RP:Just Another Warrior's Guild Meeting...

Part of the Dissonance Theory Arc

Part of the On Stranger Tides Arc

Summary: In the aftermath of the mission to the Demon Archipelago, Lionel gathers the Warrior's Guild and its extended allies to host a funeral for the fallen. Following a banquet, he summons the others to a meeting, where tensions rise during a conversation about the boons each participant in the mission has received and the knowledge about the battles to come that the future versions of Penelope and Rilla were able to impart to Lionel before his rescue. When Khitti and Kasyr challenge an enraged Krice over Quintessa's presence within the organization, things veer off-track irreparably; after all, it's just another Warrior's Guild meeting...

Vigilanti Semper

Starry evening fell upon the canyon and Vigilanti Semper lit up with the brightness of a thousand candles that came in nearly as many dazzling colours. The courtyard had been transformed into a place of mourning where priests of multiple religious sects gathered together in united purpose: to remember the dead. Lanterns joined the candles in their blaze, each one adorned with beet-red papier-mâché to cast a muted glow. Three lacquer coffins were kept at the center of it all, closed and purely ceremonial. The bodies of Harry MacDougall, Sali of the Crags, and Quinton Navarre could not be recovered from the Demon Archipelago; not when an eldritch beast had swallowed two of them and a Dragana's errant sword slew the other. It was important to Lionel O'Connor that they be buried in spirit, or burned, or whatever it was that each of their loved ones deemed proper. Harry's parents, no older than forty-five from the looks of them, sobbed in the gathering crowd. Sali's orc-kin, ten in all, beated their drums as was their tradition when tragedy marked their clan. As for Quinton, his able crew of pirates — including the mysterious Risu — would not have moved an inch from the ground nearest their captain's coffin if their own lives depended on it. Not tonight. There was a conspicuous open spot among that pirate crew of the Maighdhean Mhara, and more than once Risu and her compatriots would glance in Kasyr's direction should he arrive, hoping he would join. If he came here with others, they would gladly make room for unexpected guests as well.

The command wing of Vigilanti Semper had its enormous double doors wide open tonight. There was a banquet in the hall filled with sweetmeats, assorted cheese, and fruits and vegetables galore. Past the banquet hall, the senior officers' table had been widened to accommodate a growing number of members, and chairs were set for the invited to take their seats later after the funeral ceremony concluded. Ample space was given so that soldiers, recruits, and anyone else interested in hearing the Warrior's Guild's next plan of action could attend and voice any thoughts and doubts of their own. But all of that would have to wait for a while. Lionel hated speeches. Ironic, really, but true nonetheless. He also hated suits. Black silk shirts and matching slacks were all he ever needed. But the local barkeeps kept urging him to dress up until he did. The thing felt tight, uncomfortable, unnatural, and damn near inhumane. But he wore it. Standing behind the coffins, close to the priests and most intimate among the mourners, the Imperator addressed the growing crowd. "Yesterday, a merchant passing through Semper noticed the preparations we were making for tonight's funeral and dared to ask me one of the most disturbing questions I've ever heard. Counting his coins from the tidy little profit he'd just made selling supplies vital for the war effort, he turned to me and said, 'Why so much pomp for just three people? Surely, you've lost more before.'" Lionel winced. "I may have punched him a few times. He may or may not be in sickbay right now figuring out how to sue me for physical and emotional distress. I will neither confirm nor deny that six of his bones are broken and his jaw looks like jelly." He paused, realizing he should leave things there and get back on-track before this turned into a horror novel.

"But I digress. The answer in the moment may have been my fists, but the real reason we're here is because three people or three thousand — it doesn't matter. Lives are lives. Death is death. Wherever their souls may be, they'll never again be of this earth. They believed in us. Believed in our mission. Fought for a braver future. A better future. A future they'll never get to see. And so we honour them." It was a remarkable thing, seeing priests from separate orders working together in each of their ways to wish the dead good tidings on their journey into the unknown. It was a symbol, perhaps, of that braver, better future. "But you know, that merchant was wrong. He didn't have to be wrong. We'd still be here, just as somber, if he was right. But we aren't just here for three people. We're here to remember those who died over the course of a future that Rilla O'Mordha and Penelope Halifax successfully cancelled. Millions. All of Lithrydel, slain, eaten, discarded. We remember them. And we remember the two women who may stand among us today, but in an alternate timeline, they knowingly erased themselves to give us all a chance to live. Quinton Navarre died a hero. Harry MacDougal died a hero. Sali of the Crags died a hero. And Penelope and Rilla died as heroes, too. Every candle you see stands for a hundred souls lost to our enemy. Every lantern marks the new beginning we've been gifted. Remember tonight. Remember the fallen." One more pause. Lionel looked around, boldly morphing his sorrow into a pointed smirk. "And eat, drink, and get loud, because what good's a funeral if we don't celebrate the way the dead would want us to." It wasn't long before guests were carving into their dinners and pouring all manner of beverage into their mugs. Tears fell from cheeks, but soon they were replaced with laughter. As for Lionel, he vanished into the command wing, silent with a drink in his hand, awaiting whoever decided to join him for the meeting.

Khitti || [1 of 2] A certain redhead and her dark-haired child was amongst the crowd, doing their best to stay quiet and away from the others to allow those that knew the fallen to be up closer to the caskets. “Mommy, where’s daddy?” Dominic very much missed Brand and yet Khitti knew not who her child was talking about. “What…?” The half-Catalian went to speak again, but it was clear he was getting frustrated by his mother’s sudden lack of knowledge when it came to that oh-so-important person in their family. “I said--!” Dominic wasn’t going to get very far with that attitude. Khitti put a finger to his lips and shushed him, “Not now. We’ll talk about it later, okay? Your uncle is saying something very important and people are trying to listen.” But, Dominic had something very important to say too! He made this known with a heavy sigh and an adorable pout--it was definitely something he picked up from both of his parents, except much cuter and with less adult angst. “If you’re good, you can have cake before bed and your chickens can sleep with you tonight,” Khitti whispered. Dominic’s eyes lit up. Cake -and- chickens?! He nodded enthusiastically and put a finger to his mouth to show that he understood the need for silence. He really didn’t, but he very much wanted that cake.

Khitti || [2 of 2] Lionel would make his speech and head into the building for the meeting and Khitti would soon follow. The former templar would find one of the chairs beside her brother’s and settle into it. It was meeting time and Dominic knew this was also important. He reached into his little suit coat, pulled out a dull green phrygian cap and put it on his head to signify that he too was ready for the important meeting. It had been Onyx’s originally, and between the hat and the mention of alternate timelines in Lionel’s speech, Khitti could only hug Dominic more tightly once he got settled. She had been determined ever since she found out that Onyx had been her child in another timeline, that she needed to give Dominic the best life she possibly could. The fact that Dominic kept that cap was a constant reminder of this need and she thought about it now, realizing how much harder it’d gotten of late to keep this promise. “Mommy, I’m hungry…” Khitti blinked, looked down at Dominic--who had turned on those puppy dog eyes all toddlers seemed to have when they really wanted something--and nodded. “Alright. Probably best to get it over with now before your mother forgets to feed herself again,” she said. Leaving Dominic in the chair to hold her spot, Khitti went to grab food, soon coming back with two plates and two drinks--lemonade for the kid and a slightly spiked glass of tea (can’t get drunk with the kid present, but she needed -something to dull her nerves a little)--and there she’d sit unless someone wanted her for something.

Krice had been entirely absent from the public eye since the trek to the Demon Archipelago, never venturing too far from his secluded haunts in Frostmaw. Now, after leaving his wyvern to hunt for food further south, he occupied a space outside the gathering to observe from a comfortable distance, dressed in his usual black garb with his back-mounted katana accessible over his tight shoulder. Standing silently with shoulders relaxed and eyes half-lidded, one could feasibly assume him to be bored; maybe it was just the shadow of the funeral weighing him down. It was good to see Lionel up and talking, at least, after his ordeal. Krice didn't seem overly engaged in any one thing, a half-focused stare passing over intermittent points in the space he shared with others. The scent of food was distant, even to his sensitive olfactory, but it wasn't pleasant to smell. Talk of Penelope and Rilla's future selves only returned the warrior's mind to the wretchedness he had endured and witnessed at the Demon Archipelago and he shut his eyes, stealing a moment to center himself; the last thing he needed was misery over the losses of a future that would not come to pass. At his side, the enigma's left arm trembled subtly at random intervals, mostly obscured by the full length of his shirt sleeve - both hanging loose to his wrists. Shifting, Krice eased into the wall against his right shoulder and watched with noncommittal interest as the funeral proceeded, concluded, and guests and comrades thereafter mingled.

Quintessa did her best to look presentable for this event, adorned in a fine, lace-up black dress under the fur-lined cloak she always wore, and with an overdone amount of eyeliner to hide the bags that formed under them. Still, even with her hair looking nice and her tire eyes hidden, the changeling still looked out of it. She only partially listens to Lionel’s speech at her mismatched eyes stare at the coffins. Sure, people died every day but one body here in particular was her own doing, and the guilt of letting her fear be weaponized against the Warrior’s Guild kept gnawing on her mind. “What would they want us to do?” Quintessa asks herself under her breath as she raises a cigarette to her lips, the scent of clove mingling with the smell of the food coming from inside. The dark fae girl wasn’t hungry, however, and would remain here by the caskets, staring in solem sorrow as the crowd moved around her.

Orion and Kailani arrive arm in arm with their kids just behind them. Grimclaw is busy scanning everyone and everything while his baby blue dragon of a brother, Aspen, sits on his back and does the same. Orion is quietly giggling as he admires Kailani. The bardbarian plucks a blue flower from his beard and places it behind Kai's ear. As the coffins come in to view, Orion stops to say a few quiet words to Kailani. Something about not quite expecting the current event. He even quietly warns Grimclaw and Aspen to behave like gentlemen with a loving pat to their heads. As they move forward, Lionel's words fill Orion's ears and heart. The bearded man closes his eyes after Lionel's speech and hums a prayer to himself. He opens his eyes with a soft smile then looks to Kai and the kids, "Food time?"

Rorin looked across the courtyard at the graves and sighed out smoke from his home rolled herbs. He considered briefly going over there and sitting with Quintons loyal crew. Would that be insulting? He wanted to show solidarity, but he didn’t know if they would blame him and say he got Quinton killed. As Lionel got to talking about alternate timelines the pilgrim rubbed his face until spots popped over his eyes. “Huh? Oh, thanks.” Rorin took an offered whisky with gratitude from a companion who now stood close to his side, “I was just thinking about this.” He said before a drink. “Thought so.” Was the only reply. His companion drank too before Rorin moved to console others, lead prayers, and head inside.

Sargaso wasn’t one to read the paper, and that lack of knowledge caught up to him quick and early in Lionel’s speech. He had only heard murmurings of a war, but he wasn’t too worried about it, seeing as how it didn’t involve his lot in Southern Cenril too directly (as far as he knows, and he doesn’t know very far given he don’t read the paper). Perhaps it would have been wise to brush up on current events before joining the warrior’s guild. Yeah. Dumbfounded, he scratches the stubble on his jaw as Lionel winds up his speech without so much as a clue as to who the enemy is. He knows a Penelope, pretty dark headed girl, Yerrel’s student, a healer. Surely Lionel’s talking about some other Penelope. The paladin masks the overwhelming feelings of unpreparedness, inadequacy and fraud with his signature swagger and cocksure ease. Recognizing Khitti, he follows his Devout guild leader into the meeting room to see if maybe he can squeeze some war facts from her without trying too hard. Asking direct questions like that can be real uncool, a real sweaty move, you know? When he gets Khitti’s attention, he lifts a hand in greeting. “Hi Khitti. Some war, huh?” His eyes ever so casually grace the map to see if he recognizes the land.

