Storm on the Horizon

"Well; be seated! You must all be weary from the road" Lord Bowell gestures at the long table. He remains standing until all of you settle into your seats before doing so himself.

Lady Halia enters the hall soon after, dressed in a modest gown. There is a dark bruise around her eye, and her lip is swollen. She keeps her head bowed as she crosses the room, and takes her seat next to her husband - who not only fails to rise when she arrives, but doesn't acknowledge her altogether.

"So then, tell me, how was your journey? Miserable rain, I’ll wager. And where is it you’re bound?"
the presence of 'Harald' left him very curious, and he eyes the older man as he speaks to the rest of you.

"I haven't battered 'the Lady'" There was no way Hans could hear you from across the table, and yet, he did "Right?"

"No, you haven't" Halia mumbles, and shrinks in her chair, still not daring to lift her eyes up from the table.

"Be silent, Traladaran bitch!" Lord Bowell shots to his feet as well. His face flushes red, and you can spot the vein pumping in his neck "How dare you speak to me so in my own hall, after I welcomed you as guests at my table?!!?" he roars, spit flying out of his mouth with his words "Out! Back to the rain and the cold with you, you ungrateful $&#@!!! You, and other ungrateful 'friends'! We have no need for you here!!!"

"I'm sorry" Lady Halia slowly turned her eyes to look at Boudica, though she still kept her head lowered "My husband is unwell. Please - don't harm him"

"BE SILENT, WOMAN!!!" Lord Bowell smashed his bandaged fist down on the table, and the solid wood cracked under the blow. A jagged fracture split the surface, running all the way toward the very center. Plates went off flying, some tumbling to the floor. The pitcher of wine toppled, and the liquid spilling across the tablecloth like blood. The Lady Halia let out a frightened gasp, and quickly turned her eyes away from you, her lips trembling with terror.

Jorgen Harald hand silently curled around one of the table knifes. He didn't carry his sword to dinner, but neither did Hans. He felt better with a weapon in his hand, even if it wasn't as sharp or long as his trusty sword.

Lord Bowell froze, eyes fixed upon the staff. But then a crooked smile appeared on his lips, more amused than threatened, as if Boudica's defiance was nothing more than entertainment. He stared for a moment longer, before, without any warning, sitting back into his chair with a heavy 'thump', his shoulders stretching backward as if he is restrained by something inside him.

"Enough of this nonsense!!" he barked after snapping back to his senses "Donia, you useless cur! Bring the food out!!!"

The doors soon creaked open and two young Traladaran girls entered, eyes looking at the floor as they carried silver platters. While you each get roasted fresh fish, with an accompanying bowl of mushroom and a loaf of bread, the dish laid before the Lord is different. On his plate was a raw chunk of flesh - deer by its coloring, still bleeding. Without hesitation he seized it with both hands and tore into it like an animal, blood dripping down his chin and splattering across his tunic.

He no longer looked at you, or speak another word. He devoured, gnawing and tearing like a beast after its kill, as through no one was present in the room with him at all.

"You must find a way to help him" Lord Bowell was completely oblivious to anything in the room right now, and Halia finally mustered enough courage to speak, although very faintly "Hurry up and leave...before he finishes"