RP:And It Must Follow
Part of the What You Leave Behind Arc
Summary: Blut scolds Lionel for refusing Larketian support in the war. Lionel's response speaks volumes to his commitment to Uma Abelin's cause. The assassin later speaks of a dark chapter in ancient history, tempting Lionel to utilize its secrets to the alliance's advantage. He refuses to enact the plan outright, but admits he wouldn't refuse the aid if someone else took the action themselves.
Kelay Tavern
Lionel ponders the fabric of the universe as he peers into his pasta with meatballs and brown gravy. One of the most profound things he’s ever realized in life is that everywhere he’s gone, in every kingdom across every sea he’s sailed, every culture he’s encountered has a strikingly similar recipe for pasta with meatballs and brown gravy. In Kelay, the elves call it alden te. In Frostmaw, the frost giants call it balled meat with carb -- the frost giants are often a direct bunch. In Catal, it was known as Seravish meatballs, but in Seravi it remains known as pasta a la Catal, so whatever historic mix-up occurred between the two nations, it is an uncommon case of generosity all-around. Lionel swivels his fork around a piece of too-tender pasta, scrunches up his nose and digs into a meatball instead. The war rages on across Lithrydel from far-off Chartsend’s near-invasions to the weakening magical barrier of Cenril and Lionel can only find a moment’s peace contemplating his lunch. Mesthak mutters something under his breath which Lionel can only partly hear, but he does discern the words ‘he’ll never grow up’. Lionel snorts. The lunch crowd begins to clear and a few formal elves offer bows and contributions to the alliance’s efforts. It’s a nice little reminder that, broadly speaking, people are good and worth saving. Lionel will wait here for Blut and nibble at his alden te. It’s the little things in life.
Blut entered the tavern wearing his typical attier. Blut had been spending way too much time in the twin libraries of frostmaw. Being so he needed ways to retain his sanity one of which was meditation but upon reciving this message to meet Blut decided this could be another. Blut due to the lack of any real terms of a mirrior was a mess his hair was long and overgrown and his beard was odd and uneven due to a slight clash with the snow devils. Most people looked at him oddly but others just dicerning he was blind and old. Blut found the mercinary as he walked over and sat next to him. "You wanted to see me." Bluts voice croaked due to him not speaking to anyone in a very long time.
Lionel peers up from his half-eaten cuisine and barely registers Blut’s unkempt countenance. Maybe it’s all the dead and dangling-by-a-threads he’s dealt with since the war began, but to him the assassin looks like he’s in fine form. He does notice Blut’s tone. The croak is met with a sidelong glance and a lofted eyebrow -- hallmarks of having spent entirely too much time around Esche these past two years. “Yeah, man. Want a drink? It’s on me. It’s the least I can do.” Lionel’s left hand shoots up and he waves down Nancy in a hustle; whether or not his companion accepts the invitation, he’s over the moons for the chance to snag more wine. “Pinot grigio, I think.” Nancy is curt with her nod but murmurs confusion to Mesthak en route behind the bar. Once again, Lionel can only discern a few of the old dwarf’s words, but this time he picks up on ‘he’s trying, but failing, to grow up.’ Lionel once again snorts. “I had two things to discuss today,” Lionel continues, giving Blut his full attention now. “The first of ‘em is this pending mission to the Southern Sage. I won’t be there, but the alliance is acting on -your- tip. I wanted to know if there’s anything else you can tell me about this necromancer, Qybek, and the legion that awaits your team.”
Blut smiled agreeing to the drink "If it's on you then I'm game." Blut listened to lionel his questioning caused the assassin to shake his head "sorry other than he's a necromancer and a strong one at that I don't know anything else about the man." Blut claimed looking back to the bartender waiting for his drink.
