As Robin and Brita investigate the nooks and crannies in the side rooms, Brita scents a strong whiff of Chaos. There are a number of people in the vicinity, none of whom Brita recognizes, and she cannot immediately trace the source of the scent.
            She does not see Merlin or Aisling, nor does she see Ce'e.

The Viking shifts the champagne flutes to one hand and casually rests her freed hand on the head of the war hammer at his hip.  "I despair of finding my quarry, Lady Huntress.  There is such a press of people Here; all Unknown.  It seems a singularly hopeless  cause."
                There are plenty of people watching them being as how Lady Robin is there.  Brita scans the area looking for anyone with more than just a tourist's interests in them.

A thoughtful chirrup emerges from Robin's lips as she repeats her crane, crane, look, look behavior from several times earlier in the evening.  Dropping back to her feet, the girl runs exasperated hand back through her glowing hair, and in the tiniest burst of fire, returns her fingers to her front holding a bead that *might* have been in her hair.  But wasn't.
           As she summons her heritage to her, the Huntress watches for a wince or sudden distancing from any of the surrounding party-goers.

There is no wince nor is there a sudden recoiling but they each notice a cloaked man lounging insolently near the doorway.  He is wearing black and has a scythe strapped to his back.  He has a skull half-mask over his face and when he speaks, it is as if he was speaking just to the two cousins.  His voice is somewhat familiar.
            "Looking for someone?"

The scent of him is familiar. Brita has scented it on the wind earlier this evening, sought it assiduously through the rooms, and now found it.
            The area here is not all one room. It is broken into many little rooms with how dividing walls and columns marking the divided spaces above the walls.  The doorway is the area where there is no wall and no columns.
            Death lies between Robin and Brita on the one hand and their quickest route to the heart of the Hall, where the dancers are, on the other.

The Viking glances briefly at Robin. "'Death waits for no man'" the Viking quotes.  "And yet you look as if it is you waiting for someone to cross your path."

An appreciative smile spreads across the Huntress' lips as she lets her gaze trickle over the cloaked figure -- the poised insolence, the striking statement of the costume.  Malicious delicious humor twinkles in the girl's eyes.
            Content to let Brita do the talking, the Huntress' eyes dart quickly to the side, seeing back into the alcoves where a corpulent man in a greyhound costume sits sipping something foamy and brown from a stein.  The flushed skin showing around the edges of his mask show him to have been enjoying quite a bit of evening up to this point.
            Robin lets power dash through her veins in one quick burst, like a tap on a drumhead, and possibilities burble beneath her touch like an overly rich meal.  Since the gentleman is about to unknowingly donate his reputation for the good of Amber, Robin decides to at least leave him the out of 'silent but deadly' and the greyhound is struck with a long bout of flatulence.
            And from the alcove begins to drift a faint but pernicious order.

The masked figure quotes in return, "'All things come to those who wait'.  Is it Death, then, that you seek?"

"One does not need to seek Death.  He will come when he comes, presumably with Valkyries at hand.  What does Death seek?" the Viking is deceptively relaxed, scanning the Hall beyond while speaking as if the play is somewhat boring.  One hand rests on the war hammer at his side.

"Would you like a drink?"  Robin gestures to the flutes in Brita's hand.  "Or maybe a dance?"  The Huntress smiles once again to the dark figure, her eyes glimmering with green fire.

"No, thank you.  But I am a bit peckish."  His left hand is moving in ways that perhaps hands do not normally move and a bluish glow sprouts from his palm.  There are a number of people between Death and the two women.

If she can see it, she can hit it.  It's almost Robin's maximum.  With gestures as fast, short and sharp as she can, the Ranger plucks the silver crescent moon pin from the shoulder of her chiton, and hurls it like a shiriken at the offending blue glowy hand.  If she can manage to hit points first, she'll consider it a fortuitous bonus, but her primary concern is to distract.
            The Huntress also makes sure that her movements are *extremely* economical, no wild flailing, so that passersby might not even notice if they weren't looking directly at Robin at the exact right moment.

Brita moves towards Death [!] through the crowd, aiming to block him more in the alcove than out.

Brita moves through the people, who mostly want to be out of her way in any case, when Robin's pin comes spinning at Death's hand.  Brita gets a quick glimpse of a face that, beneath the calm death's head, is enraged and perhaps not entirely human.  The glimpse is only fleeting, however, since the man dressed as Death shoves forwards against the air and flings everything back towards the far wall.  Brita, Robin, spectators, and china go flying into a sideboard, which collapses with a shattering noise.  The china is all broken and you can see that some of the guests are bloody and at least one seems to be bleeding heavily.  The room goes quiet for just a second and then one of the partygoers screams.

Jerod glances only momentarily in the direction of the scream while releasing his sister.  "Show time..." he whispers.  "Watch your back."
            Knowing his uncles are faster, stronger, and *usually* smarter than he is (and that he has no sorcery skill to speak of), Jerod opts to disappear into the crowd which is certain to be shocked and looking in the direction of the scream.  He's looking for whatever isn't behaving in that way and might constitute a new threat.  If anything appears, he deals with it (four feet of sharpened steel does wonders sometimes).

It's hard for Jerod to tell what's going on. He sees a lot of people moving around, mostly away from the screaming, but not all. Various people who look like family members aren't doing that, but they might not be who they seem.
            It looks like Martin's moving towards his father, but he is hidden behind that half-mask. It could be someone else. Cambina's over there too. Is that really Caine with M? Hard to be sure. There are too damned many people in black at this shindig.

On the floor, Random and Flora stop dancing.  Random whispers something to  Flora, who heads for the bandstand.  Random exchanges glances with Caine, and perhaps passes some signal to him.  Random seems to be waiting for something else.

The Phoenix's head snaps around. Green fire is lighting in his eyes – so much like his sister's - but just now his eyes look through the beak's nostrils, so the effect just misses being disconcerting.

