RP:Formulating Plans

From HollowWiki

Part of the The Ice Plague Cometh Arc


Eastern Hall

Frostmaw has found itself well-allied as of late. Scores of legionnaires protect its wall when on duty, and litter the city streets when off. Their commander, Collin Eliason, has taken to reviewing the little paperwork they generate in the eastern great hall of the Ice Palace. Today, that ally has been swapped for another. A slight half-elf sits in a great chair carved to serve giants, her feet dangling a few inches off the ground. Her attention flickers between a map before her, and a letter in the process of being composed. Over the arm of her chair drapes several articles of winter clothing: cloak, coat, scarf, ear muffs, gloves. Whenever footsteps echo outside the hall’s doors, the young woman glances hopefully towards it. Her hope deflates with each new face, and inflates with each set of mystery paces - repeat. Is it? No. Could it be? Nope. Surely this time? No.


Svilfon has been spending too long away from Frostmaw of late; the situation worsened now by the apparent disappearance of the queen, Satoshi. But the wizard isn't too concerned about her safety; dangerous times plague Frostmaw, but Svil's sure the City of War, its queen, and its resident wizard-knight have all survived worse. Searching for answers in ancient tomes will only get you so far, though, so putting aside his research and the questions about Misaki and her 'friend', whom it seems has given her more than gifts with the runes he engraved upon her flesh, the vampire decides it is time to return to the frozen city and find more tangible answers. With that in mind, it takes little effort for him to teleport from his rooms in the Mage's Tower and appear within the palace, right in the room where Josleen does her work. Strange. He didn't really want to come to this place, prefering the hidden library to the more bustling fort. But being a wizard, he's used to things like this happening, so without pause he wanders over and pokes his hatted head over the half-elf's shoulder to see what she's doing, no apparent concern spared for any sense of privacy or personal space. “What's that you are doing? And perhaps a more pertinent question, who in the name of Sven's balls are you?” His tones seem light enough, though within the pale depths of his light-blue eyes there is a tension which causes more than a few crow's feet to mark the skin which frames them.


There may very well be a good explanation behind the wizard's imperfectly executed teleportation, and the now frightened half-elf is the sole discoverer of clues to solve that riddle, along with other riddles that plague Frostmaw. Unfortunately, these clues aren't put to any good use in her untrained, information-starved mind. Josleen jumps at the voice near her ear, she shoulder nearly knocking Svilfon's jaw. "WHOA! HEY! NO!" With the swiftness of a startled snowbunny, she slides off the chair, slips under the tall giant's table, and whirls around its leg in a croushed position, popping out to face the wizard from behind two out-stretched palms. "You stay right there! Don't come any closer!" Should Svilfon care to have a peek, he can read over the letter which is addressed to Hildegarde. It calls for a council to pool together disparate information and inform key persons of a certain Josleen's foray behind enemy lines and the limited intelligence gleamed from that misadventure. The letter is yet unsigned, thus not linking that Josleen to the startled woman near the table. Beside the letter is a short list of names, which include none other than Svilfon.


A slight swaying of his back is all that's required for Svil's jaw to be saved from being rudely introduced to the startled half-elf's shoulder as she jumps up, before twisting herself around through the legs of the table to the relative safety of the other side. The wizard flashes a grin at the woman, showing the gaps in his teeth and his two fangs, before his voice sounds again, this time amusement evident in the tones. “Really, someone who can appear behide you once will not be hindered by a table.” That said, and without taking his eyes from the elf, the wizard extends a hand and picks up the paper Josleen was writing. “You should meet Ezekiel. He jumps even higher than you when I scare him.” The wizard pauses long enough to grin again at Josleen, before shifting his gaze to take in the letter to Hildegarde, and also the list of names which include his own. With a click of his tongue against the top of his mouth, the wizard lets the paper drop back to the table top, before he sits down in the chair Josleen once sat in – his legs not quite long enough to let his feet rest on the floor. “Now, then. We can't have more rabbits leaping around in here, so I'll ask again: Who are you?” Though tone and expression seems jovial enough, there is a depth of command in that final question: In Frostmaw, only the queen and her husband out-rank Svilfon, not that they have ever tried to give him any orders... and though command is not a mantle he wears often, in times of war, his body-language clearly enough states that he expects answers... and quickly.


Josleen stills at the sight of the fangs and poor dental cosmetics. Although fear does not color her body language, the fangs have certainly kept her alert on a high wire. Recognition flickers across her face at the name Ezekiel, the anecdote twitching a brief smile at the corners of her lips. Yea, that sounds like Ezekiel alright. Kasyr's name is also on the short list. Satoshi's was once on it but has been crossed off. It is the only name crossed off. She shrinks beneath the wizard's gaze and squeaks out meekly, "I'd be more comfortable if you spoke with Commander Eliason..." Her voice fries silent. For a distended moment the silence in the hall is amplified by the bustling distant sounds of an inhabited castle. Svilfon's authoritative stare doesn't waiver and she cracks, finally uttering her name. "Josleen."


