RP:A Disquiet Follows My Soul

From HollowWiki

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.


Part of the Township Troopers Arc


Part of the Hour of Wolves Arc


Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc


Summary: Having received a letter from Eirik, Lionel invites the lycan to discuss grave matters. Eirik has concerns over the Warrior's Guild's handling of Khitti, as well as Rorin's personal correspondences. It's a difficult dialog, but it concludes as amicably as possible, and Lionel unofficially tasks Eirik with an investigation into Frostmaw's bizarre drug front.

Frostmaw Tavern

Lionel gestures. "Sit." He doesn't look pleased. He hasn't had a sip of his beer, either -- is the pint there for decorative purposes or what? The tavern's a bit on the dead side this evening, too. Sure, there are folks sprawled about, but few of the usual festivities, and some of the talk is reserved for those drug-addled wretches roaming the streets. It isn't a pleasant atmosphere.


Eirik does indeed take the seat as an angry Lionel calls out; at least that’s what Eirik believes. The chair is pulled and a sigh exits his lips. Perhaps he shouldn’t have sent that letter. It was far too late now. “I didn’t really picture you as the bar type.” He husked, voice low to keep their conversation private, even on a night as dead as this.


Lionel shrugs. “I’m not. But I’ve spent a cumulative year of my life in these dives, just the same. All sorts of reasons. Too numerous to count, but chief among them, they’re a wellspring of information.” He flicks his left index finger against the mug of ale. It delivers a satisfactory ‘ting’. “We’ll start with the easier subject. Easier, because I at least have foreknowledge on this one. Khitti -- she’s staying on active duty.” It isn’t phrased with much room for negotiation. “I agree it isn’t safe. Nothing we do is safe. You’re right, I don’t know what you went through, Eirik. But few are they who -- without picking up an historical tome, and believe me, you never get used to tomes as points of reference on yourself -- anyway, few are they who are aware that -I- have gone through this song-and-dance, too. Within me, I have an Ishaarite fire spirit. I don’t expect you to know what that is offhand, obscure as it is around these parts, and it isn’t important that I explain. What matters is that I, too, have a little someone who used to beat at me and try to take over completely. It’s all tied to Hellfire. Every last bit of that. So what you went through, what Khitti’s going through, what -Valen- seems to be going through -- I don’t know what the deal is with this realm but it attracts every dualism known to man. It’s a case-by-case basis, and in Khitti’s case, I know her very well and I know that if she’s not afforded the chance to keep fighting, Amarrah will gain power. Amarrah will win. It isn’t logical, it won’t make sense to outsiders, but that’s just how it works with her. So again, I say: she remains on active duty.” He doesn’t even pause for long. “And as for this talk of backstabbing and toe-tapping, or whatever it was you wrote. Well, frankly, this is one motley crew we’ve got going on, here. Yeah, there’s some selfishness in the mix here. Would that there weren’t, Eirik, but I can’t deny it. Similarly, none of us can deny what the guild has achieved, and will continually achieve, in the name of peace and prosperity for the people of Lithrydel. If,” he concludes with an intonation, “that purpose should drift into marked vanity and selfish aims, I will be the -first- to fix that.” Lionel grabs his beer angrily and downs half its contents, then slams it back down to the table, expectantly.


Eirik doesn’t bother to order himself a drink and instead prefers to keep himself level headed. “I’m not actually questioning you. I’ve nothing but respect for you. Just to make my letter clear. You’re under a lot of stress, as I’ve seen on a few different occasions.” Eyes shift to the mug Lionel had slammed down expectantly. “You know I’m not one for words. In fact this is the most we’ve ever spoken. I bring it to you, because it feels like this topic, Khitti has the potential to drive a wedge between us all.” Honestly, the Lycan had no clue that Lionel had gone through something similar. And at such news, he nods his head. “We have, you have, they all have achieved a lot. There’s no denying that. I have no arguments. What I see is a divide, thats growing. Some will feel safe with Khitti around. Others won’t. I can’t just abandon her, but nor can I trust that she would have my back.” Hell Eirik wasn’t sure which members would have his back. He found himself questioning it all. With the pressure of the tournament, two guilds, a clan and his responsibility as Liaison he found himself wondering if he had backed the wrong cause. It was a family, though messed up and deranged as it was, it worked - each time they had gone out. “Its a topic that I find myself unable to land on heads or tales with. I would offer help, but I’m not sure how safe that is.”


Lionel is completely silent, almost motionless, through Eirik’s speech. For as much as he can talk, the man very rarely interrupts. His expression is a difficult read. He doesn’t seem angry, or pensive, or even tired. Nor does he appear serene. He simply is. And at the conclusion of his guildmate’s points of discourse, he blinks once, cants his head slightly to the left, and shrugs. “You won’t need to wonder whether she’ll have it. Your back, I mean. Until that… aspect is resolved, the number of guards around her will be considerable. She might not like it, but Brand and I will find some way to ensure she understands. And she -will- understand, because she, more than any of us, knows what Amarrah is, what she’s capable of. So these guards, they’ll be in front of us at all times. And Khitti, she’ll be in front of us at all times. And you’re right, man. It’s a wedge. And that wedge could grow. But I’ll tell you.” He slides the beer forward just an inch, then pulls it back, seemingly to cure idle hands. “I don’t think it’ll last for long. Full disclosure: I think one way or the other, this conflict of Khitti’s is going to come to a head very soon. And I don’t think it’ll happen while we’re on a mission, either. The things she has to do, the choices she has to make. From hereon out, they’ll involve a far slimmer cast of characters. She has things she needs to do, and I intend to fight that battle with her. We won’t abandon her.” He shakes his head. ‘I won’t abandon her, not ever. But in the meantime, wedge or not, guards or not, backs or not, she can’t stop trying to be who she is, not for a second, or Amarrah wins.” He narrows his eyes. “Do you understand? Amarrah would win.”


