RP:A Cloud Of Strife

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Township Troopers Arc

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Part of the Hour of Wolves Arc

Summary: Some of the guild are still feeling the aftereffects of the unfortunate events of the day before during the ceremony for the new wall in Frostmaw (Ceremonies of Light and Dark). This, the fact that Brand is not present to guard Khitti, and the lack of information they have about the spiders beneath the city of Vailkrin creates tension and dissent. Things come to a head when Eirik is stripped of rank and departs the organization in disgust...

Royal Academy of Aramoth

Rorin hobbled into the yard with a cane in his left hand. Not that his legs had been harmed but rather the medication he took was heavy and made him walk sort of inebriated. The upper left quarter of his head was the only exposed part as the rest was wrapped in bandages especially thick over his right eye. The bandages went around his neck and chest to cover the right side of his ribs. His right arm was encased in a sort of leathery cask enchanted for various healings. Isangrim they grey faced winter wolf walked next to him in case he fell while behind him tittered some nurse. Rorin had half dressed in his old coat, pants, and boots, the symbol of Arkhen dangling about his neck. His grey left eye gazed about lucidly yet in an attempt to remain focused. He had to stop and hold his throat to talk as the nurse was trying to get in front of him. "And you've just had your fourth skon graft yesterday, you can't keep pushing them together like that- with all your fidgeting it'll fall right off and-" Rorin put his hand to his throat, "sister, please. Do you have faith? Do you believe in the Gods?" He looked st her elven ears, "do you worship Arkhen?" She looked nonplussed, but nodded, "then have faith. Faith helped me save others, and my faith saved me. Do you have faith, sister?" His voice was horrid- a 900 year old tobacco chewing dwarf would give him sonething to clear his throat- she looked like she was about to say somethin but the pilgrim continued, "have faith sister. I will survive a few meager hours out of bed. Just a few please. In those few do me this great favor- just leave me alone? Let me spend some time with my friends? Then you can lecture me all you want and I'll lay in bed for days, I swear. Okay?" The nurse bece exasperated and forfieted before huffing away. Rorin shook his head and continued on to the yard. There he coughed into a rag stinking of old iron before he took a big swig of a medicated flask. Isangrim looked at him with disapproval. "What? Oh, come on, it's just for a little while. I'll be fine," Rorin told the disbelieving wolf. Momentarily the injured squire joined his companions in the yard and looked about happily. Finally, people to talk to!

Manasa left hunting to come here to meet with the guild, moving inside she stood on the outer circle of the group her tail tapping at the ground.

Headmaster's Chambers

Lionel is paler than he ought to be, and his brilliant blue eyes decidedly less so. After the terrorist attack in Frostmaw yesterday, it's all he can do to be here, let alone lead. With assistance from Krice, he has rediscovered enough self-confidence to return to his duties with the guild, but the pained look in his expression will not be the most inspiring sight. His black silk shirt and slacks are torn at a few edges, and a cut down his chest is thus somewhat visible -- and only half-healed. As he studies those gathered, it is an effort to remain focused on the insectoids. They did not strike the city. They did not maim or mentally harm its citizens. They are not showing discord here... and they have not vanished in an all-too-familiar fashion. But they are a threat. They have feasted on the flesh of the innocent. They will feast further if left unchecked. This steels Lionel. With the shaven-headed elf known as Esche at his side, steadying him when it seems he may stumble, the Catalian clears his throat and gestures for the guild members to follow him into headquarters. Wordlessly, he'll lead the way, up the staircase and into the headmaster's chambers. It's spacious enough for all. Only now does Lionel gesture his arm broadly and open a formal dialogue. "Frostmaw is imperiled... but we are the Warrior's Guild. We have a war of our own, and it's been left unfinished. We're two down, two to go, if this mosaic is anything to go by." He cants his chin toward the four-quadrant stained glass artifact, with its depictions of the Sage Forest, the Nameless Desert, and then -- still to come -- a darker, moodier-looking forest as well as an ocean with a speck of land in the distance. "Thank you for coming. Thank you for... everything. Let us begin."

Khitti was here by herself today it seemed. Of course, Brand dropped her off at least, the Catalian soon departing on the wyvern they’d flown in on. He needed ‘guy time’ which translated to ‘I wanna get drunk’ in Brand-speak. She’d heard about the event, before the surprise of that awful drug, but what was she to do? It would’ve been prime time for Amarrah to strike were she strong enough again and neither Khitti nor Brand wanted to take the chance. The redhead would follow along, just behind Esche and Lionel, frowning deeply at the Catalian prince’s state. This wasn’t good--she should’ve been there to help. Guilt was buried down deep and she did her best to hide it, nodding along quietly as Lionel spoke. Khitti managed a faint smile for him, and the others, “Ve’ll be fine. Ve always bounce back and ve always get zhe job done, “ the vampiress doing her best to reassure anyone that needed it. It felt odd, to be the voice of comfort and wisdom, for she was normally the one that needed it.

Meri makes her way into the meeting area, still bundled up in a thick cloak that she is usually seen wearing when she roams about the frigid area. A bulk of Meri's attire is hidden beneath this cloak, though it is really nothing out of the norm for any other day, there are just a few extra layers as the cold does not sit well with Meri. The woman tries remain unobtrusive as possible given that she is not formally part of the warrior's guild and so it is a position toward the back of the crowd that Meri seeks, where she will stand in observance. Despite her want to be nothing more than a wallflower at this event, those she is familiar with will of course not be ignored. Oline, Manasa and Eirik will all be given a nod if given the opportunity.

