((Bilera in this saga is not too dissimilar from Imelda Staunton's portrayl of Delores Umbridge...))
(( I kinda gathered. Which makes Stultus' impromptu nickname for her all the more apropos. Sorry, I'm kinda proud of that one. 
))
Tranquillina is startled to hear her native tongue spoken, particularly after she just swore in it (not that this speaker would presumably mind, given his choice of language). She looks all around before finding the source of the voice, then lengthily blinks twice, the blinks probably prolonged due to her fatigue. "Er, I guess not," she begins, looking around again for Bilera but finding no sign - "feel free."
"Are ye here from Loch Leglean?" she asks the strange jester, staying with Gaelic. "And I, ah, I meant what happened in the Dimicatio. Did Marcus win by forfeit?"
The jester sets his hands on the chair seat, hops up, and hauls himself into the chair with a pained grunt he can't quite suppress. "Marcus? That'd be the crippled fellow? I wasn't paying all that much attention, but it didn't look like a forfeit. Looks like he did something exceedingly subtle." He chuckles approvingly. "Beating the Flambeau at their own game. Quite, quite nicely done."
He settles in the chair, his feet dangling above the ground. "And to answer your earlier question -- no, I'm not here from Loch Leglean. At least not lately. I'm technically from Normandy, but sans Covenant at the moment. Looking for a new place to hang my hat, as a matter of fact." One finger flicks the bells on his jester's hat, setting them to ringing gently. "It's a large hat, as you can see. Requires a bit of hanging."
Tranquillina's mouth opens, but fortunately she stops short of saying what popped into her mind, which was Are you saying you're a magus? As it happens she simply looks a bit agape and dim for a moment.
Finally she regains her manners: "I am Tranquillina Bonisagi. One of the hosts, I suppose, being a member of this covenant of Mons Electi." Several questions go through her mind, but they have to do with the exchange with Bilera (which she's trying to forget), the Dimicatio (to which he already admitted not paying attention), and the strange dwarf's identity and vocation, so they all end up being rejected. "Ergo, I hope you have had a comfortable stay at this Tribunal," she finishes underwhelmingly and after a pause.
Stultus watches as Tranquillina's jaw drops, inwardly amused. He's seen that expression before.
"My stay has been quite comfortable, thank you." He considers Tranquillina, and comes to the rapid conclusion that as twitchy as she is, the best course of action here is one that's anathema to any right-thinking Tytalus. Namely, full disclosure. Because if he omits certain salient facts and she finds them out later...
The jester's poppet wriggles in his arms and squeaks something up at him, of which Tranquillina can probably make out something about "... have your guts for garters and your crank for a doorknob!" Stultus listens, nodding, and then looks up. " it is a true pleasure to meet you, Tranquillina of Bonisagus. However, the introduction is superfluous, since I knew who you were. That is why I sought you out. My poppet, who is much wiser than I, points out that I thereby have the advantage of you, and I should fix that, post-haste."
He inclines his head. "My name is Stultus Maximus, of House Tytalus. Filius Cumhachd."
(( Gerg, I am going to do something awful here and assume a certain physical reaction on Tranquillina's part. If that's a problem let me know and I'll edit.))
Hearing the quick indrawn breath and seeing the Bonisagus' eyes go wide, he leans back in his chair and smiles placatingly, holding up empty hands, palms out. "Pax, sodalis. I am not my mater cara. Don't look a thing like her. I am not here on her behest, and I have precisely zero interest in interfering with your life. That's her pet obsession, not mine. All I am looking for is a place."
(( Incidentally, if I have my Latin right, "Stultus Maximus" means "The Greatest Fool". ))
Tranquillina, (again) surprised by the poppet's movement and speech, tries to figure out what caused its actions, with both her mundane and magical senses.
((Awareness roll, to detect ventriloquism or sleight of hand I guess: Per 2 + Awareness 2 + stress die 0 (no botch) = 4.))
