RP:Bohemian Wasp City

Part of the Township Troopers Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: It was supposed to be a routine training mission. Spoilers: it wasn't. Tremendous insectoid creatures descend upon several gathered Warrior's Guild members, and a dangerous -- if comical -- fight for survival thus ensues.

Frostmaw: Snowless Training Yard

Lionel crosses his arms in quiet observation. He’s clad in -- you might have guessed it -- thin black silks, a button-up dress shirt and accompanying slacks. His Knight-Commander’s vambrace, a shimmering silver with the dual engravement of a dragon and a giant, is wrapped around his forearm as a reminder of his station; even here, as Champion of the Warrior’s Guild, he could be called-upon in a political capacity at any given time. Perhaps this is why there are such perpetual dark rings beneath his piercing blue eyes. A man of his position knows less sleep than most. Still, he observes. He watches patiently as three chainmail-toting instructors make their rounds across the expansive training yard, pausing in front of the quartet of pulsing fluorite orbs. Despite their militant attire, they carry inks and quill, and they’re scribbling notes as they study the well-utilized artifacts. For all Frostmaw’s might, there are ancient pieces strewn throughout the kingdom, and indeed, Lithrydel at-large, which only ghosts understand completely. These orbs, able to magically project imaginary battlefield conditions, are one of the better-known examples, and Lionel has never felt entirely comfortable tampering with something from the Age of Legends and beyond, not when there’s even a remote chance the Dark Immortals and their peers had a hand in the construction. But he’s been assured time and again that they are quite safe, and he’s even fought alongside Rorin and several others to see for himself. And today, when those he has summoned make their way here, he will put his guild members to the test. With Sauriangate behind them now, the Warrior’s Guild has proven its mettle, but many dangers await. It’s training day.

Khitti was about as sleepless as Lionel, but she seemed better at hiding it than he was. She was dressed in those dragonscales again, the varying hues of dark blue shimmering in the day’s light as she approached the training yard and, soon after, Lionel himself. There’s no greeting made as she knows him well enough to assume he’s yet had a decent amount of rest and that pensive look upon his face means the gears were turning in his head. Despite being his second-in-command now, she doesn’t feel like it. Hell, what was it supposed to feel like? Certainly Briar didn’t get into as many near death experiences as she did. The redhead eyes him silently for the moment as she stands near, just a few paces in front of the Catalian before shifting her line of sight towards the trainees that had so much more discipline than she, a slight frown creasing her lips at the realization of it.

Valen would be in attendance in the ceremonial, but very effective armor, of his old home and kingdom. The black, almost obsidian-looking metal, mixed with red bits here and there along with the long cape on the back, was not the most comfortable but it certainly fit him well. On his hip, was a long-sword that he had made himself, under the guidance of Jarith some weeks ago. It was a rather impressive blade, and looked to be very well maintained. He had poured his very soul and heart into the creation of this weapon, as far as the piecing it together went, and he wore it proudly as he represented not only himself but his best friend. Eyes would scan the area, and even though he was undead, a chill still ran through him as he only thought just what might happen here this eve. Eyes would immediately recognize Lionel and that sleep-deprived look, and a single nod given to him as a thought occured in his mind...he needed to speak to the Catalian at some point about his adopted son. His eyes would also lock onto Khitti's, and a friendly nod is given to her as well as he finally made his way to stand near where she was. He could only assume that this was where they were supposed to gather? He was not sure. This was, after all, his first Guild meeting....ever. A flash of Green would overtake the Piercing blue of Valen's eyes for a few moments, before returning back to their natural color.

Ameno was dressed rather casually, mainly due to his loss of so many clothes over his time healing. Sporting wings again might have been a highlight, but they were still healing so he had come a little unprepared. In his hand he leaned against his quarter staff. He seemed to be doing well aside from the noticeable scars where the knife entered and where kreekitaka had whipped him, his tail seemed newly regrown as well if not longer than before. His scales dark blue instead of the previous white they had once been likely due to the healing he had recieved among the saurians. While Saurian Gate was over, his work to keep tabs on the sentient tribe that assisted in his healing, was barely even begun what with the death of the chief of the tribe and the choosing of a new, everything seemed to bog his mind, if not more greatly every once and a while turning his head over his shoulder to make sure his surgeon wouldn't just snap him up for leaving the cave. He sighed audibly.