Rorin sighed deeply. Lionel. Rorin understood. The pilgrim had heard all about the attack and had been furious and devastated he couldn't be there to help. But he knew that Lionel would have had some words seeing Rorin out of bed and around town like that. At least now he could walk around the Guild and so Rorin hobbled after the others and mulled his troubles away mentally. There were many strategic questions. So much intelligence not yet gleaned. So much to learn. Once gathered in the chamber Rorin would seat himself at a table between them all, adorned with the various maps and strategic figures, scratching at Isangrim and looking already deep in thought over all the complexities and contemplations of these latest events. Those journals last recovered too. Where did it all connect? Where did the pieces come together?

Ameno walked into the room with a stride that appeared to be a lot healthier than he had had before. He wore the sickness ward gown a dull blue gown in particular. According to the Physician who had attended to him, he had explained to Ameno that the treatment for the blood poisoning had a side effect that seemingly only affected him. Ameno stood now at a standard height of 7' tall and instead of his previously lean figure, he now was at least 30% bulkier in muscle. He crossed his arms as he came to room, leaning against the wall. Downstairs meanwhile a large Razurath had appeared that easily dwarfed Ameno by about three feet. It wore a black Cloth from its right shoulder to its left thigh. And its skin the affirmed red, verifying to the guards it was a friendly. His yellow eyes gaze around the area looking for potential threats. Back upstairs Ameno, does a firm salute to Lionel and also to Emrith another superior. His eyes are like steel and alert.

Eirik settles his eyes upon the Catalian, examining his features. He had seen Lionel just the other day, followed him to the fort after the attack and witnessed something off about his leader. Though ever quiet, the lycan has an advantage here and that’s the finer details of individual character. Simply put Lionel is not himself. Near six foot frame moves as he is beckoned following the Knight-Commander without any word. As per normal the Northman is dressed for his games of war, that runic longsword dangling from his hip via the means of a leather baldric. If anything, the berserker is predictable to a fault and old habits keep the man silent as he continues to listen. Meri was a surprise to see at a guild meeting, perhaps she intended to join up with the group? A nod and smile are given to her in greeting, but Eirik intends to not let his attention to the task at hand be delayed for long.

Oline was among the last of the group to make her way into the Headmaster's Chambers. Clad in the same sheer violet gown she'd been wearing the day before, during the attack, the giantess brought up the rear of the group looking lethargic and even more pale than Lionel. She found herself a spot against the wall to plant herself and slid slowly to the floor, dull gray eyes staring blankly in the direction of 'The Map'. The thing gave her the creeps just to look at it. Her trembling hand inched idly toward her satchel, only stopping short when the other clamped down on it and held it steady in place. Meri got a nod and a smile when the opportunity occured, and Eirik just a nod. Rorin earned a slightly-longer-than-normal glance before she decided not to chide him for being here instead of in bed resting. When Lionel finally thanked them all for... everything... Oline grunted her approval and turned her sights back to him.

Emrith arrives just in time to hear the tail end of Lionel's speech, and follows the procession westward and upward into the headmaster's chambers. He is garbed much as he was yesterday, with the addition of the obsidian faceplate he previously wore during the guild's latest mission partially obscuring his features. Something else, something only visible to close scrutiny, is different: a small silver ring, engraved with some sort of twisting script, sits on his right forefinger, and no matter how hard the elf has tried, that little talisman will not be wrested from its new home. Emrith's only serious setback from last week's fighting, that little band has brought with it a whole host of problems for the elf, and perhaps for the guild in general. The spell-blade waits his turn to speak, but when he has his moment, he strides forward to tell a rather disturbing tale. He fights for every word, hesitancy evident during the entirety of his discourse, but this is a battle he ultimately wins. "Some of you saw the web of shadow and cold and misery I brought down upon that beast we fought. It was not mine, but only...poured through me." He raises his hand, displaying the ring for the viewing pleasure of all and sundry. "When I woke, I had this in my pocket. The moment I touched it, it slipped onto my finger of its own accord, and nothing I do can remove it. Several days ago, I was asleep in Sage Forest, dreaming my own dreams, but awakened to find myself weaving through the abyssal forest of Vailkrin, pulled as relentlessly as a fish on a line. With effort I can resist that pull, but even here, even now, it drags at me. We...will not have so much trouble finding where we go next. I bet that I could find it in the dark with my eyes closed. I am drawn to it, waking or sleeping. And I know what awaits us...or some of it, anyway." Emrith's body shivers, though whether it is in anticipation or dread would be difficult to tell. "Spiders." And then, one more phrase issues from between his pale lips, in a voice so low as to hardly be audible. "Grrya Dama-Ka, The Everspider."