Kasyr has not often attended funerals- and yet he's arrived, even foregoing his battered pants and trenchcoat, for a freshly tailored black spider-silk suit. What he -hasn't- discarded, was his habit of wearing scarves, though the one wrapped about his neck looks far less animate then the norm, a mundane grey tucked around his neck to stave off the cold. Awkwardly, he'd glance about the courtyard, before taking note of Risu's invitation and ambling to take his place alongside the rest of Quinton's crew. Once there, the only thing he can think to do is a few solemn nods, and a stilted offer of smokes to those who might need them. Frankly, he's pretty quick to take himself up on the offer- puffing his way through the crux of Lionel's speech- though the way he approvingly nods at certain moments seems to indicate he's paying attention. And that's about all he's heeding right now, because when dinner and drinks are spread out- in a feast to honor the fallen, the Kensai can't muster up even the ghost of an appetite.

Rilla was not one for formalities, ceremonies, any of it. She wasn’t before she was sired and was far worse at them now. Yet somehow somebody had gotten through to her about the seriousness of the evening, and the normally-wild woman arrived thoroughly tamed. Auburn curls were pulled partway back, out of her eyes but not her face, her eyes were lightly smoked out into pale skin, lips were painted a soft rose. A black blouse was tucked into her also-black leggings and then her boots. It’s the best you’ll get from her, let’s keep the expectations low. She kept her eyes down, or up, on whatever was moving that wasn’t looking at her. She stayed back, not quite ready to be part of the mourning for people she didn’t know, although the way that Lionel spoke about them could have made anyone a little misty-eyed. Displays of emotion were difficult, and Rilla was rarely ready and willing to share hers to begin with, but talk about her future self always made it worse. She licked her lips, her face even as she lingered looking in at them, arms crossed over her chest. Hesitant to join, hesitant to leave, and ultimately her discomfort got the best of her as she headed for the drinks in search of anything to take the edge off.

Iintahquohae knew nothing but the names of the individuals the trio of caskets belonged to, but dressed herself in all black to be polite, scimitar in its scabbard resting at her side. Milling about the courtyard after Lionel spoke felt disrespectful to her, so she didn't stay among the mourners for long. Wandering into the banquet hall, Iintahquohae settles into a seat decidedly out of the way, close to a wall near the entryway. At social gatherings that didn't involve frilly ball gowns, jewels and elaborate costumes, the seamstress didn't make the effort to stick out and be a walking advertisement for her shop. Instead she'd keep an eye out for Kasyr or Rilla, should either wander by. Chin rests in the heel of her palm while she stares off, while the other hand tucks a braid behind her ear.

Mathollak was luckily unaware of the people whose death was causing this part of the occasion. Blissfully innocent, spared from loss. Nontheless, the Axe of love took care to be as respectful as possible, joining the clerics of his church in prayer, and uniform. Instead of his classic armor of red painted steel, it was crimson silk robes and golden bindings. On the back, was a bleeding heart of gold in front of an axe, dripping into a golden chalice. It was important to wear loose fitting clothes like these on a funeral. The mourning rites for followers of Delisha (in some sects), meant imbibing enough for yourself, but also those lives lost. As such they lingered around the loaded buffet, chatting and eating and drinking like gluttons.

Kailani does indeed arrive with Orion, arm and arm as described, and with a griffon and a baby dragon trailing behind them. It was much like the first time they paid the place a visit, both seemed to be in high spirits as they first entered. Note the smile on Kailani's lips when Orion places that flower in her hair? Well it fades fairly quickly as it did not take Kailani long to notice the coffins present and the druid frowned upon making this observation. The druid bobs her head in a nod as Orion comments on the unexpectedness of the event. Unexpected, but it definitely got the druid's mind turning over a few grim thoughts. Orion's suggestion for food is met with a nod, the duo soon making their way to the spread of food. Okay, this moment was more for Orion's benefit than Kailani's. She did not seem particularly interested in eating at this -exact- moment. Sargaso and Khitti are both greeted with a nod in passing. What do people even chat about at a funeral? Kailani does not know. Thus, food time.

Krice caught a whiff of something foul - and it wasn't clove. With only marginal awareness in his eyes, he scanned the room in languid sweeps for the origin of that scent, a slightly narrowed eye portraying his frustration that he seemed incapable of pinpointing its location. It was mostly by coincidence that he glanced across the back of an unfortunately familiar figure, small and pretentious like she gave a damn about the death of anyone. His heartbeat quickened uncomfortably and the tremble returned to his arm. He wasn't fearful of Quintessa, no, but rather afraid of staining the proceedings with her entrails if he allowed his anger to consume him. The tremble intensified and he lifted both arms into a tight fold across his chest to hold the left one still. For now he would observe, silently loathing the creature who filled his vision.

Khitti seemed to be a million miles away once Sargaso got Khitti’s attention. “Hm? Oh. Yes. It’s terrible.” See, she was too busy dwelling on what Dominic meant by ‘where’s daddy?’. She’d never spoken to him before about his father. She didn’t even know the dude’s name. One night stand and all that. Or so Viera’s magic had led her to believe. “I’m sure Lionel will fill all you newcomers in soon. Or I will. Or…” Khitti stopped short, crimson brows knitting together in thought. What the hell was Dominic talking about?! Ugh. He always seemed to know things she didn’t or see things she never saw. “Mommy…?” Khitti blinked again, eyeing Dominic as he shoved a piece of ham into his face while using the other hand to point at the paladin of Selene, “Oh. Yes. Sorry, Sargaso. This whole thing…” She motioned towards the window, where the courtyard laid just outside it. “It’s a lot to think about. Just a lot on my mind at the moment. Have some food and make yourself comfortable! Like Lionel said, gotta celebrate life and all that,” she said, offering the paladin a faint smile. Kailani also received a nod before Khitti went back to brooding over the strange things her child said.

Sargaso lifts a chin in greeting at Kailani and Orion as they pass by. "Sup."

Penelope kept herself behind most of the crowd in the back. The celebration of life also carried much sorrow, and the physician remained in the background, per usual. Emotion was normally harder to handle in a thick crowd. One on one interactions made it easier to comprehend and soothe. Of course, Nel was dressed in the formal attire to pay her respects—a plain black midi dress with quarter sleeve—but a single orange poppy was tied in her hair in a very low, messy bun. Remembrance. To honor the fallen. As Lionel’s speech begins, the Ardelian acknowledges the fallen and keeps her head bowed in order to pay the respects of the soldiers. A tear was not shed, but her heart swelled for those who had risked their lives in the process. After the speech is over, her chin raises before the crowd moves to make conversation, eat, and drink. In the meantime, the healer also finds the food table because in tight situations, it was easier to busy herself with food while the others continued to mourn the loss of the once living.

Quintessa continues to smoke her black cigarette, leaving a sickly sweet cloud above her as she continues to think about her place here, and if she was more of a danger to them or a help. She couldn’t decide, but she got the distinct feeling she wasn’t the most popular person in the guild, especially based on some of the suspicious looks she earned from a few people in the crowd. Did they know? How much did they know? Quintessa sighs, pushing her paranoid thoughts out of her head as she scans the people gathered, making a note of those she recognized. It wasn’t until she caught the piercing glare of Krice did the teenager frown and look away. “Great… he’s here…” Quintessa mutters to herself, feeling a tad more vulnerable without her weapon than she had ten minuets ago.

Sargaso is actually great with kids. Hudson and Alvina’s daughters and son are his nieces and nephew. He squats down to be eye level with Dominic and lifts a hand to receive a tiny high five. “‘Sup little dude. What you got there, ham?” Once Dominic reacts however he wants to react, Sarge stands up again having completed his uncle-like duty. The Landon children have him well trained. He’s about to try and squeeze more information out of Khitti without seeming too sweaty when he notices her far off gaze. Assuming she’s mourning the dead, the sailor decides to give her space. “Yea, real tragic,” he says. “Make sure you get some food in you.” He drifts off to see if he knows anyone else here. Spying Mathollak, he steers clear of the fool and makes a beeline for the bar.

Orion fed the kiddos first, of course. He hand fed a few small cuts of meat to Aspen first. Grimclaw nipped at Orion meanwhile but Mr.Dynjapsa held a stern finger to the winter griffon, "I said what I said," before tossing his meal to him. Orion quietly chuckled then started a large plate of food for OriKai to munch off of. Mostly Ori though, at least for now. Familiar faces received a polite nod or wave. Was that Khitti?! There's that red face of his! Ori whispers loudly to his lady, "Was that Khitti? That was Khitti.." He's such a fangirl.

Mathollak takes it upon himself to invite others to honor those that passed, ordering drinks at the bar. Sargaso intends to avoid him, but somehow ends up at the bar anyways. "Well if it isn't captain dickbeard," he says playfully to Sargaso as he presents him with cheap beer (Sargaso's favorite). Then he speaks in low tones to him, "You know them? The guys that died?"

Rilla, in the interest of not having to think, found her first glass of wine and downed it at once. Much to the surprise of a more-conservative onlooker who she shot an apologetic glance to as she filled her glass once more and turned back to face the others, blue eyes wide with apprehension. Not today. The vampire shook her head and headed back inside, following after Lionel who she was going to have to talk to eventually. Not that she didn’t want to, but she didn’t want to intrude. She followed his scent, mostly, and knocked on the doorframe when she found him. A crooked smile tugged across her lips. “So now you’re just giving away my secrets, huh?” She half-teased as she stepped almost hesitantly inside. “You know, even when I lived here the first time I never gave anyone that name. But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you of all people know.”

Rorin sort of leaned back and tapped his thumbs for a while. He had been dressed in a formal coat and pants over a nice buttoned shirt but for now the jacket swelled over his chair and revealed the sickly pale color of his arms and the deep wells of bags around his eyes stood out in more contrasting color. His right arm sported a silver bangle with a large sapphire centerpiece stylized with a heart and sword, and it rather matched the silver chain and sapphire pendant around his neck. These were the more casual forms he had been able to make his equipment take- the process was rather similar for both. His companion- a strange, pink and purple stripe skinned young woman, was not similarly ordained however, and instead wore a lot of pointy sharp things, a single scrap of black cloth around her left wrist, and a very frostmaw looking set of clothing trimmed down for the skirt and shirt. Her hair style indicated she was definitely from that region, though the pale purple coloring on her head and tail was certainly not, nor the cat like eyes peering in intense concentration around the room with strange magenta irises. Rorin sort of startled for a second and set her off when he sat up suddenly, but all he said was “oh crap- I never told anyone who sta...” He took a moment to trail off. “Never mind. I’m sure it’s not what’s really important. Not right now anyway.” He tried to settle back into his seat but was sitting a little more nervously.

Kailani would help Orion clean that plate...sort of. See, she'd just keep taking pieces off said plate to continue to feed both Grimclaw and Aspen. Occasionally she'd do a bit of nibbling on some of the food. It is primarily the boys doing most of the eating. Orion's fangirling is met with a slow grin, with Kailani's blue eyes moving over to the Khitti. "Yes. That was. Should we say hi?" Was this the time and place for that introduction? Could Orion manage it without passing out with excitement? Kai was not sure, but the more she studied Khitti, the more she was beginning to think that something was not quite right with the redhead. "On second thought, maybe this is not a good time for that..." she says softly toward Orion.

Lionel had been standing with his back to the crowd not far from the command table. For all the sounds outside and in the banquet hall, it was pleasantly quiet all the way down here. Rilla's voice echoed and he tilted around on one foot to study her. "Ah, yeah, I could have handled that a bit better. Sorry. When your future self's one of the only two people I had to talk to for a month, I guess I got a little informal." He sipped mead out of his wine glass, shrugging. "Weird time."

Krice's sword was piercing Quintessa's face more than his glare ever could - at least in his imagination. Whatever venom and hatred he communicated in those staring crimson eyes before she turned away would have to suffice, however. Despite his dearest wish that this was -her- funeral, it was not, and he lacked the selfishness required to subjugate her while the spotlight was on the loss of others. Oh well. He was deafened by the roar of his angry heart but despite his ailing health, to others he'd simply appear 'a little tense'. Retrospectively, Krice was grateful that he had chosen to linger so far away from he coffins. The closer he was, the easier it'd had been to override his reasoning with vengeance at the helm. Maneuvering his right hand, he pressed his fingers into the hidden muscle of his left forearm, massaging in subtle circles to ease the ache that afflicted it.