((By the way, standard operating procedure in this saga is that dice rolls between PCs aren't necessarily binding - certainly not in the case of personality rolls, and I think in this situation you can use them as only a guideline as well.))
((Magic Sensitivity roll: Per 2 + Magic Sensitivity 3 + simple die 6 = 11, which according to RAW would sense only a level 50 enchantment or higher. Annoying that it's so tough.))
((Thanks for checking in, I appreciate it. I trust you and the other players to be acting on good faith in trying to mutually move the story along; in the rare case where I don't like it, I can always call for a change. Here I think you're on solid ground 
))
It is a rare sight to see eyes narrow into slits so quickly after they widen in shock, but Tranquillina's seem to have managed the trick. "I am quite capable of living my life suitably regardless of 'interference'," she spits, switching into Latin for some reason. Her voice, formerly tired and placating, is now haughty and shrill. "And as for your place, may I suggest - " She stops herself, closing her eyes tightly. Don't go there, she commands herself, don't insult his height. Whatever his game is, he specifically says he's not here to carry out Cumhachd's plots. Why would he even mention her.... After a deep breath to combat her swirling thoughts, she starts again, the words throbbing with the stress of self-control. "I do not understand why you have sought me out, nor what you desire from me."
In all the drama, Tranquillina has completely missed the significance of the phrase "mater cara". ((Order of Hermes Lore roll: Int 3 + OoH Lore 1 + stress die 0 (seriously?!) (no botch) = 4.))
(( It's a pretty standard MuIm effect invested into the poppet, but I don't think with those rolls she'd be able to tell. Unless her allergy kicks in in the presence of "cooked" vis (i.e. magic items) as well. ))
Stultus is silent for a space of two breaths, and when he speaks again his voice is low, calm, and very even. Like gentling a fractious horse. "Because when I mentioned my mater's name, you jumped like ..." like I just shoved a hot coal down your cleavage... no, better not say that... "... like you were just given a hotfoot. Knowing Cumhachd, and having some inkling into the history between the two of you, I expected something of the sort. That is not at all an unreasonable reaction."
He rubs his chin thoughtfully, looking up at the Bonisagus, and takes a deep breath. "It is my intention to request membership in Mons Electi. Of the current inhabitants, you are the only one I'm aware of with a strong reason to deny said petition. So, I wished to discover whether we could discuss the prospect ahead of time... or if I am, in your eyes, irrevocably tainted by virtue of association, and thus shouldn't even bother." An odd -- and very, very faint -- tone of exasperation creeps into his voice with the last few words.
"Does that answer your question, sodalis?"
((We debated that possibility earlier on in the saga. Our conclusion was that cooked vis is okay for her. But vis in magical creatures ain't....))
((hehe, x2! For the record, her cleavage is: meh ))
"What do you think you know of my history with that woman?!" Tranquillina squawks, setting back the ongoing maga-whispering a beat or two. "What lies has she poisoned you with?"
Tranquillina stares at Stultus. The stare persists. The complete expressionlessness on her face, if worn by a foe in a legal dispute, would signify probably a lack of attachment to the outcome, but with a distinct minority possibility of disproportionate and sudden imminent violence.
Finally, she throws her head back and laughs, not a condemning laugh, but rather the laugh of a woman who is at least considering a nervous breakdown. Tranquillina looks from side to side, hands on her hips, and muses to nobody in particular, "And to think that this morning, when I was approached for Mons Electi membership by one whose mater had cast a paralyzing spell upon me without my consent ... that it would turn out to be not even the most unlikely such request of the day." She laughs again, with humor if not amusement.
Then, the crowd of Dimicatio spectators having almost completely thinned out, she turns and walks out of the viewing area. Her pace is slow, slow enough that a child could keep up.
(( I'm really not sure whether Stultus would follow or not. I can see arguments in his head for either option. Gerg, do you have a preference? ))
((Some preference for him following. Put another way, my intention was to not end the scene, although it is certainly your prerogative and wouldn't upset me.))
