[b]Jarless Myriane Ashgold[/b], 
[i]of Ashfall[/i]
---

Throughout the entirety of the proceedings, the Jarless of Ashfall did little more than drink from her goblet and observe the proceedings with obvious, unadulterated curiosity. Her mood was undeniably cheerful, as one could easily tell just by looking at her face, which was already turning red from the drink. She listened to the Elf, the Dwarf and the Old Witch each talk in turn, wavering a little as she sat but otherwise watching with great contentment. As it came time for the others to speak, the she was sure to make a few tipsy nods here and there, in order to quietly voice her approval. When it finally came to Koval's turn to speak, however, even Myriane was a little surprised to hear herself clapping her hands together in assent-

[i]"Well spoken, Jarl Koval! I fear your reputation has given no great justice to your wisdom, as I have had the pleasure of seeing here today. Now..."[/i]

She stands up, only with the slightest air of unsteadiness as she slowly rises from her seat. By now, there was no mistaking the drunkenness in her face, but when she spoke again it was in her usual clear, song like tones.

[i]"I have heard everything that has been said today, and I thought I might give my take on matters. The Elves... they talk of peace, and of prosperity between our races without the shadow of war. They think we should leave the Gothran mutt where it sits. They fear we will betray their trusts on the ashes of our enemies, once more sailing on Galadriel with greed and bloodlust in our hearts. However, who are they to speak of peace with the Gothrans? They drink and laugh in their glades, far across the land from the smouldering menace that sits just at the threshold of our homes."

"About the Dwarves, I have little to say that hasn't already been said by my peers. They might be of some help if we were to ever march on Gothra, if they could ever quit squabbling amongst eachother and the elves."[/i]

At this point, Myriane pauses and looks around at each of the Jarls (and the one other Jarless). Finally, her eyes settle on one man, Ragnar Wolfsbane. The expression shared between them was curious, to say the least. Myriane seemed to look at him with great interest, a catlike smile stretched playfully across her face. Something else was hidden in that smile, however, something that she knew only the Crow of Coldmarch would notice. [i]I know what you are, and [u]this[/u] is my answer[/i]. She gives a slight, nearly unnoticeable wink in his direction, before continuing-

[i]"Out of everything that has been said here at this Moot, however, the words that stand out to me the most are those of Pirates. I am a close neighbour to both Escgor and Coldmarch, anything that affects them is bound to impact me, and this is no exception. It is not just my or their ships that will be struck, but everybody who wishes to trade through our home seas might find their shipments plundered, stolen through violence by some lowly brigands. Is this the fate of the men and women once called Lords of the Sea? To be preyed upon by these foolhardy rogues, right here in our own territory? I think that, even more pressing than the treachery of Dwarves and Gothrans, are the matters we must tend to within our own realm. These leeches must be crushed, before they can grow fat on the very lifeblood of our Kingdom."[/i]

Myriane lets out a breathe with these final words, as if the speech had taken a lot out of her. She seems a bit dizzy on her feet now, but her expression remains one of good cheer. She lowers herself back down into her seat carefully and reaches for her goblet, but seems to think better of it. Perhaps it would be best not to get too drunk, she thinks to herself. [i]I might start glowing.[/i]