Lionel lets slip a faint smirk as Khitti approaches him. She’s smart, aye, and more than capable. But there are few things he enjoys more than the reminder that there are others in this world who feel as uncomfortable in awkward social interactions as he does. It’s a memo that he’s only human, even when these memos are writ by elves and dwarves… and vampires. As Khitti shuffles about to find a suitable space, the chainmail-toting instructors complete their studies, and confer in hushed whispers. Valen’s arrival, and his nod, prompts a similar nod from the Knight-Commander, and he is positioned in his approach to overhear those whispers. “Yes, yes, quite,” one mumbles, and another -- a strongman with all sorts of pomp, a fellow who Rorin has encountered in the past -- puffs his chest and shakes his head fervently. “Further amplification of the projections. Further!” The third fellow waves his arms in a calming manner. “Shh, Abel. We have amped it up enough. The juice flows. This will be a spectacle.” Abel frowns, but doesn’t press the issue. The three instructors exit stage right, just as four guild initiates enter the scene. Two of which will be familiar to the arriving Ameno, for they fought bravely in the Northern Sage against the saurian armada. The young male who’d been administered emergency treatment by Penelope is spry on his step, amply healed. These four are all dressed quite differently, and they catch up to Ameno and chatter. The banter is irrelevant and not worth mentioning, except for the fact that the lone woman of the crowd candidly references an experiment involving a talking cat with a moon-shaped symbol on its forehead. Anyway, once the four initiates and Ameno and Khitti and Valen are all gathered, Lionel clears his throat -- no, seriously, allergies are the worst -- and explains. “Hi there, everyone. Welcome to the training yard. For those who are unaware, all those orbs you see on each corner of the field are capable of working together to project any manner of incident. I don’t know how it works, and damn if that doesn’t bother me some nights, but those dearly-departed instructors of ours have tested them rigorously and they’re all a lot smarter than I am. So we’re gonna keep using them. Because we’ve lopped off the saurians, but there’s never an end to the threats to the realm, and the Warrior’s Guild has shown it’s awfully handy for dealing with some of those threats. We go where nations cannot step, and we do so boldly.” He whistles, having timed this all rather elegantly, just as the entire snowless environment transforms. The ground seems to fuse upward, a marvelous display of magic, and the bare trees become canyon crags. Indeed, even the sky is now fuchsia, although it’s not yet evening. It’s a dry, arid place now, with artificially-depicted dactlys flying overhead. There are plenty of corners in this maze of rocky terrain, and even with everyone gathered closely together, some of them are in different spots now. Khitti is cloistered inside a stone outcropping, with ‘up’ her only way out. Valen is out in the open, with plenty of cover nearby. Ameno is sheltered and shaded underneath an irregularly-shaped quarry. And there are enemies. Oh, there are enemies. Wooden club-wielding ogres storm the area, huffing and snorting and growling at one-another, and they’re soon to stumble upon the guild members. “They can’t kill you,” Lionel shouts. “But they -can- hurt. They’re not real, so kick their asses indiscriminately. Have fun. Take pictures.”

Khitti ’s attention had been caught by the talk of the aforementioned cat with the moon on its forehead, but was quickly ripped away as the outcropping sprang up around her. Dark eyes narrow in vague irritation once she’s closed in from all sides but the top one, that frown of hers worsening. “I’m going to kill him…” is muttered to herself, claustrophobia setting in. This Khat was not the sort to jump into boxes willingly--unless maybe there was carrot cake in it. Sadly, for Khitti, there was no cake, but there were ogres and several of them at that. The ones in her designated area find her rather quickly, swinging those clubs wildly at her and letting out an agitated yell that would permeate the field. She almost thought she even smelled their bad breath despite the fact that it was just a training session with faux foes. “Ew. Gross. Seriously, Lionel?!” Her short swords were drawn and the vampiress started her approach towards them--there was no point in climbing out now, no matter how much the enclosed spaces bothered her. The first to get near her swung just as wildly as it had before, narrowly missing Khitti’s head. She hisses at it, then circles around the overgrown oaf quicker than he can pivot to catch her, both swords swung with near precision at the back of his legs, cutting into those rubber band-like tendons that kept one’s legs together. Two more came at her as she went to work on the first, but for the moment, she continued on with the latter.

