It's a Night of Knights! The King's Own and the Knights of Solace come to gather in one place for drinks and such. Porter and Bree turn up near the first wave of people, and the big man takes a seat at one of the long tables, stretching his legs underneath. A call is given out for a few pitchers of decent ale to be brought to the table, along with appropriate glasses. "Did I tell you that I sold TWO entire helmets?" he asks her when they settle down and have had their drinks poured into glasses. "And that someone took pity on me and they're going to let me hang out in their forge? That's TWO forge teachers. One for each helmet. Well, one is just for helmets. And I'm getting a beard apron."

"Is that a beard charm?" Sir Brannen asks from another table and stands up, joining his sister and Sir Porter at their table after a solemn salute. "You must show me your helmets somewhen, and I am certain you put a lot of effort into them." He takes one of the prepared glasses from the middle of the table.

"A BEARD apron?" It's not quite long-suffering in how Sir Bhandn emphasizes that single word as he arrives, but close. "Are you that afraid of singing it?" He's not going after the refreshments just yet, but rather sees to settling in his lurking -- and yes, reading -- assistant at a table with something to drink before Bhandn joins the rapidly growing group over by Porter and Bree.

Filshiar is a knight. And it is a night for knights. And so he's here. Dressed in his King's Own armor, for the most part, though the bits that make sitting and walking around most uncomfortable have been left on his armor stand back in the barracks. "A good eve!" he calls out, making his way over to Porter and Brannen. "Did someone say something about beards?" He can't help but grin slight. "I expect that kind of talk more at the Spirits, though I don't frequent this bar much, so perhaps it's beards all over."

Bree was right beside Porter as they moved into the Sleepless Knights, and she wears a bright smile even before more and more show up. "You didn't tell me!" she exclaims when Porter breaks the news, and she slides into a seat beside him, twisting her torso to watch his face for signs of that pleasure he hides behind the self-deprecating humor of his work. "That's amazing. Who are they, so I can go test out the quality of your work?" She grins, and then hearing her brother's voice turns to lift a hand in a wave. "Hey Bran," she has a warm smile for him, and then beyond to Bhandn. "Sir Bhandn! They serve tea here," and finally to Filshiar, the only non-Solace thus far. "I think beard talk has a place everywhere. Should have brought my fake one."

Sorrel has come to celebrate with knights, for she is a knight, and she considers many of these knights to be friends of hers. She meanders over towards Porter and Bree and Brannen and Filshiar with an easy-going smile on her face, and she offers an informal bow that is nevertheless full of flourish and play. "Salutations, all!"

Brianna is here! Totally here! In a shirt and trousers -- a far cry from her aeterna and golden horns from the duel -- she seems at ease and comfortable. "I still have my fake beard. Sometimes, I wear it and sneak up on Alec in the dark."

Dom, an unassuming assistant, Saymore, the parrot that just won't stop arrive, following Austen.

"You say that as if I haven't been here before, Dame Harthall," says Bhandn in a slightly amused tone. He's still shaking his head over Porter's beard apron talk, standing there with his arms folded. When Sorrel arrives, his head turns, quickly making out the Thrax princess, to whom he offers a bow and words: "Why Your Highness, you look so refreshed after your tea bout," he says in mock surprise, and as if he hasn't talked with Sorrel since then. "One hopes it was the fact it was /sweet/ tea that led to such a speedy recovery." It should be noted Bhandn is saying this aloud with some volume, because he spotted Brianna arriving and he's projecting his voice to carry.

"Sirs. Dames. Your highness," Filshiar greets the assemblage of knights all around, sharing a slight smile with Sorrel. Representing the non-Solace here. "I know many here but, for those I do not, I am Sir Filshiar Shieldbourne. Sworn to the King's Own, for my part. When Sir Porter mentioned the prospect of a night among knights, it seemed a very fine thing indeed."

"I sold it to Lady Brianna!" Who is right there! "A young child is wearing it. So I figure that's probably a good cause," Porter reports to Bree with a broad smile. He grabs his glass and takes a long drink, draping his arm around her shoulders. "Hello!" he calls to the next person and the next and the next. There is a lot of greeting going on. "We have ale! So take a seat."

Clomping into the bar is Austen, the knight smiling as he spots the others alreayd present. He passes by the bar to get a good mug of spiced milk before he moves to join the others at the table. "Princess Sorrel, Lady Brianna, Sir Porter, Dame Bree, Sir Brannen, Sir Filshiar, Sir Bhandn," he greets one after another, the knight politely dipping his head to each in turn.

"Oh, most certainly. Lady Medeia had me on herbal teas to help with recovery, and some of those are really only tolerable with a good amount of honey," Sorrel replies brightly to Bhandn. "Sir Austen! Good to see you. I hope all is well."

Brannen gently squeezes his sister's armor with a smile, raising his glass to toast first with her sister and Porter, then with the various other knights as each of them arrive. As the King's Own arrive, one after the other, Brannen's eyes light up. "Sir Filshiar, Sir Austen! I cannot forget our fight in the Training Center!"

"Our House's young ward wants to be a combat medic when he grows up, and I thought he might need a good helmet for that, to keep him safe. He loves it, even if he's still too small for it. He'll grow into it, though." Brianna smiles warmly, getting herself a tankard of ale.

"Then I won't test them," Bree laughs when she realizes she might have threatened to beat up a child. Whoops. She shifts into Porter's touch, leaning against him and smiling at the others who quickly assemble. With Sorrel and Austen and Brianna, she waves brightly. "Hello everyone! This is wonderful," she makes the bold claim about the nature of the evening, reaching to grab her mug of ale to take a sip. But then Brannen is leaning in to whisper something to her, and she leans in to hear. A quick laugh, a shake of her head, and something returned, before she takes a long gulp of her ale.

There's an uplifted hand directed in Austen's direction when Bhandn catches sight of Sir Ferron, a bit of a long distance greeting for the man. Filshiar's greeting gets the same gesture, but Brannen's comment about a fight in the Training Center has Bhandn immediately eyeing the male Harthall twin curiously, words dying on his lips and being replaced with others. "What fight was this?" The question Bhandn directs to whomever will answer it, his eyes going between Brannen, Austen and Filshiar curiously.