Lionel watches Khitti, and his brow furrows in mild surprise at her reassuring glance back. It feels good. Eirik seems alright; Meri is a surprise, but a pleasant one. It stands to reason she would want further information after the ordeal she's been put through. Rorin is worse for wear, and it's enough to bring a glare of consternation back upon Lionel's face; the boy has suffered so, and greater darkness seems to be upon them all, now. Upon the whole of Lithrydel, perhaps. And Oline... Lionel is given pause, seeing her. She seems to have suffered from the effects of one of the substances during the attack -- was she even there? He'd never even seen her, it was such chaos. "Damn," he mumbles, just out of earshot of all but the most acute senses of hearing. And then... Emrith. The words are delivered as revelation; Lionel draws a deep breath, swallows hard, and reassesses everything he'd planned to say. "Suddenly, Emrith, this meeting has gotten a lot more complicated. And yet," he continues in a quieter voice, "simpler, too." He offers the vampiric elf a solemn nod. The look on his face seems to indicate he recognizes the terrible feelings Emrith might be dealing with, to be lured so, but there is a grim determination in Lionel as he proceeds. "The forests of the Vailkrin region, then. Our next objective. For multiple reasons. I suspect we ought to think about doing this sooner, rather than later. For the sake of our guild." He does not stop looking at Emrith.

Khitti raised a slender crimson at Emrith’s little speech, a smirk lining her lips, “Spiders are nothing, Emrith. Spiders are not complicated creatures. Zhey sit in vaiting, hoping for a meal to show up, spinning their little webs. But vhat zhey vill not expect is a meal vielding veapons of sorts and magic zhey likely cannot comprehend. And even if zhey can comprehend, zhey vill not vin zhis regardless. Vailkrin itself is just as predictable as a spider and vhere perhaps some of you may not be quite as strong, my own magic vill be doubled and I vill put in zhe extra effort to help take down zhese horrid creatures. Zhey von’t vin. Not vhile I still draw breath.” It was the least she could do, really, after the mess with Amarrah. But something...something still in between the lines of her own words might unnerve Lionel as he’s seen it already happen of late. That fire, that confidence in her magic, her power was growing and she was not to be deterred from using it any longer.

Meri was just a face amongst the crowd, contributing nothing to the conversation but listening to everything. There was no clear indication as to why she was present but Lionel's assessment is the most accurate: Eirik convinced her to go along with this bug-killing party, curiosity had gotten the better of the artist as it often does, and now she wanted to understand just why the warrior's were hunting bugs. This was not the first expedition she has heard of, thanks to both Oline and Eirik, and it did not sound like it would be the last they would be on either. Two more? Respectful of the fact that this is a meeting, and a serious one at that, Meri's gaze remains focused intently on those whom are speaking, when they are speaking. From Emrith, to Lionel, to Khitti, facade expressionless as Meri processes the details of the discussion.

Rorin waited for everyone to assemble before moving pieces into place thoughtfully between scratching Isangrims head. His available eye was quite focused on what was available in front of him. The vast amount of bandages from head to rib kept him from turning his head so much which wasn't a bad thing considering the recent graft to his neck that allowed him to speak. Even if he did sound like a giant choking on a piece of mammoth fat. As Emrith spoke every ounce of Rorin’s attention slowly dedicated to him. "A curse. Hmm..." Rorins breath was catching as his eyes slowly grew wider. A figurine fell from his fingers. Coughing, Rorin picked it back up. He slipped Emrith’s piece farther towards the darkness of the next hive. The coming battle would be a lot harder for Rorin than he'd like to admit. Spiders. He tried to look calm and give Lionel a reassuring look. He wiggled his right shoulder- it itched like hell but any feeling was a hell of a lot of progress. The pain came and went inside the leathery cask that it had been set in by the more skilled surgeons with all their medical wit. Lionel wouldn't want him going. Rorin sensed a lecture on the rise later. He set his own piece father near the hive. Lionel, Oline, Khitti, Eirik, Meri, but he wasn't sure about Manasa and Ameno. He hoped that didn't look prejudiced somehow. "Commander," Rorin scratched out with a hand to his throat, "perhaps we should contemplate bringing a healer on board? Setting up a base camp this time? Our hell-mell runs are getting more dangerous and I fear... complications." Rorin sensed a lot of complications. He twitched just a bit as Khitti advised spiders were simple. Absolutely not. Rorin took a deep breath and swigged his medicated water.

Ameno listens to the grave words that Emrith speaks upon. He grimaces visibly revealing several sharp teeth in process. "Oh no," He groaned. He didn't like Vailkrin, very likely because he didn't like Lycan's no offense to Eirik, but he just didn't like them he felt not at ease around them. The only thing worse than a lycan in his book was a spider. Back in his days of Venturil he had the most unfortunate experience with a particularly large variety, where he had been actually bitten and put in a state waiting for to be the next meal, Scraith had taken over at that point and got him out of there, but the images still haunted him. "I hate spiders." He whispered. Shivering with closed eyes. Outside the Large Wyvern Yasha landed and began looking for her master eager to "Play" with him again since he had been gone from home. Elsewhere downstairs the Razurath was being permitted to join at a table to enjoy a good meal of meat. A heap of Meat if you will.

Eirik does catch Olines nod for the briefest of moments, and smiles towards the giantess. Silver eyes shift to Emrith at his words. He pondered over the thought of a ring which could not be removed. It’s probably a good thing that Eirik is not the person to carry such a thing; without a doubt he would have just cut his own finger off. To Vailkrin. The everspider. Well at least they knew what they would be up against. Khitti’s declared actions of magic etched a visible frown over his features. Where was the guard? Obviously she meant well, but was she well enough? Nothing further is noted, it is good to see her again despite the Amarrah incident. At Rorin’s words of bringing a healer along, Eirik interjects. “I’ll talk to the healers Guild, see if Sabrina has a person in mind.” Eirik falls silent again.