Svilfon is perceptive enough to notice the brief smile twitching the corner of the half-elf's lips at the mention of Ezekiel, and this causes the wizard to relax just a touch, though it doesn't alter his expression at all. “What you would be more comfortable with really doesn't concern me, Josleen.” The words are spoken simply, though the ghost of a smile does whisper across his beard-hidden lips. “I am Svilfon, Magister Templi of the Mage's Guild, Wizard-Knight of Frostmaw, Wingleader of the Eyrie.” The vampire decides this time to keep his titles within the realms of those applicable to this situation. “Why is my name on this list?” He motions vaguely in the direction of the papers, “And for the love of all things fiery and warm, stop hiding behind the table. Here...” He motions with his hand in a casual gesture, causing one of the large chairs which rest against the room's walls to lift up, float over beside the one he sits on, before it abruptly drops down with a loud 'thunk', which admittedly Svil did on purpose to see if she'd jump one last time. He can't help it! Torturing those who're rabbity is one of his favourite past times. “Sit, and you can tell me what exactly you're doing. And no!” He lifts a hand preemptively. “I don't want to hear anything from Eliason. I want to hear it from you.”


Josleen's eyes widen considerably as the wizard identifies himself. Her expression quickly gives way to disappoint. This is Svilfon? This is the famed Magister Templi? Cue dying trumpet fart noises. What a let down. She was expecting the regal, tall, 32-toothed, suave-haired, myserious and dark great wizards from the epic stories she sings in pubs to come to life in Svilfon, but instead she gets, well, the frumpy side kick to the mad scientist in the tower. Her life never plays out like a storybook, no matter how badly she tries and wants. Regardless of how he looks, if he is Svilfon, then she should answer him. Sure, he could be lying but the half-elf is naively trusting. In response to his first question, she promptly responds this time. "Eliason wants to call a council and asked me to take care of it. He provided the list of names." As the wizard starts rearranging the seating, she studies his face and behavior, brows knitting in disillusioned confusion: How the heck is this the Svilfon? As for the crash, sorry, she isn't as rabbity as Ezekiel. She can be snuck up on and spooked easily, but she's staring right at the levitating chair. After a brief hesitation, she obliges the wizard and lifts up into the chair, sitting as far away from Svilfon as the chair permits. "So... yes. The council. That's basically as far as I've gotten. He wants everyone to report at the same time everything they know. Ezekiel will be there." She squints at him, lips curling under her teeth until they can hardly be seen.


Svilfon is entirely oblivious to the woman's letdown, though she's not the first to feel such emotions. Being gap-toothed, far from pretty, and appearing entirely bald aside from his magnificent beard, he's hardly cuts the most regal figure. In fact, her description is apt: he looks more like the side-kick to a mad-scientist... just the type of side-kick who'd go around digging up graves to find body-parts, and return with them covered in tooth marks where he tried to have a snack on the way back. “Eliason wants to call a council meeting? Who is he to ask for such things?” The wizard shakes his head slightly, “But I suppose it doesn't matter... I do hope he takes into consideration the fact putting together all the leaders of Frostmaw into a single place is entirely dangerous, and considering the intelligence our enemies' have shown, they would not waste such an opportunity. Added to the fact sickness is coming to the giants, and such things tend to spread when groups of people get together...” It's clear Svilfon doesn't like this idea, though he'd still show up if he was asked. “But there is something about you, Josleen... you remind me of someone, though I cannot put my finger on it.” He leans a little closer then, not bothering to hide the fact he's eyeing her up and down, “Spend much time in Xalious, do you? Or is this not your first visit to the lands of Frostmaw?”


Josleen's head cock backs when Svilfon questions Eliason's right to convene a meeting. Reflexively, she grows defensive of the paladin. "Well it isn't like a specific council of anything. He just wants to hold a meeting, and called it a council, but it could be called anything. He came all the way from Chartsend to aid Queen Satoshi and Frostmaw, you know, so I think a little information gathering sessions are well within his right to request... sir, respectfully, if I may say so." She remembers herself at the tale end of her little protective rant. Her chin juts towards the letter indicatively. "If you would rather proceed differently, I haven't sent any of the letters. You can take it up with Eli, I am just a pawn, eh?" Palms flash forward before her chest briefly to repel any and all responsibility. She didn't ask for this, she was asked to help and doesn't have a shred of will to refuse the legionnaire. Svilfon thankfully changes the subject, and Josleen's defensive posturing gives way to a smile. "Oh I'm flattered you'd notice. My father is Kyl'oriel. As a child, he showed me around the more mundane and accessible rooms of the tower." Like a bring you daughter to work day, but don't look behind the curtain! "He's always spoken very highly of you."