((It would upset me! 
))
Well. That could have gone better. On the other hand, it could also have gone worse. As in, she didn't shove a fast-cast Pilum of Fire up my nose. Hate the smell of singed nose hairs, I really do.
Stultus hops down from the chair, and follows Tranquillina -- at a distance, so as to let her cool off. Once the Dimicatio grounds fall behind and the crowd thins out (and a measure of tension leaves the Bonisagus' shoulders) he catches up, falling into step beside her.
Stultus waits until she notices him. Assuming that event isn't followed by a fast-cast Pilum of Fire, he notes conversationally "It's an interesting word, isn't it. 'Unlikely'. It could mean so many things. Could mean 'doubtful', or 'improbable'. 'Questionable'. 'Not likely', that's a direct interpretation..." He grins suddenly, thrusting a forefinger up into the air. "'Absurd'! That's an excellent, excellent word. Describes me to a 'T', even if I do say so myself. I very much like 'absurd'."
He's silent for a few steps. "On the other hand, it could also mean things like, oh, 'unheard of'. 'Out of the ordinary'. 'Unbelievable'. Such a plethora of meanings, all in one word. Fascinating, isn't it?"
((I really heard that last monologue in Peter Dinklage's voice 
))
"Fascinating?" Tranquillina stops walking, about half a block from the Tribunal's grand public baths building with its stone merlons carved in the symbols of the various Houses. She pauses for a moment, about to speak but shaking her head with an I-can't-believe-this smile on her face. "You know what? Yes. Yes, I am fascinated," she oozes, reverting to Gaelic.
She continues with sweeping, exaggerated gestures and a cheerfulness of tone that is clearly adopted like an actor's persona, a falseness she makes no effort to hide. "This is a fortuitous moment we have found ourselves in, Master Stultus Maximus. A grand day, at the Normandy Tribunal, worthy of a fascinating contract!" Looking all around as if overcome by the amazing setting, she gushes on: "Normally I might declare my intention to cast a spell upon you, and offer only my ear in return. But it is a day of bargains, my good friend, and you will find mine irresistible: I bespell you once, and not only will I continue to listen to you, but I will also cast a spell upon myself! Same Form, but different Techniques, mind you."
"What kind of magus would agree to such a bargain?" she nearly croons to him. "Why, such a decision would be - absurd." She smiles sweetly, blinking fetchingly down at him.
(( I wasn't sure who that is, so I looked up some YouTube clips. If you're talking about his role as Tyrion Lannister... there IS quite a bit of resemblance, isn't there? As a side note, that's a really good casting choice. If the rest of the acting in the series is of similar quality, I might have to break down and watch it. ))
Stultus's eyebrows creep up towards his hairline like furry caterpillars. Of all the things he might have expected Tranquillina to say, this definitely wasn't on the list.
On one hand, she's not anywhere as ruthless as, say, Cumhachd. On the other hand, she's stressed to the breaking point, and clearly would be much happier if my entire House keeled over and died and ceased bugging her. On the other hand... wait, I've only got two hands. My nose doesn't count.
He frowns up at Tranquillina. "That's quite a pig in a poke you're asking me to purchase, sodalis," he says severely. "To accept a spell being cast ... without so much as knowledge of the Forms or Techniques involved..." He shakes his head. "Why, a man would have to be a fool to accept such an offer. To extend that much trust to someone."
His face abruptly clears. "Of course, when all's said and done, I am a Fool." He reaches up with one finger, flicking a bell dangling off his hat, and blinks up at Tranquillina with a small, wry smile. One with humor in it, if not amusement. "You may proceed, sodalis."