Khitti || Was anything -ever- right with Khitti? That’s the question of the day… week… uh, year? Century. We’ll go with century. Yep. It doesn’t help that she’s not wearing her wedding ring nor her beloved silver seashell bracelet. The latter was replaced with a brand new golden kraken tentacle bracelet. And speaking of Brand… where was he? Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he’s dead. Whatever the case, Khitti didn’t seem to know who the hell Brand was at all, if asked.

Sargaso's face and shoulders sink as Mathollak addresses him. Why is this guy so obsessed with him? Nonetheless, a proper Cenrili sailor, he accepts the beer. There’s no piss water cheap enough to be snubbed by a port rat like Sarge. “No,” he replies, and he adds nothing else. See, that’s how you handle asshats like Math - give them nothing to chew on. But then some pimple-faced teen (dragged to this funeral by their parent) approaches Mathollak with an autograph book. “Um, excuse me, Mr., uh, Mr. Love?” Sarge snorts and presses his lips together to keep from laughing. The teen continues, “Mr. Love, can I get your autograph?” Sarge rolls his eyes and uses the opportunity to siddle away from Mathollak, cheap beer in hand. Thanks, bro.

Kasyr probaby isn't really helping his lack of appetite with his chain smoking, but hey- it's a corpse party, it's fine, right? Even if some part of his mind protested against that chain of reasoning, in a shrill voice that didn't quite seem his own, he kept puffing away- a few sparse words offered to the crewmates. Condolences for the most part, and a quiet promise that if they go after the thing- he'll follow. That said, it's not long before his empathy cues him into two distinct facts. One, his fledgeling was ambling about this place, and two, there was an -incredibly- pointed amount of ire that was . . . "? Wow. I don't think I've ever seen Krice that mad." Not even at the island. And it was directed at . . . "...Right." That'd probably parse along with what Khitti had said. It's with this in mind that the swordsman begins to meander across the courtyard, intent on plucking Inks by the sleeve as he goes, if only to very casually plant himself down in Tessa's vicinity in case anything might go awry. "Evening."

Quintessa could almost feel the anger radiating off of Krice even with her back turned to him. She didn’t like it, but at the same time she knew he was justified- after all, if Quintessa was in his position she’d feel the exact same; She’d been a right menace. Rather than stay and tempt fate, the changeling began to slowly drift out of his gaze, staying just on the outskirts of the party chain smoking cigarettes. If anyone wanted to find her they just had to follow the scent of clove.

Orion's face fell pale white in panic, "Oh. No. I.." Oh. Good. Kailani changed her mind. Orion clears his throat and puffs out his chest, "I'm sure there will be a better time for proper introductions." Inside, Orion was freaking out and relieved that Kai had a change of heart. Was his beard okay? Did he have a flower tucked in there that would match Khitti's hair? Did he have food in his facial hair?! Food in his teeth even?! Thoughts like those are what caused the man to almost pass out. But all is well.

Penelope turns once the food is on her plate, and heads straight to the free drink. Wine. To take the edge off. The woman swivels through a few soldiers to get a glass. She plucks a few pieces of fruit in her mouth in the process before receiving her glass. Then, finally, the healer settles at a table to eat. The one where Iintahquohae sits. The physician remembered her from the boat. The one that had black ooze leaking out of her. “And how have you been? Better since the last time I saw you, I hope?” The healer does not look at the vampire, but only focuses on her food.

Iintahquohae ;; From her vantage point by the entryway of the banquet hall, Iintahquohae catches a glimpse of Rilla. In an instant she is on her feet, intent on trailing behind the redhead. Instead she is pulled in the opposite direction, literally and mentally, she supposes, catching with their link, the close proximity of her sire, as well as him tugging at her sleeve. Without a word, though there is a slight frown, she wanted to say hi to Rilla, she turns heel and follows Kasyr. “Evening,” she greets. The seamstress isn't as keen on reading the emotions of folk in a room as he is, but she deduces something's up, considering he pulled her along. That usually meant something good and destructive may be on its way. As she still hasn't had the opportunity to pay him back for the coin she stole from her and Rilla's evening in Cenril, she considers bringing that up, as well as jabbing a thumb at the ebon scimitar at her hip. This probably isn't a thing one just casually brings up, but here we are. “It's a sword now,” she states.

Rilla shrugged at Lionel’s apology and shook her head. “It’s not like it matters anyway, if I need a new name I can just go somewhere else and be someone else.” She approached cautiously, one hand rested on the back of a nearby chair while the other was busy raising her glass to her lips once more. “At some point we might have to talk about it in more than just passing, although now is definitely not the time.” She laughed, looking around her. Her head over her shoulder as she looked back towards the others. “Did I talk to you a lot?” Rilla asked after a breath, unsure if she wanted the answer.

Krice's lashes fell to the sound of his name, just as Quintessa began to move, and he looked toward the voice that had spoken it. Noting Kasyr's adjusted proximity to the little witch that needed to die, the warrior adopted a more muted expression of irritation. Nice, Kas. Not subtle at all. Beneath the surface, the Kensai might still be able to sense barely bridled rage radiating from the warrior. The brat's punishment definitely would have to wait, for Krice lacked the desire to cross swords with a supposed ally--if Kasyr even was one anymore. Why was the enigma even here? The funeral was practically over, he had paid his respects simply by arriving and listening to Lionel speak. Truly, everything else was a headache in waiting. Pushing off the wall, he pivoted to move in the direction opposite to Quintessa and Kasyr, his features set in disciplined indifference. Time to go.

Mathollak shrugs and chugs a fancy stout. Glug, glug, glug. He only stops when he's discovered by a fan. "Of course you can, but! Only if you call me Mathollak." He trades the stein for the quill and little booklet and plants them on the table. "Who should I make it out to...? Ah! I know." He dictates as he writes, "To my biggest fan, sincerely Mathollak, the Axe of Love." Obviously he wasn't counting Sargaso in his lineup, but that was for the youngsters benefit. "There ya go! Now whaddya drink?" The teen or preteen seems puzzled, curious, and stutters a bit. "Ahhh just kiddin' you're too young for this stuff." Mathollak turns back to the bar, empties and refills his cup.

Lionel snorted incredulously, though clearly not so much at Rilla's reasonable inquiry as his own perspective on the subject. "Even more than Penelope, actually, and she and I are, like, a thing, almost." He took a few steps away from the table in preparation; soon he was going to need to address his senior staff. "There's a lot to discuss," Lionel added almost as an afterthought. He was distracted. So much was on his mind that every bit of the mental weight flashed on his face. Happy to be alive, and thankful for the sacrifices that made it happen, but exhausted through and through despite the show he put on at the funeral service. With a deep breath, he swallowed the last of his mead. "One sec," he told Rilla, approaching the banquet table with an important task at hand.

Kailani is looking right at Orion when he blanches, stammers out that no, and then puffs out his chest as if he totally did not just turn white as a sheet. Kailani just smirks and chuckles softly, making a mental note to accost him and Khitti with this meeting at some point in the future. Penelope is noticed right as the other healer passes by to claim a spot at a table. She's given a brief wave. Shortly after, Kailani leans in toward Orion to whisper.

Sargaso , having successfully evaded Mathollak like a champ, circles the crowd a bit looking for familiar faces. Ah! There’s Kailani and Orion, but they’re being coupley. There’s Inks! She’s busy with some faces he doesn’t recognize. He somehow finds himself circling back towards Mathollak, the closest thing he has to a friend here. “‘Sup, dick breath.” Sarge plops onto a stool next to Mathollak. He doesn’t bother to explain why he disappeared in the first place.

Quintessa might not be in the best headspace to fight anyone, Krice especially, but she isn’t so out of it that she doesn’t take notice of her teacher and his sire, and the young fae moves to join them. “Kas,” she greets with a nod, “Inks,” same for the seamstress. She didn’t really have anything else to say really, which was rather odd for the normally gregarious countess. “How go your… various endeavors?”

Mathollak sends the boy off and soon after sees Sargaso again. "Sup, dude," he says in between chews. In the short time since Sargaso left, Mathollak somehow became surrounded by plates of delicious food. "Anyone ever tell you you smell like hotdog water," he says casually.

Iintahquohae overhears what Sarge addresses Math as before seeing him, and audibly snorts. Is everything lewd with this guy? Gods, and she offered to make him a jacket. ...What if he wants her to make some weird outfits to go with it? “You have weird names for people,” she calls over to Sargaso.

Penelope is in her own world, so when Iintahquohae disappears before she can hear, Penelope can barely notice. Just because the narrator was also eating at the same time which justifies most slowness. Funny time. Either way, blue hair catches the Ardelian’s eye before she glances up. The druid with… who was that? She glances at Orion, but Kailani is given a wave and a small, faint smile either way. In the meantime, she talks to some random guild member just to pass the time.

Khitti took care of her and Dominic’s plates when it was clear they were both done. Her kid was busy telling himself a story about some blonde-haired guy that liked using fire magic. In reality, he was really telling himself a story that Brand had told him a while ago. Khitti was none the wiser however. She just sat there and drank her drink, silently wishing she could have more whiskey. A lot more whiskey. She wished the ocean was made of whiskey and that she were a mermaid so she could drink it whenever she wanted and not get judged for it. In an effort to break herself of her brooding, she took to looking around at everyone gathered. Kailani was… here with an actual person? Like, a real live person? And not being a wallflower like she used to? That’s… new. Mathollak and Sargaso, the loveliest couple of the evening were spending time together. Aww. All of this couples stuff though made her miss Viera. Sigh. “Mommy… can we go now? I wanna go find daddy.” Khitti shook her head at Dominic, ignoring that “daddy” part again. What the frak, kid.

Kailani answers Orion with a smile, which effectively means that she agreeable with whatever they're chatting about in their hushed conversation. Her attention shifts from Orion to Sargaso shortly after. She heard that nick name. And is now giving him a bit of a judgmental stare. Really, Sarge? That sort of language? At a funeral?

Sargaso rolls his eyes at Mathollak’s lame insult. “Close your legs, and the smell will go away,” he says as he steals a hot wing from Mathollak’s plate. Yes, everything is lewd, Inks. He hears the seamstress call out to him and lifts a hand in a stiff long distance-ish wave. “Naw, that’s just his name, babe. Everyone calls him dick breath. You can too,” he calls back loud enough for everyone to hear.

Rorin suddenly feels an insistent slap on his leg from his companion. She seems to point to Khitti. “I know, I know,” Rorin reminds her, “but somethings... off. There’s this weird energy going around right now. Maybe after. Besides, it was just training stuff I wanted to talk to her about. It can wait. Have some cracker sandwiches.” Personally he licked the little fruit cubes. Refreshing. “Besides, Quintessa and Krice and Kasyr are over and...” he let out a big puff of air. “Everyone either wants to kill each other or they might want to kill me or, I don’t know, I just... can’t really handle that right now. Where’s Lionel anyway...” his companion seemed to consider this information. “You wish not to deal with your problems. You believe that by avoiding them, they will solve themselves. You are... embarrassed? No. Not afraid... guilty. You are plagued with Guilt.” Rorin just kind of nodded. “When will you cease avoiding them?” ...”soon. As soon as I... stop blaming myself for everything.” “That does not seem soon.” “Well-“

Rilla shook her head and laughed, half at herself, the other half at her future self. “I guess when you’ve got time away from everything you’ll have to make time for me again. If I didn’t say something incredibly rude to make you hate me.” She snorted, very ladylike, and eyed him for one more careful moment before he disappeared, taking a moment to circle the table, survey the room before everyone else got there.