Aisling jumps.  Three silver threads, once around the only fingers on her right hand, fall severed to the floor, the noise of their arrival at their destination lost among the murmur of the crowd.  The grey suede of her right glove is floppier without them.

"That," he pronounces, "has *got* to be a diversion." And, counting on only one man in the hall to see the whole picture despite the ruckus... he searches the crowd for Vere.
            If he notices the vector of his father through the crowd along the way, he will not ignore this information.

Brennan obviously agrees, but he doesn't say anything.  The air has been tense enough the past half hour that he has been expecting *something* to happen, and consequently barely twitches, except to make sure his hands are near his swords.
            The one thing he doesn't do is turn to look at the disturbance, unless he's already standing facing it.  Rather, he looks in whatever direction will given him the widest view of the room and seems to be trying to take a perfect mental snapshot of the scene, looking for (or to later look for) any "wrong" reactions.

"I... I don't know," Folly counters uneasily.  There are different kinds of screams; and she could feel the fear in that one, all the way to her teeth.
            She scans the crowd again -- only this time, she's looking for Random.

Easy to spot, he's on the dance floor, and Flora is leaving him.  He's giving signals to Caine.  _hold up, let's see what they do..._
            Its pretty much what Syd would do if a fight developed during a gig.  Wait to see if it spilled out or died out.

"No party would be complete without one," Solange says, shaking her head.  "The only question is, is it a simple matter of an overturned punch bowl or falling chandelier, or something worse?  And should we investigate?"

Solace looks about at the movement of people and says "I think that's in one of the side rooms. There are people going already." She sounds a little frightened, but not terribly so.

Marius looks almost more relaxed than he has all evening, save for a slight time he spent after confronting Cambina.  "It is just a different kind of dance," he says, almost in an explanatory fashion.

"Are you armed, Sir Otter?" she asks Marius.

"As it happens, Otters do have claws," he says, casually touching where they had been readied at Aisling's strangeness.  "But when in doubt, I also carry two of these," he makes fists and smiles at Solace warmly.  "I see you ladies have them as well," although he is really asking, "Does the Sun have more than the brightness of her smile?"
            However, the question asked suggests that there needs to be a more protective stance, and thusly, Marius will oblige.  He is nothing if not a gentleman.
            Wait a second... he's not really a gentleman. Hmmm.

"The heat of her rays, perhaps," Solange answers, lacing her fingers together and stretching her hands out in front of her in a gesture that says "loosening up for unarmed combat."  She then turns them palm-up.  "No more."

Marius smiles indulgently at Solange.  "We are not without friends," he points out, pleasantly enough.  He raises a hand to casually catch the eye of one of his Knights, Sir Xenial, dressed as a macaw.

Sir Xenial pushes his way through the crowd, arrives and bows to the ladies.

Marius smiles and greets the man, and suggests that perhaps he would be so kind as to deliver a couple of messages.  The messages are simple: one is to the Knights of the Ruby as may be found, and prepare them to help hold back the crowds from any  unpleasantness.  The second is to perhaps speak with one of the other groupings of royals (he's thinking Brennan's group) and give them the satisfaction of knowing that there will be little mayhem from his corner that is not close (hand-to-hand) range.

Lucas and his lady cat have faltered in their waltzing as the music faltered at the sound of the scream, but are picking back up.

Nice of him to clear the way, thinks Brita with a mental growl.

Robin scrambles up; tall, proud, glowing and furious.  "Oh, no you don't!" She shouts with indignation.  "This is *our* kingdom.  We've fought for her.  Suffered for her.  Made her great.  And scum like *you* don't get to crash our party!"  At the same time, the Ranger starts and keeps up a steady barrage of wreckage from the side-board, flung hard with a vicious side-arm.  But now she's aiming to main and kill.

She gets a few off.  He blocks a few and some seem to hit him, but he doesn't seem damaged.

Robin's also trying to inspire the blown party-goers to become similarly motivated to do the same (as opposed to acting like panicky sheep) – though she'll trip any idiot (besides Brita) who looks like they want to go for hand-to-hand.  Hopefully, there's some military types among the downed guests who can be rallied.
            As a bonus this will hopefully keep the Chaosi's attention herward and with its back toward the main hall.

No rallying.  Much cowering and scrambling away.  Someone is dragging the bleeding guy away.  The screamer is getting hysterical.

Brita is also up and, having lost the champagne on the way down, throws the mock battle axe forward with her right hand as her left reaches down to pull the not-mock war hammer.  She quickly follows the battle axe, attempting to stay out of the line of fire from the Huntress. "If you didn't want the champagne, all you had to do was say so," she growls, half to herself.

He does not even bother to dodge the axe and smiles as he sees her pulling a weapon.  He draws a wicked looking sword and leaps forward to attack, swinging a mighty blow that Brita manages to parry with her hammer's hilt.  The force of the blow drives her back and costs her her momentum.  He's a lot stronger than he looks.
            "Cleph goes where he wills."
            Robin no longer has a clear shot at Cleph.  And as he is away from the door, there is a rush on it from those who were previously trapped inside.

Brita takes the blow with a soft grunt.  Mentally, she is a little annoyed that everyone she gets to fight puts up such resistance.

He fights like a God.

Vere allows himself to think a silent swear word, and rapidly calculating the possibilities decides the best thing to do is to continue to focus on the Raven.  Other members of the family will attend to the disturbance, if they aren't already involved.
            He alters his course to intercept the Raven.  Whether he aims to intercept him just before or just after he reaches his target depends upon what that target is, a fact that Vere is attempting to determine based on the Raven's trajectory and the focus of his attention.