Eirik nods finally. “I understand.” Thats as much as he would say on this topic. With the discussion of how Khitti and her interaction would be guarded, his mind falls silent to the topic - satisfied. “Your words good enough for me.” Finally Eirik would shift in his chair and let out a sigh, there were other reasons for this discussion amongst the two, but he’d let Lionel call the shots. He had respect for her, even with the little interaction they had, mostly due to their random encounters. Hunting mamoths, though Eirik was clearly uninvited. Fighting at the Saurian gate, the damage she received from the Paladin Rorin. Their own personal fight. It seemed like things were always happening, and carelessness sweeping over the guild. He hoped this decision was the right choice, but would question the man on it no further. He’d fall in line.


Lionel briefly bites his lip, then gestures an open palm with his right hand. “That’s that, then. Now on to the worst of it, maybe. I haven’t heard a thing about my squire’s romantic inclinations. On the field, he’ll tell me anything. Of his studies, he’ll tell me anything. Of my own strategies, he’ll tell me anything. But as you’ve probably noticed by now, I’m not a knight in shining armor.” He flicks the silk of his black shirt self-mockingly. “Under most conventions, they’d probably call me rogue. Yet here I am, Knight-Commander.” The last word is emphasized for maximum absurdity. “Point is, how other knights run their squires? I barely even know. Maybe I should have paying far more attention to his relations. You’ve come to me, telling me he’s deeply offended you and someone you care about. I don’t like to hear that, Eirik. But I’m hearing it. Give me the lowdown.”


Eirik frowns for a moment, head twisting to Drargon. “I’ll take an ale” he exhaled a sigh of words to the barkeep. Now was time. He needed to calm his nerves before giving account of the situation. “Rorin,” he states while a frothy mug is placed before him. “Began dating a woman known as Artia,” Eirik was sure that Lionel knew her or at the very least, knew of her. “Artia is family,” a calloused hand points to himself. “She would tell me stories about how they were in love, possibly going to be engaged. Seen them dancing together myself. Rorin spouting poetical nonsense at her.” yada yada. It turns out its a lot like and days of our lives episode. “When I went to visit my sister, she told me that Rorin had been fooling around with someone named.” He lifts his hand to scratch at the side of his face. “I believe she said Oline.” Obviously the northman knew the giantess, but had not caught her name yet. Yes. The Warriors guild member. Rorin had been filling Artia’s head with nonsense while running around behind her back. “To make a very long story short. Thats the gist of it.” That mug is raised, and its contents drained.


Lionel is no longer blank-faced. His lips contort and his cheeks narrow and the narrowness in his eyes becomes a more pronounced squint. He lifts up his mug, downing the remaining contents. “Huh.” It’s a few more seconds before the follow-up. “Oline.” He shakes his head incredulously. “Well, if you’re coming to me tonight with all your chips on the table, I may as well ensure you’ve got the broad scope of just who exactly it is you’ve been running with.” He waves toward the door, past a small troupe of gnomes so inebriated they’re snoring at their tables. “Oline,” he repeats, “is the recent giantess recruit in our guild. And Rorin,” LIonel continues before Eirik can interject or be otherwise provoked, “will be dealt with.” He sighs. “I’m familiar with Artia. We’ve never had much by way of correspondence. An important woman, and I knew Rorin had spent some time with her. That was the extent of my knowledge. But whatever it is he’s doing here, it’s not something I’ll ignore. Not because he’s my squire. Maybe not even because the Warrior’s Guild needs solidarity, not… this.” He throws up his hands in frustration. “But because what he’s doing is not right.”

Eirik tilts his head to the side. Oline is the giantess? “You have to be kidding me..” He was almost in disbelief. He takes a moment to digest the news that had just been delivered. “Thank you for hearing me out.” Eirik shifts his attention to the wall, he remembered the tears dripping down his sisters face when he had arrived. The absolute wreck she was. Rorin is -lucky- that they are both part of the same guild or Eirik would have no qualms about crushing the boys smooth talking wind-pipe beneath his boot. As much visible on his features as he looks back to Lionel. “I’ll consider it settled then.” He would to, though grudges and such were very much carried by the Northman for years. “Unless you have need of me further, I’ll take my leave.” Eirik would of course wait for the Knight-Commander to continue or not, before he would turn to exit the tavern.


Lionel shakes his head. “No. That’ll be all, then.” He hesitates, however, as Eirik departs. “Wait.” He peers down to the table. “One more thing.” A pause. “Keep your guard up, moving through the city. Remember those thugs who were all over me when we first met? Red dirt dealers. Drug lords. Take a careful glance through some of the neighborhoods in Frostmaw right now and you’ll see the addiction is spreading like a plague. We’ve contained it for now, but there are too many addicts, and it’s... something about this whole thing feels off. This isn’t an order, because it’s not Warrior’s Guild business, it’s Frostmaw business, and I know you don’t wear that uniform. But, ah… if that keen lycan nose of yours should happen to trace that scent, should happen to find more intel on what is going on here…?” He doesn’t elaborate further.


Eirik gives a half smiled nod, knowing full well what Lionel is asking. "As you command." With that he turns to go have himself a stroll.