Valen was just about to ask what this was all about, when it was conveniently explained! Oh joy, what rapture! It was training day already?? And then things got really wierd. The whole terrain changed! Whatever 'juice' was flowing, he would make a mental note that he definitely needed some of that at a later point in time. As he was now out in the open, only a fool would stay in such a precarious position and so it was...that he would try to find some cover, and eventually succeeded with ease, sword having been drawn in the movement. As the ogre's storm the area, his grip on the sword would tighten. He wanted to ask what the hell a picture was, and how he was supposed to get it from the Ogre's, but that all seemed so irrelevant. Maybe it was a confused Catalian sort of thing. Either way if these things could hurt him, that meant they might also be able to feel pain as well. Idly, and perhaps dangerously, he wondered what would happen if he tried to feed from one? No time just yet, it would seem as one managed to trip over the Vampire's hiding spot, and the cover was instantly blow, leaving him in the open. Grabbing his blade in one hand, he would charge at the Ogre. Again though, he wasnt even sure if he was doing anything right as this was his first training with the guild, but he was now charging at an ogre...who was getting up. It did not seem very sportsmanlike. So...he waited. Bad mistake, because it would spot him instantly and go to grab with one hand while swinging his club from overhead. With a swift kick to the side of the Ogre's hand, it would move in the way of the swinging club...and get pummeled into the ground as it gave off a roar of pain. Valen would then use that moment, to start snicker-snacking with the sword, doing his best to render at least one arm either severed...or mangled at best.

Ameno smiled lightly as the familiar scenery changed. He remembered when he and Rorin had done this once, and now he'd actually have enemies. Sensing the approach of at least 10 or more ogre's he wondered to himself, if they weighed less or more than a Uyeer. "Ah the benefit of nonreal enemies, means I don't have to hold back." Adjusting his stance and hold on his quarterstaff, like a golf club gripping it with both hands, he swung as soon as the ogre was with in range, catepulting its ragdoll body into two of its comrads who with its body smashed into a side of the quarry cliff face. Adjusting his stance he moved forward and postioned his staff like a bat, and swung again knocking three more to the side, as one circled around his back he used let his tail dodge the first blow of the ogre's power slash, and grabbed it and threw it forward at the cliff face. "I am in no mood for no back stabbing, been there done that!' he said whacking another three some into the wall, before grabbing an ogre that was struggling to rise that was not quite dead, and with one hand twisting its head 180 degrees with a resounding snap. Turning his eyes to what remained he beckoned with his hand. "Come on."

Lionel is satisfied with Khitti’s shout, nodding sagely and scratching absentmindedly at the nape of his neck. “You’ll be fine,” he barks back. “Trust. Sheesh, I’d never send you into a real life-or-death mission unprepared! This is all just fantasy. Caught in a landslide? No escape from reality? You and I could use the breather.” Gods know he’s fought enough actual ogres to the death, anyway. Nearby, the four recruits are fighting to their damnedest, various battle techniques pushed to their limits as minor injuries are sustained but ogres fall to pieces. It’s a fictional canyon grand in diverse combat forms, from swords to axes to steely hooked gauntlets. Khitti’s blows strike hard and true, an ogre flying off in leg pain, squealing like some half-roasted pig. And really, Valen isn’t doing so bad, himself. He’s snicker-snook just fine with that sword of his, not quite severing but certainly mangling a limb. As for Ameno, well. He sure seems fit to take on the whole empire today. Goodness, gracious, look at that boy go. A slam-dunking draconian. The ogres press forward, swinging clubs and roaring like lions, taking a recruit in the shoulder. They seek to pound flesh like dough, but their opponents are well-armed and decently-honed. But something changes. Quite suddenly, it happens, and if the guild members will but open their eyes -- look up to the skies and see -- they’ll notice that the formerly-fuchsia sunset has shifted back to its original late-afternoon yellow, the sun a sullen yellow ball half-hidden behind the clouds. The switch prompts tendrils of unsteady light to zap through the area, those four orbs fizzing out, malfunctioning under the threat of some unknown cause. The ogres’ expressions are momentarily stunned, as if they are aware of the madness which briskly erases the canyon, and then they blink out of existence while holding firm to that bewildered visage. Easy come, easy go. Valen will see a little silhouetto of a man -- no, wait, it’s no man. It’s a big blazing millipede! The creature bursts free from the ground, which is now dirt by the way, as the entire environment has been forcibly reset to its real parameters, and this thing is huge, folks. It is the length of a wings-unfurled dragon, and its carapace is thick, and its hundred legs are racing toward Valen with murderous intent. Millipedes for the recruits. A millipede each for Khitti and Ameno and Lionel. These things are enormous, and they wield hooks on their padded toes, and they stand upright to an alarming ten meters tall and descend on the guild without further ado. Is it too late? Has their time come? Surely, this will send shivers down any spine. Even as the creatures attack, bizarre, bloated beetle-like beasts pour in from the courtyard’s thick stone walls, and one of the instructors -- fool bloke came out to take a peek -- is devoured wholesale by a huge, clipping mandible. He was just a poor boy from a poor family, but his life is not spared from this monstrosity. “Um, seven hells,” Lionel mutters, flashing Hellfire ahead of him as he gallops into a fiery strike against his millipede’s underbelly. It screeches an almost supernatural screech, rails at him, and he blocks to prevent his demise. “This was definitely not on the menu tonight. Folks, look sharp, ‘cause I got no frakking idea what’s going on here! Regroup on my mark and we’ll deal with them in unison!”