Kasyr offers an apologetic wave to Penelope, given he managed to rather deftly steal the seamstress from beneath her nose. That said, the rather straightforward pace the swordsman set does begin to relent a bit, once Krice's emotions begin to temper themselves. And considering the way Quintessa had moved to the peripherary, alongside the empathic focus that seemed to have touched on the Enigma- it seemed a bit prudent to offer up more than just a greeting, "Not to drive home the obvious- but I'm pretty sure he wants to kill you. Et isolating yourself so it's even easier es not exactly the best course." A thin tendril of smoke escapes from his lips, twisting and serpentine, before his attention flickers back towards Iintahquohae and her weapon. Suffice to say, he's less surprised and more exhausted by the news than anything, "That. Of course it es. And everything else besides still, oui?" He's side eyeing the blade now, partly because it's at least in a guise where he can better understand it.

Iintahquohae's attention quickly snaps to Quintessa when she approaches, a slight frown as she regards the changeling's appearance. She didn't look so good. She'd voice the thought, but isn't sure if speaking bluntly like she does with Kasyr is appropriate. Telling a countess that they look terrible is different than telling your vampire dad that he looks terrible. The suit he has on looks good though. It wasn't one that she made, but it'd do. She'll have to make a better one for him. “Oh, I'm just between work and magic lessons. You?” she replies, pointedly leaving out her constant worry about one terramancer. That was something the seamstress could fuss over on her own time. She rubs at the black scales on her neck. Kasyr's response to her very obvious statement is met with a wry smile. Why are they bad at this? Why is she bad at this? Bumbling her way through existence with things she probably shouldn't have. “It does some other things too. I'll have to show you later.”

Iintahquohae said to Sargaso, "Babe? How forward of you."

Mathollak dismisses Sargaso's insult with a handwave. "She already knows my name, she's my buddy." He calls out over the crowd, "Hey Slugger what's hap'nin? You know this jabroni too?"

Sargaso said to Iintahquohae, "Oh sorry. My bad, babe."

Lionel tapped his empty glass to summon everyone's attention. It was a useless gesture, of course; so many people were dining so loudly and all. "Whoops." Glancing back at Rilla with a shrug for his own momentary stupidity, Lionel approached the banquet table and unceremoniously stood atop a chair. Someone offered him a turkey leg and he stretched his arm out considerably in order to receive the offering. "Thanks." After taking a dramatically severe bite out of the perfectly-seasoned dead bird, Lionel cleared his throat and tapped his glass all over again. This time it would be noticeable enough to overhear. "Everybody who wasn't on the mission to the Demon Archipelago," he called out with a sturdy enough echo to bounce off the cold stone walls and be vaguely aduible even to those gathered in the courtyard, "dance the night away. Senior officers and anybody else who went there, please follow me. And if you're new and feeling kind of clueless about that little talky-talk I gave outside a little bit ago, I invite you to come watch the discussion that's about to unfold. It might blow your minds." He polished that off with a token shrug.

Lionel hopped off his chair and darted over to the command table, thereafter hopping up on the table rather than sitting down. "Sitting feels weird," he explained to nobody in particular. "Alright, so here's the deal. Several of you gained some form of boon while we were all in the Cave of Regrets. It's these boons, whatever they are, that our cancelled-future benefactors fought and died to ensure that we received. We need to survey what everybody got and try to surmise why exactly these alleged blessings are going to turn the tide before the war unwinds the way that Penelope and Rilla foresaw. For those of you just tuning in, that means everybody gets eaten. Unpleasant. Now, Penelope told me that Xicotl's first full-scale strike occurred two months from today. That means we've got eight weeks to come up with a rock-solid defense and I need options. Everyone, tell me what you got back there. And if you didn't get anything, tell me that, too, because in all probability you just don't know what it is, yet. Once we've got that squared away, I want you all to split into groups over the next three weeks, training with your newfound abilities alongside your comrades. Train here, train wherever, but train. In the meantime, anyone who wants to help plan our defense strategy will be welcome to assist me -- because that's what I intend to be doing." Lionel had been searching everyone's eyes all-the-while, and it only just now occurred to him that smeone was missing. "Khitti, where's Brand?"

Khitti || Ever so suddenly, as Lionel dropped the metaphorical spotlight onto his dear, introverted sister, Khitti was like a deer in headlights. “Wha-what?” Brand…? The word ‘Brand’ does not compute. Error! Khitti.exe has stopped working. Would you like to reboot? “Who… is Brand… and why are you asking me?” Dominic knew full well who Brand was and yelled out, “That’s what I’ve been asking!” Khitti just shook her head, crimson brows furrowing as she stared at Dominic, then looked over at Lionel. There was incredibly obvious confusion. And a massive amount of concern. “I don’t know who you’re talking about, Lionel. At all. Please just.. Move on.” Was everyone staring at her? Gods it felt like it. Who’s Brand? Why were they concerned with this person Khitti’d never met before in her life? Has she ever heard that name before? Just trying to remember gave her a sudden, sharp headache. It was almost nauseating until she forced herself to stop and focus on the task at hand. “The Archipelago… It removed the block on both my magicks,” Khitti said at length, with a shake of her head. To demonstrate, she simultaneously summoned up a ball of pure light in one hand and a ball of her signature deep purple shadowfire in the other. “Knowing that I’m not going to die from some magical heart attack because I’ve got to use both should help immensely.” Wherever Quintessa was in the crowd, Khitti said her next words loud enough for the changeling to hopefully hear her, “Quintessa had been right about all the theories she had about my magic.”

Kasyr is probably one of the few people that the name Brand isn't ringing a bell for- and that's mostly because it at most cues up the faint image of ..a ship? That, and someone being stuck to a wall during a meeting. Maybe. Or was that someone else. It's fine. In any case, once the subject swaps over towards Lionels directives about their boons and how they might influence the timeline- there's a whole lot less to contemplate. And hey, maybe the shout out to Quintessa will help liven her mood a little, "Oh, et you know. Things are the same as ever. Worlds' still ending, quoi-ce-soit." The seamstress is given a look there, "Showing me things will not make it end faster, will it?" Though, on the subject of eldritch apocalpyses- he supposed he owed the gathering his own report before he became sidetracked. Thankfully, he doesn't really need to use much effort to make himself heard, a quickly hummed prayer to Daedria being all he needs to do, to amplify his voice so those attending can hear him, "Like others present at the end of the journey, I received a boon. For those who have been familiar with the way I fight as a comrade, ou a medic- you might have noticed I've had a habit of getting badly injured by my own abilities. The archipelago managed to rectify that, enfin. In doing so, it also re-awakened an aspect of one of my weapons. A, "Did he just cough out *annoying*? "guardian spirit of sorts. Considering that t helps to ward off outside influences in the manipulative sense, et the vision we saw- ...this may have been the actual purpose of the boon. The rest es just -fortunate-." Yeah, Kas is just going to gloss over the whole, potentially being influenced or making a dark deal with Xicotl and helping to obliterate the defenders. It's fine.

Quintessa wouldn’t get the chance to finish her small talk with Kas and Inks before Lionel made his announcement, and the dark fae moseyed on back with everyone else that was involved with the mission. The absence of Brand had been something she’d personally noted, but Quintessa stayed out of Khitti’s relationship with him, so she hadn’t brought it up. From the looks of things it wouldn’t matter if she did or not. When Khitti gives Quintessa’s theories credit she tries to hide her embarrassment behind her cigarette, waving her hand in a gesture of modesty. “Oh, it was just an application of pre-existing methods- nothing groundbreaking, but I’m glad my research aided you.” Quintessa’s attention flickers to Kasyr when she learns of the ability he had gained and she nods her head in appreciation. Many of her potions had been used on him in an effort to keep him alive, and the fact that one of his most powerful abilities literally eroded his body was never a good thing. “That’s good… but also not so good…” Quintessa wasn’t ignorant of the eldritch being Kasyr called a weapon and its influence over others, but she wasn’t going to bring that up either. “As for me, whatever boon I have been gifted hasn’t surfaced yet. My mind has been too muddled and fractured to really think about it… I just need more time. I’m sure something has changed, I just haven’t noticed it yet.”

Krice had just reached the room threshold when Lionel requested an audience with 'anyone who was at the Demon Archipelago'. Well, since the warrior was, that meant his departure would have to wait. Damn. However, he couldn't recall through the mess of those memories having seen Quintessa either on the ships or the islands themselves, so this meant a potential reprieve from her stellar presence. Or not, because there she was. For the greater good, he could deal. The warrior waited at the threshold until everyone called to Lionel -arrived- at Lionel, at which point he shifted to join them. Still less comfortable than usual standing in the middle of groups, he lurked just at the outside of the smaller gathering, somewhere near Khitti, to watch Lionel speak. The boons he mentioned drew the warrior's thoughts once more to the hell they had all endured at the archipelago, and his mind drifted around those memories until Khitti's stammering caught his attention. Still decidedly vengeful, he misdirected a glare at the forgetful woman but remembered quickly that she was not the source of his ire. Why couldn't she remember Brand? Why wasn't Brand -here-? Questions that would have to wait, given her reticence to discuss the issue. Hopefully the one-dual man was fine, wherever he lurked. The conjuring of Khitti's two magical orbs caused the warrior to grimace in subtle disapproval and he casually moved away from her, pausing just outside Lionel's reach. With Kasyr's explanation buoyed by more magics, the warrior felt himself grow ever more irritable. Really, he should have stayed in bed this day. Reaching up with his right hand, he withdrew his katana and flipped it into a reverse grip, holding the weapon behind him at a benign angle. " I'm faster and stronger than I've ever been. Whatever happened over there seemed to release restrictions that I'd unwittingly placed on myself." The slightest shift of his left boot-tip triggered a flash-step. In the twitch of an eyelash, he was behind his favourite person In the whole wide multiverse, pinching the ends of a few dark strands between his left index finger and thumb. " For example." If only he could pull, just enough to sprain a muscle in her neck... Silver strands were still settling from his swift maneuver as he lowered his hand from the dark fae's hair, the limb trembling out of sight behind her. Hatred returned to Krice's overall demeanor, but he was more in control of himself while closer to quintessa, despite the contradiction that should have been.

Rilla as per usual would have preferred to remain away from the action, but then it came back to her once Lionel’s announcement concluded. She looked up at him with a slightly surprised expression, her hands tightening on the back of the chair she was nearest to. With a slow breath, she watched each person that approached, brow furrowed at the question of Brand who she truly didn’t know other than in name. Was anything different? “I got a cool new story out of it.” Rilla offered with a shrug, rocking back on her heels. “Magik couldn’t be here tonight, but he’s manipulating shadows since it happened. Some people get all the cool powers, huh?” She captured her glass in one hand again and took another sip. “And by some people I mean all of you, and by cool powers I mean whatever you’ve got is supposed to save us all or something, so carry on.”

Orion || Dance? New? Mind blown? Check all of that. After another one of Lionel's excellent speeches, Orion offers his hand to his beautiful lady, "Shall we? Or..Do you? Shall you? Do we?" Initiate red face! If Kailani takes his hand, the two will slow dance regardless of the style of music. One hand on her hip and the other holding hers gently as he leads them in almost a slow waltz to get close to the meeting table. Orion smiles brightly as they slowly twirl about the floor. As they arrive towards the meeting of warriors, Orion introduces themselves in case they get any funny looks, "Ori. Kai. Don't mind us." Orion dips Kailani and winks at her before pulling her back up and close where he whispers sweet nothings in her ear. He kisses her cheek then listens in on the conversations unfolding.

Kailani :: It's true, Kailani is here with an actual person. A person she actually seems to like at that...! Because when Lionel commences with this latest speech, she is giving Orion a most perplexed look. They weren't exactly part of the Demon Archipelago...so were they supposed to "go dance the night away?" Evidently, yes, because Orion is offering her his hand and the next thing Kailani knows they are waltzing their way closer to the meeting table. That's right, not only is Kailani here with a real live person but she just danced with that person, let him kiss her on her cheek, and he gets to live to tell the tale. Orion handles the introductions and Kailani just nods her head in affirmation. What he said. No additional contribution from Kailani. All cuteness aside, during this show and tell session about everyone's boons, Kailani comes to a conclusion that she shares with Orion, "Something is definitely not right with Khitti." Actually, something was starting to not feel right with this entire meeting. Did the room just get a bit tense after Krice-Quintessa moment? Seems like it.