Lionel | Nancy returns with two glasses of pinot grigio, shrugging indifferently when Lionel hands her roughly fifteen times too much coinage. She’s accustomed to it; it’s been happening since he was barely more than a boy. One might think that end-of-the-world scenarios would instill in Lionel a better sense of thrift, but with Tratt Milous, Catalian dwarf, dead at Kahran’s hand now there’s been nobody to curb his enthusiasm. More than once Mesthak has had to pull him to the side to ensure that the bulk of Lionel’s coffers is being poured into defeating the realm’s evils, and more than once Lionel has insisted it’s so and then blatantly turned to Khitti or Brand or Esche or even Hildegarde to double-check for good measure. “The more things change, the more they stay the same.” That time, Lionel hears Mesthak loud and clear. As do a pair of elves at a nearby table, and despite a probable lack of familiarity with -why- the barkeep said that, the both of them nod in gloomy agreement. Lionel sips his wine and hmms audibly, relaxing into his chair. “It’s good enough, don’t get me wrong. I just wish we had more intel going into this shindig. At least we know where he’ll be. I’m glad you’re going with them, Blut -- your skills in the field are invaluable.” If LIonel only knew how true that is, and how many sides Blut’s playing the field with, he might have very different words. “I also wanted to know if you’ve, uh.” He lowers his voice. “Well, there’s no easy way to put this. Have you… had any further visions, lately? Anything foretelling… anything?”
Blut shook his head the the idea of visions. "No those aren't so easy to come across. Once one happens it takes a while for another to come around." Blut took his drink looking at it suspiciously before takeing a sip and imediatly spiting it back out into the cup and putting it to the side. Clearly that was not to his likeing "If you want more intel maybe you should talk to larket or Cenril pretty sure they have some good illusionist that can bring you people some more intel about the area? With the world going to hell I'm sure they would be more than happy to help." Blut claimed "Also regarding that meeting you have to stop letting so many people into the loop. You saw how we were ambused if it weren't for Josleen alot could have perished you can't be haveing these large meetings. You comand soldiers so treat them as such and only let the people you need know about the missions at hand." Blut advised unhappy with the way Lionel has been doing things. He was too loud to easy to spot. When consipireing against a man who can litteraly drop portals anywhere you really can't afford to have these huge gatherings.
Lionel chuckles dryly. For a long time, wine wasn’t so kind to him, either. When -did- that change? “Cenril’s a formal ally, but I’d swear off drinking before I spoke with Larket on anything at all. Half the reason Cenril’s an ally in the first place is because the alliance doesn’t deal with Larket. The reigning monarchs have committed atrocities I’ll not stand beside -- not even to bring down Kahran.” As if getting ahead of himself, he adds, “you can label it shortsighted; I’m not even sure I’d disagree with you. But we won’t rid the realm of one evil just to validate another.” For a passing moment that seems to be all he’ll remark. His mood has visibly soured and the wine is no longer helping -- it’s hindering. “And Josleen’s troops -did- help, I won’t argue that matter, but we were mopping up the ambush with or without them. The fact is, they probably saved a few lives, and that can’t be denied. But they didn’t change the course of that skirmish. We had it under control.” He sighs. Reprimand from hired help isn’t exactly how he’d expected this meeting to go, and there is no touchier subject to Lionel right now than the Larketians. “I’ll take your advice about the meeting size under consideration, however. Truth be told, I’d been musing over that, myself. I want folks to be in the loop because I want them to know what it is that they’re fighting, and possibly dying, to protect. But there are too many open holes in that logic. Too many ways in for our enemies. We may need a council.”
Blut rubbed his face when he talked about larket. "A councile would be a good idea. A representative of each state of each city or organisation under your belt. that I can agree with." Blut sighed unable to hold back his disapointment of the man. " You can assure them that but they do not need to know all we are planning to be inspired." Blut closed his eyes as worthless as that was hidden behind wraps. "But did you really turn away one of our most powerful cities. One of the three cities that hold military might and resources equivalent to frostmaw just for the fact that you did not like their monarchs. This is a fight that includes all of us we are of mortal men that must band together to fight the wrath of a devil. This is far more than me and far more than you. You must remember this." Blut sighed shakeing his head "Regardless I want you to inform whoever you have going to the mission with me to have a rosery chain around each and every soilder so that once they rise they can once again be sent back to the grave." Blut asked.