Khitti ’s spine was surely shivered by these massive insects. A shriek lets loose from the redhead as the millipede that’s chosen her for dinner rears up like a massive, million-legged horse and lets out a screech. “Not on zhe menu? I’m quite certain ve’re on zhe menu, Lionel!” There was definite sarcasm in her voice as she slashed at the beast’s legs, taking off a few as she backed closer to the wielder of Hellfire. With all her senses focused on the millipede and the impending doom that was the beetles, she backs right into Lionel, and lets out another yelp. “You and me, ve’re gonna have vords about your training sessions.” The vampiress lifts a hand into the air, fingers outstretched towards the nearest empty space, “Francis! Come help your mother!” A rather large shadowy portal opens itself up in the snow and a cow-sized, stark-white spider with various black runes adorning it crawls out. It burbles gleefully at Khitti, but is soon put on guard when he realizes that his ‘mother’ was being attacked. Said arachnid leaps at the nearest beetles that threatened to take out Lionel and Khitti, and the multi-legged creatures tumble away, allowing Francis to dish out swift pain in the form of giant gnashing mandibles coated in black and green venom. “Do me a favor and don’t get near zhat venom of his, yeah?” was shouted to the group as the portal Francis came out of disappeared and Khitti swung defensively a few more times at the millipede.

Valen looked on in pride as he smacked the ogre with the flat part of his blade in the face. "Now what did we learn?!" And then things got even more wierd. Sword was held at the ready, waiting for there to be some trick, and then they were gone! Suddenly, Valen -did- see a silhouetto of a manipede...Millipede! And it was on fire?! As it burst free from the ground he had to do a backflip...backwards, eyes wide with a glimpse of fear before he remembered. They could hurt, but not kill. Even though there is fire, it could not kill. Ten meters tall, hooks on their padded toes, yeah. this was going to call for -two- hands on his sword, for added comfort and that extra boost of strength in each swing. But they could not kill him. And then he saw the guy get eaten by one. "Lionel what the Frak?! You said these things couldnt kill!!!!" Steeling his resolve he would adopt a defensive stance, ready to jump at the trade-mark 'ipede lunge-bite attack, eyes narrowed as he glared now at the hulking monster. "Im going to Call you Scaramouche. Scaramouche, will you do the fandango?" It was issued as a challenge, as he tensed his muscles, waiting for that strike. As it did, he would swing the blade down upon landing on it's head, and trail it along the carapace of it's back as he used his Vampiric strength to race down it's form to the group, adding a third to their number. Seeing HEllfire, memories came back to him and with a grunt, he looked over at Khitti "No worries on the venom hun." Suddenly, his eyes would change to that Emerald Green, and a more smooth Masculine voice with a bit more refinement would speak to Lionel. "And you and I...are going to have words about Valen's safety after this...Consider yourself lucky that I am quite proficient with a blade...Catalian."

Ameno swung just once more at a pair of ogre's sending them hurling out of the quarry all together just as the they all vanished. "Hey who blew the whistle?" He said ticked turning his head only to gaze at the ten meter tall millipede towering above him. "Oh....You...." he barely managed before the beast engulfed him and swallowed. But as he was going down into it, he struggled in the narrow throat. While he had lost his quarterstaff, he had but one choice left. Give in to his rage. And as he did his eyes saw red, and his form began to change. Seconds pass, then millipede splits in half bisected by an individual that lands amidst the goo. The new figure dark as night, bestial and with red eyes, along its arms and back are many sharp ridges and blade like protusions, this is the beast ameno fears letting loose, and with a struggle ameno manages to pull the beast back in. reverting to his former self, and picking up his quarterstaff nearby he growls low, and proceeds to regroup with the others when he is called, but not before he goes to put down the still moving halved millipede.