Conner's first instinct is to rush to where the scream and crash came from especially since that's the direction he saw Brita and Robin wandering.    However, he is forced to admit that anything those two can't handle would be rather beyond his abilities.  "Well, it seems being normal is no longer necessary."  Conner comments to Llewella.  "Hmm.  Vere seems to be in a hurry to find someone.  That's worth looking into I think."

"We're on-stage, Conner, best diplomatic face outward.  We should wait to see what the King does.  You keep an eye on Vere."  She pauses.  "I suppose you've considered that that might be a shapeshifter who looks like your cousin?"

"All the more reason to keep an eye on him."  Conner smiles.  "Anyone moving with purpose is not an innocent bystander.  Friend or foe is yet to be determined."  Conner looks over.  "Seems the King has stopped dancing.  Still why waste a waltz."  He smiles leading them at a slower pace for better viewing of the scene.

Cambina looks at Jerod, and then turns her head to look at the King.

The movement of the crowd baffles the Raven's path such that it's impossible for Vere to tell quite where he's going.
            As Vere walks determinedly through the crowd, he passes by Mistress Free, a close friend of Lady Vesper's. Mistress Free's husband is a merchant and probably a little low-ranking to be in this crowd, which means Lady Vesper probably pulled some strings to get her an invitation. She is quite recognizable, in part because she weighs about 350 lbs.
            Unfortunately for Vere, she trips over something as he walks by and drops her heaping plate of hors d'oeuvres all over his costume, staining it, and lands practically on top of him. Any mortal man would surely have been flattened beneath her bulk, but a son of Gerard is only distracted and staggered.
            Mistress Free is apologetic. "My lord ghost, I'm so sorry, let me help you clean up--" she says as she begins to pat at the stains futilely with a napkin.
            It's the sort of accident that used to happen to Lady Vesper all the time.

Vere steps back from her, waving off her attempts to clean his costume.  "My fault, Mistress Free," he says, using most of his attention to relocate the Raven, and wondering just how coincidental this accident was.  Worst possible interpretation would be that the Raven is a member of the Family, a Pattern initiate, aware that Vere was following him, and aware that Pattern abilities now work in Amber.  Hopefully it's not that bad, but Vere notes the possibility.  "This will wash easily, but I fear your lovely costume may not fare as well.  Do see to yourself as quickly as possible." 

Mistress Free is a bit flabbergasted by the whole thing, and Vere escapes.

And Vere is away from her, moving more quickly now, following the Raven if he has spotted him, if not then moving in the direction the Raven had been travelling and scanning the crowd for him.

"Speaking of dangerous territory..." Reid gives up the pretense of waltzing, but doesn't necessarily relinquish Fiona's hand as he spins them towards the commotion. "Shall we?" He starts briskly clearing the way to Danger Central from where they stand, without much regard for formality or politeness.

Fiona follows in Reid's wake. "Are you armed?" she asks him in a low voice.

"Never come to a family event naked, is my motto. Cousin Paige doesn't agree, unfortunately... But yes, I'm properly adorned. You?"

Fiona smiles at Reid's words, amused. She replies, "I have a dagger. I hope  I'm better with it than I was last time."

The crowd is confused and frightened. A stampede is not imminent, but not out of the question, and Fiona could easily be in physical danger if she and Reid were separated.

Reid will make sure that doesn't happen. He's got a firm grip on her with his dominant hand, and will move at a pace that is deliberate, but won't afford her the chance of being pulled off her feet. They continue towards the fray...

It's hard going. People are moving away from the screaming, which is continuing. A few people are moving towards it, mostly family or perhaps agents, and they all have to fight the tide of motion.

"I take it we're speaking of the Hawk's other parent..." Paige's comments are cut short by the scream.
            "You seem overly optimisitc that we're going to make it to closing time, dear," Paige deadpans.
            "I'll follow your lead," she says, ready to find that stiletto along her thigh without a care what she flashes to who...

Martin's mouth opens slightly as the scream fades. Then he shakes it off and what Paige can see of his expression goes deadly calm.
            "This is the hit. Go to the band, keep them playing. No matter what, keep them playing. Relay any messages. I've gotta get to Dad. Go, go," he urges, relinquishing her.
            He releases her and turns to move towards Random.

The emerald dragon curtsies to the black swan and moves toward the bandstand.

Gerard starts wheeling his chariot through the milling and suddenly-confused crowd towards the Queen and her protectors. His horsehair-topped helm is clearly visible above the crowds as he rolls forward, a little heedless of interfering toes based on the number of squeaks and grunts from those nearby.

Ossian nudges the trio even closer to the wall and scans the room for anything that looks hostile. (Yeah, this is not the kind of situation Ossian is best adapted to.)
            He throws a glance at Lilly, ready to follow any plan she has.

Lilly's stance changes. She looks like a tiger ready to pounce. For the moment she refrains from actually drawing the sword. There was no point in causing more panic. Her eyes are on fire as she scanned the room looking for anything that might be suspicious. Her most pressing concern though remained the queen. For now she was content to get the trio into a good defensible position and  wait.
            "Stay close to me. There is no need to panic just yet. I may not get a chance to warn you before reacting if  it becomes necessary to go on the defensive so please listen to me now. If I draw my sword get as near to the wall as possible and remain at my rear." Lilly says to Ossian and Vialle.
            "I gave my word to the King that I would keep you safe your majesty and that is what I intend to do. Please trust me and follow my instructions if things become difficult. I know you wish to remain by your husband's side and I find that most noble. However I know from a warrior's standpoint that it is best to not have to face distractions of any sort when dealing with an enemy. Worrying about the well fare of a loved one can indeed be such a distraction."

"I'll need a minute to Trump us out." Ossian says.

Vialle says to Ossian, "What's happening?" She sounds vaguely panicked, but is trying to be brave.

