even Tyche, that some miracle may yet befall. In other circumstances, it would be humorous, that he seems intent on calling the name of every one of the gods.

Cepheus steps in just after Aillil, his eyes scanning the entire room quickly and efficiently.

The shadows in the corner begin to recede as the single candle missed by Damaris' guards rolls under a low shelf. The fragrance of smoldering wood swirls in the breezes here.

Lucian bends over and collects the Emperor's limbs, trying to fold his wings behind him. Looking up to Appolonia, he rasps, "Help me."

"Withdraw!" The order is practically screamed as Khalid Atar ignores both Valin and Jason. His ebony blades are sheathed and instead his hands become balls of flame as his order is reiterated, "Withdraw." Even the battle-maddened Agni-Haidar cannot ignore the fury of their god and quickly begin to pull back--forming a line as they attempt a fighting retreat from the room.

A cut here, a gash there. It doesn't seem to matter to the Imperator, as he wades, stumbling, into the thick of the fight, eyes and expression stern, as he parts the fighters, pressing his own men back and not allowing any further advances, to the best of his ability.

Pelagria closes her eyes once more as she lets out a telepathic scream for silence to any that can possibly hear it, her body beginning to tremble as she snaps her gaze open and looks towards the scent of the smoldering wood.

Justinius' body is limp and unresponsive, his great feathered wings providing more cumbersome weight to those trying to lift him.

Appolonia jerks into motion at Lucian's voice, and nods, looking at the Emperor's body. She bends, wings fluttering, and takes the old man's ankles.

Adar smites and slashes furiously at the winged enemy with his curving blade.

Aillil stumbles slightly as two sparring people bump into him, sending him right in the path of Imperator. What shall happen? Will Aillil be cut down because he holds a blade in his grip?

Lucian arghs in frustration, and then looks up abruptly, the smell of burning wood attracting his senses. "Oh no..." he mutters. "Not the tower..." Turning to Appolonia, "Guard yourself, and the Emperor."

Valin holds his sword with both hands, pushing the pain of his injury out of his mind. He slowly backs up with Khalid, ready to defend him should it become necessary.

Pelagria moves quickly towards Appolonia and Lucian as she lays a gentle hand upon the woman's shoulder, "Allow me to help... please.. attend to the one named Stavros."

As Stavros wades through the fray, more of his men withdraw, fearful of hitting their esteemed captain. But one or two are just too caught up in the battle-frenzy to take heed. They turn their attentions on Adar.

Adar hears Khalid's command and backs away slowly from the Praetorians, forming up with the Agni-Haidar.

Raziel rises to his feet like a wraith, and walks forward like a sleepwalker. He seems completely unaware of the chaos around him, as he walks towards the Emperor's body.

Another servant dares the door, this one met by a Praetorian who heard and follows his orders. A smashing blow to the face sends the wine steward sprawling back into the Meeting Hall.

Stavros would go so far as to physically swing, fisted, at any of his own men that dare to remain too battle frenzied with what little strength he has remaining...

Appolonia glances up at Pelagria, then looks over at Stavros, straightening and wringing her hands.

One of the Tritonis guards also smells the burning, like Pelagria, his head turning towards the smell. He watches the smoldering smoke rise, then runs for one of the jugs of spring water brought so futilely by the servants at the Emperor's request. He hefts it easily and pummels his way to the smoking wood, tossing the contents of the jug over it.

Appolonia says, "What can I do?"

Pelagria looks pleadingly towards Appolonia, "Please... you are too grief stricken..... tell me where we are to move the Emperor's body."

Aillil turns his gaze towards the flames, nose twitching he sets towards the fire in attempt to stomp them out--not caring of burns.

"Withdraw," hisses Khalid, furiously. Bloodied and wounded, the Agni-Haidar still respond and begin to form up a guard around their liege as he begins to make his retreat from the room. Still, his hands are aflame and his rage almost uncontrolled.

A Praetor is hit hard with Stavros' fist, and he stumbles back a couple of feet, looking up, stunned, at the Imperator. His sword drops from his hand and clatters on the ground, signaling an end, perhaps, to the brief scuffle.

Adar scowls at the winged ones, crouching with his sword held out before him. "It was a trap. They meant to blame us all along."

Khalid, Valin, and Adar step into the audience chamber.

Raziel reaches out to touch the emperor's wing. "Please, Majesty... " he whispers.

Khamseen steps into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

Cepheus, his eyes cold and angry at the entire situation, stands off to the side of the whole situation, certainly out of the way of the retreating Varati.

Lucian closes his eyes and begins to mutter, hands tracing in spider-like gestures. He opens his eyes and looks towards the burning shelves, and begins to intone more loudly...

Until both sides have stepped back, Jason remains concentrated upon the God-King. Then, as the both Praetorians and Agni-Haidar recede, he turns his attention to the Praetorians and actually walks to stand between the factions.

