RP:Mosaic

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Township Troopers Arc

Part of the The Day I Tried To Live Arc

Summary: The Warrior's Guild deliberates its next move when Lionel reveals just cause for suspecting that the insectoid threat has only begun. As a plan is made to search Gualon's desert region for clues, several promotions within the guild's infrastructure aren't enough to ease mounting tensions over the fate of Khatherine von Schreier. Nor is anyone particularly comfortable with the bold proclamation made by Kreekitaka, for that matter.

Frostmaw: Snowless Training Yard

Lionel isn’t in the yard. He’s in the main hall, which is accessible through the great red double doors swung wide open from the yard’s northern side. Lithe as he is, he’ll still be quite visible to all those who begin their approach; reds and mahoganies line the walls, but he’s dressed in his simple blacks to create blatant contrast. His arms are folded, and he’s issuing orders to a thin, robed elf and several guild recruits. The elf has transported the mosaic map Rorin recovered from the colony at the Southern Sage, and he’s studying it inquisitively. The mosaic’s four-quadrant depiction of a forest tunnel, a desert dune, a darker forest, and the deep blue sea remains a puzzle to all who have surveyed it. Right now, Lionel is well aware the Warrior’s Guild will want answers, and he hopes to supply them. So long as they can collectively find any, that is. But he does have theories. And as the guild members arrive, he’ll beckon them forth into the hall. Behind him, a large wooden chest remains locked, and the recruits are staring around nervously.

Eirik ’s entrance is heavily marred by the crunching of sand beneath armored boots. However such sounds change as he enters through the red double doors and into the facility. As per usual the Lycan finds himself armed and dressed for war, with some slight differences. A single blackened chain mail sleeve works up his right arm and weaves into a single steel pauldron. A modified silver stitched black leather jerkin, altered to not have a left sleeve, adorns his torso. Color matched pants cover his legs and feeds into the armored boots previously mentioned. The reason for his left arm being uncovered is because it had suffered a recent trauma. Though healed, the evidence left points to something that resembles being skinned. Maldor, is the man who could lay claim to this act. A simple round shield lies tied to his back, while that runic long sword of his lies tied to hip via means of a leather baldric. Coming to an abrupt halt, silver eyes scan the main hall and settling on Lionel - the Knight Commander. “Lionel, Sir.” The only words he gives to announce his presence, while waiting to have further words.

Ameno 's entrance was signifigantly closer to humilating than it was to anything else. The Draconian had been wearing a simple white tunic and trousers, when he had been flying in on the new wyvern he had been given, However as he had discovered, it must have been related to the last. Yasha as she was a very large wyvern with greyish fur, a odd trait and yellow eyes, no sooner had the beast touched the ground it bucked him and whacked him with its tail into the ground. "OW!" Ameno would grown picking himself up off the ground. "Dang it Yasha, then would look at Lionel." and dust himself off, "Reporting for duty sir."

Oline found herself wondering just how often Lionel dressed to offset himself from the colors of the walls he expected to be within. That wasn't particularly relevent, given all that was going on, but sometimes she was just a simple girl with simple curiosities. As for her 'arrival' to the matter of her arrival it had been, as was becoming 'custom', aboard the back of her enormous wyvern Valkr. The giant wyvern deposited his proportionally large rider down into the snowless training yard with a powerful gust of air and a thunderous rumbling of the ground. Oline, for her part, seemed much as she had been the last time anyone here saw her. Ten-foot-and-a-quarter, butt length black hair, and wearing naught but a strip of sinew through two Frost Bear pelts hanging upon her waist. She considered unhooking her kanabo from Valkr's saddle but ultimately decided against it. This didn't seem like the kind of thing she'd need a club for. Leaving it behind, Oline quickly spun about and began making her way for the academy proper in a whoosh of hair and bear-fur. Mostly hair.