Lionel’s cheek twitches at Khitti’s derision, and in a strangely subtle moment for such life-or-death setting, his gaze darts elsewhere to avoid her wrath. But what of the millipedes’ wrath? Not to be outdone by a Dhavislavvian, the one nearest Lionel lurches forward and then leaps overhead, falling like a boulder in a bid to land on the both of them, crushing indiscriminately. The space between Lionel’s boots bursts into flame, Ishaarite fire magic at full blast, and he pushes he and Khitti out of harm’s way, roughly. Surely, her vampiric speed would have been up-to-snuff, but he’s not taking any chances. Francis, dearest Francis, arrives in the nick of time, just as the perplexed, horrified, presently-nameless recruits huddle together closeby. Oh so many gargantuan millipedes on their tail. It’s a testament to arachnid efficiency that Francis is not daunted, holding his own against this hubbub. Valen arrives, now, having sprung across a millipede that was totally on fire, so he’s probably a bit singed but none the worse for wear because of his snazzy armor, although, seriously, feel the burn. Because Valen ran across a millipede that was. On. Fire. And the group, minus Ameno, is in one spot now. As for Ameno, he’s turned into a crazed dangerous hulk, and he is literally still kicking ass and taking names. (An impressive feat, the author notes, given that these bugs do not subscribe to any common cultural nomenclature.) Anyway, Hulk Ameno is now present, too, so the band’s back together. Valen’s referring to himself in the third person, near as Lionel can tell, and he lofts a brow in quizzical objection. “I imagine that will be a very third-person discussion, Valen, but I feel it behooves me at this time to make sly mention to the fact that these bugs have absolutely nothing to do with the orbs, and have arrived on their own, burrowing through the earth on a mission to kill us all for no apparent reason whatsoever.” The sentence is a mouthful, but idle breath is not wasted; all-the-while, Lionel is cleaving a millipede across its side, avoiding its carapace and sending it to oblivion in a clean decimating cut. “I mean,” he carries on, saving a recruit from doom when he slides like a figure-skater to pit himself selflessly in front of them just in time to stave off a deathly slash, “not for nothing,” he carries on, a protective aura of pure red fire surrounding the team as it melts away insectoid flesh, “but if we’re placing blame somewhere, I’d be half-inclined to go with the dwarves, right?” He ducks low beneath one of the beetle-beasts, as it swings across the expanse with its blood-dripped mandibles wide, and then he hops up like an acrobat, landing on its back and impaling. The creature screams, set aflame, and explodes into the goriest thing you’ve seen since the latest horror movie. Admit it. You watch horror movies IRL. Weirdo. “The dwarves have been known to create settlements underground, and a polite ‘hey, there are bugs the size of small mansions down here, kindly look out below’ would go a -long- way right about now.” Another duck, and then a combat roll, and a block, a dodge, a second dodge and a third. Bug guts are everywhere, and Lionel is the exterminator. The battle rages on for what seems like hours, each and every one of them holding fast and firm. None of the recruits die, which will surprise you if you thought this was some kind of Star Trek redshirt mission, but it’s not. The author kindly reminds you these people have names, families, lives. When at last the team has pushed back the oppressive vermin, and only stragglers remain, Lionel gives the order: “Full assault! Take out the rest of them and then regroup once more!” By the way, everyone is covered in bug guts.

Khitti is covered in bug guts. Again. Why does this keep happening to her? Didn’t you know that dragonscale armor was dry-clean only, Lionel? What the frak. Valen’s other half didn’t go unnoticed, as she was already told about him not long ago, and a smirk manages to find her lips despite the fact that this situation was nothing to laugh about. The grip on one sword loosens as she spins an index finger next to her temple, indicating whatever might be living upstairs to Lionel, “He’s like me, if you’re picking up vhat I’m putting down.” She was definitely ‘putting down’ that Valen just so happened to have a dual-mind as well, something that was absurdly and frighteningly common in Lithrydel nowadays. Surely there must be a therapist or psychiatrist around that could help all of these unfortunate people with multiple personalities. Meanwhile, Francis continued about his work of alleviating the area of beetles while Lionel exacted swift, fiery revenge on the millipedes. Khitti helped too, of course, but she’d as of yet not learned to engulf her own swords in shadowfire--she should probably work on that. As the command was given out to dispatch with the rest of the insects, she’d run to Francis’ aid and struck fear into the hearts of all those horrid bug--meaning, she actually stabbed them in the heart. Alright, well, -maybe- where the heart is, she doesn’t know bug anatomy well. And, also their faces. And probably the rest of their massive, disgusting bodies too. Yeah. Definitely. Also, still ew. More bug guts.