Svilfon answers the half elf's first words in short tones, “First, you can call me Svilfon or wizard. Never sir. And it is not blasphemy to question a leader's decisions. Had Satoshi said she wanted to convene a council, I would question that, too. I would tell her to her face if I didn't like it, and she would listen and make a decision. This is Frostmaw, Josleen; giants are not known for being subtle, nor for keeping their thoughts to themselves. If you are to serve here for any length of time it would be wise for you to take these words to heart. You can send the letters, it is not my place to stop you, nor would I presume to do so. But if I dislike something... anything... I will speak my mind about it, regardless of who it is to.” The wizard opens his mouth and points to two gaps between his few remaining teeth. “I lost those two by telling a giant that mammoth meat tastes like recycled fish guts, and these two teeth when I got into a fist fight with a pirate after telling him he was a pox-faced bilge-rat. I speak my mind... always.” He nods once, but the hints of anger which burned in his pale gaze fades almost instantly as Josleen speaks of her father. “I know him well. Not always have we seen eye to eye, especially when it comes to certain aspects of arcane history, but I have a great deal of respect for him. Few are those in this world who are as well read, if not more so, as I am. Satoshi is one, your father is another.” The wizard's words fade then as a distant smile forms on his lips; sessions spent in deep research with Kyl'oriel always bring a smile to his face. Debates long into the night about the ethereal nature of fleeting elemental powers, or proof of the uncaring nature of the capricious Gods who reshaped the world then fled its planes; such debates are like candy to the wizard, and few are the partners he can share such discussions with. “Do you share his enjoyment for the arcane, Josleen? Or perhaps, do you share his talents for learning it?” The wizard's look becomes a shade crooked, then, as he speaks his last few words in conspiratorial tones, “And I do not think you are a pawn, to Eliason or anyone.”


Josleen’s been on a high-wire for the past couple of weeks. When interfacing with her friends, she takes on the emotional burden to be ‘on’ for them. Cheery, helpful, willing, available. In private, her experiences in Frostmaw take their toll. Svilfon’s all too logical explanation, suggestions, concerns are met with growing anxiety. She rubs at her collarbone in a nervous tick, her jaw clenching and unclenching. While he slips into a pleasant nostalgia of debates with her father, Josleen tunes him out to focus inwardly on negative thoughts. She bastes in self-pity. His final statement snaps her silence. “No-no-no-no-no,” she corrects, her voice thin. “You misunderstand. I. am. a. pawn.” Pinched fingers hammer the air on each period to emphasize her point. “And gladly. I am glaaaad to be a pawn. Because I don’t have any gods damned skills to be of any aid beyond gopher here. Alright? And yea, my father tried. Khanos knows he wanted me to be some arcane prodigy, an early-aged entrant to the mage’s guild, but guess what? It’s. not. happening.” Her hammering hand punctures the tension she spews between them. “And if you don’t want this council to happen, then please stop it. I have nothing.” Her eyes mist. “I don’t know what I am supposed to be doing here.” She points at the list of names. “I don’t even know those people. I met Hildegarde once.” An index finger stands to echo the singularity of that encounter. Her little breakdown is accompanied with a lot of high-handed gestures. “The only reason Ezekiel is invited to the council is because he lost his gods damned arm to an Ice Devil because he was slowed down trying to teleport my deadweight ass out of harm’s way.” The fact Ezekiel lost his arm is professed boldly as if it is common knowledge, but in truth given the chaos in Frostmaw and the disappearance of the Queen, it is unlikely many have been bothered to think of Ezekiel. “I couldn’t even cry right when he lost his arm. I tried to heal him, but-” She takes a deep breath, stretching out her tense jaw and rubbing at her cheeks with her palms. She leaves the sentence unfinished. After a brief beat, she laughs ruefully. “No, I do have a skill. I’m a loden stone for Ice Devils. Heck, I even fell down into their war camp. Down into the ice caves, Ice Devils and Giants are amassing weapons and supplies, keep dumb and terrible beasts in cages, and worshipping evil idols. The sneaky bastards have runes all over the walls and ceilings to make everything eerily silent. Couldn’t hear myself breathe.” Svilfon may also know that arcane abilities have been hampered (such as his recent teleportation), and it seems these runes may be the cause of that. Her misadventure behind enemy lines seems to have taken the biggest toll on Josleen, who blinks away a tear into the butt of her palm before it has a chance to cascade down her cheek. “Did you know that? Because I sure as heck can’t keep track of who knows what. That’s why Eliason wanted a council, and admittedly, yea we’re reaching for straws here, but what else? Huh? What do we have?” She shrugs, maintaining the stiff position before dropping her arms and shoulders sharply on an exhale.