Valen would simply port in from the shadows. Flying in on a wyvern was really not his styke, but he appreciated the beasts muchly. Head complete with crimson locks, eyes that normal piercing blue, he would make his way out from said shadows with a bright and vivacious smile. Moving into the hall after Lionel, he would simply giggle with mirth "Maldor and you really got close as I saw...Just be glad he didnt carry you Bridal style." He was not above teasing his knight-commander, playfully shoving him in the shoulder before looking to Eirik and the rest's arrival. A flash of green would be sent in Eirik's direction though, but other than that Valen was all smiles and happy. Ameno's loud ow would have Valen rushing over to him, looking at him with great concern. "Sir Ameno are you alright? Do you need some help??"

Xzavior had been wandering about Frostmaw ever since yesterday when he had came across Hildegarde and some rather interesting news she had for him. So he was trying to stay a lot closer to the action now more then ever just so he could be of some use in more ways then a hand that appears every so often. However, he had seen some people heading in this direction so he had Leifa bring him up here along with everyone else. Keeping more to himself for the mean time, he stuck to the sidelines as he watched the recruits gather for whatever it was that was happening. Seeing Ameno... whatever he was, take a spill he raised a brow while the wyvern beside him laughed. To be silenced by a light slap with his tail. Looking to the others, he recognized a lot of them actually. Eirik, who didn't look all too well, Lionel and the giant girl from the academy. Oline. Crossing his arms, he leaned against Leifa and watched with interest. Willing to give greeting to anyone looking his way.

Kreekitaka had a very bad time getting here. He’d needed to take an Eyrie transport wyvern due to his inability to make the climb in his present condition. On the surface, that doesn’t seem that bad, right? But imagine being carried through the air on a cushion with wheels attached to it—and now you might start to see the problem. Had his brakes failed, he’d be tumbling down to the ground again, and he’d have needed to destroy another kilt to turn into a parachute—and that’s if he’d had time to do it. Fortunately, his brakes didn’t fail, and he made it safely. Fighting through the bitter cold, wrapped in a white fur of some kind with only his head poking out, his wheels had slipped several times in the snow and finally he’d just given up, extended the handles on his device, and had an orc bodyguard just push him where he wanted to go. It was not a pleasant experience—embarrassing, really—and it was even more so when he realized that Lionel wasn’t just meeting him in an out-of-the way place as a test, it was because there was an actual Guild meeting here. Well great, now everyone gets to see the state of the Great Kreekitaka: unable to even move himself around, requiring an attendant for simple mobility. The fact that so many other arrived on flying beasts of their own only served to enhance his embarrassment—even Ameno’s crashlanding wasn’t enough to ease his mind. His facial crushers flared and he sent the most “how dare you” glare he could manage in Lionel’s direction. “I’m here,” he said, flatly, terse, trying to mimic the brevity and informationlessness of Lionel’s return letter. “You answereDAH! none of my questions. I trusTAH! you remember HHHTHem.”