Valen 's armor possessed a unique quality, as it was made by the finest Elven Smith's of his land, being a prince -did- have previous advantages when he was one...The armor, looked remarkably fine! Apart from the now glowing boots, that was. Fortunately, the enchantments in place kept it from burning his poor feet. To Lionel's comment a smirk would be given. "Maldor, actually. It's interesting to meet you." The rest of the news caught up with him, and a grimace appeared on his face. "Tch...Bug bastards." And with that, the blade would be coated in the thickest and slickest, the very latest, and very greatest, of shadows, forevor keeping that blade sharp as a slice of aluminum, with the strength of the forged steel underneath...as well as the Vampire's own strength. It was going to be a bad day, to be a bug. Launching into a rage, a visible red Aura around him now with a large Goku yell, he would spring forth...Sowrd pointed out and would launch himself into a spin as he dove straight through and out one of the Millipede's chests, and landed on the other side, taking a bite out of it's heart...and spitting it out on the ground. "Remind me then Lionel!" As one dove for him, side-step to the right, hold sword out, let it impale it'self on it's own head, withdraw sword. "To call write an exterimanor!" Suddenly from behind a Millipede would grab him and roll into a ball, trying to bite with those mandibles. With a quick grab to two of the legs, he would wrench them from the body, much to the beast's chagrin (If that is the correct usage), and jab them straight into whatever eye's these creatures had. Shriek's of pain would coat the area, especially as -Maldor- would start to claw his way out of the gigantic insect, flames really starting to tick him off now, hair definitely singed and one hell of a mark on his left cheek, though this new persona seemed to be as tough as nails, and made of stronger material inside. Bug guts all around and not a bite to eat. Not that either persona ate bugs. That was gross. Bug hearts, maybe. But not after today. With the command given, another shout would come. "Remember the fires from hell that forged you, Charge!" And with that, his own shadow portal would open...and out would come that Shadow Golem that had taken place in the battle, moving to stand next to Khitti and Francis...red eyes now actually glareing from where the helm was. It was also not wearing Larketian Armor, but spikes were sticking out of it's very body as it ran forward, gave a centipede a nice hug, and starte dto just squirm as those spikes dug into it like it was out of style.

Ameno would have noticed his change of height had he not been whipping the tar out of the remaining bug halves, finishing in one task and striking another bug with his fist, which well words would being descriptive and polite did little to improve upon the chances this bug would look in a mirror again as its head practically exploded, drenched in bug guts and grimacing with disgust, Ameno charged the remaining insects with the others, only to pick his target and launch his quarterstaff like harpoon at the insects body unleashing with all of his strength so much so he dislocated his right arm in the process, and soon found himself gripping it trying to put it back in, he looked around for his target but it was nowhere to be found. "Where did...?"