"Damn. If I was taller... "
            Ossian stands on his toes, trying to see what happens. He turns to Vialle
            "Well, something happened in a side room; I cannot see what from here. That side room is so far away from us, that you should be safe from whatever happens there, at least."
            "Gerard is heading our way, it seems." he adds.

Aisling checks the environment once again, with quick darting glances; anyone who didn't see before now has another chance to note that unlike many human-shaped things, she lives in three dimensions.  Is there anything looking to, or coming for her with intent?  Is there anything looking to, or coming for Ce'e with intent?  Is there anything looking to, or coming for the king with intent?  And then she takes in Caine and Gerard and Benedict and Corwin's little group.

A group of men in dragon costumes are coming towards the group.  Aisling doesn't see anyone going for Ce'e or Random.  Vere just almost got run down by a 350 pound dowager, though.

'Nice job looking like you're not forming up,' Jovian does not say aloud.

Brennan shoots Jovian a look, half inquiring, but no more. He's going to assume Jovian knows what he's about.

The Phoenix notes Vere's position, plots his vector from the horsehair crest of the Charioteer, and narrows his crowd-scanning to an arc of moderately small angle off that vector, continuing across the floor.  The ever-shifting sight line of a moving crowd doesn't help, surely, but being over six feet tall and having a vague idea what he's looking for, it's worth a shot.

Aisling narrowly watches to make sure Vere gets back up intact.  Now, *he's*  moving with intent.  To what end, she spares a moment to scan for.

It might be spooky how much Brennan and Jovian think alike in some situations, given that they really haven't known each other more than a month or so.
            Brennan's first thought, on seeing Vere blindsided by the partygoer was, "He was going *somewhere*."  His second was, "Getting blindsided is not Vere's style, either."  Not at all, not even disregarding his prior dancing with Robin.
            He reaches the same conclusion Jovian does, in about the same time.  And you know what?  With people moving about in seemingly random ways, it seems very likely that the crowd will accidentally jostle and swirl in a way that leaves Vere's quarry exposed to Brennan's or Jovian's view. 
            Granted, Brennan doesn't know that Vere was stalking a Raven, but the Raven was recently described as having been hunting Merlin, and Brennan is still in mind of black costumes.

In a moment Jovian adds, tightly: "The castle will be cordoned against anyone leaving by air."

Aisling glances to Folly, a twist of fey humor around her lips as she answers her question, "Perhaps it will be easy!"

"Now I'm not so sure I want to find out," Folly replies with her own grim humor.  "Or let anyone else, either."  She's keeping a close eye on the crowd, ready to  step in with a diversion of her own if things look like they might get out-of-hand.

"I think," Aisling states as if casually leaning her weight on an overstuffed suitcase, "that this commotion has been raised by a soldier whose wife ran off with another while he was gone, and who has gotten, regrettably, drunk.  It should not merit more than a sidenote in tomorrow's gossip."  That's a statement of intent.
            "I believe that my late comrades, the Otter and so forth, would come to the same conclusion.  Perhaps my lady Swan could bring this to their attention?"  Aisling is honestly offering Folly the job of recruiting Solange et al for crowd control and spin, willing to hear "no" or other ideas.  She herself is glancing towards the  noise as if she feels she should be there soon.

Meanwhile, a few feet away from Brita...

"You!"  Robin commands in a strong confident voice, pointing at the shrieker.  "Stifle it.  Now!"
            The Ranger soars into position, placing her body between the moving herd and the combatants, one hand pulling a sling from the small of her back, the other pulling sharp pointy beads from her hair.  As the people rush by, Robin lays the force of her personality upon them.  She is a Ranger and a Princess of Amber, and these are her people.  She will protect and guard them.  With glances and nods behind her, she attempts to calm and direct. No panic, just an orderly retreat.
            And purses her lips.  Last time, she didn't make it back with her report.  This time, dammit, it was going to get there.  Shortly a piercing whistle rises above the crowd, floating out to the room beyond in ranger code.  'One hostile engaged.' Robin tinges her tone to indicate to anyone who fought at Kolvir that the hostile is a Black Roader.  'Send back-up.  Injured coming.'

People respond to Robin's presence and command and while there is the edge of panic, she manages to keep it suppressed.  If there are Rangers in the next room (and there are!), they've received her message.

As the blow drives her back, Brita leans even farther backwards to draw 'Cleph' in, putting all her weight on her left leg. She then whips out with her right leg in an attempt to sweep his legs at the same time as she twists the hammer to her left in an attempt to drag his sword to the side.

Cleph leaps over the leg sweep and Brita doesn't get the hammer back around into line.  The sword has the hammer controlled and Cleph pushes it to the ground.  As she starts to recover it, he completes the motion and hits her hard in the temple with the heavy pommel of his weapon.
            Brita's head rings as she goes down.  Her nostrils are filled with the smell of blood, both hers and that of the wounded.  The bastard is smiling beneath his skull mask.  If Brita is hurt, she cannot feel it, only the red rage that is threatening to overcome her.

Robin takes advantage of her cousin's fall to launch a barrage of deadly pointed missiles at her opponent.  She steps forward from the flow of people slightly, as her hands rapidly fill and launch from the sling in a blur of speed.  Her expression is confident and proud (for the benefit of the retreating partygoers) but in her eyes an eerie green fire is burning and a smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

Brita is pissed enough with being beat down by a party crasher who has no concern for innocent lives that her control quickly snaps.  She goes Berserker.
            Having gone down on her left side, Brita continues the roll, coming up on her right knee with a Berserker yell that would do Uncle Thor proud as she swings the hammer out from under her and back at Cleph.

"If it's crowd control you want, we've got more immediate concerns, I think," Folly replies, glancing toward the doors to the side-rooms.  Brennan's original trajectory brought them toward those doors, so they should be in a good position to see the sudden surge of rattled partygoers fleeing Death, assuming said partygoers surge toward the main hall.