Svilfon sits silently as Josleen unburdens herself on him; sharing what she knows, about what happened with Ezekiel, with the ice devils – the adventures which lead to pain and suffering, as well as he professions of being just a leaf blown upon the wind of other peoples' commands and suggestions. His face remains almost without expression, and certainly without any which are readable, before at long last, as her shoulders slump on the final exhale, he speaks. “You wish to be a pawn so you don't have to be responsible for your own actions? Because you think you have nothing of value to add to this war effort? That is the path of the coward. Yes, Ezekiel may have lost his arm. It is not your fault. People lose limbs, they lose eyes, they lose freedom... and yes, they lose their lives. This is Frostmaw!” The final word of that last sentence reverberates around the room with an intensity beyond a normal echo's strength. “You do not understand. Satoshi and myself went out to see what happened almost a month ago, and we were trapped within an anti-magic circle. We both almost died. Had she died, I would not have blamed myself, just as if I died she would not blame herself. Oh yes, we'd get vicious revenge on all those responsible, but we both understand the truth: Fighting beside each other, fighting for Frostmaw, for the giants... for everything this frozen City of War stands for... that is something worth doing, and if we die, or lose a limb, we accept it. You,” a finger is raised and pointed at Josleen, “ Do more insult to Ezekiel by your words than any mishap in an adventure could do. Listen to me well, woman.” His finger drops as he leans closer to Josleen, commanding her attention with an intense light within his pale gaze. “You will stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop accepting blame for the fickle nature of fate and its whims, and you will start acting like a proper soldier. Otherwise, you'll make me truly angry...” He leans a little closer, a dark promise of death written upon his features “And believe me, Josleen, whether you're the daughter of a friend of mine or not, if you make me angry, I will destroy you.” For a long moment he remains there, before leaning back once more and, ignoring the questions she asked him, he asks his own in softer tones, almost as if his past words were never spoken. “Now. You will tell me what you think we should do next. Not what Eliason says, or what you've heard the giants speak of, or the warriors in the various camps. You will tell me what you think, and we can proceed from there.”


Svilfon would have better luck bleeding a stone than getting a soldier out of Josleen's slight, impotent existence. But, then again, he is The Wizard, and could likely bleed a stone! His rallying cry has some effect, though his threat is far more effective. Be a soldier or be destroyed? When Josleen isn't using self-pity like soap (later, rinse, repeat), she's a survivalist. She needs to be a soldier now to survive. This roleplay as a soldier likely won't last past this encounter, but she'll dance for Svilfon right now like her life depends on it. She swallows hard once before offering, "Well... I wouldn't use the legionnaires. ...Armored super men? That's for field at battle with... rules and honor. This enemy won't meet them - I mean us. Us," she corrects, shooting a nervous glance at Svilfon to see if her othering of soldiers has upset him. "They won't meet us in a battlefield." It's so cute Josleen speaks as if she herself will ever see a battlefield. "They're sneaking around down there. By amassing our power, we give them easy intelligence on our next move. If we show our hands and then stupidly play that hand, they'll be well prepared. Amassing the legionnaires as false information is fine. Let them think we're going to use an armored army, and keep their focus on the legionnaires, while we actually strike more surgically. Take out their supplies, get rid of those runes, slaughter their beasts, and starve them of options for a while. That buys us time to figure out who is in charge. We only strike the leader. If we try to kill the lot of them, especially the ice giants down there, we risk escalating a tribal war. The Ice Devils are evil and strike without reason, sure, but the Ice Giant's vendetta on Frostmaw has given the devils focus - direction. I understand they didn't really have that before, right? It's weird that the Ice Devils are so orchestrated. I think the Giants have a hand to play there, and if we break up the giants, the devils may scatter again." She pauses before elaborating. "The enemy Ice Giants are more complex. They kill with purpose, not for sport. Killing them in droves hurts Frostmaw because it fuels their hate. We'll never kill them all. Even if there is a massacre, some survivor will return a decade or so from now, rearmored and repopulated and there will be a new war. That war won't stop. So, I say we try to kill their purpose in seiging war on Frostmaw. I don't know enough history to know what inspires them to attack, but that ideology is the true enemy. The Ice Giants will continue to attack unless their belief system changes." She has no bloodlust, and harbors no vengeance. She makes for a terrible soldier. However, her deep knowledge of epics and stories, many of them war stories, gives her insight into the motives of war which aids her as a strategist.