Iintahquohae's eyes roll a bit at Sargaso's reply. Typical sailor, she assumes, mixed with paladin. How unappealing, she thinks. Paladins were the worst. Her gaze settles on Mathollak, and she beams. “Hey Champ! I...Yeah, I do.” She grimaces. “I punched his ass and now I owe him a jacket.” Lionel's voice grabs her attention next, and without a word to Kasyr and Quintessa, she follows. The seamstress doesn't take a seat at the command table, instead hanging back a bit to determine where she should sit, if at all. Naturally, she wanted to be beside or nearby Kasyr and Rilla, but there was Penelope as well, who she rudely walked away from moments ago. She owed the healer an apology, for sure. As the others presented the gifts they had received from the cave, she observes with mild interest, particularly at Krice's newfound speed. They had to race sometime. When it was her turn to present what she had acquired from the Demon Archipelago, she steps forward, unsheathing the ebony scimitar from its serpentine-decorated scabbard. “I'm not going to...you know,” her gaze shifts between Lionel and Kasyr when she says this while points at her mouth, hoping that they understand. She isn't going to throw up an unreasonably large snake again. Hopefully. Maybe that's what the world needs to save it? The black scales on her neck glimmer as Iintahquohae begins to explain, the darkened veins beneath her skin darkening more as if the entity within the blade and scales is practically preening from all of the attention. The blade itself emanates light. “This is Sacred,” she explains. ...How does she explain all of the things it has whispered to her that it can do? The light sources in the room simultaneously wink out as the blade draws them in, throwing the party briefly into darkness. After a moment, the light returns, emanating from the blade before she sheathes it once more. “It does more than that, but I'll leave it there.”

Rorin and his companion sat forward with wholly undivided interest as soon as Lionel mounted his chair. It’s unclear to anyone else why she was in here, only that she definitely came with him, since they shared some silent conversation by passing their eyes before entering the room. Rorin had sort of wondered where Brand was too only it seems like there wouldn’t be a forthcoming answer to that question. “Brand, the... guy you live with? Your husband? You had like three kids together, dude. The Tranquility? He was like, captain of the ship? You have a whole library on there. You live together.” Maybe this was just one of those weird Khitti things. “Sorry, I uh- I got this shield.” Rorin would go about summoning the true form of the item forth from the silver bangle on his wrist to avoid being anymore awkward. It was attached to a complicated gauntlet like contraption that he hadn’t quite figured out yet. “It looks like a Lantern-shield model, they’re sort of these uh, diversely equipped things you can strap on your arm, only, it just seems to have some spikes, and the glove isn’t attached to the face. Truly odd. Where or when exactly do these things come from? Are they gifts from the alternate future Penelope and Rilla, or are they manifested from the Archipelego itself? I- we, all have a lot of questions for you about your time there, Lionel.”

Rorin sat back on his chair but he eyed Khitti curiously for a moment. Perhaps he could ask about them training together after the meeting, and get more clues when they were alone. No, no... Lionel would probably handle that. They were way closer than Rorin was. He took a good look at Quintessa and Kasyr though. “I get this weird feeling neither of you are telling us everything, and uh, well, frankly, the whole universe is sort of on the line, so that seems like kind of a dack move?” But it was too late, Krice was already being fast, and the creepy sort of power drunk stuff he was doing was not cool way faster than whatever Quintessa and Kasyr seemed to be hiding. Rorin sat back slowly and made sure his companion was still in her seat. She was gripping her stabbing utensils tightly, but that was more on instinct than anything personal. Rilla started talking though and it seemed strange enough for him to file away. She didn’t get anything out of this? Her past future self was there and she walked away empty handed? What could she possibly know about sending messages back through time? “Wait a second-“ now Inks shared a look with Kasyr so something was definitely up- “I think maybe we should talk about this giant evil soul eating shadow snake thing and why it has a name-“ no doubt something fascinating was about to happen that would also stop that conversation dead in its tracks as well. Rorins mind was already reeling from the incredible wealth of pure absurdity happening in this room right now. “Just another Warriors Guild meeting,” he sighed under he breath.

Penelope :: A small, squinted smirk is given to Lionel’s cue, but with ease, she shuffles with the others while grabbing her wine glass in the process. Penelope lingers in the back, standing, near Inks. As Lionel begins to speak, eyebrows raise. Future Penelope. Right. So much was said during that time in the Cave of Regrets, and Nel was still trying to grasp onto the oddity of her future-self and the whirlwind that was life itself. On cue, however, the spotlight turns to the red-head. ‘Who’s Brand?’ Good question. The Ardelian was still latching on to all the connections here. Brand was… Khitti’s husband, right? Right? Rorin says it is right. The wine glass tips back in the moment of confused Khitti before waiting for others to respond with ideas. And Krice? Did everyone just see that? Moss eyes are stiff while the wine glass lingers as if time froze in that split moment. The glass then lowers and she coughs to clear her throat. Iintahquohae then speaks, and the healer remembered that she had asked the woman how she was previously. It was slowly connecting and verbally the girl questions aloud, “Is that what happened on the ship?” It was rhetorical. Really a moment of discovery. After blinking once or twice, she looks up at Lionel. “Well,” pause. “I also found an artifact. I’m not sure what it means yet. I don’t know if it’ll help, or if it was just… something I found before I boarded the ship. I suppose I best have you look at it, heh,” there was a hesitant smirk. And lips mouth a small ‘sorry’ to the Imperator. Maybe Penelope should have focused on the million lives rather than running off to the desert to save one Ardelian child. Priorities Penelope. Priorities.

Sargaso belongs to the category of new and clueless and follows the crowd. Xicotl? Cave of Regrets? Boons? The name Brand rings a bell. The Cenril-based Captain is known in the port, though the two men have never crossed paths. He glances at Quintessa when Khitti points her out and commits a new face and to a new name. When Krice threatens the fae, Sarge tenses, unsure if the guild will leap to stop the silver-haired man. The moment is over as quickly as it began and Sarge is left with more questions. Rorin doesn’t answer any of those questions by talking about a giant evil soul eating shadow snake. Then Penelope speaks up and he sees her for the first time this evening. He shuffles through the crowd in Penelope’s direction to see if he can get answers from her when this thing wraps up. “Hey Penny,” he whispers as the spotlight lifts away from her, back to Lionel.

Mathollak was in the happy and clueless category of people, damning him to be alongside Sargaso yet again. Yet he was possessed of at least two big glorious boons, that didn't smell like hotdog water. Blessed boons, yes, but he didn't get them in the cave of regrets. He had to go, mainly because if there was going to be teams, he needed to be able to protest his assignment in case it ended up being too sargy. Or soggy. "Welp," he says as he slaps Sargaso on the back. "That's us. Time to see what this is all about." Inks just about blows his mind with her apparent foreignness. "Punched his butt...? OH! You mean you kicked his ass? Yeah I'm not surprised you're real tough." He finds his way over to the meeting room with the others, and finds himself a comfy chair. Instantly he starts reclining on it, leaning it back on two legs, and resting one of his own legs on a table. "Yeah hi, I'm Mathollak, The Axe of Love, maybe you've heard of me? Maybe not we're a long way from Larket and Gualon. But I know Captain Khitti has!" He says with a finger gun and a wink. He still didn't know what to call her but that rolled off the tongue in a happy way. "Anyway, no boons here but the ones I was born with. Carry on, I'll catch up." As he watches the others demonstrate their abilities, Krice's in particular stands out. "Hey bub I'd knock that off before she tunes you up quick." Quintessa knocked Mathollak's block off a few months ago, so he knows. "Trust me! she'll knock you right on your butt."

Khitti || [1 of 2] The instant Krice was behind Quintessa, Khitti stood, setting Dominic on the table in front of her. Her kid just blinked up at her innocently, but he could tell his mother was pissed. Something that hadn’t been wiped from her mind, of course, was the situation Quintessa had put herself in and the rather obvious hatred Krice held for the changeling. Without warning, Khitti shadow-stepped over to Quintessa’s side, wispy bits of shadows signalling her departure from her spot at the table and heralding her sudden appearance next to the changeling as well as the usual ‘bamf’ sound that came with her short range teleportation. Khitti and Krice had never fully seen eye to eye on anything really. They couldn’t even agree on whether or not someone was truly born evil or if they were just made to be that way by circumstances--Khitti believed in the latter, of course, and now was when that belief was coming into play. “Quintessa, dear… Dominic misses you. Shall I bring him to you? Or should I bring you to him?” All the while, the redhead’s olive green line of sight was on the grey-haired warrior, staring him down. The imposing nature she once had as a vampire had never fully left Khitti--it’s probably that whole feisty redhead thing--and came out often when that mama bear side of her leaked out to the surface. The stare she gave Krice was a threatening one: ‘Touch her again and I -will- kill you. I don’t give a damn what sort of boon you got. I -will- find a way.’ Whatever Quintessa chose, Khitti would deal with. If she chose to go to Dominic, Khitti would shadowstep the changeling there and pull up an extra chair for her. If she chose to have Dominic come to her? Well, she’d shadowstep Dominic and plop him right into Tessa’s arms. But when she was done? She’d return to where she first shadow-stepped to, her attention still on He-Who-Has-Pissed-Off-The-Mama-Bear.

Khitti || [2 of 2] “Krice, you seem troubled. I think you could use a drink--or ten. Perhaps some calming lavender tea.” Perhaps a punch in the face. Between the issue of the mysterious Brand and now this, tonight was going to be one of those nights where Khitti pawned Dominic off onto someone so she could go punch people without a care as to whom it was. What bar should she settle on tonight? Venturil? Craughmoyle? Maybe she’d just stay here and spar with the new recruits. Gotta break them in somehow. “Please take one of those choices.” No don’t. Gods, let me punch you for once. It’s been a long time coming, buddy. “Please,” Khitti said, offering Krice an overly polite and sickeningly sweet smile. Take your choice or get hit, pretty boy.

Lionel should have seen this coming. "Just another Warrior's Guild meeting," he mumbled to himself, wholly unaware that someone had beaten him to the punchline. Once, with the power of Hellfire, Lionel was nearly as fast as even Krice, even now. But Hellfire had been detonated to kill Kahran, the sword's fragments all that remained. On the flip side, Lionel was the only person here who had received a boon at the Demon Archipelago, already knew what it was, and hadn't revealed it to the crowd. And now he could use that to his advantage. "Neat," the Imperator said, as time seemed to slow all around him. The room felt colder somehow, and everyone but him would either be affected by the magic he had just called forth from the aether — slowing down to a crawl for the course of the next thirty seconds — or at least probably stunned for a few seconds as almost everybody else seemed to move, speak, express themselves, at a glacial pace. "Here's what I've got. This and a really cool sword. To answer the question as to why we got all this, it's the Demon Archipelago's doing. The place is hell in a handbasket draped over a chandelier set to explode. But those who survive its terrors and enter the Cave of Regrets are said to draw forth great power. That's what Rilla and Penelope had banked upon. And we don't need to be ripping each other's heads off just to prove it," Lionel said with a snicker in his sister's direction. And Krice's direction. And maybe even Quintessa's direction. Who among them could still act with the same rapidity as before? Lionel reckoned Krice would be one of them. He also reckoned that Khitti was close enough to the silver-haired enigma that her threat could still be backed with ample integrity despite the slowed-down clock of the world around her. All Lionel needed was some extra time to make a point, and make a point he did, suddenly reaching into his pockets and tossing badges at several people. Anyone who was moving slowly now would probably have to pick their badges up off the table, or the floor, once time resumed its neutral pace. Everyone else was free to fetch. Khitti received a particularly shiny one, followed by Rorin, and then Quintessa, and then Kasyr and Rilla. Krice got one, too, and the sight of Lionel flinging badges at people who looked ready to rip throats was undeniably a comical one. The last one arrived beside Penelope. "Apply directly to the forehead, I mean, your shirts. Press down on them and you'll be able to communicate with everyone who just got one. Oh, and with me. And if you didn't get one, you'll get one soon enough. This is how we'll stay in touch." Time resumed. Was this chronomancy? No, not at all. Even if that was Lionel's boon, it was highly unfavourable in the eyes of the administrators who ruled this world called Hollow from behind the shadows. This was something else altogether. This was Slow, and Lionel knew Haste and Stop as well. The ability to directly affect the movement of matter and cast that movement, decelerated or accelerated, for all those unprotected against the spell to feel. Did Lionel successfully reduce the perception of speed to the point that he helped to prevent Khitti and Krice from throwing down? Or was he talking over a brawl by now? That remained to be seen. His author did not anticipate this situation, after all, so c'est la frakkin' vie.