Oline was having difficulty focusing on anything. Even Emrith's startling tale couldn't quite shake her from her daze. Both hands were trembling now... thankfully, clasped together, the effects were less visible. Yes, Lionel... the giantess had been there during the attack. She'd been there, left behind in the chaos, to cough and splutter and panic and despair. Her shakenness had not let up since then. Not even her reassuring chat with Krice had really helped, in the end. A temporary reprieve. The voices screamed louder now than ever before, and it was all she could do to keep them from drowning out reality around her. Oline sighed. Spiders. She didn't care for spiders, much... and she doubted, with a name like 'The Everspider', these were likely to be ordinary webspinners. Khitti's confidence brought wide grey eyes her way, considering. She'd seen the girl in action... and she had skill. She'd also heard about her plight, and the subsequent betrayal. Emrith had threatened to kill her... if only to stop the thing inside from gaining foothold. Oline was disinclined to see her dead, but she did wonder just how much faith they could put in her in a place where shadow and darkness would further enhance her abilities. And then a dark, bitter thought enterered her mind: How much did she really care? N-no... that... that was just the withdrawal talking. She felt her hand slide reassuringly into her satchel. Her focus cleared. It was still there... she could hold out a little longer. Make it through this meeting. Keep herself composed. All she had to do was keep the dark thoughts down, and not think about... not thing about anything... except the mission. Spiders. She could... smash spiders. Queen spider? That worried her. Especially after that... flesh 'craves flesh' and exploding-eyeball-sockets-sprouting-human-arms bullsheyeht. Valkr have mercy, if these spiders had... human butts or something... she was out. Nuh-uh. No way. "Sod..." she groaned under her breath. "... y'know tha' ring en't ended up inniz pocket bah no assident, raht? The soddin' thengs fownd sum way t'giddit inn'ere. They en't stoopid. They en't pruhdiccable. Theys smaht, 'n they's cunnin', 'n ya kin bet they's gunna have moh s'pahzes up they's sleeves!""

Emrith turns to face Khitti with liquid, almost preternatural speed, and his countenance behind his faceplate is hard and cold. "You oversimplify to the sorrow of the rest of us, I fear. Never forget that in both missions of which I was a part, surprise has been the weapon. You think spiders are simple? And yet these, if they take the tendencies of their kin, may be beyond what any of us expect. You were there; have you ever known a net of magic that simultaneously crushes, freezes and flattens the mind of a victim? Because I have not, and if that was one small part of a greater threat, then it will take all of our mettle to come out alive. I have confidence in our abilities, but arrogance is quite another thing." Emrith sweeps his green-eyed gaze across the rest of them, each in turn, marking them before addressing the room at large. "Spiders are ambush predators. They set traps. And if they inhabit a space for long, they spin webs. If what I know is to be taken at face, then I strongly suggest this mission be of a slightly different character. Slower, more methodical, perhaps split into two main teams right from the start. It is my suggestion, at this juncture at least, that I lead one of these groups." He raises his hand. "This ring may pull me, but it does not influence me else. I would gladly submit to the will of a telepath to prove it, were any of you gifted with such abilities, to demonstrate that this suggestion is not made as a means of betraying anyone. Perhaps Lionel should lead the other party, and we should try to meet in the middle, as it were. I believe we can expect fewer numbers on this assault, if only because spiders do not create massive hives as do so many other insects; in fact, they are often solitary creatures who prefer to maintain their own domains apart from one another. It will be our ability to think quickly that gets us in and out again without loss of life, not our ability to commit mass slaughter. Though make no mistake: any enemy which presents itself must be fought without quarter, without pity. Spiders are wholly without pity, after all. Picture this, and think well on it, before you decide whether or not you wish to accompany us who travel to Vailkrin. Picture yourself bound head-down by cords you cannot break, in a half-waking fever of terror and sickness, near paralyzed as something cold and serrated slips into your stomach. It will hurt more than you have ever known as you are drained dry. You will be alive far longer than you want to be." And is there fear in Emrith's own voice? It does tremble, but his face is still expressionless, as if he is merely delivering a message. "That is a fate you can expect if you are unwary, or if you are arrogant enough to think a spider a complacent, witless beast ready to die at the end of your blade. If you haven't the heart to stare that mental picture down, to conquer it, then you have no business underground with the horrors of the Vailkrin forests. Remain behind, for your fear will only weaken you and, by extension, the rest of us. Hard words, perhaps, but this cannot be done gently, or done by the faint of heart. I know you all possess much bravery and strength, but each and every one of us is weak in some way. If your weakness is the sort of threat these creatures may represent, there is no shame in admitting it. None will think less of you."