Aisling's expression does not change as she takes in the surge of socialites.  Except maybe she looks a tiny bit more like Benedict, for some reason.

If they do, Folly crosses to meet them as they emerge, assessing their needs, calming them down, finding out what happened.  In particular, she tries to keep them in a group at the edge of the room (a bit away from the entrance) so they don't go spreading panic pell-mell through the crowd.  Aisling is welcome to join her in this, though Folly reads from her cousin's body language that she'd rather be on the other side of the doors assessing the threat -- and that's OK, too.

So much for sending Folly away from danger, Aisling thinks.  But with way the situation is developing, yes, she is needed over there now...  Aisling shoots a powerful gaze over to the Otter group, looking to catch someone's eye, so she can suggest with a tiny jerk of her head that they join them over there-- they're almost a perfect group for this.

Aisling thinks Solace has noticed her. There's another fellow there, perhaps receiving instructions from them based on his deferential posture.

Between the city reintegration and this sort of thing, perhaps she and Folly will get to be a decent team, and she couldn't have picked a better person for it, if only she didn't have to continually worry about Folly's safety...
            Except Aisling is playing the part of the helpful,-genteel-yet-indignant socialite, looking to spark other fires of indignation that burn within the lines of "Some people!  Getting drunk and causing a scene at the *King's Coronation Masque!*  Why, their mothers must be so *humiliated*!"  So she's being comforting by offering a familiar foundation for people to stand on while they re-locate their spines and answer the call of the defense of social niceties.

Folly and Aisling are able to herd some of the retreating people off away from the crowd to the extent that it's possible. They're unnerved and a little abashed.
            Then there's a piercing whistle from the side room. The musicians stop playing, Folly notices, and not nicely either: they merely raggedly drop out of the tune. Everyone is unnerved, and Folly knows she will have to work hard to keep the people she has cornered from succumbing to fear again.

Vere catches sight of the Raven. He's moving off in a somewhat different direction, as if his own target has moved.
            There's a piercing whistle from the side room. It startles everyone, including the Raven.

Vere uses the moment of startlement to attempt to spot potential targets, considering who has moved from the direction the Raven was originally heading to the direction he is now moving towards.  He's also on guard now against potential distractions, he does not wish to be taken by surprise by any more third parties.
            As well, he's peripherally aware of the positions of all family members that are within his sight, and if any of them give him more than a passing glance he intends to attempt to direct their attention to the Raven through subtle hand gestures.

Vere sees the Raven approach a woman in a dark garb. She's not necessarily Cambina, but costumed similarly.

Julian, clearly recognizable by his white wings, is shoving his way genteelly through the crowd. One hand is on his blade, which he has not drawn yet. He starts to form up with Reid to make a protective wedge around Fiona, and his mouth is opening to speak when there's a piercing whistle from the room they're heading towards.
            "That's Robin," Julian says, drawing his blade. And then he's shoving his way more urgently and even less politely through the mass of people pushing away from the fighting.

Reid pulls Fiona in Julian's wake, doing his best to stay close while at the same time not pulling Fi off her feet.

Fiona mutters halfway under her breath, "Whoever thought I'd spend the coronation ball of the new king chasing after Julian?" as Reid pulls her along. She's not quite running to keep up with him, but is definitely moving at a quicker pace than she might normally in this dress.

Gerard arrives at Lilly, Vialle and Ossian about this time. "It's Gerard, Your Majesty. There's trouble afoot. Vere's spotted someone who he thinks is causing some of it.  Red-headed fellow dressed as a raven. Plus whatever's happening in the side room. I've two shields and a short blade, if ye need 'em."
            Gerard's voice seems to calm Vialle's nerves a little.

Lilly nods. "Good to know. My Queen wishes to remain near the King's side.  I will abide by her wish as long as I deem it safe to do so. We have an exit planned should it become necessary."

There's a piercing whistle from the side room. It unnerves the people around Ossian and Lilly. Gerard frowns. "That's Ranger sign," he says.

A slight frown comes to the sword maiden's face. With silent grace she reaches for the hilt of her sword, pulling it free. At once she adopted a defensive posture that involved keeping the blade as low as possible. The feel of the blade in her hand calmed her nerves and aided her focus as she surveyed the crowd and waited.

There's a murmur from those nearby at the sight of the suddenly-bared steel of Lilly's blade. It ripples outward, as people nervously stop and stare.

There's a quiet "ah." from Ossian.

For the moment the safety of the Queen comes before anything else. Lilly needed to be prepared. Being prepared meant having the sword in hand. Let the crowd stare. It was not as if she was about to start slicing off heads, her posture was defensive after all. The fact that many of them might not realize the difference between a defensive and an offensive stance did not seem to be occurring to Lilly at the moment.

Ossian turns to Gerard and says quietly "I will Trump us out of here if things gets too bad. That sword of yours could be useful on the other side. If you don't want to keep it, that is."

Gerard hands him the blade. His expression is grim.

Ossian puts the sword in his belt.

Solace says, "Who is the Lady Moth? I think she's trying to get our attention--" and is interrupted by a piercing whistle from the side room.

"Alas, our attention is split many different directions, and the moth may only flutter to the flame."  Marius doesn't seem particularly concerned.

"Meihem and malarky are words that such a man as yourself need not be concerned.  However, it seems to me most imminent that we quell them in others."  Your mission, should you choose to accept it... no, wait.  That's been done before.  "I believe that trouble has made its entrance, and however it is costumed, it did not have an invitation.  While trouble is a Cousin of mine," he chuckles, "I claim no kinship to it if it puts others at risk.  Certainly, I think we must round up any gatecrashers.  If you and yours, at least of mine," he refers to the Order of the Ruby, "can begin to handle those of risk?"  He gives the waggle of eyebrow that says quite clearly, "Comprende, mi amigo?"