"Wait until he's a little taller at least," Porter jokes to Bree as he leans back into his seat. He brings his glass to his lips, taking a healthy swallow of the ale before he launches into the conversation. "That fight was amazing! We should do it again sometime. We could do it today! There's a fighting ring over by the Telmar Tower." He turns to Bhandn then and explains, "Sir Brannen and myself faced off against Sir Filshiar and Sir Austen in a four-way fight that involved a /lot/ of hitting each other." Lots. Much violence.

"I should hope it did, or else it wouldn't be much of a fight," Brianna opines, sitting easily in a chair. "Who won?"

Austen toasts the group with his drink, dropping into a seat with a pleased sound. "Ah, yes, it was quite the battle was it not?" he grins brightly to Porter, Brannen and Filshiar. "The Knights of Solace won," he confides to Brianna with a smile. "I admit I struggle to defeat Sir Porter these days>"

Brannen begins to explain, eyes almost gleaming silver as he talks about various movements of the four knights dancing in deadly movements, each knight protecting their brother-in-arms, steel ringing through the night. And it becomes very obvious that the young knight is very fond of this memory of camaraderie and knighthood.

"I shall take a cup of whiskey, and a cup of milk," Filshiar orders, for his part. "The reputation of the milk here is very good. I do not quite understand the Valardin fondness for it. But I should give it a go, while I am here. It may pair well with the bite of the liquor." His smile grows, at mention of the fight. "Aye, that was a fine, fine bit of training! Best spar I've had in...I cannot recall how long. We shall have to do it again soon." A look to Austen. "To defend the honor of the King's Own. And because it was a good bit of fun."

"I think we all struggle to defeat Sir Porter these days," Bree remarks to Austen's comment, a laugh to her voice. She turns to smile up at the big man beside her, adding, "That's what hard work gets you. The ability to best your trainers." Another gulp of ale, and she's watching Brannen get lost in his memory, the way he spins the tale earning a spark of adoration for her twin, and pleasure at his finding some joy somewhere. Filshiar is speaking of spars, as well, and she admits, "We still need to fight! That long promised battle."

Porter puts his glass down so that he can tap the surface of the table with one finger and points out, "This is said by the woman that's handed my ass to me the last two times that I've tried to spar with her." He gives her shoulder another squeeze, comfortably affection, then he reaches for his drink and takes a quick swallow.

"Oh no, Sir Filshiar!" Brannen objects, "there is no need to defend the honor of the King's Own. The King's Own were fantastic! You two fought so well, it was truly a sight to behold! It was an honor to fight you two and I learnt a lot." He takes a sip of ale, finally calming down.

Brother Chester, Fudgy, a chirpy crow arrive, following Jeffeth.

"I cannot wait to watch a rematch," Sorrel admits with a bright laugh. "When you guys have done with refreshments, we should go invade the Telmar Tower or parade down to the Training Center in the Compact district and have a massive melee!" She lifts a glass. "To the Knights of Solace! To the King's Own!"

A slow grin spreads across Brianna's face. "Does this mean I get to kick Porter's ass, too?" She looks to Bree. "Does he squeak when you hit him? I used to spar with this man-at-arms up in Whitehold who would /squeak/ when you hit him and it was a delight." Her eyebrows rise at the idea of a massive melee. "Sign me up."

"I find that when you hit him, he tends to hit back - harder," Austen tells Brianna with a grin, the knight lifting his mug to Sorrel. "To all knights, near and far," he says, dipping his head. There's a soft smile at Brannen's words, the knight listening to him retell the story.

Brianna's question has Bree laughing, which only continues when Porter makes the claim that she's bested him the last two times. "I've never heard him squeak," she admits, and when Austen gives hi assessment, she's nodding along. "Yes, that. Hits back, but harder." Sorrel's call for a toast has her gripping her ale cup again, and she hoists it high. "TO the King's Own!" directed at Austen and Filshiar, mostly. "To the Knights of Solace!" For all of her brothers and sisters in arms.

"We do at that," Filshiar agrees with Bree. "I have been taking most of my drills at the King's Own barracks, but it certainly lacks the fun the Training Center can provide. So I shall make a point to fight there more often, and perhaps we shall manage our fight. Or try three-on-three spars. The idea still intrigues me." When his drinks are delivered, he starts with his cup of milk. Which he raises to join in the toasts. "To the Solace, the King's Own, and all such Orders who stand as shields to the Compact."

Brianna looks around. "Am I the only one here who's... not actually a knight?" she asks, sipping her ale. "Never really happened for me. It's not my people's way, and I never sought it out elsewhere. I figured, I know what I do. Don't need a title to do that." She raises her cup. "To the King's Own and the Knights of Solace," she toasts.

"To the King's Own, to the Knights of Solace!" Brannen raises his glass in unison with the others.

"To the King's Own and the Knights of Solace!" Bhandn will join in on that toast, though naturally he does it with very sweetened tea. Katarina might not have emerged the victor of that duel, but that isn't stopping Bhandn from putting plenty of honey into /his/ tea right now. It makes the toast even /better/ when he drinks from it. Carefully.

Porter can only laugh when the question of squeaking comes up, he gives one roll of his shoulders and says, "Not yet, at any rate. But there's a first time for everything, yeah?" He grins crookedly and then lifts his glass to go along with the cheering. "To the Knights of Solace and the King's Own!"

Finally arriving, the door opens and admits the hulking figure of the Grandmaster of Solace. The horrifically scarred man closes the door behind him, arriving to the toasts has the good side of his lips curling up slowly into something amused and pleased. Making his way towards the group, the knight is dressed rather simply in a plain tunic and breeches. Jeffeth's heavy footfalls gradually lead him to all of the toasting, one giant hand coming down to clap onto Bhandn's shoulder once he arrives.

Brianna checks composure at hard. Brianna is marginally successful.

Brannen checks composure and empathy at hard. Brannen is marginally successful.