Kasyr is immensely disconcerted by the grace and alacrity with which Krice moves now, especially when doing so with purpose. Because now, the Kensai finds himself being flat footed by someone he no longer substantially dwarfs in speed. The press of people around them only makes things worse, to boot, the inclination to summon a sword to his presence immediately drawing minds fresh recollections of how Xalious went. Unlike the villagers, these were comrades, who weren't in support of an esoteric arcane cult. Still, that opens up a far simpler avenue for the Kensai- since he ultimately offers up an open hand in Krices direction. "Us moving at full speed would be a problem for everyone around us, non?" And perhaps the Enigma would have noted the flicker of electricity that danced over Kasyrs fingers- were it not for the manner in which the lights dimmed out. In that moment, the Kensai's breath caught in his throat, his focus entirely narrowing down on the other swordsman in an effort to gauge his positions and emotions. All given, It's no wonder he doesn't even hear Rorins' not-so-wild accusations.

Kailani :: At this point in time...Kailani has no idea what is even transpiring anymore? First they were discussing...boons, then fighting, and all of a sudden Lionel was passing out badges to select people? It's at this point that Kailani tilts her gaze up to Orion, another perplexed expression pinned on her face. "I think maybe it is time that we head back home before things get any more out of hand..." This time around Kailani makes no effort to lower her voice, not that her commentary was particularly offensive in her perception.

Orion and Kailani continue their slow dancing waltz in the general vicinity as tempers start to rise. Orion seems pleasant enough as he whispers to MamaKai about having to get the kids back to the lake for bed time. Routines, people! Routines! Orion whistles loudly for Grimclam and Aspen. Grim starts trotting circles around the dancing couple as they say their goodbyes, "Well then..Good luck with everything, Guildmates. We will be sure to check in very soon! Don't kill each other too dead!" Sargaso received a wave. Tessa got a wiggle of his fingers. Lionel, a nod. Everyone else got a collective final wave before the family waltzed out of the room. What a crew!

Lionel said to Kailani, "That may have looked bad."

Penelope watches the ordeal between Khitti and Krice. That glass in her hand is steady as eyes timidly shift back and forth. Warrior’s Guild madness, one would tell ya. During the intensity, however, a faint whisper appears next to her. One that she could touch, but not necessarily pinpoint. A glance moves to… Sargaso? The last time she had seen him they were basically on their death beds together. He lived. Lived. Should she poke him? Would that be weird? Maybe hold off, Nel. Relief washes over the Ardelian as concludes she will just believe it. “Sargaso. Long time,” it’s faint before she blinks a time or two at the Cenrilian to really take him in. Then her gaze sets back on the meeting at-hand, and finishes the contents in the glass. Though the finish was a badge being tossed her way next to her. It was.. shocking. Why? Because she was a healer, but maybe… things were changing. Maybe she was becoming both. A grin hid behind her lips, but there had been a light in her eyes. Once the meeting was ‘closed’, she turns to Sargaso. “Well, look at you. In one piece,” she does a mock-shove, but does not actually brush him. Then as he whispers, she leans in.

Kailani nods toward Lionel. It may have! During the waltz out, there are goodbyes for those Kailani knows and then...well off OriKai go, taking their little zoo with them.

Orion steals a turkey leg on the way out!...But is it stealing tho?

Iintahquohae doesn't feel the need to interfere with whatever problem Khitti, Krice and Quintessa seemed to have, so she steps back into the group, hopefully out of the way. She could watch from afar or tune it out, hopefully. Just as she moves however, she feels all of her movements suddenly slow down. Puzzled, but unable to quickly ascertain the problem due to slowness, the seamstress rides it out until normalcy resumes. She eyes Lionel and his sword, and moves to shuffle her way over to him. Gotta talk to Cool Sword Guy about Cool Sword Stuff, right? “How did yours do that!?” she exclaims, with half a mind to draw Sacred and try to compare the two. “Does yours have a name too?” Does it talk? Is it also an over-sized animal? So many questions, that surely Lionel could glean off of the curious expression on her face.

Quintessa felt the hair of her neck stand on end as Krice moved behind her, the odd girl freezing on the spot and bracing for the pain of Krice’s attack… but it never comes. Before Quintessa knows it Khitti is at her side, and the changeling blinks over at her mother figure with a look of confusion before her brow sets in seriousness. Again, before the changeling can respond, time seems to slow, and if not for her previous studies on slow, haste, and stop spells, she would be left confused yet again about what is going on. Reacting reflexively, her slowed hand moves to grasp the badge that flew her way, snatching it before turning it upwards to gaze down. She recognized this communicator, and she felt a sense of pride that the Warrior's Guild was using the artifacts Jessie and herself had designed for them. “I’ll go to him.” Quintessa finally says as time reverts to normal, moving to lift Dominic into her arms and onto her hip. “Heya, Boyo,” Quintessa says affectionately to him. “I just realized I never introduced you to Berrentam. You two are the same age-ish, I’m sure you’ll get along.” The changeling, for once, had no interest in potential violence.

Rorin had his mouth agape with his voiced raised when it turned into an expresssion of study and focus instead. Lionel’s new found power was an astonishing one, and it’s full extent was sure to be tremendous, but this was likely only a taste. He would catch the badge with surprising deft as he watched his companion move at a fraction of his own speed, itself greatly reduced. Rorin would look at Lionel critically. Empirically. This display would not exempt him from the Paladins questions. Rorin would have answers in due time. Although, with any luck, it may have stopped the guild from imploding, as it did nearly once a month. It would be a sufferingly slow process, but there were things he needed to know, and he would have to ask the guild members in turn about each of them. It seems as if for now they are far too toxic together. This moment of crippled chronology would be an example of that. He would have to reflect on it later.

Krice was intrigued enough by the ability of Iinks' blade that he watched it with genuine interest. The darkness that followed Sacred's flex did not last long enough for his pupils to adjust, so his vision remained clear. In response to Mathollak's warning to not mess with Quintessa, he muttered, " She already tried." Read: and failed. Still, it was the sudden--but trackable, let's be real--arrival of Khitti in defence of the wrerched little fae-bitch that drew his attention next. He still held his sword behind him, not remotely inclined to use it by the relaxed nature of his posture. Still, Khitti threatened him as if -he- was the problem, and so too did Kasyr rise in Quintessa's defence. Did they not know what she had done to him? What she had done to the Eternal Tree, and thus, to everyone who survived by it? Who the hell were these people? Hardly friends. Certainly not comrades. Kasyr might catch a glimpse of the tumultuous emotion thundering within the enigmatic swordsman, from betrayal to confusion to anger to amusement at the fact that they were threatening -him-, a years-long ally to the cause, for refraining from rightfully snuffing out the waste of life before him. The gall. The spark of electricity on the Kensai's hand caused him to take a step back. He wasn't afraid, but he knew when he wasn't wanted here. Everyone was preparing to stop him from hurting the little traitor in their midst and he wasn't even going to. At that moment, the scene appeared weighted by some unseen fantastical force, and Lionel would notice just as Krice did that he was not affected by the strange time warp. At least, not as drastically as most of the others. There was still pain and anger in his eyes as Lionel took the stolen moments to speak, his left hand rising to catch the tossed badge rather than letting it fall. It was only a cursory glance he gave it before tossing it in turn onto the table. As others began to react, he dismissed them in their entirety. It didn't even bother him that the source of his distress had moved away unharmed. " Screw you all." It was precisely because he thought them allies that he didn't attempt to kill Quintessa and everyone who thought it wise to defend her. He turned, held his katana down at a relaxed angle beside him, and walked briskly from the meeting to exit at last.

Sargaso 's eyes widen as Penelope explains the war, Xicotl, alternate timelines. He shakes his head in disbelief then continues asking questions low so no one else knows he's clueless.

Mathollak not only sees Krice moving at ludicrous-speed, but then for a little while everyone is. He looks at his own hands and waves them in front of his face. It provides a look of strange contrast, with his hands being normal and clear and everything else moving at blurring speeds. "...heeeeeyyyy...maaaaan...hooooow...arrre...youuu...guys...doing...that...?? What..was...in...those drinks? Someone drug me or what?" By the time the effects where off mid sentence, the scene is looking different. People are in different places! Some left! Captain Khitti has teleported. Madness. He looks into his drink and pours it out. Obviously Lionel spoke way too fast for him to hear or else he might get it. He looks into his cup curiously, then dumps it out over his shoulder.

Rilla || Seriously, this was how everything was going to end? Hadn’t a woman died at the perfctly reasonable gathering the last time too. Rilla wasn’t certain, but it seemed like maybe this was a violent crowd. The name of it being the Warriors Guild clearly hadn’t given it away to the admiral-turned-assassin-turned-whatever people wanted to consider her now. She was a beat away from trying to diffuse yet another situation by virtue of being willing to physically separate people when Lionel did whatever it was that he did, and the normally-agile young vampire was suddenly moving much slower than expected, though she did manage to catch the thrown badge, but barely. When it did finally break and she was able to move, she was gone in a flash only to reemerge beside Inks, a hand on one shoulder in greeting. “I’m so happy to see you.” She mumbled, looking from hr to Lionel and then back to the other vampire with a sheepish smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”

Khitti || Great. That’s all Khitti needed was for more and more people to be faster than she was, whether it was by magical means or not. She glared at Lionel and his newfound ability, but there was a vague amount of hurt behind the anger. She was so tired of having to hold back or being forced to. She wished she could’ve still kept all of those lovely perks that came with being a vampire, without actually having the vampirism. The fact that Krice was even stronger now only added to the rage she felt at the moment. Would she even be able to fight him properly if it came down to it? Should she even bother? Should she even bother with any of this anymore? As Lionel’s slow magic continued on and he passed out those badges, Khitti’s anger dissipated and shifted into exhaustion. Krice left and Khitti still stood there. She still stared at the place where the grey-haired warrior had been standing. The former templar took her badge, but shoved it into her pocket. Her Syndicate earpiece was likewise removed and put into the same pocket. When that was finished? She shadowstepped elsewhere. Who knows where. If anyone tried looking for her, however, she wouldn’t be found in Vigilanti Semper. She trusted Quintessa to take care of Dominic, for a few hours anyway. A bottle of whiskey and a bar fight in Venturil called to her like a siren song she’d never be able to escape from.

Kasyr is trying his best to focus past the distortion in time and Lionels ridiculous change in pitch and tempo. The fact that he was slowed down was, ultimately, not the worst event to happen- if only because the Kensai was banking that both himself and the Enigma were likely influenced in similar manners. Frankly, the way the stand off continues allows him to mull over the possibility that perhaps his limbs might not be as responsive, if only due to quirks surrounding perception, and what his awareness believed his body -should- be doing. Definitely something to figure out later. In the meantime, Krice's emotions seem to peak, and then rapidly flux between several rapid states, before he ultimately begins moving away. "Don't let your temper get the better of you. Especially since you can move as quickly as a bad impulse forms, Monsieur." Frankly, as much as it's possibly Krice could whirl about and do something out of spite- his ire seems less directed at Quintessa now, and more a sea of indignation directed at the whole of them. Probably why Kasyr jams his hands into his pockets, and tilts backwards to look at Lionel, "Do we get to pick sparring partners, or do you have people in mind, monsieur?"