Appolonia shakes her head, looking at Raziel, wiping her face annoyedly as tears fall. "Take his arm.."

There is no movement from the Emperor, save that which is caused by those trying to lift his lifeless body.

Stavros pants heavily, sanguine discoloring his chlamys as he drops to his knees, hard of breath, eyes shut painfully. "Withdraw, damn you..." he heaves.

Raziel seems startled by Appolonia, but reflexively does as he's told, cradling the arm as if it were an infant. "No... he... he shouldn't be moved. We need healers..."

Damaris picks up an abandoned wine jug and prepares to smash it over the head of the next Praetor who resists Stavros' orders.

Appolonia's eyes well over at that, and she shakes her head, kneeling next to the body.

Pelagria moves towards the Emperor's feet as she glares at Raziel, "The room is on fire.. we must move him."

Appolonia cradles the old man's head in her arms, resting one hand lightly on his chest. "See if you can get an arm under him..."

Sweat appearing on the Novice's brow, he completes the incantation and points towards the shelves, a gust of wind filling the room, blowing out the flames as one might snuff a candle. Exhausted, Lucian drops to his knees.

The Praetorians are under control now. Breathing heavily, wings aflutter with agitation, they mill around restlessly, glaring as the last of the Agni-Haidar retreat from the room. "We will find the murderer and have our vengeance," vows one.

Upon reaching Stavros' side, Jason kneels besides the Empyreal Imperator and lays his palm upon his brow. Closing his eyes, the caducean murmurs a few soothing words--inaudible to all but those closest to him.

Lucian turns weakly. "Fire...out. Remove...the Emperor..."

Pelagria looks around as she motions towards Raziel, "Please.. help me lift the Emperor." She looks towards the exhausted Lucian and sighs as she tilts her head towards the sky and tries to concentrate.

Raziel puts his other arm under Justinius, lifting the old man as if he were a child. No mean feat, considering Raziel's thin arms. But he doesn't seem to be aware of the strain or weight.

Appolonia glares over her shoulder and cries out, "Have done with your vengeance! Have none of his guard any thought of respect for their Emperor, that they quarrel like dogs over his bones!?"

Justinius is lifted by Raziel and Pelagria, his great silver wings dragging on the floor.

Cassandra remains in place, just before a chair long knocked over in the fray, shoulders hunched against her form. Troubled eyes pluck at the scene before her with a distanced countenance, absorbing and registering. Webbed hands fold against each other, a cloud of sadness, laced with guilt, sweeping over her eyes.

Pelagria looks towards Appolonia then motions towards Lucian, "Try to help him while myself and this other gentleman try to get the Emperor out of here and to a safer location."

Appolonia rises, moving to Lucian's side, shaking her head. She pauses next to him and murmurs something, lightly touching one arm.

Amidst the turmoil of the room, Khamseen, seemingly undisturbed by much of the tumult, covers the step that separates him from Cassandra, and taking her arm, turns her to him.

Pelagria motions towards Raziel as she lifts the Emperor's legs almost effortlessly, still in a crouched position, "Quickly. he must be moved to safety."

One grey eye and one of milky-white snap open quietly, as Stavros turns his head to look towards Jason. It is a face he does not recognize, but, nevertheless, he nods his respect and thanks as he climbs to his feet, unsure of his own movements for a moment, before he steadies himself. "Find the servants..." he states, yet again, looking towards his Praetorian, jaw clenched, expression firm--not to be tangled with.

Lucian's eyes flutter as he looks to Appolonia. He smiles, recognizing the face, and whispers, "Beyond...my abilities..." His body shudders slightly and his eyes close once more. Nodding to her whispered words, he forces, "Yes...I can try..."

Raziel nods. "Safety, yes." then, softer, "Don't worry, your Majesty. You'll be all right. We'll see you to someone who can heal you..."

Damaris clutches the neck of the wine jug fiercely, glaring about. She takes a deep breath then, closing her eyes for a moment. One of the Tritonian guards approaches, offering to assist her down from the table. She doesn't hear at first, but eventually allows him to help her down. She approaches the Hounds--Cepheus and Aillil.

Supported by Pelagria and Raziel, the Emperor does not stir--his pale eyes staring sightlessly upward toward some dream of peace that was never achieved. There is no healing that will bring him back from where he's gone...

Pelagria looks towards Raziel then the Emperor's face, her eyes seeming clouded by anger and sorrow as she stands carrying the man's legs as she begins walking backwards towards the door, completely oblivious to any of the guards moving around her.

From his vantage, Cepheus looks through the open doorway to the observation gallery. He clearly sees the group of Varati have paused there. He glances through Damaris at the group trying to lift the emperor.