Lionel bears witness to two very different wyvern-bound arrivals. Oline, large as she is, has somehow managed to appear the more graceful between herself and the draconian Ameno. Yet it can’t be said that either of them wield finesse as a rule. By contrast, Eirik’s approach is considerably more subdued, even if he does seem worse for wear. He looks around for Emrith, but, not seeing the elf, reconsiders his original plans. The Khitti incident -- Amarrah incident, to be more precise -- will need to be addressed, but with fewer of the guild present, he’ll need to send letters to the rest of them. It’s just as well. “Eirik, Ameno, Oline,” he counts them. Then he waves to one of the nearby recruits, and they bow their heads, inserting a key upon the chest’s lock and creaking it open delicately. Xzavior’s presence startles Lionel; after all, this is the Warrior’s Guild’s headquarters. But then again, perhaps the naga is interested in joining? More likely, he wants information. Reginae would be working him hard, Lionel reckons, as factors into her plans for a risen kingdom for her people. And then enters Valen, full of mirth and good cheer over a particularly strange plot beat in a mission filled with horror. “Small victories, then,” he answers the vampire with a smirk. And then… it happens. Kreekitaka, Uyeer King, he who Lionel and Krice had once dined with on official stately negotiations -- he who the Warrior’s Guild had once fought alongside during the climax of the Sauriangate incident! -- arrives, unceremoniously, weakened yet no less powerful in his speech patterns. Lionel merely… scratches his head. There is nothing in his gaze to suggest shame, or embarrassment, or any other form of leeway. But he is more than willing to at least address the crustacean first. “Sure, you found four different ways to grill me on why you weren’t part of the guild yet. You’re a fan of trades, right? Allow me to regale you with four distinct reasons. Number one: we were preoccupied averting political fiasco. Number two: we were preoccupied with a war. Number three: we were preoccupied with an ongoing realmwide mystery. And number four -- and bear with me on this one -- we’ve recently been fighting a whole damned horde of super-sized freakshow -insects- seemingly hellbent on eating us all alive.” He gives Kreekitaka an incredulous thumbs-up. “Now, without further ado: welcome to the guild.” And with that, the Hero of Hellfire pivots on his left foot, swerves to examine the crowd, and nods. “Xzavior. Fancy meeting you here. We’re just about to talk bugs. What brings you?” Then, to Eirik and Ameno and Oline and Valen: “So. Bugs. -That- was horrifying. You did famously. I’ve got some bad news, though. I fear there’s more of ‘em than we realized.”

Eirik found himself moving his sights from one familiar face to another. He had met Xzavior before, and from Sabrina learned that he was a fellow Healers guild member. A nod is given his way at his entrance, but no more. They would have plenty more time to catch up as Liaison. Its not that Eirik didn’t look well, but had suffered something terrible recently. Sabrina had seen to healing him, but still, the scarring left was irritating. Oline and Ameno are given much the same, though he wondered how the Giantess faired after Artias party. Valens shift of eyes are noted, but no further words are given to his friend and Larketian council member. He did just dump a whole pile of news in Larket, and wondered what they were all working on since then. However, Eirik had never met the thing with ‘facial crushers’ and takes a long moment to decide on whether it was intended to be here or not. At ‘its’ words, he lets out an audible sigh and shifts back to Lionel. Eyes scan the man as he speaks to each in turn, and to the screeching man. “It was a little unsettling,” Eirik agrees. “How do you find that out?” The lycan asks after Lionels reasoning for more.

Ameno groaned, standing as best he could, as valen assisted, "I'm fine." He cast an angry glare back at Yasha, who seemed to smile and lick her chops in his direction. He motioned no with his finger. And turned to Lionel, who when brought up the bugs, groaned audibly. "You take out a queen only to discover an Empress, oh joy."

Valen would raise an eyebrow at Kreekitaka's arrival but nothing more, though when looking to Xzavior...Valen would say to himself under his breath "Shove it..Maldor." It was barely audible, but the anger that was in Valen's eyes was in no way directed towards the naga. Idly, he would rub the mark on his neck, a habit formed to help him calm himself down in the past few weeks...and it actually worked. Finally hearing Lionel's words though after offering Ameno assistance, Valen's jaw would drop and a rather comical look of exasperation on his face. "What??" shaking it off, he would stand tall and give off a sigh of resignation. "Well it's no matter-....wait." With that, he would take a few steps forward. "You mean to tell me...that there was more than one queen? A sin different areas, but more than one queen?" ameno's words seem to sum that up efinately with being more to the point. But Kreekitaka's presence certainly occupied his thoughts, and every so often his eyes would travel over to the Grand High Crab Guy. For now he would say nothing, he viewed Kreek as a friend regardless of whether the sentiment was returned, in truth he got the feeling that Valen was little more than an idiot savant at times, an dthe savant was definitely being generous with it's usage. If Maldor thought anything of the news, it was not declared nor spoken.