Lionel twitches almost imperceptibly at the tail end of Khitti's fiery valor. He nibbles his bottom lip and flicks his eyes behind him and to his left, where Esche has been standing, motionlessly listening to it all. The elf makes no return gesture. Lionel permits a smile in favor of his Khitti, but a fault line is forming in his mind. Is she overextending herself? Is she pushing too hard? Is she... Amarrah? He forces the doubts into a mental void for now. Rorin is speaking... if it can be called speech, anyway. The boy is half a mummy with all those bandages, and it occurs to Lionel that if he had to describe that voice, it would be to say that it sounds like a giant chewing on a piece of mammoth fat. There's no argument here; Rorin isn't ready for another mission. He will need to speak with him later, in private. Ameno's whisper, Lionel does not hear, but he does hear a wyvern plummeting into the snowless yard outside. It drowns out the first of Emrith's many sentences, but the man continues, painting stark pictures of possible fates for those who follow the guild into the forests of Vailkrin. The sternness, the edge, of Emrith's tone does not blend well with Lionel's own emotional difficulties. It does not blend well at all. "Enough," he mutters, taking strides forward to stand in the center of the crowd. "Your point is made, Emrith. And it well to be spoken." He raises his voice. "It is well to be spoken." As he talks, Lionel takes in each of them, even Meri. One by one, he examines them, for all their strengths and all their faults. Anything he can see, he documents, and his piercing blue gaze has returned to overwhelm the traces of bloodshot from his exposure to red dust. "You have all seen horrors unparalleled. You have seen what these creatures can do. You have seen what they have down to the border towns near the Southern Sage. No man or woman left alive in the wake of the swarm. You know the stakes. You know yourselves better than I can. Better than any of us can. We are at war, now, and Lithrydel doesn't even know it. This is not for glory. This is not for gold. This is for survival." His gaze sweeps back to Khitti, and then to Emrith. "Doubt one-another and go into this war weakened. Have faith in the guild to thwart any threat." Even internal threats. "We are at war," Lionel repeats, and he lets that linger. "Two teams. Emrith leads the one, and I lead the other. Now I need one thing -- just one thing. I need to know who among you would continue this war. Who among you will fight for the survival of the realm? There is an old Catalian custom. We end our declarations with the words, 'so say we all.' Well right here, today, we will stand united. If you are with us to Vailkrin, with us to the end, say the words." Lionel waits. "So say we all."

Khitti was still being guarded by Esche, for the record, who was not even a foot or so away from her with Lionel, even if Brand or Anton was not present at the moment. There is and will always be -someone- there if Brand is not until Amarrah has been taken care of. The vampiress gives shake of her head at the few unhappy reactions given by the rest of the guild. This was ridiculous. And frustrating. The fingers on both of her hands curled inward, her hands balling up into fists at her sides. “It is not arrogance, damn it. I have seen every single zhing all of you have done. I have seen your hard vork, your skill, your determination. I have seen everyone pull zhrough vhen zhings got so very bad. Seen you vork together to finish zhe job and go home as ve all should after every single mission. To see you all cower away from a few arachnids as if you vere mere child is so very...so...so…” Khitti let out a heavy sigh, her emerald gaze fixing on the ground, “So very disheartening, “ her voice cracking as her frustration gave way to defeat. “I know spiders. Zhey are zhe very reason zhat I met him, “ Khitti said as she motioned to Lionel as she did her best to keep her composure. “Spiders hellbent on declaring zhe vill of some old, dark god. Spiders declaring zheir return to slaughter us all. Lionel and I stopped zhem -together- vhen him and I vere nothing more zhan strangers. All of us are even stronger zhan zhat. All of us together, ve can do zhis. I have faith, in all of you...even if you do not have faith in me any longer.” She’s quiet then, when Lionel speaks, no longer meeting his gaze or anyone else’s. She was reminded of her own personal issues, that of Amarrah, and the fact that if she didn’t take care of it soon, Hildegarde was going to personally see to Khitti’s demise herself. Just as quickly as the fire in her heart erupted, so too was it extinguished; she needed their faith in her just as much as they needed hers in them, but she was likely to not get it--not now, and probably not ever. “So say ve all, “ was said lastly, quietly, as Khitti re-assumed that silence she had the last time they were all together, wondering to herself if her place was even among them anymore.

Meri finds her gaze shifting to a few more faces as they start to interject their thoughts into the conversation but the woman's gaze was still largely on a select few. It was all very interesting to listen in on, the debate circling in the room on how formidable these spiders may or may not be. Khitti seemed confident that spiders were mindless creatures, Emrith painted a far more gruesome picture, Meri still kept her poker face going.Even when Lionel starts in with his speech to try and rally together a band of people for the next impending mission. It does seem as though the psion has plenty of room to open her mouth and add her name to the list of willings bodies to join this next journey, but Meri is not going to be quick to make that call. It's not a fear of spiders that brings this hesitation, the woman just wanted to get a better sense of who else may be signing up (namely if Oline and Eirik were going). If she would try and tag along for this battle, she would likely be one of the last to speak up.