"Consider it done, my lord," says Sir Xenial, and nods once to the ladies before leaving to follow Sir Marius' commands.

There's a piercing whistle from the melee. People about the room start at the sound, and some are moving about with purpose. Jerod doesn't recognize all of them. Julian, who was moving for the door, has drawn his blade.

"You realize that you and I and Lucas are the only people left dancing?" Llewella asks. "Perhaps we ought to--" and then there's a piercing whistle that stops the musicians dead.

Conner recognizes the sound if not the meaning from his time in Arden with Brita.
            "Ranger sign."  He murmurs looking towards the side.  "Julian, Reid, and Fiona. If that's not enough, then we don't have enough."  Conner turns his attention back to Vere and sees his hand gestures and those reacting to them.  "Well, we either herd sheep, play guardian or start hunting.  I think I'm in the mood to hunt."

"Are you armed?" asks Llewella. She moves along beside him, looking concerned.

"What would a dragon be without teeth and claws?"  Conner replies, then more plainly.  "Daggers in the boots."

Off to one side, Gerard and Lilly and Ossian are with Vialle; Lilly's blade is bare, to the consternation of those nearby. Flora and Paige are trying to get the music going again, but no one is dancing. Random is standing around watching everyone else; Martin has a hand on his arm and appears to be speaking to him urgently. Corwin is still talking to Merlin, but he's drawn his blade.
            Conner has a very bad feeling about all this. It's not going to rank as one of Random's most successful parties, he's certain.

"From now on, I think non masked parties should be the norm."  He comments dryly, moving towards Vere and seeing if he can spot where Vere is headed.

The elusive mystery quarry is not spotted.

And yet, Brennan is persistent.  Foolishly persistent, but persistent nonetheless.
            Brennan has seen Vere's hand gestures, and so....

The dragonriders arrive and L'tarn is about to speak when a piercing whistle rises above the crowd. Anyone looking in the direction of the kerfuffle is likely to see Julian draw a blade and increase his speed towards the side chambers.
            Jovian, who is attuned to such things, hears a dragon roar.  Or perhaps it is in his head.

...hopefully this doesn't overlap too badly, and Jovian catches it.
            "When I do this," Brennan makes a quick gesture, brushing his hand through his hair, "I'm looking in the right direction."
            With that, Brennan begins to move cautiously in the direction Vere is trying to indicate.  Where possible, he uses his height to get a good look in that direction, looking for anything suspicious. 
            Having seen Vere get run over, Brennan is a lot less inclined to waste time with similar distractions.  Anyone less than Family bumping into him (or Vialle) or getting in his way gets quickly stepped around, or subtly elbowed and a hand-written letter of apology the next day—if we all survive the Masque. 
            He's as alert as he can reasonably be for other such spontaneous impediments as well.

Jovian nods to Brennan, having not quite heard but generally gotten the idea he knows where he's going and what that implies. The dragonman keeps tabs on his brother Knight's progress through the crowd. After a few seconds he gestures for L'tarn without looking at him. "The Fox is hunting. Look ahead of him for a redhead in a raven mask." His look of concentration is intense.

"Why, I know that sound!" Aisling says brightly, in one of those voices that carries much farther than the possessor of the voice thinks it does, "That's a Ranger whistle!  I think it means, 'I've nearly overmatched something'...  And look!  Isn't that Prince Julian, there, the winged man, moving to tip the balance?  *He* will get this sorted out in short order, you mark my words.  Oh, to think that he had to take time out from celebrating to deal with this ill-mannered boor!"  Aisling momentarily runs out of ways to lament the rudeness of the "drunk", and fixes some of the people she's been particularly working with a gaze to draw such things out of them. 
            Get people into the flow of scapegoating this social-contract-breaking guy for their fear:  they'll forget about the details, they'll pick up the desire to prove their own adherence to the social contract by celebrating soberly...  That's the ticket.

Meanwhile, Folly hears the orchestra die away and knows exactly what she has to do.
            "Clearly, we should've hired more pub musicians," Folly says lightly to those around her.  "*They* know how to play through a distraction or two."  She is calm, collected, and in control, already fully in on-stage mode.  "If you'll excuse me, please, I'm going to go see about the music."  As she turns, she flashes Aisling a "keep doing what you're doing" look and then strides purposefully toward the orchestra, ready to rally the troops even if it means borrowing a violin and striking up the next number herself.

Seeing Aunt Flora at the bandstand, Paige smiles, "So what's the next set?"

"Anything I can get them to play," says Flora, a little grimly, under her breath. She's waving to the musicians, who are starting, haltingly, to pick the waltz back up again.
             She adds, "Smile, dear. The Royal family must be a model for the people, and right now we need the people to be brave. And since His Majesty seems to be falling down on the job, we must pick up the slack."

Paige's green lips slide upward in a practiced manner. Her mask keeps the assembled from noticing that it doesn't meet the hazel eyes, scanning the room from a better vantage.

Paige can see Lilly and Ossian and Gerard with Vialle; Lilly has drawn her blade, to the consternation of the crowd. Llewella and Conner are headed away, as if they've spotted something. Random is still standing on the dance floor, observing the situation; Martin is by him, one hand laid on his arm, his posture bespeaking urgency. Paige surmises he's trying to get his father out.

She chuckles to herself, "Know thyself, know thy Father, young prince. He knows his place is here, and you wouldn't leave either."

Corwin is still with Merlin. The younger man looks unnerved, and the elder has drawn his sword.
            There's no sign of Paige's father.

A moment of concern passes before it registers. Troublemaker would be bringing the reserves, it's what he does.

Julian is leading Reid and Fiona in the direction of the screaming. There are Rangers over there helping people out. There are others moving in the crowd, too, many of whom Paige doesn't recognize. Knights, perhaps? Others in the Royal service?
            Folly is headed in Paige's general direction, or perhaps Martin and Random's.
            The crowd is wary and frightened. It wouldn't take much to cause a serious panic.