Oline exhaled a held breath of air into an exasperated sigh. "Ah... kinna figgered tha' wuz'n th'end o'tha'." she stated matter-of-factly, falling in line with the rest of the crowd... except of course for in height. She'd known the minute she saw that map that it spelled bad news. She'd even confessed to Rorin as much, though... looking around the squire didn't seem to be present. She'd have been sure he wouldn't want to miss this, but... well... they'd had other issues arise quite suddenly and she couldn't fault him for perhaps choosing to address them instead of attend a meeting. "Wuzza shay-uhm we cu'un teck nunnuv'm alahv foh study buh... lahk az nawt, wh'urrevva th'restuvvem iz, they en't gonna be lahk th'wunz we fessed nohow."

Kreekitaka immediately determined something about Lionel—he did not like writing one bit. The man was fairly gifted when it came to speech, as he’d managed to say all of that rather quickly, in such a way that it helped to calm his irritation somewhat BUT ALSO get him very interested in this new business about giant insects. It was a major contrast with his writing style. Maybe next time he ought to simply just grab the man by the elbow (metaphorically or physically, whichever worked) for a conversation instead of trying to get his attention via letters. The looks he got from those assembled were collectively ignored. He hadn’t been anticipating meeting anyone here but Lionel and unless he was spoken to directly, he’d likely continue to address only that man. Regardless, bugs. Large bugs. Exciting! Taming them would probably as simple a matter as taming wild scorpions. This seemed like another quest with which they could use his help. ...Which once more raised the very immediate question of, “You know I have a huge scorpion of my own, yes? Why was my assisTAH!ance noTAH! askeDAH! for when HHHTHis began? I mighTAH! have been of greaTAH! assisTAH!ance TAH!oo HHHTHe yoTAH! of you.” Maybe they just didn’t think about him as often as he wanted. Good thing he was planning to get more involved.

Xzavior turned when he heard the crab make his way in and raised a brow. Seems like he's gotten better. But who would have thought the guy would have wanted to join the warrior's guild. For whatever reason, he couldn't fathom. Though Lionel's response was quite the amusing one. Giving a smirk of his own when he was addressed by the knight, Xzavior offered a single hand wave, moving from Leifa a bit, though she stayed for his ride back, and said, "Personal curiosity. But now it sounds like I'm here to lend a hand. What's all this about bugs now?" A return nod to Eirik would be given and Valen, he'd carefully watch. It seems as though everyone knew about the second half of the vampire and yet no one seemed at all bothered by it. By what he's gathering so far all this bug talk was not a pleasant thing. He doubted it in the first place but he didn't think it was as bad as everyone made it seem. He much rather hoped there was a way to cut the head off of this bug made serpent with little trouble, for the sake of just all the issues going on. One can only hope, but work must be done he supposed.

Emrith arrives unfashionably late, having misjudged the time it would take him to walk back up from Sage with a bad leg. Thank goodness for the transport wyvern, or he might not have made it here at all. His right leg is a misery from ankle to knee, and the skin of his back still feels stretched and tight as he hustles into the training yard with quick and furtive looks around in hopes that he is not creating too much of a disturbance. It is unlike him to be tardy for a planned event, but it is equally unlike him to be wounded. Emrith prides himself on being very difficult to injure, not to mention good at stealth, and his face is flushed with three different kinds of shame. Yes, vampires can blush, if they are freshly fed. He arrives in time to hear much of what has happened as he approaches the gathering with his new and painful-looking limp, and a moment or two of thought earns him a more or less complete picture of what has transpired to this point. Not too much, it would seem. Having not seen Khitti in evidence, the spell-blade's tension, previously all but unnoticed, seems to drain out of him; that is one confrontation that perhaps does not have to happen here and now, at least. He says nothing, listening attentively as Lionel explains that there are more bugs than previously believed. The vampiric elf is far from surprised. In a voice soft enough to be respectful but loud enough to carry across the relatively quiet hall, Emrith adds, "It is ever the way. Tunnels with blind turns. Hordes with no end. A struggle that only truly ends in death or surrender. But since none of us has expired or given up, it would seem there is always new peril." Something of an ironic smile quirks his lips. He has noted the presence of a few who are not normally at such gatherings, but trusts that they have their reason; nevertheless, he keeps a careful eye on them, marking them both out against future need.

