[center][h2][color=#008b8b]Fionn MacKerracher[/color][/h2][/center]
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Fionn nodded at the duke's sudden addition of clothing, silently making note of the sudden change in the man's expression. Whatever had a hold of Thedric, it had done so fairly well—and if he had to guess, it was something that would be capable of enjoying whatever game was going on. [color=#008b8b]"Aye, aye, that's all well and good, but like I said, what about the rest of your forces? We'll need to gather them, my own cohort won't be nearly enough...what of your court mage, at least? Where've they got off to?"[/color]

He leaned in, taking a conspiratorially low tone, heedless of the others for the moment: [color=#008b8b]"We'll need to find the mage regardless—I've no doubt they've been in contact with members of the Puddings, and as your loyal [i]pie[/i]master I am oathbound to warn you that we've recently been infiltrated by some of their [i]raisins..."[/i][/color] Wait, one of the others was talking to him. He turned back, breathing a short apology—[color=#008b8b]"Ah, a moment, your highness. It appears my agents here need me.[/color]

[color=#008b8b]"You mean, Fiadh, aye?"[/color] he asked, turning quickly to Renar. [color=#008b8b]"I keep telling you, you ought to make the time to actually meet her...but we haven't worked out any summoning yet. This sort of play, though, our duke probably [i]was[/i] a wonderful target; Gertrude, you've met Fiadh. Think you could try to summon her in, while I see if whatever has caused this has planted some idea of its own role in it all in his head? I can't think of anything else that would make him regress to this level of [i]childishness[/i] than some outside influence. Most of the madness I'd see in the village back home or with the mercenaries was someone losing their minds after eating some poisonous mushroom or the like, or finally killing themselves with drink."[/color]