Brannen toasts and a smile appears as he recognizes the figure of Jeffeth approaching. As he comes closer, Brannen's smile fades a little and the faint hint of worry appears on his face. He quickly regains his smile and listens to the others, but he manages to subtly lean over to his sister, whispering something into her ear.

Brianna has a momentary flash of surprise when she sees Jeffeth's face -- it's apparently been a while -- but she gets up and wraps him in a friendly bear hug. "Hey, you. Kid's been asking about you."

Turning his head to see who just clapped his shoulder, Bhandn quickly relaxes. "You came just in time," he says to Jeffeth, reaching out to gently bop the Grandmaster on the side in response. "What do you want to drink? They've got something of everything here, I think."

"Sir Jeffeth!" Austne greets as the Grandmaster comes over. "Are you here for the Night of Knights?" he asks hopefully.

"Grandmaster?" Filshiar half-asks, half-says in greeting at Jeffeth's entrance. He knows the man's reputation, of course, if not exactly the man himself so much. "This is good company indeed. The milk is very fine, but I think the whiskey is better." He's sipping from //that// cup now. Double-fisting his alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.

When Jeffeth makes his grand entrance, Bree's attention lifts from the thought of Porter squeaking to take in the man. She smiles, warm and easy, but when Brannen reacts and whispers to her, some of that brightness flickers. A quickly murmured response, and then she's calling out, "Grandmaster! Sit, drink with us," she nods to Bhandn's offer, and Filshiar's assessment, "The whiskey is always better. But do not try mixing the two together." A pointed look at Austen.

The big man raises his arms up as Brianna comes darting in to hug him, those massive tree trunks going down to envelope her against him. A few pat-pat-pats coming to her shoulder. "Has he?" Jeffeth rumbles with a lopsided smile. "Is he allowed to see me now?" A beat. "Even so. I'm afraid I tend to frighten children more often than not these days." It's said in an attempt at good humor, though there is obviously a note of pain in his voice when he says it. There's a warm smile to Austen and Bhandn, "That was the plan." He affirms for the former with a nod.

To Filshiar, Jeffeth pivots on foot and goes into a deep bow, fist pressing to his chest. "Sir Jeffeth Bayweather of the Silver Order, at your service, sir." When he straightens up there's a light touch of surprise at Bree's addressing of him, his head tilting lightly before smoothing into a warm smile.

Also there is a very fat crow here, now. It's a pudgy Fudgy. Over on another table picking at scraps someone else probably left behind.

After the brief reaction of his sister, Bree also emphasizes the other present knights' sentiments with a wide-arc beckoning. "Yes, sit with us, Grandmaster!"

Austen gives an embarrassed look to Bree. "Yes, absolutely. Must not mix the two," he agrees.

"Sir Jeffeth!" Sorrel calls brightly. "It's fantastic to see you! It is a bright and cheerful gathering today. Have something to drink!"

With festivities well underway, Sir Bhandn excuses himself to go wander over to where Sorrel is. He'll bring his tea with him, of course, including the pot itself if that's what it takes. There's a moment where he bows, and then he's talking quietly to the princess, a quick query as Bhandn turns to watch the revelry while speaking.

Leaning back in his chair, Porter lifts the glass with his drink and waves to Jeffeth as he enters. Upon finishing that up, he glances down and notices that he doesn't actually have anything to drink anymore. It's funny how that happens. He sits forward and stretches across the table to find one of the pitchers, filling up his glass again. After that's done, he twists and offers the same for Bree if she needs it before settling back again.

Bree readily accepts the refill, a quick, "Thank you," to Porter for bein so considerate. She eyes Jeffeth and Fudgy when he looks surprised that she'd address him, her brow knitting for a curious moment before she shakes it loose. "Does another have any good knightly stories? How about... your favorite time wearing the mantle of knighthood?" she looks from face to face, waiting for someone to take her up on her call for stories.

i

"When I got kidnapped to a hayloft after introducing myself as a knight," Bhandn calls out blandly from over where he's talking with Sorrel. He's smirking as he says it too, giving Bree the "YOU ASKED FOR IT" look, before going back to his conversation.

There is a moment given to Jeffeth murmuring quietly down to Brianna, soft words given. For a moment he takes on a somewhat uncomfortable look before his features relax and he is once more smiling up at the knights surrounding them. Sorrel gets a deep bow from him as well, fist pressed to his chest. "Your Highness." He steps over to the Thrax Princess as well, wrapping her up in a brief hug, some quietly murmured words there as well. Then he's finally going to join the table with the rest of them, pulling out a chair, testing its sturdiness with one arm before he plops down.

Brannen ponders for a moment, trying to remember a more recent episode. "When a child on the streets of Arx pointed at me and all her friends turned around to watch me." Brannen scratches the back of his neck. "It showed me that we Knights sometimes inspire the people of Arx." He smiles, albeit in embarassment.

Brianna finishes murmuring with Jeffeth and takes her seat again. She settles in with a fresh drink to listen to the stories.

The sweeping thump of the door heralds the arrival of a leather clad Brigid, lithe fingers moving in a brushing sweep of curling strands that found themselves springing out of her braid due to the summer heat. Luminous sights roam over all those assembled, features void of any emotion before lush lips find themselves coming into a comfortable curl at seeing all the familiar faces - glowing warmth at the sight of family gathered. Quietly steps skim over the floor, to bring the Moore towards the bar and murmurs low her drink order to allow the flow of conversation to continue.

"Is that what they called it in your time?" Porter asks Bhandn with a mischievous grin and then knocks back a little more of his now refreshed drink. He leans into Bree somewhat and asks her something in quiet tones, glancing briefly out at one of the windows and then back to her again. "Sadly I don't have any knight stories of my own! We're not even at the year mark yet and I've spent most of it here, for reasons." Like a whirlpool! And things being set on fire very rudely.

Sorrel hugs Jeffeth as he murmurs to her, offering him a bit of a sad smile, then meanders over to take up her own chair, sprawling in it more like a soldier than a princess. "Mmm, tea. Without too many herbs or far too much honey," she remarks, moving to take a sip, then nudging Brianna.

"Don't make me get a chair, princess," Brianna threatens Sorrel with a grin.