Svilfon listens in silence to Josleen's opinions on how best to wage war on that which threatens Frostmaw. His face is all-but unreadable as he does, taking in what she says, occasionally nodding and storing it all away. He did agree with a fair portion of her words, though the things he doesn't agree upon he keeps to himself. “Interesting, Josleen. I will think over what you've said... and you speak the truth about the complexity between the Ice Giants and those Ice Devils; ever are the beasts seeking destruction for destruction's sake – it makes them an enemy as hard to defeat as a dragon is. There can be no reasoning with them... so we must strike at their roots and make them see the only reward for their actions will be slow, painful death.” Those words are spoken conversationally – Svil, for all intents and purposes, could well be talking about the weather, judging by the amount of emotion he puts into casually speaking about the tortured deaths of his enemies. “The problem lays at the heart of this all... in Frostmaw, our patron God is Aramoth, the God of War. Perhaps it his him who drives them to fighting us, to ensure the strongest rule.” He shrugs, “But it doesn't matter. We cannot starve them out, for their food source is the same as ours. And we cannot sway their beliefs as they share the same ones we do. Nor can we deal with them how I would want to... an altogether explosive answer to the questions posed, but one which would harm Frostmaw itself – something I am unwilling to do.” He falls into a contemplative silence then, before lifting a hand and tapping his bottom lip. “What we need is more information, I think. You have been to their lair before, and you lived to speak about it. Tell me... what did you truly see there?” He falls silent then as he hears footsteps coming towards them, and an almost imperceptible gesture is sent at the woman, that she too should fall silent. The wizard was cautious, even here, at having future plans, or even current thought processes, known to the enemies which seek Frostmaw. So he falls into silence, waiting to see who comes, and letting his agile mind think over what Josleen said in a more thorough and complete way than it appears he did with his replies... it seems the wizard likes to keep his cards close to his chest, even around allies... that way, no one will truly know what he intends.


Hildegarde had overheard snippets of the conversation, something of a council, something of war and the Exile giants and in times like these, the mere mention of exiles was enough to capture her rapt attention. So it is without further ado that the knight joins in on the conversation without an invitation: "You talk of war yet do not include the so called Protector of Frostmaw?" it was a title she was quickly accepting, mostly because of her chat with Satoshi and the renewed sense of vigor she had. The butt of her halberd tapped on the ground with each step, her limp having reduced greatly but still lingering. "Pardon my lack of invitation to this conversation," she said courteously, "but I feel that this one that I simply must be a part of." That said and a champion smile offered, she dipped her head to each in turn, "Lady Josleen. Wizard." It was obvious the Silver was here to lend a hand in whatever way that she could, be it through her words, her brawn or her will.