Lionel can feel his rage growing into a boil. “Of course I did,” he growls, his disappointment in Blut building as well. “You think this is about me? Me not… -liking- Larket’s monarchy?” He nearly spits the phrasing. “This is about the people who have been murdered because of their birthright. This is about the people who have been carted into camps like chattel because of powers they were born with -- carted by people too ignorant to understand. This is about the fact that we -have- a proven ally in Uma Abelin and her rebel witches. They saved Cenril from Kahran and their barrier keeps him at bay. They’ve worked tirelessly with us in this war and they’ve asked for nothing in return. This has -nothing- to do with me, I completely agree -- so please don’t chalk me up as such a sycophant. If we invite Larket to our ranks, we lose hundreds of capable allies who sought shelter against their oppression and give fervently to the cause against Kahran. I’ll not sully my conscience or anyone else’s with that motion, nor will I stand in Larket’s way as they fight Kahran on their own terms and on their own ground. Anyone else, Blut -- anyone else -- and I would agree with you. We won’t fight the Larketians and I’m open to sending envoys to and fro to ensure we don’t trample over one-another in the field either. But you’re right: this isn’t about you and it isn’t about me. In this unique scenario, this is about the men and women in our alliance who sought escape from their tyranny. It’s a one-or-the-other gambit, Blut: Larket or its resistance. We chose the resistance and this alliance would choose it a hundred times out of a hundred.” Mesthak and Nancy and the nearby elves have long since paused their activities to listen to his impassioned response. Somewhere along the way, Mesthak has snickered and smiled, and muttered something about him growing up after all. “The rosary chains will be doled out. Thanks.” Lionel’s tone reverts to cordiality, albeit a forced flavor of cordiality, for that last bit.
Blut sighed as he looked away from Lionel as he looked at the ornaments on the wall. "You know this would be alot easier if we weren't slaves to our emotions. They drive us to make impossible choices but they hold us back from makeing the simpler ones. " Blut took out a page folded and shapped to look like a sword as he placed it on the table. "I've come in possession of knowledge very dark knowledge that might actually make you resent what your city once stood for. But it could give you the power to fight toe to toe with Kharans forces but are you willing to throw away your bonds with your units in the hopes that they understand." Blut asked with a smile on his face so many rituals and curses could be found in frostmaws library with secrets that made it obvious why they wanted them forgotten oh so many secrets that Blut had unraveled and were at his disposal. Well if he could cast spells that was. Following the path of a chronomancer made it impossible for him to cast spells traditionally and hence whilst he himself could not use said secrets others very easily could.
Lionel blinks at Blut and sips from his wine again, thoughtfully. Of all the replies he might have anticipated over such a heated subject, philosophy and dark ultimatum hadn’t even registered. “I doubt I’d begrudge the Frostmaw of today for the Frostmaw of yesterday, if that’s what you mean.” He pivots his head to study the page, squinting at its folded form. “You know, I take you for many things, Blut, but an origami enthusiast? Aye, that surprises me.” The assassin’s talk of bonds is a curious thing; Lionel would indeed do many things to ensure Lithrydelian safety, but knowingly betraying his allies isn’t on the list. “Go on.”
Blut shook his head with a chuckle "no not origami I'm a artist that paints the world to my vision. Now long ago I'd say long before the age of man your city had a little ritual. Any and all who would swear loyalty to their lord would be blessed to be his knight. But the ritual robbed them of everything but their loyalty and their lust for battle. All his soldiers could do were think how best to serve their lord. They were unyeilding in the face of death and far stronger than anything else seen on the lands but they were drones. Families were torn apart and whole cities were razed to make these perfect soilders." Blut waited to see Lionels reaction to this regardless of what he would do Blut would chuckle "But I found that to be quite barberic so I made some adjustments. Find warriors that you trust warriors that yeild to you or your queen before any other and use this spell. It will rob them of any free will against your kingdom and utterly control their actions should you desire it. 6 Generals blessed with power and knowlege beyond their years for their lives and eternal loyality." Blut raised his hand to count the soldiers "A sword to cut down your foes on the front line. A Spearmen to defend your forces. A archer to keep your skys safe. A rider to ruin the enemies flanks. A mage to bolster your troups and a beserker that only knows how to destroy whats infront of him. Do you still want it." Blut asked a test to see just how far Lionel will go for this crusade and a test of his own to see if the spell really did work.