Paige turns to speak to Flora only to be rudely interrupted...

Jerod falls back to  plan #3 - watch the King and guard that point.  But if Martin is heading for the King, then Jerod goes to plan #2 - where's Folly?  Once she's found, move into position close by.  Jerod's figuring she won't be far from Martin and the King.

Random is on the dance floor, observing the situation. Martin is talking to him. Something about his posture and demeanor suggests urgency.
            Folly was over by the door/archway where the fleeing people are emerging, doing her level best to calm them.  She is quite some ways away from Martin and Random. There's no way they can have a sight line on each other, given that she's short and he's not tall. Aisling is also over by Folly, helping her.
            Folly does seem to be heading towards the musicians, which will take her b ack in the direction of Martin and Random.

Knowing Uncle Julian will help deal with the situation over there, Jerod moves fully into plan #2.  He moves into Folly's wake, keeping on her perimeter but not disturbing her.  He doubts that she is threatened, but Martin has more knowledge of Chaos than he has let Jerod know about.  And if Martin knows about them, Jerod assumes the enemy knows about Martin, and his weaknesses.  If he can, he keeps Martin and the King in view along with her.

Jerod ends up at the edge of the dance floor, with a decent sight line for both Martin and Random on one hand and Folly, Paige, and Flora on the other.

Martin has his blade drawn and releases his father's arm, which he was holding with the other hand, to knock the swan-bill off the front of his helm. It breaks so easily and precisely that Martin prepared it in advance to break that way or helped it along with Pattern, or both. Martin is keeping an eye on Dara, but is alert for an attack from some other direction now that he can see what he's doing.

Brennan rapidly crosses the floor, scanning for trouble or impediments, seeking whatever or whoever it is that Vere has been following.  The crowd is remarkably thick and many people are trying to see over their fellows to watch whatever has armed Princes chasing after crashes, screams and whistles.  Brennan gets around a group of elaborately costumed Llamas with large headdresses when he spots both Vere and, apparently Vere's quarry.  A man in a black costume meets a woman similarly attired and Brennan sees them both pressing their hands firmly down towards the floor and rising into the air.
            The woman he immediately recognizes as Dara, but the man, he realizes with a shock, could easily be confused for Brennan himself.
            Or Brand.

The ragged silence following the crash and the scream grows slightly longer and those with discerning ears can hear something very loud roaring outside.  It is a sound reminiscent of the monster attacks of the Black Road days, but it seems far away.  Those who hear feel conflicting urges both to run and hide and to rush to a window to see if Amber is indeed under attack again.  Random, in the center of the dance floor, is the center of attention for most in the crowd.
            Before more than a measure of silence is filled by the faraway sounds, two
figures rise majestically from the edge of the crowd.  The woman is wearing a black gown with a white ruff and the man wears a bird costume, the head thrown back to reveal a face that looks tantalizingly familiar.  He seems smug.

Aisling scans the room in lightning glances again, noting how the danger situation has changed for those she's looking out for.

No one seems to be in any more danger than anyone else, except for Julian, Reid, and Fiona, who are attempting to get to whoever is causing all that banging in the side-room.

Brennan calmly, casually, if somewhat belatedly, runs a hand through his hair.  Just in case, y'know, Jovian or some of his sharp-eyed dragonriders, or anyone else in the entire room managed to miss the spectacle.

Anyone who knows the signal and saw it now has no doubts.  Sadly, the dragonriders are sorta tied up right now.

Yes, well, it was intended as momentary tension-breaking levity, not something that would have an actual effect.  I mean, how do you miss two Chaosi floating above the ballroom?

As they finish rising, he takes a quick glance around the room, trying to account for Cambina and his Elders if he can, but otherwise not moving.

In a voice which seems to carry unnaturally through the crowd, the woman speaks.
            "Hear me, Random King of Amber, there will be no security and no peace in Amber until you give me recompense for my losses.  I demand blood payment for my father and I demand the return of my son whom you hold!  Thus speaks Dara, Duchess Borel!"

And Jerod thinks that it would be a good idea to move to Paris right about now.  He could get to like Uncle Corwin, after a fashion I suppose.

Aisling's probably masked better than anyone who might look at her could see through; one might guess, though, just on general principles, that she's angry.
             /I-could-trigger-a-lynch-mob-but-no-I-mustn't-cause-a-riot-but-a-group-hate,  now-that-might-be-productive.../

Conner notes that Vere has stopped moving and so has most everybody else while Dara makes her speech. Llewella has stopped too, and is watching Dara.

A number of thoughts pass through Brennan's mind, and probably across his face.  'Ah, still dangerously insane,' is one of them.  'Can't dance until you quit with the hot air balloon trick, snookums,' is another.

Everyone who can hear Brennan's thoughts snickers.

By the time she's finished her speech laying claim to Merlin as personal property, though, the only thoughts running through his mind are de facto declarations of war of Amber against Borel, and probably the rest of Chaos.  But that's formally Random's job, so he's pretty sure he doesn't actually *say* any of them.
            Four weeks ago and a cosmos away, Brennan drew his blades and placed them across his knees when the Moonriders appeared through the curtain of advancing rain.  His blades belonged to Benedict.
            It's unlikely that Random can see Brennan now, given the height differential, or that he is looking at Brennan, given the other distractions.  But, while Brennan does not actually draw his blades in the middle of the party, he places one hand on either with calm dignity.  His blades belong to the King.

"And he thought *I* was a drama queen?" she offers to no one in particular.  Paige is obviously waiting for the King's response and watching Merle as she unwraps her deck from the green silk again. Still at the top is Merlin, she slides two off the bottom...