Rorin nodded to Eirik. "Oline has some point there. Make no mistake it was intended to weaken us somehow. I very much doubt it was donated by a friend." Emrith had no right. Khitti was not being arrogant- in fact that little spot of hope felt nice parting the aura of dread that emanated throughout the chamber. He tried to mull over spiders he knew. "Wolf spiders. Hunter teams outside. Traps in. Spiders. Not alone. Some have frogs guard eggs. Others infest until food is ready. Will herd what they can. Make no mistake- won't be alone. Parachute. Crabs. Arctic. Some work with. Some poisonous. Slow... hard. Once in, no pulling out. Not till job is finished. Two teams- dangerous. Easier to pick off. When spiders face wasps or bigger bugs, they flank. Surprise you. Will work in groups if want to. Us could." He moved firgurines on the map. Emrith. Lionel. Khitti? Rorin would have to travel with Lionel. "These spiders will hive. Near queen. Like bees. Foxes. Main den. Except... some spiders, build. No hole- could be tower. Complicated. Fire good here. Burn webs. Scare off." Emrtih absolutely did not need to include that cringe inducing description. Rorin forced the bile back down his throat and hope no one thought his grimace came from the subject at hand. He coughed into a rag that despite much changing was already bloodied. He tried to tuck that anyone before had time to notice. From a pocket he withdrew the flask of heavily medicated water and wet his mouth again between a couple of the bandages. His available hand smoothed over his religious talisman as he recalled the words of Saint Brutus, "Courage is not being fearless. Courage is having more fear than ever before in your life and still being able to act on it. We are those that quell the fears of others. We are those whose courage destroys the monsters in the night," he found no more applicable case for such a saying here than perhaps 'we have nothing to fear but fear itself. And giant spiders.' Rorin listens dutifully to Lionels speech. Uniting them after so much hardship was absolutely necessary. For his discernations Lionel would discover of Rorin a quiet fire that burned behind that single grey eye. Not a stubbornness, but a passion, a dedication. It burned with fuel of a quietly trembling fear that had been pushed deep down. Rorin clearly intended on attending. He would fight till the last no matter what he lost and that was something in his heart, something he could never give up, he had to see this through to the end. Rorin would fight him to fight with him. Endrid and Nels words no doubt echoed at the sight. Rorin had to stop this. He had to. "So say we all," Rorin finished.

Ameno feels his blood boil when Emrith delivers his speech to Khitti, and to them. It isn't a good feeling, he had chosen not to discuss what he was about to say but if it reduced the number of casualities he'd take it. "Sirs, I know I have been absent from these mission and have not been injured by them, but if you will permit me to speak, I may tell you of solution I may have. There is a chemical mixture that I discovered by accident in my home, that could wreck immense biological damage on any Insectiod, or Arachnid. At your command I could make a large batch of this chemical and we could drop from air a day or two before the mission, if the ecological impact is to high, I will resign my commision after we have used it. If we are to stop this we need to create a new kind of war," Ameno as he said this also had concern for Oline and stood near to catch her should she fall in a faint. He was not as large as her but he could take her weight, with ease. His gaze was unflinching and determined. "I am not going to sit idly by while these infernal insects keep slaughtering the innocent, I will resign and take full responsibility if the chemical proves more devasting than it was inteneded."

Eirik understood the words of Emrith, Lionel and Khitti, Rorin and Ameno. Understood that those spiders could very well end their plight in any numerous form of traps. However, eyes flick back to the commander as those around him say their words. Eirik could not bring himself to say it. This would be his first outburst. “I want no part of this mission. My blade will not follow you this time.” A hand waves to the entire group around, “I have a respect for every person here, you know that Lionel.” However a hand idly flicks to point at Khitti again, “But you bring her here without guard? Oh I understand that Esche is here. You really think that will stop Ammarah? How many members of this great guild did it take to focus her down before? How many lives did she threaten and yet here she is?” Eirik literally spits to floor before him. “Until your heads on straight and you take her threat seriously, I will not follow your command into battle. I cannot knowing that your friendship to khitti will leave her improperly guarded and continue to threaten us all.” Eirik doesn’t even stop as he turns away. “I have more important things to deal with.” The northman waits for no response and marches out of the facility, truly believing Lionel’s command is questionable at best right now.

Rorin said to Ameno, "after slipping the mans figurine over the hive, "Air strikes impractical. Wouldn't go in. Could ne deployed from inside..." and devolves into grumbling thought again."

Ameno said to Rorin, "then I will go, myself to deliver it...."

Emrith listens as each in turn speaks his peace, eyes flicking from speaker to speaker and watching intently as their words grace the otherwise quiet room. As Eirik's outburst presages the northman's departure, Emrith gives a small, firm nod; there is a man who shares at least some of Emrith's own sentiments, but unlike Eirik, the spell-blade has reason to believe that efforts can and will be made to contain Khitti to protect the safety of the guild. Nevertheless, the vampiric elf resolves in his mind, now as ever before, that if another rogue element should arise, Khitti will answer for her involvement; Emrith mentally adds Lionel's name to the roster of those whose accounts will come due if ever that day of reckoning should come to pass. The elf hopes fervently that it never does, for further dissention within the guild is something none of them seeks or needs, now or ever. Emrith turns much more slowly to face Lionel, but there is nothing meek or hesitant about either his appearance or the words with which he favours the man. "Your homeland is dead. Its customs are dead. Whatever wars it had, that declaration served it not. Your desire to cling to old traditions is troubling." But here, Emrith does relent a little. Cold as he is of late, stone-like as he so often feels, he knows that Lionel cannot be perfect; the man is more than just a figurehead, after all, and the stress of leadership will tell on even the most hard-hearted individual. "Nevertheless, I am in this war until it is won. So say we all." If he must soothe the man's feelings this way, then he will do so...on his own terms, it must be said, but at least he has done it. "I do not cower in the face of danger. I do not hide from what threatens me, nor will I betray our cause, no matter what it costs me. I am Emrith Kohl, and I fight until blood no longer sings in my veins, till shade is gone, till sun is dark, till all is lost in shadow." To the elf, this declaration means far more than the Catalian saying, which is why it was delivered second, its words ringing out in the grandmaster's chambers to be left as his penultimate statement on the matter.