Lionel stands stoically as the various guild members offer their replies, understandably exasperated as they all are. Yet when Valen steps forward, he’ll do so in tandem with the opening of the chest, and an ill scent will waft upward. There’s no great golden treasure here, for within this wooden box lies the corpse of a vividly multicolored, wildly large wasp. It has clearly been shoved with efficiency into its confines; outstretched, it was surely the size of a saurian dactyl. It’s ironic that Oline should note how unfortunate it is that none of the specimens have been retrieved for analysis. Lionel’s grimace extends to Valen, alongside a shrug, as Kreekitaka’s inquest continues. “Timing is of the essence,” Lionel explains, and yes, it is indeed quite true that the man abhors writing. But anyway. “Rorin and Oline and I scouted the tunnels beneath Southern Sage and found a whole border town’s worth of humans and elves, sucked dry for their flesh. With hundreds of these bastards loose down there, I didn’t think of you, I thought of Kelay.” He lofts a brow. “No hard feelings.” Then, tapping on the chest, he lifts it for all to see. “Found this bugger spying on us yesterday morning.” The elf to his side, unidentified up until this point, bows a formal introduction to those gathered. “I am Esche,” the elf explains. “I study things with great interest. This particular creature was utilizing some form of speech before we struck it down with a great fiery blast.”

Lionel | Esche observes Lionel for the duration of that sentence. “And it was attempting to pilfer the mosaic. Curious behavior, this.” Lionel nods. “Damned curious. Now take a look at the map.” He hoists the mosaic upright for all to see, pointing at the top-left corner, the depiction of the forest and its tunnel. “Look familiar? That’s us. That’s where we went just this past weekend. That’s where we almost died.” He lets it sink in. “These bastards are intelligent, like the saurians. And like the saurians, they don’t want us figuring them out. I reckon it didn’t want a record. I reckon it was going to one of these three locations.” He points to the desert, the darker-lit forest, and the sea. “Some of us have seen how quickly these creatures can clean a village to the bone. We counted fifty souls lost in those tunnels, and there could have been near on a thousand predators. Those numbers don’t add up. Those numbers are -terrifying.- Sooner or later, these other matriarchs -- or whatever they are -- will make a bolder move. Somewhere populated. Somewhere urban. Somewhere we cannot let them go.” He pauses. “Ever.” And that’s exactly the best moment for Emrith to arrive, as it happens; his words spark interest from Esche. The smooth-headed fellow examines Emrith appreciatively, a small smile forming at the tuck of his lips. “Agreed. And I believe our friend came to us from the desert path.” Without further ado, Esche snaps off a massive leg from the wasp, much to Lionel’s chagrin. Sand falls from that leg, plain to see.

Eirik suddenly regrets throwing his own line of questioning out as each member seemed to have done the same in their way. He figured, Lionel had already intended to answer what was asked. These meetings usually had a plethora of questions being slung at the man. Eyes shift from one person to the next as they take their turn in the limelight. At Kreekitaka’s screeching Eirik does his best to translate, but fails somewhere about halfway. It didn’t matter, hopefully Lionel could decipher the odd tones. Luckily this meeting wasn’t being held by the foreign Northman. At Emriths entrance and words Eirik waves at hand, taking note of his limp. We all got banged up pretty badly it seems. He would have to make preparations for their next journey, which is probably what this whole meeting is about. Again attention shifts to Lionel as he begins to answer the slew of reasoning thrown at him. The map is regarded, the creature, the sand and Esche. Eirik however, says nothing further in response. He knew Lionel planned on leading another raid and probably soon.

