"And where do you hail from, Lord Markus...?" The Lord Malon asked, having introduced himself as a wealthy landowner with a penchant for trading silks from as far as Ragba Shahir. His wife was a petite blonde wearing a white gown, silver gleaming from the earrings she wore.

"I am a landless man of small means, though originally I'm from a barony amongst border kingdoms along the valelands. The highway of men, they call it." Markus said casually, his eyes subtly moving to his left and right to watch his men get into position. A guardsman with an arquebas had disappeared behind a curtain, one second there and the other second gone from sight. The squat, soft merchant lord regarded him with a mild contempt. Even if Markus weren't a bastard, a duke of the border kingdoms would amount to little more than a baronet in other, more spacious areas of the human realms. A baron was little more than an upjumped gentleman to his mind, apparently. Ironic, considering it sees more trade than most of the inland kingdoms combined. 

"I see, well then what bring you here, sir?" The lord's wife asked, fanning herself. She clearly thought Markus was fetching, and he had to hide a smirk. She wouldn't have the chance to ask him to 'escort her to see the gardens' while her husband talked business. Even as he pondered how to answer, another guard was gone from sight, and he could have sworn he saw a flailing hand disappear behind a large vase. Markus smiled. 

"Gold, madam. I'm a soldier of fortune, truth be told. Some have called me a ne'er-do-well and a rogue, but I prefer to think of myself as simply more honest than the average lord or lady, who takes the gold from the poor through taxes and corrupt laws. Oh, speaking of which..." He said wryly as Calliope approached, barely suppressing a wicked little smile on her lovely face. She inclined her head to the Lord Malon and the Lady Heatherfin, placing a hand on Markus' chest and looking up at him. He placed his hand on the small of her back, giving her a wink.

"Fun party," Calliope said, nostrils flaring as if smoke would pour out of them like some wyrm of the great north. "Is it time for the crescendo?"    

"The governor has not yet addressed the party. I will believe it will be in an hour." The squat lord said, raising an eyebrow in confusion at this entire interaction. The wife looked crestfallen at 'Callypsa's' familiarity with the rakish Markus. For his part, Markus laughed. It wasn't a chuckle, but a full blown cackle that drew attention from the closest lords and ladies around. 

"The governor will address everyone shortly, believe me." Markus said. A capslock pistol fell out from his coat sleeve, slid easily into his hand, and he pressed the barrel of the gun to the lord's head before giving any warning to his intentions. The man was aghast, his mustache floundering as he tried to form words. Markus almost pulled the trigger, but he wasn't that cruel. Gunshots rang out and there was a wail of pain as Sketti broke an arm across the banquet hall. 

As if wished out of nothing, the captain's off-hand now held Bledwydyr, the dark blade. He lifted it and pointed it at the crowd behind him to hold them back as the crowd began to panic and his men swept into the room with axes, swords and guns.