Lionel is impressed with Blut’s sage knowledge of Frostmawian history. He’s spent countless hours poring over texts across the realm, first in preparation for the coming dread and now to fight it head-on. He spent the earliest months of his return convinced the will of the Immortals didn’t end when Khasad and Elazul were vanquished, and the months thereafter seeing the patterns to support his beliefs. In the months since Kahran’s decree, and as the fires of war spread across Lithrydel, Lionel has continued thumbing through texts, seeking the means to bring an end to the world’s dark foes for good and all. And yet, he’s never heard anything of this. Clearly, his ally’s found the time to dig far deeper than Lionel ever could. He whistles audibly, straightening in his chair. With a hearty swig, he polishes off his pinot grigio. Nancy wags her chin in silent inquiry: does he want another? He shakes his head once in reply. Right now, Lionel O’Connor feels drunk off of mythic revelation. “I’d never ask anyone in my command to give up their free will. Not for Lithrydel, and certainly not for Frostmaw. Without it, we’re automatons: mindless husks like the creatures whose very brains have been rewritten to serve Kahran’s wraiths. We’re better than that. If we aren’t, there’s no damned reason for anybody to take up arms under our banner instead of the literal Dread Lord’s himself.” He laughs, though, and eyes Blut’s page. “That said, people are dying by the thousands out there, and if someone insisted on stepping into such a spell’s casting… well let’s just say I wouldn’t entirely stop them from making that choice.”
Blut got up as he smiled "Then the spell is yours. But remember do not bind more than 2 soilders to one lord. The pages will tell you exactly what you need to do to improve the individual. It does not discriminate any race is applicable but they must be willing to serve you or your queen till the end of their days." Blut got up and turned to leave "If that is all then I must leave I have some reading to catch up on. You get 6 choices each ritual comes with a perk and increased strength to their strongest attribute." Blut stopped in his tracks before he got too far away from Lionel turning back to talk in a slightly more somber tone. "This above all: to thine ownself be true. And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man." Blut spook one of the many philosiphies he found in that temple. Blut continued to walk and leave Lionel in his thoughts.
Raelynn tiptoes, not so casually towards the talking pair of men. She gleaned a few tidbits of information and her ears perked, which lead to her to drop a biscuit in front of Lionel. Why? Who knows. "Death, off spells, and wraiths? Sounds fun." She says, interloping on the men as she bites into her own biscuit and waves Nancy over for a cold glass of milk.
Lionel narrows his azure gaze as he watches Blut’s departure. He’ll contemplate the page, and he’ll contemplate the means through which to win these wars, and he’ll let his pasta and meatballs go cold and sterile and stale. The moment, his moment, has passed; already, his mind is racing at the variables of such a spell, and reminding itself that he’ll never ask anyone to make such sacrifice for him or for the queen or for anyone else. “Thank you,” he says with a polite tilt of his head. Mid-tilt, he catches sight of Raelynn, just before she speaks. “I’d say enjoy the reading, Blut, but I reckon it’s not the sort that brings joy. Regardless, it’s clearly paying off.” He rises from his chair and heads for the door mere moments after the assassin has departed, turning briefly to address Raelynn in so doing. As the door creaks open to let in winter’s chill and the fading light of the late afternoon, he speaks: “The alliance could use your skill, Raelynn. Find us and we’ll be glad to have you. Careful where you tread in the meantime. The enemy’s got camps plaguing one kingdom to the next.”