Valen would of course listen to Kreekitaka as well as Oline, his wonderful Giant of a daughter, speak though now his attention was on Emrith. His leg being a focal point for the Feminine male, Valenw ould walk over to him casually, those bright eyes of his shimmering as he looked at Emrith's own. "Are...Are you alright Sir Emrith? You did very well in the Queen's chambers, and I am so terribly sorry that Maldor detonated that Shadow Ball with you in the vacinity. He really didn't mean it...If there is anything I can do, or he can do, to help make it up to you we would gladly offer our assistabce." The words Emrith spoke, were true enough. "...You should stop by the Academy in Larket sometime. I think I have some things you would like to see, that you might be able to find useful in general, and would love for you to meet two of my most promising students. We have not had much time to talk before, but seeing as we are in the same guild now...maybe?" His voice was that usual tone, light and full of melody, though now it was also soft spoken...timid, and shy. Listening to Lionel now, that smell would hit his nose and he would visibly recoil backwards, almost backing into Emrith but fortunately stepped to the side. "Good gods that stench!" For now though he would wait and listen to see just what that was all about.

Oline wasn't surprised to see a dead bugger... but she was glad, in lieu of nothing, they'd managed to retrieve something worthwhile. Even dead, she knew the beast would have secrets to tell... and sure it enough, between Lionel and Esche it seemed they'd begun probing at them for answers. Oline's, for her part, remained quiet moving forth. She'd procured from her bag a small leatherbound book and quickly began jotting down relevant notes. Her attention was pulled back up fully when that leg cracked and sand came pouring out onto the floor. Ah... so then that's what this was about. They had a clue, a direction to go running in. That would mean a new mission, which would mean she'd need to spend more time training. She'd done most her training so far with Rorin, but... she wondered now how realistic an expectation that would be moving forward. It was only in this distracted state that she really started paying attention to the other folks around her. It wasn't that she hadn't wanted to... interact with any of them, hells! Her father had been here the whole time and she'd not even offered so much as a smile. Her mind had just been so... fixated on those damn bugs... that it'd been a constant nightmare since the first scouting mission. /The queen is dead/ she reminded herself, with a frown, before stepping over to approach Valen and Emrith. "Soddin' wasps... Ah hate wasps..."

Xzavior blinked when he saw the large insect and furrowed his brows. No way this thing could actually be a living being. The thing was massive beyond proportion. Not the size of a man, sure but the size of that stinger... like a flying dagger. From what he's gathering, a very hostile flying dagger. When more and more evidence comes afloat Xzavior quickly cleared his throat saying, "I'm actually very interested in getting involved with this thank you. As some may know, I make my home in the Sage forest. Hearing that it, or Kelay is at risk isn't something I can let pass." This was going to be a nice little problem with having to stay up here for him wanting to help out with Frostmaw as well... And Larket on the side. Back to having a full plate. Good. He felt as though things were getting too laid back in his life. Not that he was ignoring anyone or anything, but he was far more interested in the fact that his home was being threatened.

Kreekitaka harrumphed a little, but accepted that reasoning. Giant bugs out in the desert, huh? “Or aTAH! yeasTAH! HHHTHe beach,” he commented, upon seeing the sand, “given HHHTHe sea was a poTAH!entioh DAH!esTAH!ination.” Either way, this was a little troubling. He’d need to forego the use of dinosaurs for this mission, and the arid climate was going to play havoc with the scorpions and his own troops. The other troubling thing about all this was the sheer numbers involved. Where were these bugs all coming from—as in, what was producing them? Would killing the central intelligence set them all loose chaotically? And that was when the deeper, even more concerning question hit him: why was the ecosystem trying to kill everyone recently? A freak dinosaur attack could be explained away, and indeed he’d done so, but now giant insects? What next, sea monsters? Was his city in danger? “May I ask—whaTAH! happeneDAH! when you DAH!estroyeDAH! HHHTHe queen previousyee?”

