Subject: "I am over here, Baron Huinesoron."
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Posted on: 2017-07-19 04:10:00 UTC

A black-clad figure emerged not from one of the designated chairs, but from near one of the side walls. His face was obscured by a hood, but the features that could be made out were very clearly those of Baron PC, the Poor Cynick.

"The silence is unnerving, is it not?" he asked. "A similar quiet has fallen over Worhkshap in recent months. Bustling activity replaced with empty rooms and unread tomes. So few now seem interested in learning the art of Beytah. Or perhaps it's just my presence that they cannot stand? Regardless, it is a great shame in either event."

He paced past Huinesoron, as if not noticing the man, and faced the map. "Four barons, vanished. And so few of the remaining actually here!" A sick smile came to his face, which looked unsettlingly off in the pale light of the room. "This does not seem to be a position that engenders longevity."

After a moment, he pulled a stylus of his own out of the sleeve of his robe. It flared to life with a green light, similar to the color of the gemstone representing Worhkshap. "If Baron Iximaz is unwilling to accept the western discordant lands, then I can take them under my wing," he said, redrawing the borders to reflect his suggestion. "It is not as if I am unknown to the Mords, after all, nor they to me. There is some measure of respect there."

The stylus vanished back into his sleeve. Baron PC stalked over to his grand chair and took a seat. "I have no objection to the other territorial proposals. Nor do I protest the addition of the Mords and Baron Tomash to this council. The archivists and Beytahs, however, are better suited where they are. Wechi already has a representative, as does the Riding."

He looked around at the other chairs.

"I think they do, anyway."

((Baron PC might have gone a little kooky away in his castle by himself. Possibly. But he would insist he was completely sane if asked!))

((Possibly.))

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