Lionel picks up what Khitti puts down, so-to-speak, and somewhere deep inside him, the Ishaarite fire spirit Halycanos almost cackles. The whole damned realm is two minds, one cup. The author would snark more on the matter, but Khitti’s got it covered. What is with these people? And by ‘these people’, that includes Lionel, so yeah. Bugs go splat, but not without a serious struggle. Their coordinated ambush has only taken one person down, but they’ve opened this can of worms and now they’ll lie in it. There’s even a Shadow Golem, so I mean, realtalk, the Warrior’s Guild is pretty snazzy. “Not the sharpest eggs in the attic,” Lionel observes dryly, sheathing Hellfire and kicking over the pulverized head of a millipede. It sears into smoke and dissolves. “But they planned this.” He shakes his head defiantly. “This was staged. The time, the place. I don’t get it at all, but I owe everyone an apology, anyway. This was supposed to be a training op, but instead it was some kinda hired hit.” He squints, strolling over to what little is left of the ill-fated instructor. “I don’t know where these abominations are from, but they messed with the wrong guild, ‘cause I’m gonna find out.” Grabbing the bronze dogtag off the ground, he grits his teeth and narrows his gaze. “And that’ll be the end of that.” Also, as an aside, Valen did indeed use the word ‘chagrin’ in the proper context, and the location of Ameno’s lost target soon becomes apparent when it cracks through the dirt and soars into the air, coming down over him with its jaws wide and its eyes a pale focused yellow. Incidentally, however, a Frost Giant has finished her journey toward the guild headquarters at that precise moment, riding on a wyvern from one edge of Frostmaw to the other, and the wyvern slams into the bug at gale force, severing it. Lionel blinks. The Frost Giant blinks. Seven hells, the damned wyvern blinks. Traffic jam. “How am I supposed to act vengeful when -that- happens?” Scraping gooey blood from his ruined shirt, he prances over to the far northern edge of the zone. “Alright, look. That was pretty damned peculiar, and we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Rorin once mentioned an expedition to terminate some, ah, feisty big bugs, but I don’t know how that quest concluded. Looks like maybe it didn’t. If these things can pop up all willy-nilly, the potential damage is insurmountable. Let that be your twenty-gold-piece word for the day -- in-sur-mount-able. We need to find out where these things are from and end them.” What remains of the bugs is hot, wet, damp, and sizzling. It’s the only clue they’ll have as to their origin. Out of the saurian pan, into the humidifier.

Khitti sighs heavily at the murdered instructor, that signature frown of hers marring her features again. When the frost giant shows up, she cringes a bit at the impact, but doesn’t blink. She’s a rebel. “So vhat do ve do -right now-? Tell Hildegarde? Varn zhe townspeople? I’m quite certain none of zhem vant to get eaten by massive bugs.” Crimson brows furrow as she looks to the west, towards the ruined city that didn’t lie very far off into the distance, “I -really- hope zhat didn’t disturb zhe spirits out zhere or ve’ll have bigger fish to fry zhan a few caterpillars and butterflies.” Butterflies, specifically, would like to be avoided, for the record. She had enough problems with that one butterfly of her own. No attempt to rid her armor of the insectoid goop is made--it was -everywhere-. And I mean -everywhere-. “I suppose I should check to make sure, considering zhe fact zhat all of zhat area is my department.”

Valen was not happy, to say the least. In fact it looked like the being was fuming now though also trying to regain his composure. The Draconion going into a transformation was not lost on him, but things had to be taken into account. "Agreed. The sooner that we find out just where these things came from, the sooner we can kick their ass." With a glance over to Khitti, those Emerald Green eyes would eye her up and down quizically for a moment while she made her ascertations. "Should probably dispatch a letter to the Silver Dragon, and then go and deal with them. I certainly also hope there are no Mantises...Manti? Either way, Until this is all resolved..." His eyes would narrow once more, and then in a solemn voice "I will be assuming control until it is finished."

Ameno trying to get his arm relocated punched the ground which reset the dislocation, standing up straight with bug goo caked over him, he now became aware of his height and soon felt very off balance. "Disorientation perfect," he grimaced it be an hour before he'd be normal sized again. "Dis...gust...ing!" he emphasized with a slight roar. "Where's a shower when you need one?'

Lionel approaches Khitti with a rueful smile. “We’ll send word out ASAP. And the queen will need to be informed posthaste. We didn’t even have time for a party, y’know,” he remarks of the recent end to the saurian missions. “But c’est la frakkin’ vie, as Kasyr might say.” A pause. “Whatever that means. Manti, I -think,-” he tells Maldor, still uncertain about the what’s-what on that particular character arc, but it’s quite like Lionel to carry on seemingly unfazed. Eyeing Ameno, he smirks, and several of the recruits laugh, coming up close to the draconian with towels and fingers pointed toward the public baths. For all the uproar, the guild has weathered a mission most unexpected with the pride and poise Lionel and Hildegarde have come to expect from their charges. You can safely imagine the proverbial camera zooming out now, up into the clouds in a cheesy cinematic style. But there’s one more plot beat, and we’ll find it right on up there among those clouds. In the distance, a single armored and massive wasp buzzes overhead, so high up in the setting sky as to appear minuscule. Its uber-perceptive eyes narrow in observation, scanning the wreckage. Scanning what’s left of its advanced scout team. A faint, almost-imperceptible hum resonates from a fleshy green organ dangling beside its stinger, and it zooms off into the horizon. Its report to the queen will not be brief.