Josleen shrugs at Svilfon's suggestion that Aramoth's patronage of the city may be behind this incessant war. The bard has never worried much over the affairs of the gods. She's a student of all the arts, and the role of gods in epics has always been tangential and formulaic. Josleen's love for stories blurs the line between story canon and real world fact. To wit, she commits this error now and shares her insightful knowledge of the behavior of the gods, flirting with blasphemy in the process. "The hatred Aramoth sewed into the hearts of Frostmaw's allies and enemies will burn long past Aramoth's interest in Frostmaw." The layman's version: Don't worry, your god will leave you. Josleen immediately picks up on Svilfon's subtle cues, falling silent with him. She may lack warrior prowess and magical acumen, but she is armed with a rich social hand - her livelihood as a musician depends on it. She turns towards the limp already wearing a broad smile, but that broad smile grows wider at the word 'lady.' She hasn't been called a lady in far too long, and she likes the way it fits. "Good afternoon, Dame Hildegarde. Please join us. Your timing is perfect. I was just telling S-" she almost slips and says 'Sir,' quickly corrects, "Svilfon about my, uh, misadventure." She waits for Hildegarde to settle in before recounting her time behind enemy lines. The memory is still fresh and raw, and while she enjoys spinning yarns of other heroes, she finds nothing heroic in her own tale. "Well... as you know, there was an Ice Devil ambush at the Eastern gate. During the battle, I was crushed under the weight of a devil and... well fell. Through a snowhole. A crevice. Some bubble? I'm-I'm really not sure, it all happened so fast. I just fell, and was soon caught in a narrow shaft. I had to crawl through a tunnel, deeper undergound, until I found a hole in the ceiling of an ice cave. Below, I saw a group of Ice Giants, maybe 4? 5? They were huddled around a map of the city, but superimposed on the map was the tunnel and ice cave routes. They looked like they were talking, but I couldn't hear anything. I mean... anything. I couldn't hear myself breathe. The place was supernaturally silenced. There were runes engraved in the ice on the walls and ceiling. They also had crates, barrels, racks, everything full of food, supplies, armor, weapons. And in cages they kept wolves and other terrible beasts." She pauses to make sure they follow her story well enough. "I waited for them to leave then jumped down into the cave. It was my only choice. I had no other exit. I had to cross their territory. Luckily, the eerie silence aidedmy stealth. I... I managed to get pretty far I think." A finger traces her winding path from the Eastern gate to the academy. " Every tunnel, every cave, was full of...much of the same. There were lots of Ice Giants, but a few Ice Devils too. They were less organized though. The Ice Giants had a schedule, a routine. It was easier to sneak around them. The Ice Devils were more random. They rarely mingled with the Ice Giants, but it was obvious their efforts had a common, concerted effort, if that makes sense? The way waitresses at a pub may not talk to each other, but they're all working towards the same goal. Like that. Anyway, here," she taps the outskirts of the academy. "The runes grew more varied. There were new ones I hadn't seen before. Also, there was an altar that I believe was dedicated to Vakmatharas - at least, it's consistent with what Eli has explained to me of Vakmatharas and he found a similar artifact at the Eastern gate the day I was taken. Here there were more Ice Devils than throughout the rest of the caves and tunnels. That's ultimately where I got caught, by an Ice Devil." She swallows hard, face stretching over a deep inhale. "Um... well, they didn't kill me, obviously. Instead, they put me in a capsule made of black ice." She looks to Hildegarde. "You've come in contact with that. There was a small air bubble and they threw me out in front of..." Her face winces at the memory. "...Ezekiel. Gods," she buries her face in her hand for a brief moment, trying to compose herself. The last piece of the story is the hardest for her to recall. "He tried to break me free - he did break me free, that's how I survived. But," Her teeth scrape at her lower lip. "In the process, he was corrupted, much the same as you were." Again, to Hilde. "He's... well, he's free of that now. He's... alright...?" Even she doesn't know why her tone thinned into a query.


Svilfon, after tipping his hat to Hildegarde with a brief smile, turns to focus again on Josleen. As she shares her story he listens in silence, taking it all in without visible reaction, except, when she puts her head in her hands, he frowns a little bit. When she finally falls into her own silence, he speaks before Hildegarde would have a chance to answer. “Vakmatharas... perhaps I should speak to the lichdrow.” He looks around when his words fade, looking it seems as if he didn't mean to say them aloud, before he shrugs more to himself than anyone else, and carries on. “The God of Death stalking the realms of Aramoth does not bode well.” Fingers begin to beat a rhythmless tune on the table as he carries on, “And before you can answer, lady knight, I must say again, Josleen, that this was not your fault. There can be no action without information, and no knowledge of enemies' actions comes without risk. You did right, and I am sure Ezekiel would agree... well, maybe -he- wouldn't agree, but he should agree, and if I get him alone soon, I will ensure he does.” There's no hint of threat in those words, they are simply stated as fact. The wizard can be persuasive when he wants to be. He nods again, this time to Hildegarde, before falling back into his contemplative silence, to allow Hildegarde to share her own insights.


Hildegarde waited in utter silence for Svilfon to say his piece and to take Josleen's words into consideration. The knight was patient, she was in no rush when it came to war. When the wizard finally nods her way, she nodded in reply, as if to accept or confirm that it was her turn to speak. Offering a warm smile to Josleen, she plants a hand on her shoulder in order to be reassuring before taking a seat beside them. "My lady Josleen, I am no Dame. Just a humble knight who would be happy to do her duty and serve. However, I am concerned with what I hear - yet glad to know you are unscathed and have been courageous enough to bring this information to us." The knight did her best to make sure Josleen knew she - if not Frostmaw as a whole - appreciated her efforts and offered information. "But these ice tunnels... I believe that may make Frostmaw as a whole rather unsafe. Indeed, think how easily an Ice Devil can travel already! To have secret tunnels at their disposal would certainly speed any assault and would explain how they have managed to travel across the city so rapidly without even being seen." The Silver's hand reached up to cup her own chin, thinking on the topic of war and their supposed enemies. "Svilfon is right. To cut off their food supply would mean cutting off our own, given we share the supply. But their weapon supply is worrying, actually... Where are they getting it? To forge it would become obvious to any of our scouts out searching, to steal it would gain reports, to import it... it's doable but it might be noticed. Going straight into battle is what our men want," she said gently, glancing between Josleen and Svilfon. "That is their way and that is the way their God approves of. However," she said, raising her hand to suggest she had much more to add, "we have a Legion of soldiers from Chartsend at our disposal. Average sized men facing against giants from the front would simply be squished and that's the terrible truth. But to rally behind the giants when they do not expect it? Then you can slay them. It is a tactic we might use to our advantage." The knight offered Svilfon a nod, "Hakkon rose from the dead, but he implied someone of greater importance than him did the raising. It's confusing. Worrying, even." But at long last, she answers the supposed query from Josleen, "My lady, I have every confidence Sir Ezekial will be quite all right. If it helps, however, I'd suggest taking him to the shamans just to check or to receive a blessing that might ward off any nasty effects from the ice."