Lionel stares into the spot left behind by a man who has had enough. He keeps his gaze firmly affixed upon that spit, his mind rushing calculations. Variables unforeseen. His jaw is clenched tightly -- perhaps too tightly. As slender as he is, Lionel is almost a stone now, gaunt and disgusted. "Aerial strikes won't work," he tells Ameno, but his eyes do not move. "Take the chemical with you; it may be of some use. Take a small amount." Rorin's observations -- there are so many of them. The boy is sagely in the things he studies. None can deny that fact. "It's teams," he insists, his eyes still on the spit. "Put that knowledge of yours to good use when we are on the field. Trust that at least a few of your companions have heard you." Prior reservations about Rorin's involvement are beginning to slip; at present, Lionel does not know if it is possible for the squire to be ready in time for the mission, but he will cast that aside for now. His eyes are on the spit. "Emrith," he says, coldly. "You will never again remind me of the fate of Catal. This, I ask you just this once. Those who know me best will know that I am the least Catalian former prince that realm ever knew. Trouble yourself over a singular referenced custom if you must, but your snide insinuations have no merit. I am not trapped in a burned land. I am here, and we are all that presently stands against an underground enemy." He pauses, shaking his head. He looks toward Esche, who he knows would have motioned at the slightest malevolence from Khatherine 'Khitti' von Schreier. As would nearly any of them. She was far from unguarded. Yet Eirik did not see that, and Lionel wonders whether Emrith did, either, for that matter. "There is a disease in this guild." He announces it strongly, his eyes yet again returned to that damnable little puddle of spit. "Doubt begets doubt. Too much strife. Too much mistrust. Not without reason, mind you, but what does that matter now? What matters now is that we are the watchers in the night, and darkness is everywhere. We must stand united in this effort. We will finish this war. And then..." Another pause. "And then we will discuss what must be done to bring you all together as you ought to be. Lithrydel cannot afford otherwise." A sigh. "And one last thing." At last he examines the other members. "If Eirik is spotted on these grounds, he is to be sent away and sent to me. As of this moment, he holds no rank in the Warrior's Guild."

Khitti was...not great, to be honest. Rorin, Ameno, and Emrith’s words go unheard, but Eirik’s, his stick out like a sore thumb. Quite suddenly, she wished she’d never came here, never laid eyes on any of them, never had faith in them, never trusted them. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out, nothing came to mind, and so it was promptly shut again. Tears threatened to surface, Khitti doing her best to blink them away as she shifted her attention elsewhere, anywhere but the people around her. “Esche, “ she’d say quietly once Lionel had finished speaking. Gods, she was almost like Pilar at this point, feeling meek and suddenly powerless to do anything. This isn’t what she wanted. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Why could nothing go right? What did she do to deserve this? Was this all part of that stupid prophecy too? For her to lose everyone before the end? “If Lionel is alright to be by himself for zhe time being, I vould like to go home...please.” The politeness that had overwhelmed her during the meeting with Hildegarde the week before returned in an effort to mask those emotions. She never should’ve left. Should’ve stayed home. Should’ve never trusted anyone. Should’ve never came to Lithrydel. Should’ve burned on the pyre so long ago.

Meri lifts a brow at the obvious dissent amongst the warriors, really the only break in the expressionless face she has been maintaining for the duration of the meeting. What an interesting first meeting to be in attendance of, Meri thinks to herself. The tension amongst the guild, between members, toward members, it really was not an inspiring sign for the woman. Meri had not picked up on this tension during the mission in the desert but in the heat of action, these things can often be pushed into the background. Or perhaps time was causing the issue to fester rather than heal. All of these details are considered, along with the fact that one friend was signing up for the mission while the other was refusing to offer the aid of his sword. Meri finally speaks up with her stance on the matter, speaking the only four words she has spoken this entire meeting, with a rather belated, "So say we all." In fairness, they have given this outsider plenty of reason to drag out giving an answer, if they would allow her to tag along again

Rorin turns in his seat to stare quite openly at Eirik. He'd never heard anyone actually doubt Lionel to his face before and this was... quite a declaration. Rorin’s good brow would raise in a bit of surprise. It caused the pilgrim to take a deep breath. And to move Eirik’s piece on the map. On it's side behind Lionel. What else could go wrong? Emriths declarations continue to be expectantly dark. Can't anyone share something light hearted around here for once? Could drive a boy to drink. Rorin removes Eirik’s piece from the board entirely. That saying about a chain’s weakest link comes to him. What about a disloyal or distrusting link? Aren't those weaknesses on a team? Even at the most medicated value it seems Rorin's mind is particularly focused. Perhaps tunneled is more correct. He didn't notice Khitti. He didn't stare at spit. Hell he barely noticed half of them them were here if he didn't look around. He was focused maybe a little too hard on the map and was glad no one needed him to get up or it was a damn fact he'd bowl over. 3 more skin grafts. If he could continue pressing the nurses into completing the surgeries every other day instead of the advised pace he'd be ready in time. He could do this. Maybe even with a smile if he tried hard enough..

Ameno swallowed. "Yes sir," he paused. "Forgive my outburst sir, I prior to this have spent three some odd weeks trying to make a cure for a particular people and every attempt has failed, some in dangerous ways." He looks to khitti as if hinting which people not her exactly but Vampires. It wasn't that he disliked Vampires, but he felt that everyone should deserve an option to return to life. "I will prepare the chemical."