Emrith turns to Valen, listening with a stern expression as the man first asks after his health, then apologizes for the shadow-ball incident. "Think nothing of it," is all he says at first. But then, when more seems required, he adds, "I will be happy to visit the academy to see what it is you want me to see, however." With a courteous bow, the spell-blade steps forward so that he is as close to Lionel, Esche and the grisly remains of the wasp as is prudent. He waits his turn to speak, calm and polite as would befit an elf, both because it is his natural wont and because of Esche's presence; that fellow is one Emrith believes he has seen about from time to time, though at a distance, one elf can look much like another without scrutiny. "If a desert, or a lair beneath a desert, is where next we go, and if these wasps are any indication of what we will find there, it is imperative that we be well-prepared. Deserts are places of extremes, brutally hot by day and frigid by night. I suspect that these insects may even have adapted the fiery climate in some way, so whatever we can do to counteract fire would, I think, be well worth considering. And flight, since most of us are not gifted with wings." He looks pointedly around. "I have a few ideas of my own already, and will be working on them over the coming days. My body may be wounded, but there is nothing wrong with my mind...and flesh heals. By the time we are ready to venture forth, our combination of manpower and stratagems should offer us a strong chance at victory."

Beldur pants has he arrived. . . Late. Seeing the big bug, however, the small drake would try to rush it. As if eager for the oversized meal, but complains as the knight grabbed her tail and pulled her into his arms. Causing her to squeek, unbecomingly of a growing drake. Nodding his head to Lionel as if apologizing for his tardyness.

Lionel blinks and examines Xzavior. He hadn’t expected this. “I’ve never turned a man down for wanting to defend his home,” he says, nodding approvingly. “And all our homes could be in danger if there really are four of these colonies. It’s not as if the realm doesn’t have enough problems as-is, but… well,” he folds his arms, “I guess that’s exactly why we can use all the help we can get.” On that mark, his azure eyes return to Kreekitaka. “When we slew her, she’d already put on some weird vibe that’d compelled her whole damn horde to go full kamikaze on us. When she died, they died with her. In fact, that was some of the only good news we found. If other monarchs act similarly, it’s all the more imperative we take them out posthaste. -If- that’s the case, anyway. Only one way to find out.” Of course, assassinating the queen was in the cards all along, but a certain betrayal very nearly ruined the entire operation. That thought’s hot on Lionel’s troubled mind when Emrith speaks -- Emrith, after all, had very much intended to slay Khitti where she stood once Amarrah had taken over. Lionel’s grimace deepens. Pragmatically, Emrith wasn’t wrong to do what he did. It still stings, but war stings, and Lionel knows it well. Even now, the elf is as Esche -- planning, logically. “I agree,” he says plaintively. “We’ll need to prepare well for this. I think, barring some very blatant snags, we prepared reasonably for the unknown on this previous mission. But I don’t know that it was enough. Emrith, I trust you implicitly to strategize for this operation to the best of your abilities. I want a full plan on mission briefing, in five days. We’ll hear you, and we’ll heed you.” He glances around. Ameno, his wyvern still bumping into his face. Valen, comical yet dedicated. Eirik, ready for anything. Oline, capable if perhaps overly curious. Beldur, the only fellow present who may yet remember Esche. It occurs to Lionel that he’s thinking of the mission to slay Raiez as ‘simpler days’ now. He snorts despite himself. And Lionel is well-aware of Kreekitaka’s own capabilities. Together with Rorin and Manasa and Khitti and newfound ally Xzavior, Lionel has every confidence they will survive what comes next… if barely. He straightens himself. “Of course, all are welcome to plan alongside Emrith. Offer your proposals to him. Work with him. And with Hildegarde and I, too, as applicable. Which brings me to my next point.” He smiles. “Several of you have quite recently proven time and again you have what it takes to move forward in this guild. And that, my friends, is an exercise in understatement.” Anyone who fought in the saurian conflicts, and certainly anyone who had been present for the recent tunnel mission, has proven they don’t just have what it takes to be in this guild -- they what it takes to protect this whole continent. Whistling to a recruit who stumbles forward and hands him several small silver accessories marked with the guild’s symbols, Lionel beckons folks forward. “Eirik, Valen, Ameno. You are neophytes no longer. You are journeymen, like Rorin.” To Oline, a grin. “Yours will come soon enough.” And to Beldur, a similar sentiment. To Emrith, now. “And you are no longer swordsman. You’ve shown you are a defender. All of you have been elevated one rank. All of you deserve it.” And then his eyes dart to the floor and he clears his throat pensively. “Khitti has also been elevated one rank, as befits her past service.” An emphasis on ‘past’. “Which brings us to our very last order of business. Khitti.”