Sargaso nods as Penelope fills in a lot of gaps. Things are starting to click into place. The enormity of the crisis overwhelms the paladin for only a moment. Suddenly, he understands why he is here. He feels Selene’s divine hand all over this. He joined this guild in whimsical pursuit of more adventure, because he liked the Devouts Guild and wanted more of that in his life. He was clueless to the influence Selene had to make sure he’d wind up at this meeting tonight. Now he knows the truth in his heart and resolves to see this thing through. By the sound of it, it’s either fight and die or don’t fight and probably also die. Lost in this moment of divine epiphany and existential dread, he’s oblivious as Lionel successfully sneaks up on him, causing the sailor to jump in his skin. "Oh, heey, man! Lionel, sir. Hi. Yes. It is a lot." Pause. "Sir."

Penelope’s mind wanders. The chaos between the warriors was head-spinning. Krice’s exit is noted and there is a gaze of concern when the silver-haired warrior leaves. It was time to figure out what was going on. The anger from the warrior was something she had never witnessed. A letter would have to be written. Then, Lionel appears next to Sargaso. The immediate ‘sir’ that Sargaso gives Lionel makes Penelope grin. “I think he hates ‘sir’. –Or- maybe it’s Sir O’Connor he hates. I’d take my advice. He can be a –mystery-,” she sort of side-eyes the Imperator with a knowing smile.

Lionel blinked at Iintahquohae, studying her up and down briefly until Krice's strong proclamation reached his ears. "You know," he shouted in Rorin's exact direction, "This stuff doesn't even surprise me anymore. Just use that shield for good purpose; we'll get some training in tomorrow. Watch your six." He wasn't entirely sure why he said that but he always did enjoy saying it. "Doesn't have a name," Catal's Last Prince admitted to Inks. "Doesn't talk, either. I spent over half my life with a sword just like that, though! High-five on that front. I'm still workin' out the kinks, Inks, but I think both our blades will stun Big X and his thralls." Yes, Iintahquohae's sword was… problematic, Kas. But then, read the room: as always, the Warrior's Guild was the thin blood-red line separating harm from innocents, and as always, the bleeding was internal as much as external. "Pick partners!" Kasyr's answer was delivered with entirely too much exuberance; Lionel had a tendency to reflect the surges of emotion all around him. That was no supernatural ability, just Lionel being Lionel. "To our newest members, welcome to the Warrior's Guild. Yes, it's a crazy place. No, it's not exactly strict here. People are going to feud along the way to savin' the world. Sometimes folks ask me why I don't enforce a stricter lifestyle upon my team." Gesturing broadly, he laughed cynically. "Look at these people. Do they look tameable? Do I look like a tamer? Good coin, plenty of food, free room and board, and a chance to kill things much bigger than you are. That's about all we have in common here. That and a loose grasp on sanity." He needed to find his sister. What in tarnation was she on about, forgetting about Brand like that? Maybe the Demon Archipelago's blessings were occasionally anything but. That would be just like the place, really. He blew raspberries like there was no tomorrow, emphasizing a very serious situation in a most playful manner.

Mathollak senses a good bit of tension in the room, vaguely. Some people must not have liked that weird mickey they just got, but he was more open to new experiences than others were. "Listen, guys. I get that a lot of bad things happen on the Devil's Archipelago. I'm getting bits and pieces, here and there. But listen! You got the Hero of Freedom, Delisha's Axe of Love! on your side now. Everything'll be fine. And boons? I got boons. For instance. You gimme an axe no matter how big? Throwing axe. Instantly." Obviously these Warrior's Guild guys got so involved in the details they forgot the most fundamental way to solve everything. Works for him.

Lionel said to Mathollak, "You, I like."

Iintahquohae nods along as Lionel explains his sword, almost lifts her hand to give the guy a high five but stops herself. That's too childish, probably. At the suggestion to pick partners, she immediately wants to pick Rilla as that's her buddy, but the partner that likely made the most sense would be Kasyr or Lionel himself. So her eyes bounce between the Catalian and her sire. “One of you two is who I pick, I suppose.”

Mathollak agrees with Lionel whole-heartedly. "That's the thing about good coins, and people. Get enough of 'em together and you can get into a lotta trouble." Time to pick a sparring partner. Whaddya know! Sargaso's in this room with him. "Listen, I figure one way or another we'll end up fighting again," he says to the sailor-man, "No one's fault, of course, but," he sticks his hand out and smiles a toothy smile. Some a little jagged in their alignment so they look a little pointy. Just a little.

Rorin continued ignoring the idea that Mathollak existed in the same room as him while Lionel spoke to him. “Mhm. Sure. You bet.” Rorin was getting up from his chair, and his companion followed, and the pilgrim sought out Quintessa intentionally. Now that she was stuck with a kid, this was the prime time to ambush her. To set up a meeting later, of course. Not the stabbing kind of ambush. The conversational ambush. “Let Khitti know I want to train with her. Explore her newfound light magic. And you. I have some questions for you. Like what Kasyr and Iintaquohae are talking about. I know you know something. And a couple other things, to boot.” He would leave her with that cryptic conlang to go see Lionel proper, even if he was interrupting or literally jumping onto his feet before he could someone leave unexpectedly like usual. “I don’t know about them but I have so, so, so many questions for you. But for now...” Rorin would step aside and proudly, if a bit stiffly, gesture to his accompaniment. “This is Laffaire. She joined up with the Academy at the sign up event. She’s uh... my squire. So, just wanted you to know that, I guess. We can talk about the other stuff later. I don’t expect to get the answers I seek from anyone else but I have this creeping suspicion you hav everything I could want to know but also won’t actually answer. I’ll just piece together the real answers myself. Laffaire is an outsider, and she excels in bladed combat. I’ll be taking her on missions with me. And my sons- uh, my griffons. They’re like children to me. You’ll meet them later.”

Kasyr straightens back up, before turning his attention towards the ground- his gaze flickering over the feet of those milling about here for reasons both pertaining to business and curiosity. And it takes him a few moments- but he does ultimately spy his badge, something that has him cutting through people to retrieve it, and pin it to his suit. Snazzy. "Right. Well. Who would I bes-" ..Inks. Right. New sword. Though- Lionel actually earns a second glance at this juncture, alongside a rather pointed look at the blade at his side. Something like that cropping up warranted a chat. With that in mind, the Kensai strolls over towards their recovered commander, if only to clear his throat. "I mean, if we're picking then- I'd like to have a go at you et Inks, at some point. Frankly, i think she could learn a lot from that." There's a pause, and then the Kensai rather carefully adds, "I think, incidentally- Krice et Tessa are going to need some sort of intervention, because this es the sort of thing that leads to bad decisions being made when feelings boil over. Et, that es going to require you or me. But it's definitely something that needs to be addressed sooner or later." That all said and done, the Kensai just pops up onto his toes, and starts craning his head around in search of Rilla, "And where is-? The vampire, enfin. She looked like she could use some pointers." The Kensai pauses, and then shrugs, "I think that's about the sum of my requests, though."

Kasyr said to Lionel, "Inks gets it."

Sargaso :: Once Lionel is done with the announcements, Saguaro tails him to get just a moment of his time. “Lionel, you have a minute?” He rakes his fingers through his thick black hair as he exhales. “Before tonight, I didn’t really know why I joined the guild. All this Xicotl stuff, Selene wants me involved in this fight. But, uh, I’m not really like the rest of the folk here. Super speed, super strength, talking swords, shadow magic, magic axes? I never really trained like that. I’m handy with a knife, some other tools. I can get out of a bind, with talking or punching, but I’m not really like Mattie or Khitti. I have some gifts from Selene, some prayers.” Other people would call them spells. “I think my role here might be more specific to something I can do because of Selene.” That’s when Mathollak picks him as a sparring partner, and Sarge agrees to it in good humor and faith. Mattie can fight. It’ll help.

Quintessa looks up from Dominic to Rorin with a surprised blink. She had gotten the idea that the paladin hated her or something and would never speak to her willingly. “Oh, yeah, sure- I’ll let her know.” But when Rorin brings up Kasyr and Iintaquohae, and what they were talking about, her mouth stretches into a fine line. “I- uh… sure… We can chat later.” Quintessa wasn’t exactly sure how much she could tell him, but she’d try to placate him the best she could. More than ever Quintessa wished she never listened to the whispers of Gospel once upon a time. When the thoughts of choosing a sparring partner escaping her for now, she looks up at Kasyr with a bit of a pouty expression. “Hey, I have nothing against Krice. If he’s willing to let bygones be bygones they you’ll not have any trouble from me.”

Iintahquohae figures that after Kas chimed in, her partner or potentially partners situation has been sorted. That was easy enough. What does she do now? Talk to Rilla, of course. She moves to the other vampire's side and flashes a grin. “Delayed, but, happy to see you as well.”

Lionel reached out to shake Laffaire's hand. "Any friend of Rorin's is a friend of mine. And a friend of this entire organization, all appearances to the contrary right now." He canted his chin toward the spot where Krice and Khitti had recently stood upon before the both of them exited stage right. Eyeing Rorin with an azure glance before snorting, Lionel patted the lad on the shoulder. "Believe it or not, I'll give you answers. Tag along with me at the first opportunity and I'll tell you everything I can." Kasyr's appreciative examination of Iintahquohae was met with a snicker. "Seems she does. Inks, I'll tell you what. Let's both of us spar with Kas soon. Put us all through our paces at once. What could go wrong?" Four words delivered all-too-innocently. That was when Sargaso's inquiry was made. "Hey, I hear you. Believe it or not, I've spent a lot of time without any of those weird-ass superhero shenanigans, myself." Whispering faux-conspiratorially, he added, "It can be a tad overrated, especially from a narrative perspective." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. Tell me what you have in mind. There's a place here for people of any skillset. Except maybe the people who want to blow up the universe, I guess."

Sargaso said to Lionel, "Let me learn more about this Xicotl then get back to you."

Sargaso has much to think about and starts making his exit, saying bye to those he knows. Lionel, Matti, Inks, Penelope, Rilla.

Rorin just sort of caved at the idea someone would forthcomingly and honestly answer everything he asked them. “Oh thank the gods, you have no idea how tense I was! Everybody wants to stab someone and people are being so weird right now. Can we just get drunk in a sauna somewhere and eat cakelog?” He had more or less gone native to the snowy mountains in his spare time but he was desperately in need of a vacation.

Rilla would have done just about anything to be out of there, in fact, she had nearly managed to sneak away from the whole scene and into possibly the night, maybe a nice bar somewhere so that she could have a drink and then some food, probably not at the same establishment although it wasn’t entirely out of the question. Unfortunately she recognized that she was being spoken of by someone who’s opinion she wasn’t opposed to hearing, and the young vampire stopped in her tracks, turning to find the source of the voice as she rose onto her toes. “Me?” She asked, a little bit too soft to really be heard, but she closed the gap between them once more, her head down. “Sorry, I was looking for a snack. Somewhere else.” She said sheepishly as she once more B-lined for Inks, and by extension Kasyr (what a surprise).

Kasyr gives Quintessa a sidelong glance, "My concern es more him than you, at the moment. Again, I have -never- seen him that ...palpably angry. Et whilst he's mostly been an acquaintance over the years? That was hard to miss." There's a pause, before he carefully adds, "Et not to dismiss your swordsmanship, as you're capable, but the way it seemed to start et stall made it hard to read if or when he was going to draw a sword. Which- es not ideal, given how quick he is." There's a pause, before he more gently adds, "It es not the sort of thing best left unattended. Bad blood doesn't necessarily settle with time. Sometimes in just lingers like an infection." Lionel may have earned himself The Look ™️ - in this moment. For reasons.