"The complement each other interestingly," Filshiar says, after another sip of whiskey, then a sip of milk. "But I don't think I'd mix them. Would dull the effect of either on the tongue." Still, he seems pleased enough with this two-drink idea of his. He looks up at Brigid's entrance, offering her a nod of his head in greeting. Brannen's tale makes his smile crook again. "Aye, I had a bit of time recently this winter and spent some of it on the Judgment Green, where the children were sledding and building snow people and the like. They seemed to like very well when I told them I was in the King's Own, and shared with them how I came to join it. And they did not laugh at me so much when I rolled off my sled as it speeded down the hill, which was fine of them."

Austen considers the question from Bree, the knight eventually smiling and dipping his head. "When I gave my oaths to King Alaric, I think. I like to think he appreciated the thought I put into them." Except for the part where the King interrupted so that the ceremony could actually continue.

When Bhandn mentions being kidnapped to a hayloft, and Porter answers with mischief, Bree barks a laugh, "That's just what I was thinking! 'Kidnapped to a hayloft.' Suuuuuuure." She teases the elder knight, before turning to listen as the stories unfold one by one. Brannen's has her reaching out to squeeze his hand, a small nod at the warmth of his memory, and then Porter, Filshiar, and Austen each win a look as they speak. "There are so many stories, even if we do spend our time in the city." She doesn't offer one of her own, because she's distracted by the sight of the Moore. "Dame Brigid! Get your drink, and tell us your favorite knightly memory!"

"A pleasure to meet you, Sir." Jeffeth rumbles with a bow of his head to Filshiar. There is a bubbling laugh from his lips at Porter's joke towards Bhandn his massive shoulders shaking. He raises his hand for a few of glasses. His hand settles down onto Brianna's shoulder giving a somewhat affectionate squeeze. There is a warm smile to Sorrel before he's looking over his shoulder when Bree calls out to Brigid. That lopsided smile curling up in her direction, one large hand reaching out to her to beckon her over.

"If you don't call it being kidnapped to a hayloft, then you haven't been in a hayloft enough," Bhandn fires back at Porter over exactly what one calls certain activities. He takes a sip of tea right after, looking at Sir Kennex challengingly, ready to take on other attacks if this is the game that's to be played.

"Most of what I've done in haylofts doesn't really involve kidnapping," Brianna admits.

"Back in Bhandn's day, people climbed into haylofts uphill in both directions! Without shoes on! In the snow!" Porter claims to the table at large, offering the older man yet another one of those grins. Bree's reply to him has him tilting his head in her direction and catching it. It also earns a quick bit of laughter and he takes a quick drink.

These allusions make Brannen look down at the table, his cheeks turning slightly red, and not only as a consequence of the alcohol. His gaze shifts from one knight to the next, maintaining eye contact to each briefly at most.

Bhandn can't stop himself from rolling his eyes at what Porter just said. There's even a moment where Bhandn looks skyward and mouths silent words towards it. He doesn't respond in words to that particular tease, just goes back to his tea like nothing happened, shaking his head as he refills his cup back to full to start number two. He's pacing himself today.

"As a farm boy, I am fairly sure that the only use for haylofts is storing hay," Austen says, completely deadpan.

"Ah, Sir Austen, I stored a lot of hay when I was training to be a knight," Sorrel remarks with a playful wink, grinning at him.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Brianna adds.

"I too have stored my hay," Porter takes a drink.

Letting out another (loud) laugh, Jeffeth tilts his head back. "Yes. Storing Morning Hay."

"Oh good gods," comes from Bhandn's solitary tea party.

Brannen checks intellect and empathy at normal. Brannen is marginally successful.

Brannen becomes more and more interested in his drink and refills his glass from the pitcher, carefully studying the exact color of the liquid inside.

A nod of head is returned towards Filshiar and all those assembled in kind as the share. Fingers curl around a tumbler of what looks suspiciously like whiskey, a sidelong glance towards Bree with a brief wince as her mind started to turn through the collection of stories. There is a parting of lips as if to tell one tale but then actually flushes realizing that the stories she has are not of the tender variety. At the beckon of the Grandmaster's hand does the Dragoon near and Brigid pauses at his side, still looking contemplative, " I've been asked several times to attend diplomatic talks due to being a Knight of Solace. There was a problem in the Volkov Woods and the DiFidante family was trying to clear out the manse of the Volkov family. It was there that I found a Templar who'd met a troubling fate. I was able to send him back to the wheel with a face void of the horrors of what he endured." There is the flicker of a smile, head ducking behind river rock waves, "Our calling is one that demands sacrifice in differing capacities and while it is not always pretty, this price we pay, but our souls are better for it." Whiskey is quickly sipped to shut herself up, lashes lowering in a demure fashion.

"I am sure I never heard of any alternative uses for them as a lad," Filshiar says, in that mild tone of voice that makes it /very/ hard to tell if he's joking or not. He certainly doesn't laugh, though his eyes glint some as he drinks his milk. He doesn't make anymore hayloft comments as he listens to Brigid, though. "I am poor at peace-making myself. I often feel wrong-footed when I have to show good manners and carry myself a certain way at court. But, mostly, I just make sure the king and queen are guarded, and so long as I remember to bow proper I get along."

"The problem with Storing Hay is one that the stuff is so scratchy, and it just manges to get /everywhere/." The laughter though comes to a slow stop as the big man looks sidelong to Brigid with an arch of his brow. His features go to rest in something more subdued as the story continues on before his hand raises up to settle on the small of her back as she stands next to his chair. He pulls her into his side brielfy, offering her a gentle sympathetic smile upwards. Then Jeffeth is taking another swig of whiskey himself.

After Brigid's words, Brannen looks up from his glass and nods towards her with a solemn expression. Then he raises his glass, "Let us also remember the deeds of those before us. Let us follow in their foot steps and keep the peace in the compact in whichever means necessary."

"Ah, psh. A little hay in your hair just means you've been storing it with proper enthusiasm," Sorrel remarks as she sips her tea, sniffing once. "Helps to build strength and endurance, you know. Storing that hay."