Pelagria looks around as she shouts, "Someone find out who else has drank that wine. Get them to a healer immediately."

Cepheus focuses on Damaris for a moment, moving himself closer to her.

Lucian leans heavily upon Appolonia as she helps him to his feet. At her touch, he seems to feel less drained, and his eyes widen slightly. Standing now, the thin sliver of a smile crosses his pale features as he whispers, "Feel...better. I told you you had a...gift..." His body shakes slightly, but he remains standing.

Raziel stumbles once, but even as he strikes his knee against the ground, he shifts his grip on the emperor, so that the man isn't jostled.

Damaris speaks to the Hounds, as Stavros gives his orders to the Praetorian guard. "The Emperor was poisoned," she says hoarsely. "The Praetorians will apparently secure any servants who were here for questioning, particularly those with access to the wine. Will the Hounds assist in the questioning?"

Jason rises, finally, and appears small when standing besides Stavros. Nevertheless, when he speaks again to the assemblage, his voice is rich, resonant and carries authoritatively, "Damaris. Imperator. Take your entourage and leave. Immediately." He does not shout--there is no need to.

Khamseen urges the lady Cassandra, after having grabbed her, and rushes her towards the exit, without waiting much for any signs of protest. He looks dark and concerned, but also efficiently in control of his actions.

Liora steps into the meeting hall from the audience chamber.

Cepheus nods to Damaris, "It is our duty to do so, but first I think it would be best to get you and your people to safety."

Appolonia shakes her head, slipping one arm around Lucian's waist, sniffling.

"To the headquarters." Stavros rescinds, to his men, as he turns to head that way himself. He seems stronger than he was a few moments ago, pausing only to take a deep breath, sighing heavily. "We have much to prepare for."

Jason turns his head, and allows his gaze to engulf Damaris' form, "You will do no such thing. This is the heart of Haven, the Delphic Citadel. You," A pause, "have no authority here."

Damaris glances at Jason, then nods to Cepheus, placing one hand on his arm briefly in gratitude. She turns to Stavros, now. "A word with you, Imperator, if you will..."

Lucian looks about in concern. Softly, to Appolonia, "All the fire...is out?"

Pelagria pauses as she sees Raziel stumble and nods to him softly with encouragement.

Jason falls silent again, and spares a last glance to the boy, Lucian.

Appolonia nods dully, staring straight ahead. "We are no longer welcome here. Come."

Damaris isn't even looking at Jason, not realizing who he's speaking to. She departs with her guards.

Liora steps in from the audience chambers, an unusual spectacle: a mere slip of a girl, dark-skinned and white-winged--and wielding the ebony sword of the Varati god-king.

Liora steps into the audience chamber.

The Praetorians begin to file out, one by one, holding their wounds as necessary, some grumbling, some silent. Stavros follows them quietly, slowly and resolutely, eyes cast forwards, distant.

Cassandra lifts a frown to Khamseen, even as she is turned. Words hang on the edge of her lips, just as the dark lace of guilt hovers about the edges of her countenance. Such words are lost as others are muttered, her seemingly only sign of protest as she is dragged towards the exit. Glancing up but once, the gaze then hides to the sea of faces passed, unkempt bits of hair hiding what lashes do not.

Pelagria continues carrying the Emperor's legs as she walks backwards, keeping her head slightly turned to see where she is walking.

Cassandra, Khamseen, and Stavros step into the audience chamber.

Lucian places a hand on Appolonia's arm and shakes his head. "This is...my home. Upstairs, please. I'll be all right..." His knees seem to weaken for a moment, but he leans upon his friend's shoulder and rights himself.

Appolonia glances at Jason, murmuring, "Are you sure?"

Jason nods a single time, as silence once again claims the meeting hall. He takes a few steps forward and lays a hand on Lucian's shoulder, much like a father would do to a son. All this, again, in silence.

Cradled gently by Raziel and Pelagria, the Emperor's body is borne from the room, and limp, silver wings that will never soar again drag along the floor.

Appolonia looks up tiredly at Jason. "You will see to him, then?"

Cepheus stands coldly at the back side of the room, not even casting a glance at Jason. He watches the Emperor's body move slowly towards the door.

Jason nods to the Empyrean female, a single time, conveying that indeed, things are under control.

Appolonia nods wearily, and shuffles after the emperor, leaving Lucian in the hands of his master.

Lucian looks up to Jason, tears filling his eyes. "I'm...sorry, Master...I know it was...beyond my power...but I HAD to do something..."

Cepheus moves slowly toward the door, something in the observation area catching his eyes.... he departs into the audience chamber.

Answering the silent call from the Decemvir apparent, two Korallion guards step inside, quickly moving towards Pelagria's side. She pauses momentarily as she speaks with them silently before they move around the Emperor's limp body, replacing both Raziel and Pelagria as they carry the fallen Empyrean Emperor.