(( And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why Carefree/Optimistic is a FLAW. Of course, since he's not irrevocably insane, he didn't say anything about not fast-casting a defense if what she's got in mind is something obnoxious like 'Twist of the Tongue' -- followed no doubt by 'Leap of Homecoming'. But if that's the case, neither he nor I are sanguine about his chances of pulling it off. ))
"Wonderful," Tranquillina agrees as the bell's tinkle dies away. She looks around: they stand in an intersection in the Tribunal village, and while the foot traffic is not nearly as thick as during the Tribunal proper, there are still plenty of people roaming around them. "If you would be so kind, suppress your Parma Magica, and I shall proceed." She faces him directly, once again calmly (too calmly?), and looks him in the eyes.
((I do think the acting, and characterization, in Game of Thrones is of very high quality all around. I didn't read the books, so I can't speak to what it's like to watch the series from the perspective of one who has - but I definitely enjoy and admire the shows.))
"That was not part of the original agreement," Stultus points out in a mild tone. "Still, what was that charming English saying? 'Might as well be hung for a sheep as for a lamb?' No matter." He takes a half-step back, leaning against a wall, and concentrates for several seconds.
He finally lets out a breath and his gaze snaps back to Tranquillina. "Done."
Is that sufficient, or would she like me to yank my pants down and bend over, too?
[strike]Sucker. If you can Soak 32 damage then[/strike]
Tranquillina, now sporting the slightest hint of a smile, continues to stare motionlessly at Stultus for several long seconds after he lowers his Parma; a tiny bit of bile rises in his throat. Then she looks away, gazing up at the sky. "Hm," she grunts softly.* It's possible she decided not to cast a spell after all.
Then, she begins the words and motions characteristic of a Creo Mentem spell, but not with any obvious external target. Pacing aimlessly in a small circle and keeping her voice soft, she finishes the spell and falls silent for a beat.** Then she sighs, a long, cleansing sigh. When she turns back to face Stultus, her brow is furrowed but her eyes are less harsh.
In Gaelic, she finally says, "I could really use a bit of mead. I have a bit of pull around here...." She waves at a soldier wearing a green insignia with three snakes' heads and issues him a command in decent French. "It's made from our own honey, too. It would have been a better gesture if offered to you earlier, but ... would you like some mead as well?"
- ((Tranquillina cast Perception of the Conflicting Motives (ArM5 page 149) upon Stultus. Assuming that he really did drop his Parma, that is! Sta -3 + In 6 + Me 10 + Mastery 2 - silent/still 5 (mitigated by masteries) + aura 5 + stress die 4 = 19, enough for the level 15 spell. I have some idea about Stultus's motives, but feel free to fill me in a bit.))
** ((Tranquillina cast The Two-Faced Diplomat (Wizard's Grimoire page 168) upon herself. Sta -3 + Cr 6 + Me 10 + Mastery 1 - soft voice 5 + aura 5 + stress die 5 = 19, enough for the level 15 spell. She can now see clearly the other side of this encounter: her twitchiness and defensive reactions, inappropriate towards someone who has claimed multiple times that he comes in peace and understands her hesitance to believe that. Again, feel free to add to this.))
((Yes, the idiot really did drop his Parma. His main motives are very congruent with what he's told you, and the others are probably too low-level to be picked up by the spell. The only one that he didn't tell you about that would be strong enough is a low-level sense of compassion/affection towards Tranquillina herself -- "I've been where you're hanging, I think I can see how you're pinned" sort of thing. That, and a healthy dose of fear: he put a brave face on it, but consenting to the spell and dropping his Parma really did scare the crap out of him.))
Stultus swallows, sternly telling his heart to stop trying to jump out of his chest, and pushes himself back towards the vertical as his Parma snaps back into place. "Mead? Mead would be quite welcome right now, thank you." He frowns. "For some reason my mouth tastes like... well, perhaps it's better to skip the description. Lead on."
He stops for a moment about three paces later, looks up at the roof of the nearest building, and mutters under his breath "Yes, of course I'll share my mead. Moocher." If Tranquillina follows his gaze, she'll see a small brown Barbary ape (wearing something that identifies it as a familiar for the duration of the gathering, I'd assume) scampering after the two of them across the rooftops.