There's a pointed sigh from the old man of the bunch, but he keeps his commentary to himself some more. Bhandn is still shaking his head while going for cup number three of his tea (he went through the second very quickly). What he ends up saying, though, is to Brannen, and that consists of two words: "Well said." He'll drink to that like a toast, holding up his tea before carefully sipping at it. The drink is still hot, after all.

Austen raises what's left of his milk to Brannen's words, downing the rest of it. "Aye," he agrees. "Well said," he nods.

"A proper barn is full of drop cloths and saddle blankets," Brianna opines. "It helps keep the hay where it should be." She doesn't interrupt the solemn toasts, though. She respects those.

Brigid's story is dark, but still meaningful, and while it doesn't sit well amongst the other tales, Bree still lifts her mug of ale to the woman in salute. She's completely distracted by talk of hay, however, and she glances at her brother curiously for SOME REASON. "Austin," she speaks the knight's name clearly, boldly, smiling bright to him. "Tell us more about haylofts. As a farm boy, you might be the expert." A beat. "Although I think Lady Brianna might rival you for that title."

Glancing down at Jeffeth, there is a shrug of shoulders, "I'm terrible at gatherings." Came in a mumble, a quirk to the corner of lips before attention shifts to Brannen where a grateful nod is returned and glass lifted in solemn toast. But as the conversations turns back to hay, Brigid grows quiet and listens to the joviality continue with her usually collected austerity.

Brianna bats her eyelashes innocently at Bree. "Am I? How so?" she baits her.

Filshiar is quiet as the more tales are shared, though the continued talk of haylofts draws an occasional flicker of a smile. He finishes both his whiskey and milk, enjoying the meal-like combination of them, though he doesn't drink anymore than that. Eventually, he says his goodbyes and finds his way back to Crownguard Tower.

Austen considers the question from Brigid, the knight leaning back in his seat with a grin. "Aye, well, hay should be stored nice an ddry. You don't want to stack it too high, and truly you want to try and split it between multiple lofts, as it can be quite the inferno should it go up.."

While Porter is pre-disposed toward terrible jokes, he quiets down long enough to hear the more somber stories. He keeps himself quiet by consuming more of his ale until once more, it's not full. This is quite the mystery, how this continues to happen. Or so his expression states! As Filshiar departs, he lifts a hand and waves to him. "GOOD NIGHT. SAY HELLO TO SIR AUSTEN FOR ME." Austen is right here. Maybe that's the joke.

There is a quiet laugh as Jeffeth's arm pulls Brigid into his side a little more firmly. "You're fine with us." Jeffeth rumbles up to her, his massive arm squeezing around her gently. There is a wave of his free hand to Filshiar as he departs. "An honor to meet you, Sir." He calls out before looking back to the table.

Bree stares at Austen as he actually gives her hayloft tips. "No, Austen, I mean like.. what you DO in haylofts." She waves a hand at him, inviting him to tell the truth of these lurid encounters in the hay. Brianna probing her to actually SAY IT has her lifting her ale, gulping down a few mouthfuls, and as she lowers it saying, "I'm talking about secret rendezvous in haylofts. Isn't that what we were all talking about? Isn't that what Bhandn meant when he said he had been kidnapped and dragged off to a hayloft?" She looks at the tea-drinking knight for confirmation of her suspicions!

"Nothing was secret about /my/ rendezvous," Bhandn says. "We scared the horses." That's all that Bree gets from the tea-drinking knight as far as confirmation of suspicions go. Completely bland were those words, for that matter. He'll just sit on the edge of the table where he parked his tea and keep on drinking it, completely at ease and not at all bothered by the topic or its innuendo.

Brianna tsks at Bree. "You've gone and ruined the fun, is what you've done."

Austen raises an eyebrow at the others. "Oh, well, if you're talking about that. You can absolutely have sex in a hayloft but you do need to bring a cloth of some kind or hay gets everywhere," he says bluntly.

Brannen finds the interest in his beverage suddenly renewed, ears turning red.

Brigid checks composure at hard. Brigid is marginally successful.

The massive knight points over to Austen and nods emphatically. "Yes." Jeffeth grunts lowly. "Gets everywhere." He takes another gulp of a new shot glass.

When Bree just comes out and demands if that's what this was all about the entire time and Porter just loses it. He leans his head against the surface of the table and starts full on laughing.

Sorrel facepalms at Bree blurting things out, sighing slightly. "Well. You stick to ships, Bree. You just avoid those haylofts entirely. Stick to ships," she recommends.

"I didn't mean to," Bree promises Brianna, for a moment looking like perhaps, maybe, she has ruined the party. But then Austen answers, Jeffeth confirms, and Porter loses it. Bhandn also gives some eye-opening insight. And Sorrel gives her advice on boats. And then she starts laughing, because she feels Porter shaking by her side, and she cannot help the infectious bubbling up that she catches. "I'm sorry! Let's just drink and forget about this." She leans over to Brannen offering him a more personal, "Sorry, Bran. You can pick the next topic."

"Those poor horses." Is all Brigid manages to say, a shake of her head given as another sip is taken - no, not a sip! The Moore downright shoots the whiskey back and exhales a heated breath. Posture grows languid and looses the tension that keeps spine rigid because no one likes Rigid Frigid Brigid. The empty glass is lifted in show towards the bartender who nods in confirmation and goes about getting the woman a refill.

Drily and with red cheeks, Brannen replies, "my next topic is where I can get something without alcohol. If I keep drinking whenever there are 'in depth' topics discussed by my fellow nights, I will not find my way home tonight." He goes and orders some milk. Milk sounds great.

Jeffeth lets out a loud laugh as well, one hand slapping against a giant pectoral before he shakes his head vigorously at Bree. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I had no idea what we were talking about either." The Grandmaster blatantly lies with a broad smile. He leans over to Brianna, letting out another laugh after something quietly is murmured. His eyes then flick up to Brigid as she knocks down the whiskey, his good brow lifting with interest. Not letting her go alone, Rigid Frigid Brigid is accompanied by Joiner Jeffeth, also throwing down a glass quickly and signalling for a refill. "Perhaps we should play a game." A beat.