Josleen indulges in a private, shy smile at Svilfon's comment regarding Ezekiel. "I have no doubt he would agree with you..." Her gaze grows distant, wistful before Hildegarde's words capture her attention fully. "Ezekiel did see a shaman," she explains before her tone shifts to give the topic of war its due severity. "I keep hearing questions, and as far as I can tell, we know where to get the information." She throws up open palms, dispeling any responsibility from her words. "Not that I know much about war, but the Ice Caves are ripe to be mined for additional information." She sucks on her teeth pensively. "The silence down there makes a stealthy infiltration easier. Still carries its risks, and it doesn't gleam information from the otuh of the enemy themselves..." Her head cants to the side, brows quirking in interest at a thought she has yet to share "...Oooor someone can be sent undercover - an ice giant playing the part of exile. Learn of the enemy's plans, inform the Queen, and if necessary, sabotage from the inside." A coy grin tugs at her features. "It would need to be a great actor. I studied acting in Cenril, actually. My passion was always music, but I dabbled in all the arts - playwriting too, always fun! Regret not specializing in acting sometimes. Well, maybe it isn't too late, eh?" She glances eagerly between Hildegarde and Svilfon, and doesn't find a very captive audience for the story of Josleen: Art Student, Musician, Actress? Best to return to the topic of mutual interest, "Well, it would be quite a challenge. I'd offer," she states non-comittally, "but alas, I am no Ice Giant and never will be." That's a very stupid thing to assume, especially from the daughter of an illusionist.


Svilfon listens in silence to all the words which are spoken, and occasionally, when appropriate, he nods along in an absent gesture. He is paying full attention, despite his appearances. When Josleen talks about her plan, he chuckles, “You know, Josleen, there is an apprentice of my Guild who has just recently entered our ranks. He is an illusionist,” Svil pauses for just a moment to let those words sink in, “...who I believe is quite talented. He could be persuaded rather easily to help disguise you, perhaps even if you can capture, alive or otherwise, an exile giant, he could perhaps shift your appearance to look like his. Then you could see how well your plan works.” He grins again, rather liking the dangerous idea. “I will be there to supervise his casting of the spell, also. I know enough to help out and ensure you do not shift back to normal too quickly. But you will have a limited time frame... and the results of failure will more than likely mean your death at the hands of the exiles. But what is life without risk?” He grins for a final time at that.


Hildegarde was no mage and she was a poor liar, so the thought of a disguise seemed to disquiet her. She was a battle-hardened warrior, a woman who was used to the path of the sword and blood rather than magic. But she had seen Svilfon's abilities, seen the results of his powerful magic and even experienced it for herself. "Such a mission would not be without risk, which is obvious," she said, glancing between Svilfon and Josleen. "To commit to such a mission would take a great deal of courage, but I think the rewards from such a risk would be worth it."


Josleen's eyes all but bug out of her head at Svilfon's suggestion. "Oh, b-b-but," she stammers, looking to Hildegarde for a way out. The knight starts off well, highlighting the risks, but then veers down back towards Svilfon's camp and the bard is left wading alone in the NOPE! pool. She laughs uneasily, her body hunching forward cowardly despite her recent pep talk with Svilfon. "Would they really? I mean, what are the rewards?" Nervous chuckle. Rubbing of the collarbone. "Let's not get caught up in the razzmatazz of what is, admittedly, a glamorous idea. But what rewards can we reap exactly?" The laundry list of rewards she so recently recited have conveniently disappeared from her mind. She pointedly avoids Svilfon's stare, pinning all her hopes on Hildegarde. Svilfon has made his intolerance for sniveling non-soldiers quite clear.