Lucian's face pales. "I would like to lie down, if I may..."

Jason murmurs to Lucian, his voice barely audible, "You carried yourself like a man, Lucian. That is more than can be said about most here tonight."

Appolonia stops by the side of the old man, gnawing on one knuckle as she looks at him.

Pelagria moves towards the Emperor's face as she lays a comforting hand on Raziel's shoulder, her other hand reaching out and gently caressing the fallen man's face, delicately webbed fingers closing his eyes to give him peace.

Appolonia covers her face with her hands, sobbing quietly.

Lucian smiles distantly at the praise, then shudders again. Trying as best as he can to straighten up, he instinctively reaches down and smoothes his robes, then takes a slow step towards the door.

Jason continues to speak to the boy, in low tones--as if not to wake Justinius. Oblivious to Lucian's request, he concludes, "We shall speak again, after the funeral." He too, moves for the exit, then.

Jason, Appolonia, and Lucian step into the audience chamber.

The guards take away the servants who did not escape. One servant, the elderly wine steward, lies dead on the floor.

Pelagria steps into the audience chamber.

[Audience Chamber - Meeting Hall - Delphi]

"Jason, remember that the Avatarati answer to the four kingdoms. Their council is chosen by the respective governments. I do not think the Avatarati will dispute the Empyreans' rights to investigate the matter, personally," issues Khalid, as his voice clearly carries through the hall.

Pelagria steps out silently along with two Korallion guards, each helping to carry the fallen Empyreal Emperor as they move quickly towards the Palladium, not stopping to talk with any. Pelagria's expression seems to be darker than normal, her eyes filled with a deep sorrow for the evenings' events.

Red-Tail bows on one knee to the dead emperor as he is carried through. "Man want peace. Good man," she says softly.

Justinius is carried out of the meeting hall by several Korallion guards, his body limp, eyes closed, and silver wings dragging along the floor. The guards bear him out the door and presumably to the Palladium.

Appolonia covers her mouth as she sees the Emperor's body, and bows her head, shaking it as she squeezes her eyes shut.

Standing tensely by the Lady Damaris' side, Liora's eyes warily drift around the crowd--pausing as they land at GreyWolf's. She grips the sword tightly, though it does not seem to be as heavy to her as she expected it to be.

Pelagria motions her guards to follow, her back straight as she continues watching, trying to block out of her mind the sorrow and anger emanating from the room.

Damaris has no desire at the moment for Jason's expected diplomacy, after the way he himself addressed her. She nods stonily, grey eyes boring into Jason's. "Delphi's sovereignty is to be respected, but a serious crime and breach of its security has occurred here. Do not let that 'due time' stretch for too long, Caducean. Or the traces of today's events will have disappeared," there is a warning in her voice...as if she suspects he might want them to disappear.

Appolonia covers her face and sobs quietly, shoulders shaking.

Jason simply remarks, after Khalid pointedly reminds him of such facts, "So they shall be, Khalid. So they shall be." Then, he turns to Damaris and studies her for a moment, "Of course," answers Jason transparently.

"You can expect the Varati representatives upon the Avatarati to press for a full and open investigation--by both the Praetorian Guard and the Agni-Haidar. I imagine the Empyreal governments will echo our sentiments. Two of the four governments have major stakes in this issue. If not all four." Khalid arches a skeptical eyebrow at Jason's answer, but he does not press further. Instead, "The Agni-Haidar will monitor the entire Citadel, externally, until word is received from the Avatarati. The Varati government will not take well to being put off for any extended period of time." This said, he turns back to Damaris.

Appolonia looks up at Lucian, wiping one cheek with the flat of her hand, and nods, taking his arm.

Jason nods in silence, and takes a step forward. His lips part open, and even as it looks he might utter word, he only exhales before drawing in another profound breath. "You can expect, as always, our cooperation."

Seeing that Khalid has the situation well in hand now, Adar casts a parting scowl at the remaining Empyreans and quietly departs. He steps through an arched doorway and re-enters the main area of the tower.

Lucian looks to Appolonia and nods, leaning upon her for support. "Thank you..." he breathes.

Pelagria looks towards those gathered as she pauses briefly, the Korallion guards already moving forward with the Emperor, "You may expect the Atlanteans to not only conduct their own investigation into this matter, but to assist any that may ask for it. This is a tragic even which will be felt by all in this city, not just the Empyreans nor the Varati. The events of this evening will be thoroughly investigated until the truth is uncovered."

With that said, Pelagria turns once more to follow her guards and the Empyreal Emperor, making sure the fallen man is brought to safety where he may find peace.

FIN  

[ Home | News | Staff | Players | Links | Gallery | Logs | Library | Updates | Mail ]
[ Connect to the Game ]