His attention slowly turns over to Bree. "Bree is officially in charge of all Drinking Game Solace matters. So..."

After a few moments of this laughing, Porter finds himself able to breathe again. Mostly. He sucks in a deep couple of lung fulls and sits up again, he clears his throat and wipes tears away from his eyes. He leans into Bree and tugs her closer again. "I'm sorry but I can never forget this moment. I'm positive that never forgetting things like this was in my vows. Like , positive."

Brianna barely is able to contain her laughter at whatever Jeffeth says to her, and perks up when she hears talk of a drinking game. "Oh, absolutely, yes," is her opinion.

"Well, *I* was talking about the proper use for a hayloft," Austen sniffs, shooting Bree a *wicked* smirk after a moment, his eyes tracking Brannen as he heads off to the bar. There's a raised eyebrow over at Jeffeth's words. "Is she? I was not aware of this." And so he reaches for some ale.

Bree is tugged closer to the bearded man, a laugh as he promises never to forget this. "I think you're right. In your vows," she nods gravely, turning to press a kiss to his cheek (which might already be rosy from the drink. And speaking of drink, Jeffeth is nominating her for a drinking game and she's shaking her head, "No no no, no." A look is cast Brigid-ward and she adds with a laugh, "No. Brannen here," she extends a hand to clap her brother on the shoulder. And it seems like for a moment she might use him as an excuse for why no drinking game, but instead she throws him to the wolves, "Is the one who always came up with all the games. I just took credit for them. So go ahead, Brannen. The game is yours."

At the mention of a game does attention shift towards Bree with eyebrows shooting sky high, eyes widening in a silent tell tale which is quickly squashed as Brigid becomes distracted by drink refills, "Yes, Brannen! Can you please come up with a game? Your sister is actually terrible at coming up with games and the Grandmaster here isn't any better at it." A small cough as her free hand shoots out to smack Joiner Jeffeth for no reason, clearly.

"No, no, no." Jeffeth rumbles lowly, holding up one finger to Bree. His lips twisted into a broad smile. "A good leader must never shirk responsibility. Speaking of a good leader." And with that, Jeffeth is suddenly standing at the table. His tone, though still amiable in joking shifts somewhat. He's serious Jeffeth now. "This is as good a time as any, seeing as how so many of us are here." Jeffeth spreads his hands out as he looks to the rest at the table.

"Since I have been appointed Grandmaster the Knights have lacked a Knight Commander." Jeffeth announces in a more booming voice. "It is high time that is rectified. As of this day, Dame Bree is appointed Knight Commander, Voice of Solace. Should she officially accept." All this just to make Bree come up with a drinking game.

Brannen checks composure and dodge at hard. Brannen is marginally successful.

"You just prevented a message from me, because I was on the verge of writing to you about that," Bhandn calls out from where he's cackling over what just happened. Yes. CACKLING. "To Dame Commander Harthall!" he calls out, lifting his tea as if to toast that. Now's as good a time as any, right?

Brannen has returned from the bar and is sitting down as Jeffeth speaks his words. He makes a sudden movement and hits the glass of milk, which dares to empty its contents into the lap of the Commander-to-be. "Ack," Brannen eloquently exclaims, and it is sheer luck that the knight of lower rank can stop the toppling glass before this night becomes memorable for yet another thing.

When Jeffeth begins to suggest that a good leader takes responsibility, Bree imagines /he/ will be the one to make up a drinking game, so she relaxes into Porter. When he goes, instead, to promoting her to second in command, she laughs in her shock. "Jeffeth," she drops his title, which is probably not the best way to approach her almost first day on the job. "You didn't have to do it here," she adds, a flush to her cheeks that is more her reaction tot he sudden (but not unexpected) promotion. "Of course I'll accept!" She grabs her ale, the widest of smiles at her lips. "We already talked about this," she explains for all watching, in case they were wondering why she wasn't freaking out about being bumped up another rank. "Thank you," to Bhandn, and then Brannen is almost spilling milk all over her, and she pushes back in her chair to avoid - but he catches it in time. "Bran, that would have been a great welcome to the commandership." As to drinking games, she makes no mention of one, just taking a gulp of ale.

Porter is still recovering from the laughter, which is still managing to come out in shorts bursts of laughter here and there. But he's mostly composed, mostly. With his drink again filled, he washes back more of the ale and sobers (ha!) up a bit more. He smiles when the kiss is pressed to his cheek but also remains silent for a bit as conversation whirls around them. When Jeffeth makes his announcement, he frees Bree up by removing his arm. This is important, so that he can start clapping. LOUDLY. "Congratulations! To the new Knight Commander!"

Smiling softly, Jeffeth raises a glass. Apparently not done. He waits for the congratulations to die down, keeping his glass raised, making it clear he's waiting. "In addition." Jeffeth rumbles lowly. "Even though he has only been with us for a relatively short time, he has made a /splash/ since he has sworn his vows. He has boarded projects at ramming speed and have led our naval forces to a place never before seen by Solace. We are full sail with him as a Brother." He's grinning broadly. Can he fit anymore boat puns into this announcement?

"Sir Porter from this day forth shall be promoted from his current position as Boat Guy of Solace and elevated to Knight Lieutenant." He blinks down at Brannen almost spilling all the milk, letting out a breath of relief. He smiles broadly to Bree, then to Porter. "To Knight Commander Bree, and to Knight Lieutenant Porter." There's a beat as he glances down to Brianna. "I could knight you right now, I'm on a damn roll."

Thankful not to have ruined the moment, Brannen replies "I am sorry, I didn't expect this to become a formal meeting!" He accusingly points at the pitcher with ale, obviously the most passive object in the room. "Congratulations, Bree! And sorry."

Austen grins a little as the bickering over the drinking game starts, and then Jeffeth makes his announcement, and his grin spreads into something wider and warmer, his hands coming together to applaud Bree. "Congratulations, Knight Commander Bree!" he calls, and then *Porter* is getting promoted as well and Austen grin splits wider. "And Knight Lieutenant Porter!"

Brigid checks composure at hard. Brigid fails.