Emrith returns his steely gaze to Lionel, who he sees as the focus of that aforementioned strife, even if the man himself does not see it the same way. Emrith, however, does accept the truth in the Catalian's words, that now is not the time for it, and that it must be dealt with one way or the other. "Understood," he says calmly. "But Lionel, at some point it would be best if you and I sat down, perhaps at a tavern, or perhaps away from prying eyes, and had words. We have much we might need say to one another, but it does not need doing now. I am in this to the death, and whatever my personal worries might be, I will act in service to the guild." Before Khitti can leave entirely, Emrith turns bodily toward her, and makes an effort to relax the muscles of his face and neck so that his expression and his words do not possess their formerly hard demeanour. "Everyone deserves the chance," he says to her, "to do what their heart wants. To make right old mistakes. To reaffirm trust. I have reasons to doubt you, but reasons to want you to succeed as well. I do not know you as well as some, Khitti, but I know that you were not at fault when things occurred in the tunnels of Sage. You were no more at fault than a vessel which is tipped to spill its contents. If I am cautious, it is in my nature, not due to a petty grudge or a desire to see you come to harm. Unlike Eirik, I do not think you are unsuited to be here, where you are. I worry, but I do that anyway." He assays a chuckle, but it sounds slightly forced. "Do not get yourself to thinking that you are not respected and accepted. Strife must be dealt with. This is my way." Addressing the guild at large, Emrith attempts a reassuring smile. Contrasted against some of the doom and gloom of former words, it might seem incongruous, but there is a greater good being served here. "Whatever our feelings, however personal, unity is needed. If we fragment, we die, as individuals and as a group. My words were meant to steel you against fear, to ensure that you knew what you were facing, not to sow discord. Come to me, one and all, if you are troubled by anything I have said, and I will endeavour to explain myself or, if need be, to apologize for a miscommunication or misunderstanding." And so, politics, ever a tangled web.

Lionel only has so much left in him at any given time. Like a bottle with too much liquid poured, he might spill over or otherwise combust. Yet he can't. He cannot do that. Not now, not ever, or else -- from his perception, however slanted it might be -- everything will tumble. It's not that he overestimates his worth. He believes in these people. All of them, and the folks at Frostmaw, and some few beyond. The trouble is that Lionel O'Connor feels inexorably linked to the endless struggles of this land. And so, like a bottle that has overflown, he lets the sorrow and the anger pass over him, and he steels himself, and carries forth. "We'll do that, Emrith." It shouldn't be too difficult to ascertain which portion of the elf's monologue the Catalian is referencing. Like many of the things Lionel has found cause to say of late, it is still another promise. How many promises can a man make and hold? His promise to Khitti that she will be cured. His promise to Hildegarde that he will make the hard decision and purposefully strand the expedition into the shadow plane if push comes to shove and there's no other option. His promise to the guild that they will win this war. His promise to himself that Frostmaw will be protected against whatever dark tidings have befallen it. And his promise to the late Briar Ku Risu. There is quite a bit to that particular vow. Lionel folds his arms. "We have our mission." He eyes Meri. A hint of surprise, and a ghost of a smile, are offered to her in favor of her commitment. "Expect letters within the next two days to formalize the time and date. Converse amongst yourselves. Plan further, and speak with Hildegarde or myself on those plans. And rest." The gods know none of these people get enough rest.

Khitti could only nod silently to Emrith. What more could she say? There was nothing. She -was- nothing, but felt everything. Felt the guilt, the pain, and now the worry of what might come. She gives a half-hearted dip of her head in acknowledgement to Lionel’s instructions, and an even less heartfelt bow to the group as a whole before heading out the room and down the stairs to wait for Esche. Hopefully Brand was in the right mood to put her thoughts at ease--thankfully, that whiskey that he’d be currently imbibing always did the trick--because she needed it now more than ever. Next week they were taking their first trip to the Plane of Shadow...she didn’t have the luxury of despair and tears right now.

Meri has heard more than enough and has nothing left to contribute. With tensions high and the faces in attendance of the meeting dwindling in numbers, Meri issues a brief nod to the few remaining and then wordlessly ventures out of the chambers.

Ameno turned and walked down the stairs, his intention to leave to make ready the chemical but was stopped by a low growl of a voice. "Sir Drannoht," Ameno would turn to face the voice the massive Razurath Warrior. "Yes?" He would ask. "The new Alpha of the Red tribe would like to offer you amnesty in his region, allowing you to live among us if you so wish, he also would like to send his regrets, Syr'ria, died this past week she fell from the stairs, as is in our custom, *he hands him a Brown package soaked with blood* She would have wished you to have had a part of her, so that she would always be with you." Ameno took the package and looked at it not even noticing the razurath leaving. He clutches the package to his chest shedding a tear. Before walking to his sick room not his ride.

Rorin mumbles to himself like a quiet drunk and scratches Isangrim at his feet between assessing the map and various strategies. "How go the production of the auger bolts from Alvina?" He would seem to ask Lionel rather suddenly.

Emrith gives each member of the guild a quick, curt nod as they leave. Even Meri gets an encouraging dip of the head as she departs. There is much to do, and so little time in which to do it.