Penelope watches the warriors discuss what they need. In the meantime, her mind wanders to Kailani. The druid. A woman who had recently become someone to depend on. Full of knowledge and skilled on her toes. The Ardelian would see how that request would go. Especially because she had already drug the blue-haired druid into the desert. Then, her mind reflects to Krice. Would he forgive her enough for another round of combat training? That may have been a push. Perhaps mending was the major priority instead. Only time would tell. Maybe she would push Lionel's buttons instead. After all, she had a bone to pick with him. The healer then lets her thoughts guide her out through the semper back to the resident halls.

Lionel || One by one, the people whom Lionel intended to address were leaving. He couldn't blame them. The hour was late, the drinks had overflowed, and shadow-stepping had become the biggest Mood of the year. Khitti was gone; Krice was gone; Rorin was gone; now Penelope was gone, too. "And there goes the next week of my life," he muttered, "devoted in full to finding each of these people in turn." The look that Kasyr fixed him with did not go unnoticed. Exasperated but unfazed, he gave Kas a look back. Not one of malady, but purely of understanding. Some things weren't going to change. 'Rilla," Lionel found himself saying. "You and Penelope died for this. Don't worry about tonight, though. It was still worth it. We're still going to pull through. We always do. And so do you. That book? With the rabbits and their adventures? Those rabbits didn't always get along, either."

Kasyr is glad the look hit home. It's sometimes hard to weaponize or exact communication into a glance- but, perhaps this moment is really where being a diplomat hit it's pinnacle. "Honetement, it's water under the bridge, at this juncture. Waters that you're familiar with, but something else that gets to officially bear all that animosity now. Et it's going to have hell to pay. "So, was there anything else you needed to add? Now that the partys thinned down- I -am- a bit curious as to whether or not you -knew- what was going to occur with Inks, et -that- weapon." That said, the Kensai tilts over towards Rilla, and offers up a wave, "In the peckish variety or the- best found off premise, sorts, Madamoiselle?"

Mathollak had things to do also. "Alright, Chief," he says to Lionel. "I got some swamp-things I still gotta take care of. Assuming I'm still alive and don't forget, see ya in 8 weeks." On his way out, he waves to everyone else.

Iintahquohae liked the idea of snacks. There was a whole town nearby for snacks, but she kept that comment to herself. “We should go get something to eat later,” she suggests to Rilla, then turns to Kas. “Wanna come too? I can show you the other stuff this thing does. And we can practice leveling more houses. Oh-” Once again, the seamstress turns her attention to Rilla, and adds, “I sort of picked up how to do terramancy a few weeks ago. An ancient dragon that lives in a cage taught me.” Is she purposely leaving out huge swathes of detail to make this sound utterly ridiculous? Absolutely. She's grinning. “Terrible control over it, but I'll figure it out.”

Rilla’s attention was pulled back to Lionel when he spoke, frozen with a furrowed brow at the words he chose. “Families fight,” she said simply back to him with a shrug, “as long as we don’t let whatever happened happen again it doesn’t matter if we get along.” Her confusion only grew when he spoke of the book she’d read as a child, her old favourite. “How do you know about that book? I haven’t seen a copy since I left home as a teenager.” Her head tilted slightly, she chewed the inside of her cheek and looked back up at Kasyr who she also hardly knew. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to lose control and eat someone. I can wait, as tempting as I’m sure the staff might be.” She winked, a clear joke, as long as no one was bleeding she was fine. “But please, Stitch, show me what you can do”

Lionel cratched absentmindedly at the nape of his neck. "Maybe we can find you a copy sometime. Something tells me it might be around here somewhere. I know it's not going to be easy, talking to me now that I know more about you than you'd prefer anybody did. You spoke to me a great deal while I was in that cave, and if you can believe that a future you, in a very specific, apocalyptic, situation might do so, then I would like to return the favor sometime by letting you get to know me in return. Families fight," he agreed. "And after spending so much time with that other you, I can't help but consider you a part of this family." Mathollak's departure is greeted with a sincere smile. If Lionel had his way, they'd see each other again far sooner. The guild needed to stand ready, and the guy seemed all sorts of interesting, besides. "I did," Lionel admitted to Kasyr. "I knew what would happen. And I believed, as I still do, that ultimately it's going to be for the best. Not just because we have a war to win. But because it was going to happen, in some fashion, sooner or later. And at least now we can monitor it and Inks can live through it."

Kasyr just sort of presses his fingers to his forehead at Inks helpful declaration. And it's with all conviction that when he looks over towards Lionel, he can say, "It's fine. We were bound to get an adventurers guild bounty on them eventually, anyways." It seemed logical that you could post a bounty against a criminal organisation- especially if they dabbled in anything arcane or monster related. Kas didn't really -recall- anything of the sort in the last bit of impromptu demolitions, but it didn't belie the possibility. Smuggling critters was entirely in vogue, after all. In any case, what she follows it up with has Lionel getting a dead pan look and, "Yup. Nothing can go wrong. Absolutely Nothing." It's at this point that Rilla regains his attention, "I've noticed your moderation- given you dragged yourself into a meeting looking more broken then Cenrils court systems, Cherie." Lionels admission that this is all according to plan is- well, the Kensais expression is genuinely inscrutable, if only because he doesn't quite know how he feels about it. The continued survival of his fledgeling was important, and she had not been doing well- but how much of it's progression had been charted out. "How far ahead does the road map you're working off go? I'm curious how long until we've reached completely blind territory." A pause, and the Kensai adds, "And any other details you felt pertinent to wait until clarifying, peut-etre?"

Rilla || “If you find it, let me know. I’d love to read it again.” Rilla said back to him softly, searching his face for a hint of deception or anything else that suggested he might have ill intentions. She let him finish, but shook her head at him all the same. “I wouldn’t have come to Vigilati Semper after we met if I didn’t think I’d want to talk to you again.” She pointed out, one hand rose to tuck a stray curl behind her ear although it was more out of habit than actual need. There was a beat where she considered the proposal, but she nodded her consent almost hesitantly. “I’d like that, I think. But you know how to find me, I’m sure. You must be busy what with the world saving and such.” She gestured with one hand and a smile, attention pulled between Lionel and Kasyr as they discussed as well. “I was the same when I was human, I assume that has something to do with it. But I don’t know anything. Anyway, why wouldn’t Inks live?”

Lionel had basically memorized the entire Kasyr Looks Curriculum by now, and it showed. He managed to remain relatively expressionless through the gauntlet of expressions that his friend knowingly made. "The roadmap technically only covers the next two months." He sighed. "During that time, I know when and where thralls are going to strike. Multiple hamlets and villages along the frontier. Rilla and Penelope gave me the exact coordinates. Given what transpired during tonight's meeting, I wasn't going to get into that publicly just yet. But we're going to need to set up a few small missions to protect the borderlands. After two months? That's when fates converge in a big way. That's when Frostmaw fell," Lionel quietly explained. He trusted that Kasyr was as perceptive of the Lionel Looks Curriculum; a lot was left unsaid when Lionel stared in earnest. They were going to need to rally to Frostmaw's defense. "Beyond that battle, at least I know where each of us succumbed, and what sorts of places Xicotl destroyed next. So much will have changed, though, if we save Frostmaw." It must have been strange for Rilla, hearing her own name in conjunction with so many earth-shattering events that had yet to transpire. After he was finished listening to the clear-and-present Rilla's reply, and conscientious of the fact that he had yet again spoken at great volume about matters meteoric, Lionel gave the woman a tired smile. He wasn't feeling up to arguing with her right now that whether she liked it or not she was going to be just as busy saving the world as he was. "I do." He laughed. "I suppose I do know where to find you. We'll talk soon."

Iintahquohae blinks. What's this about her not living? “I can't die,” she states, entirely aware how ridiculous that sounds. “Too lucky for that.”

Lionel curved his face back to Kasyr, then to Iintahquohae, and then back to Kasyr. "You can't die because we won't allow it," he said pensively.

Kasyrs' arms fold over his chest in response to Lionels remark. Did that mean that Sacred might run rampant should she die, as opposed to becoming Dormant? Was she already, effectively, a containment vessel, in the same way he'd served, and still did to a small degree? Her fate, at least in the vision, had not quite been death- which meant there was definitely more to this. "Well- Things may also change to a fair degree if we successfully fend off their incursions, as well. They may change targets- or es there something that -guarantees- that they are striking there?" The vision had also shown he'd gotten close- "..Et how long after Frostmaw falling did the way to Xicotl open, es the other question." There's so many other questions he wants to ask, but the weariness in Lionels voice and expressions, and the indication that there was more he had to say but couldn't was, well. "That aside-" Rilla abruptly had his attention more more, "Less vampire matters there, et more something pertaining to my history, that has resurfaced recently. ...Er, et, what do you mean you were the same when you were a human?" Was she talking about the moderation, the stubborness, or the healing? "Didn't your sire go over this with you?" She wasn't a feral- was she -recent-?

Lionel shook his head. "I don't have any guarantees, Kas. If we stave off the incursions, things -could- change. We can only account for what we know is the most likely outcome and keep as close a vigil upon everywhere else as possible in the meantime. I wish I could come back to Lithrydel with facts as solid as the moon and stars but Rilla and Penelope weren't exactly deities. They told me what they could. They had become scientists, but they couldn't be prophets." He also wished he had better news as to Kasyr's next question. "Xicotl didn't emerge until every major city's army had been felled. That's why we can't afford to wait. I intend to find a way to the bastard myself. But if I went now, if I just started digging around where I was told Xicotl arose from, I wouldn't have an iota of the strength we're going to need to try to kill the thing. Its thralls number in the hundreds of thousands already. We have to weaken their numbers first or we're never going to be able to pull this off."

Rilla was definitely not going to write home about how nice and normal the past few months had been, this was just the weirdest thing. She listened, intent on absorbing the information given by her future self and Penelope’s future self, though her mind was running through all the possible things he could know. “Find me sooner than later,” Rilla suggested to Lionel, rocking back as she shifted her weight, certain that soon enough she’d be able to go and find some fresh meat. Or in her case blood. “And maybe tell me about the battles too, I might be able to help with planning your next moves. If you want my opinion on it.” Bright-blue eyes flipped between the two men and she shrugged back to Kasyr. “My sire wasn’t around, he appears every so often but has no interest in teaching me anything.” She scoffed, one hand rested on her waist, the other clenched with fingernails digging her her palm. “But I’ve always been able to resist temptations, my teacher put an emphasis on calm, focus, and control when I learned to fight. I’ve carried it with me this whole time, it got me through that cave the first time.” Her voice trailed off and she shook her head. “Anyway, that snack I was talking about isn’t going to catch itself.”

Lionel fixed Rilla with the sort of countenance he could always count upon to come across as critical. "I will," he promised.

Kasyr files away her teacher being seperate from her sire, his mind once more flicking back to her state. "Fair enough. Getting carried away with bloodlust es a sure fire way to become just another feral. In any case, I bid you adieu for now, et happy hunting. But if you do have a mind to chat- I'm sure Inks could direct you my way." Niceties aside, the Kensai's look returns to Lionel- a grim recognition overtaking where courtesy had previously held domain, "-That- was a critical bit of information I was lacking, though it might make finding our antagonist a little bit easier, peut-etre." After all, that many bodies- especially if they resisted magic and provided that protection to each other? That meant there was a network of some sort? A leyline or...conduit? He'd scribbled some errant thoughts on it, and send it to Lionel later- to delegate to the more knowledgeable sorts. "In any case, I can at least... understand the reasoning behind it." Though, that's said alongside the very real concern that they'd replaced an imminent issue with a later one. Then again- perhaps that had been the decision his future self had taken. To rectify the potential issues of Caluss, Gospel, and Sacred- by simply ensuring they didn't have any surviving cultists or worshippers to wreak havoc with. ...It was not a pleasent consideration. "We can discuss it later- J'pense."