"And congratulations to you, too, Porter!" Brannen exclaims, raising his glass in toast.

Brianna cheers merrily for the promoted members of Solace. Jeffeth's comment to her catches her off guard and barks a laugh at that. "Are you serious?" She makes a big show of leaning forward and eyeing the door.

"Do it!" Sorrel calls encouragingly to Jeffeth as she lifts her glass in a toast to Bree and Porter. "To the Knight Commander and the Knight Lieutenant! And let us celebrate further by seeing Lady Brianna knighted as well!"

Porter checks composure at hard. Porter is marginally successful.

Brianna checks composure at hard. Brianna is marginally successful.

Jeffeth checks composure at hard. Botch! Jeffeth is simply outclassed. This is monumentally beyond them and the result is ruinous.

Bhandn checks composure at hard. Bhandn is marginally successful.

"HA!" is all Bhandn has to say about Porter's elevation. There's plenty of pointing, though. "Boat Guy. Now you have to put up with ME --" a pause "-- Lieutenant."

Straightening up does Brigid raise her glass, lips full and rich in smile at the sudden announcements and promotions, "Congratulations! I couldn't think of a worthier pair." There is a halt however and smile fades at further knighting or perhaps it was the suggested location, the Moore grows quiet.

The good news is that Porter doesn't actually spew the ale over the table because he's so incredibly shocked by being promoted. It doesn't stop him from choking on it a little though and he has to thump his chest a couple of times before roughly croaking out, "Thank you. I accept my promotion as Knight Lieutenant Boat Guy of Solace." Wait, that wasn't the title. Oh well. "KNIGHT HER. She fought with us on the steps of the Cathedral, she's basically a knight already." Is that how this works? He sure thinks so.

Bree barely finishes listening to her own congratulations when Jeffeth passes the role of Knight Lieutenant to Porter. Her smiles grows wider (if that is even possible) the look of pure delight on her features clear. "To Knight Lieutenant Porter Kennex!" she calls to the whole bar, although people are already praising him. She reaches out to squeeze his arm, pulling him in for another kiss to the cheek. When talk of knighting Brianna is had, she knocks her fist on the table. "Yes! Knight her!"

"...on this, the Night of Knights!" Bree adds with a boisterous laugh. They don't need a drinking game - they're already pretty drunk.

"Oh gods, what have I done? I've managed to go TWENTY-NINE whole years without becoming a knight!" Brianna 'complains'.

"They both have served extremely well and are a testament to the Order. They will both go down in history of So--" Jeffeth was drinking a lot, right before this. Remember. So when he is doing his speech and making grand gestures with one arm that just happened to be holding a glass of whiskey, a keen eyed and clear headed individual might have been able to see what was coming: As Jeffeth's hand swings out in an overly broad gesticulation, his grip simply slips on the glass he is holding and the momentum has the glass SAILING out of his hand and crashing into a nearby support pillar.

There is an explosion of glass and whiskey over away from their table, leaving Jeffeth quiet for a moment as he glances down to his hand, then over to the mess he just made. His eyes widen somewhat in that moment of silence.

Then he's just raising his fist anyways, "To Knight Commander Bree, and Knight Lieutenant Porter!" He cheers.

Finally his attention comes back to Brianna, a lazy smile curled up his lips. "Is that a yes?" One large hand comes down to settle on her shoulder.

Austen checks composure at hard. Austen marginally fails.

Brannen checks composure at hard. Brannen fails.

Brigid checks composure at hard. Brigid fails.

Brianna checks composure at hard. Brianna fails.

Porter checks composure at hard. Porter fails.

Austen is in the middle of applauding when Jeffeth's glass goes flying across the room, the knight staring wide-eyed at the resulting mess, before he breaks into helpless giggles, the knight unable to stop himself laughing.

Bhandn checks composure at hard. Bhandn fails.

Porter watches as the glass sails through the air, his eyes wide in amazement at the trajectory and arc of the thing. And then it crashes. And when Austen starts to laugh, he chokes back some of his own. And then Porter breaks and is once again full on laughing and slapping his hand onto the table.

Brannen, still aghast of almost having ruined the solemnity of the moment sees Jeffeth cause a celebratory explosion and simply breaks down on his chair laughing. For the entirety ot two minutes in which he cannot contain the laughter about the absurdity of the situation.

A piece of flying glass scrapes Brianna's cheek. She raises a hand to check, sees a bit of blood, and she swears. "Tehom's fucking tits, Jeffeth!" There's a beat, realizing the company she's in, and, you know, blasphemy and all that. "I mean." She clears her throat. She looks up at the Grandmaster. "Yes," she declares, more than a bit drunk herself. "Yes, to everything."

Sorrel squeals in surprise in the most ridiculously girlish way as Jeffeth breaks his glass, startling in surprise at the crash and breaking of glass. She glances around to see if anyone has noticed, then takes a deep breath. "I think she said yes, Sir Jeffeth," she offers with a smile, winking at Brianna. "I'm pretty sure I heard her."

The laughing is infectious and the old man isn't immune to it either. Bhandn reacts in much the same way as Sir Austen, staring at the mess before devolving into a series of cackles that force him to put down the tea or risk spilling that all over as well.

Jeffeth checks wits at normal. Jeffeth is marginally successful.

Perhaps some Oathlander myths are true for Brigid levels that tumultuous soul-shrinking blue on all those present - the laughter, the giggles, the smashing. Lastly does it rest on Jeffeth before the austere Knight shifts to take her leave without so much as a word, leaving her drink unfinished on the table.

Jeffeth grimaces at Brianna's cut. But everyone's laughing. "Sorry." He lets out in a little grunt, looking around at those laughing before smiling down to Brianna. "Will you protect the faithful?" Jeffeth asks, that ever growing sloppy smile. "Will you guard--" His eyes slip up to Brigid who slips away, frowning briefly before he lets out a grunt and looks back down to Brianna. "Will you guard those who travel, the roads and the waterways, giving your life if need be to protect those who cannot protect themselves?"

Bree checks composure at hard. Bree is marginally successful.