Svilfon puts on quite a good imitation of Josleen's voice as he replies, "They could learn of the enemy's plans, inform the Queen, and if necessary, sabotage from the inside." He grins, before resuming in his normal voice. "You said it yourself, Josleen. There is much to gain. Information is a dangerous weapon, and this seems a good opportunity to gain some more. I will tell both your captain, Eliason, and also the queen about your bravery in accepting such a task." The wizard solemnly nods his head, seeming to have forgotten the whole... asking her to do it part. Pale eyes shift then to Hildegarde and the merest ghost of a smile brushes across the wizard's beard-hidden lips. "The thought that her carrying in a 'prisoner' to aid in escape, and perhaps learn whom else is under their control, could well be useful. But I do not think lady icicle would enjoy me asking her valiant knight to partake in something which would make what is already dangerous turn into something as deadly as a waiting avalanche with Percy flying around above it." The wizard nods again, then. "But I do like this idea. I can bring Kovl here easily enough, if you agree, lady knight." Seems the wizard isn't against asking Hildegarde questions he really should be asking his unaccepting volunteer to such a task.


Hildegarde smiled reassuringly to Josleen, "You yourself have outlined all the rewards to be had from such a mission, my lady, and none would be able to pull it off other than you. You have came up with the idea, for anyone else to do it, it'd only be a poor attempt." The knight then looked to Svilfon, ready to suggest that Josleen have some kind of protector, only to find the wizard volunteering her. "I am willing," she said, "and I am happy to lay my life on the line for the Lady Josleen," she said, mostly for Josleen's benefit. "However, I would need at least one of my weapons smuggled in if I was to be of any assistance."


One a scale on one to five, one being "strongly dislike" and five being "strongly like," how would Josleen rate Svilfon and Hildegarde? Svilfon gets a one and Hilde gets over 9,000. The bard was all set to protest Svil's Sven-awful imitation of her, but then the gods saw it fit to bestow upon her what she assumes is a trump card. It's her deus ex machina. She's invincible now. It's a skull-bashing, evil-shredding dragon - how. you. like. her. now, exiles? Suddenly the mission seems like a piece of cake - a piece of crumb cake*. "Dame Hildegarde, your kindness is outshined only by your valiance." Boy is she lucky she walked in on Eliason and Hildegarde that day, or the dragon may have been slain. Convincing Eliason to spare Hildegarde's life has turned out to be the single smartest thing Josleen has ever done. "Though I think you should be disguised as well. You are an icon in these parts, and the idea that a low or middle ranked exile would attempt to and succeed at capturing you would garner suspicion. Not to mention, the restraints on you would be far superior to the restraints used on a less impressive prisoner." Flatter, flatter, flatter. "Also, we should try to capture a middle-aged, male exile. From what little I know of their culture, I think I will be able to move more seamlessly among them disguised with that profile."


Svilfon nods his head as the two discuss his idea, or Josleen's idea... let's call it Josleen's idea, in case it all goes wrong. Fingers begin to lazily tap on the table without real rhythm as he listens, until at last he nods his head. "I will go and retrieve Kovl, you two can work out the best way to get a male Frost Giant exile... Even if you can dig up a fresh one, it should do fine." He tips his hat at that. "We can meet back up here in a day or so, and see what else is required for the plan to go forward. Are we agreed?" He pauses then, to see if there's any questions, while absently letting his thoughts wander from his mind, and seek out the pendant he gave Kovl.


Hildegarde gently shook her head at Josleen's words, given her tendency to become extremely awkward and bashful with kind words about her. She was not a woman who thought well of herself, this was common knowledge in Frostmaw. But then she pipes up about their plan: "My lady, I mean no offense, but I believe I have some suggestions about your idea. If you hand me in disguised, they're only going to kill me. If you hand me in beaten and sore as myself, they are like to... er, spare me for questioning." She knew fine well that 'questioning' meant torture followed by death and possibly a ressurection to be used as an undead toy. "You must take me in as I am. They will recognise my sword, even if you disguise me, Hakkon knows it and so do his men. Oathkeeper is as well-known to them as I." As for Josleen's disguise, she adds gently and with a tone of voice that was calm and only suggestive, "While I believe your disguise will be a good one, for what a fine actress you must be, I think you are more likely to have fortune as a woman. A disgruntled war widow who betrayed a knight of Frostmaw or a war widow who subdued me due to my honour, they will be less likely to question you and more likely to merely praise you as a spearwife," she explained. "Alas, the decision is yours, but I ask only that you do not disguise me. I'm not quite ready to die just yet," she grinned.


Josleen shrugs and nods at the Svilfon's suggestion to move forward. "Sure, that sounds good. Have a good day, Svilfon." She forces herself to smile a cordial farewell at the frustrating wizard. When her attention returns to Hildegarde, her smile turns genuine. "I defer to your judgment on how you should be presented. If you say an unknown prisoner would be killed on sight, I believe you. But wouldn't they also harm you? Why is it necessary for you to suffer through that?" She shakes her head, throwing her arms up. "No, no, no we're getting stuck on one idea. What if we're going about this all wrong and instead of going in as a prisoner, you go in as an ice giant as well?"