Shit.  Shit shit shit.
            Still moving, Folly scans the crowd.  She's got a pretty good idea where Random is:  that's probably where everyone who's not looking at Dara is facing.  But she can't actually see him -- or Martin.   
            Shit.  Why couldn't she have a thing for *tall* men?
            Her fingers tense into fists -- and she realizes she's still got her Trump case palmed in her left hand.  Maybe she could....  No, it's no good.  She's almost reached the orchestra, which puts her about as far as possible from the emergency exits; and anyhow the emergency exits seem all full of emergencies of their own....
            And then she emerges from the edge of the crowd at the orchestra... and sees Paige.  She closes the gap between them, her jaw set, her footsteps
double-time, and slips her free hand into Paige's.
            "Can you trump somewhere safe and contact Merle?" she asks in an urgent whisper.  "-- In case we need to get him out of here in a hurry.  I'll try to reach Martin, tell him to get close to his dad -- you can pull them out too if things get bad...."

"Like either of your men have enough common sense to do that," Paige says turning to look outward the King and Prince in the eye of the storm.

Under slightly less stressful circumstances, it might occur to Folly to be alarmed that Paige said that out loud, in public -- within earshot of Flora, no less.  As it is, though, her only reaction is a tiny quirk of her lips.

"I'll do what I can, but you've got to help like only you can," she nods toward the still-fumbling musicians. "If ever Syd needed you as backup it's now."

Folly nods, gives Paige's hand a gentle squeeze for luck, and takes her place with the orchestra.  It takes her but a few seconds to get her gloves off and a violin in her hands.

Paige fans the two cards, her home in 'Frisco and the room at Maria's. Quickly the Shadow Earth Trump goes back to the bottom, based on the fact that she hasn't tried it since it became cool again. Then her eyes are back to the floor show...

"Cousin, I'm going to open the Trump. That way it only takes a moment to drag us through. I won't be able to hear or see what happens in here, though." Ossian reaches out and takes Lilly's free hand in his. "Give my hand a good squeeze and I'll pull us through."
            "If you want me to break the Trump contact; tell me so. You might have to shout."

"Yes. That is a wise idea. I would ask that you signal me when the contact is made. Again I believe a simple squeeze of the hand should suffice." Though she was speaking to Ossian, her eyes never made contact with his. She was far to busy scanning every inch of the room, looking for any further signs of trouble. There was no way she was going to let her attention be strictly drawn to the figures floating overhead. That would give an enemy too much of an opening.

Gerard has one of the shields on his arm. He rolls to one side and pushes Vialle behind him, shielding her from Dara with his bulk and that of his chair. Vialle is silent. Whether her silence stems from terror or good judgement is unclear.

Ossian does not wait for Random and Dara to finish. (He hopes one of his cousins will give him a detailed description of what happened later.)
            "Hang on to my arm." he murmurs to Vialle.
            He shifts the way he holds Vialle's arm and flips the Trump from under Vialle's hand. As soon as he has the Beach Trump visible he opens the trump contact. (For clarity: Ossian now stands hand in hand with Lilly, and arm in arm with Vialle, with the Trump in the hand of the arm that holds Vialle.)
           As soon as the Trump is opened he squeezes Lilly's hand firmly.

Solange reaches behind her head and grabs the jeweled end of a hair ornament.
            "I hope this'll provide a distraction, at least," she murmurs to her companions.  "You might want to duck."
            And with that, she whips a very sharp, pointy dart with a fetching emerald finial at the hovering Dara.

"I like the way you think, Lady Sun," Marius mentions.  He does intend to move out of the way, as long as "out of the way" still provides some sort of shielding for Solace.  As it is, he does not think himself necessary to the task of stopping them, as long as dialogue is what they seek.  If they ask for sharp blades he will attempt to provide them for their guests, as unwelcome as they may be.

Solace is torn between looking at Dara and glancing about the room, probably for her husband.

Under his gauzy hood Vere lifts an eyebrow and idly wonders what sorts of defenses those two have in place if they're willing to make themselves such easy targets in a room containing some of the finest warriors in existence.  However, that isn't his concern at the moment.  Dara and her companion have made themselves known, following their moves is no longer his duty.  Instead, he falls back towards a wall, finding a good spot to watch as much of the room as possible.  There are two of them taking center stage, and something going on in one of the side rooms, but that by no means proves that there are not more accomplices waiting to take the opportunity provided by Dara's distraction.  If anyone is doing anything other than watching the levitating Chaosi Vere intends to spot them.

Vere sees dozens of potential trouble-spots: people ducking out, Venesch moving towards Random, (or is it a shapeshifter who looks like the captain of the guard?), Solange has attacked Dara, people moving near the champagne fountain room, lots of people with their hands concealed.  There are too many threats to catalog adequately.

He's also listening keenly to the roaring from outside, trying to determine if it's getting closer, and if it sounds like something that might have come out of the Black Forest.

It's getting quieter, and it seems like it could have come out of the Black Forest.  It sounds like something inhuman or several inhuman somethings are very angry.

Even before Dara finishes speaking, Aisling is hissing, like at the villain in one of the melodramas on Flat Street...  And she punctuates a strong hiss with a bit of easily-overheard chatter from the slip-of-an-uncowed-socialite she's playing currently, "Of all the vulgarity!  If she wants to float, the only place she belongs is in a Parade!"  Pause for people to catch that...

A few people nearby catch it, although you're not sure how they're taking it.  Most people seem to be waiting on Random.

Well, scores and scores heard it.  They'll laugh tomorrow, if they live.

A moment later, a clear treble line, full of gentle strength and confidence, trills like birdsong through the room.   
                No one familiar with Folly's music has any doubt who's behind it.

The music flows like honey into the grand hall, and those who hear it tend to be taken by the dichotomy of the confidence and the tense situation.  The bandstand is mostly abandoned and the musicians who are nearby do not seem inclined to regain their abandoned seats.