Bree's laughter follows quick on the heels of everyone else's laughter, and she leans into Porter's shaking body, her arm slung over him, forehead in his shoulder. She lifts her head however when Brianna is being knighted, sucking in her breath and watching this all unfold.

Austen's laughter abruptly stops. There is a KNIGHTING going on, on this Night of Knights, and OATHS are being made. He leans forwards, intent on the proceedings.

Inspired by Austen, Brannen does his very best to calm himself down, wiping away tears, and moving his fist to the chest in an effort to regain the last bit of dignity that this moment so very much deserves.

"Wait, wait, NOW?" Brianna's eyebrows shoot up and she's on her feet. "Am I supposed to stand? Kneel?"

Jeffeth checks strength and athletics at normal. Jeffeth is successful.

There is a quiet laugh as Brianna surges up, that giant hand on her shoulder immediately goes to push her back down to her seat. "It's fine. It's fine. You just answer what I just said, that's all." Jeffeth rumbles with that broad lazy smile.

A few more heaving breaths and Porter is back to normal, there's a knighting going on. So he does his best to look composed. He sits up in his chair again and partially leans back into Bree, so that when she's forced to move, he can kiss her cheek quickly. Then they can resume their mutually leaning and such. He grabs his glass again though and drinks a bit, then touches his nose. "Numb," he announces to Austen, Brannen and Bree. As if he expects them to understand what this means.

Brianna is pushed back into her seat with an indignant whumph. She looks up at Jeffeth. "I will," she says solemnly.

"Will you protect your sisters and brothers in arms as if their lives were your own?" Jeffeth asks, still smiling warmly down at her.

"I will," Brianna replies, then Porter and Bree catch her eye. "Especially those two goons, because they are so fucking cute I want to die."

"As Grandmaster of the Silver Order and those two goons." His hand squeezes on her right shoulder and then lifts over her head to come down onto her left shoulder. "I name you Dame Brianna Halfshav." The hand squeezes her left shoulder before coming up to her face, going to giver her nose a boop. Boop! "Knight Votary of the Silver Order. Knight of Solace."

Brianna checks strength and athletics at hard. Brianna fails.

Brianna rises, trying to scoop Jeffeth up into a bridal carry, because THAT is obviously a great idea. She gets him off the ground, but she steps on a wet patch of floor and slips, going down hard and bringing the Grandmaster with her. "FUCK."

Brannen checks composure at hard. Brannen fails.

While Brianna is being pushed down onto her chair, Brannen stands up from his chair and kneels down instead, lowering his head in deference to the protocol, the knighthood, and the gods. As things do not go according to protocol, Brannen lowers his head firmer, pressing his chin onto his breastplate, pushing his fist onto his breastplate. He manages not to laugh, but he looks at the ground so nobody can see him fight his emotions.

"Ah, Bri!" Sorrel cries, trying to get out of the way but having the path out blocked by chairs and the table. Her chair gets pushed into the table, making //everyone's// drink slosh about as she tries to keep from getting injured as Brianna and Jeffeth fall next to her.

Promotions are one thing, but knighting someone is quite another. Bhandn puts down his tea and goes dead quiet. He makes an added gesture, though, one that involves taking off his swordbelt and holding up his blade in front of him. It's meant as a symbolic gesture, that, saluting with his weapon that shouldn't be drawn here, so Brianna gets a little extra from him because of the belt. He's quiet the entire time Jeffeth and Brianna speak until the declaration of her rank is made, but the moment Bhandn opens his mouth is when Brianna tries lifting the Grandmaster, and in the end Bhandn is standing there with his lips agape, completely at a loss for what just happened.

Austen checks dexterity and athletics at hard. Austen fails.

Somewhere in there, Bree has a bit too much to drink, and excuses herself to wander the streets until she finds her way home! Real responsible behavior for a Knight Commander!

Austen is ready to applaud as Brianna is knighted, and then she surges upwards and tries to take Jeffeth with her. But instead she goes down and Austen stands up in shock, clearly aiming to help. Unfortunately, there is a table there and he appears to have forgotten. THUMP. The table starts to move alarmingly. Will it tip? Will the drinks be rescued? Will any of this lot EVER be allowed in here again? Tune in next pose.

Brianna wheezes and laughs, the back of her head thudding gently against the inn floor as she looks up at the ceiling. "Gods, I am so sorry, you all must think that I'm not taking this seriously, but OW JEFFETH THAT'S MY LUNG," she manages to get out.

What is going on? Porter is moving away from the table with his drink in his hand. "Oh no, the ground is MOVING." He's drunk. Then he looks around and Bree is gone. "What the..." IS SHE UNDER THE TABLE. He stoops down to peer around at the floor of the bar. She's not there. "I'm going to look for her in the bushes." And off he goes.

Brannen checks wits and athletics at hard. Brannen fails.

Brannen looks up, in horror, realizing that the table is tipping towards him, milk and ale - no whiskey though, as whiskey is found all over the room already. And he realizes, too late, that not only his dignity is at risk.

Porter is overheard praising Jeffeth.

Brianna is overheard praising Porter.

Bhandn is overheard praising Brianna.

Bhandn is overheard praising Jeffeth.

Brannen is overheard praising Brianna.

Austen is overheard praising Jeffeth.

Austen is overheard praising Porter.

Austen is overheard praising Brianna.

Brannen is overheard praising Bree.

Brannen is overheard praising Porter.

Brannen is overheard praising Jeffeth.

There's a quiet grunt as Brianna tries to lift him and they go //down//. When people are starting to topple, Jeffeth is quickly going to hoist Brianna up after letting out an extensive grunt. A large pouch of silver is left on the table for the damages to both chair and glass, and Jeffeth makes a swinging gesture with one arm. Scatter! Gathering up Brianna under one arm he goes to try to limp out, he must have landed hard on one leg.

Jeffeth is overheard praising Porter.

Jeffeth is overheard praising Bree.

Jeffeth is overheard praising Brianna.

Heath, a Highhill Mastiff Puppy arrives, following Amelie.

2 Halfshav skilled veteran guards leaves, following Brianna.

Brother Chester, Fudgy, a chirpy crow, Brianna leave, following Jeffeth.