Eirik again chooses to remain silent, preferring to soak up all the information given before asking any further questions. Cold eyes roam from one Guild member to the next as they all make their speeches. However, at Xzaviors proposal of interest the Lycan smiles. So it seemed that the Healers guild did have a few who weren’t okay with just sitting on the sidelines. This earns a smile, and some respect for the unfamiliar healer. However, mind again is pulled from thoughts as Kree spoke, still trying to understand half the things he spoke. For now Eirik decides its best to just give up trying to translate. He would have to try again at a later day. Right hand reaches up to scratch at the base of his neck. He hoped that a direction would be given and then he could go back to practice. As the last remaining warriors guild member and steel collective clan member in the tournament, he had a lot of practice to do. Most would probably find the Lycan here after the meeting working up a sweat. At Emriths words, he couldn’t agree more. They did need to prepare. To fight as a team, to work together and yes, flight would help a lot. Beldurs entrance is acknowledged as eyes shift to study him and flick back to the task at hand. Eirik is taken back by Lionels words, obviously having no clue that he would be promoted in front of the others. “Thank you,” his only words as he steps forward to collect the item. He was curious about what had become of Khitti, and instead falls silent.

Valen , all through it all, would not know really what to make of everything as he was the type of person to just wait and be told what to do, in warfare and in this guild apparently, at least. For now, all he would do is just remain silent and a good little soldier boy. The stern expression from Emrith wasnt unexpected, but was a bit dissapointed to say the least. He had hoped maybe for even the faintest glimmer of a smile, people in general...even his fellow vampires, needed to do more of that. So again, he would move over to Oline and simply stand next to her, looking up in a re-assuring grin, a brave face put on for the hellish night he had witnessed just the previous evening. The arrival of Beldur however, would earn a raised eyebrow. The small drake was cute, this man though, remained to be seen. The bug planning was all well and good, Valenw ould think on this easily but as Khitti's name was brought up, half of Valen's hair would trun blonde...eyes shifting to stay that Emerald Green as Maldor would step forth, in Valen's body as per the norm. "Let me just say...Lionel..." The Vampire would begin, before a grin broke out on his face as he looked to each person gathered. "Khitto...Khitti...Amarrah....whatever she is called. That last one is the real threat, a creature from the Realm of Shadows. Nasty place, step one foot in with your eyes open and youw ill utterly lose your mind in a split second..." Looking over at Emrith he would laugh and say "Even you." Then to lionel "You as well Sally. Only us manipulators of shadow can brave the depths unscathed and even then, its a crap shoot just who you will get or what you will encounter. Fortunately though, her little stunt proved one thing. Valen...and -I- can control just how much she can do. Perks of being an actual Mancer of Shadows I would assume, they owe their loyalty to us now." With a shrug, he would step back, before stating one last thing "Oh by the way. Lionel? May need to discuss a sliced shot I did from the room upstairs...it maaaay have landed in Macon's bedroom. Like I said...Polo champ three times in a row back in my home, a fourth time would have been nice...but the players tend to frown when you hit the ball so hard it goes up and out the lead horses ass."

Oline applauded rather cheerfully. Why not? Promotions were kind've a big deal, right? She certainly hoped that one day someone might be glad to see her advance in rank... assuming she didn't get herself killed by wasps or something equally horrible on this coming mission. Still, she wasn't too overzealous with her cheering. She just wanted Valen to see that she was proud of him, mostly.Show a little support for the others, too. They were, after all, going to be relying on each other to stay alive. Better to have them think her a bit odd for clapping than think she didn't give a damn at all about any of them. "Gratchyuhleshuns! Mastuh Valen, Mistuh Eirik, Mistuh Ameno." Of course, Maldor was the one out now... but she knew Valen'd get the message eventually. Besides, unlike so many others, Oline didn't actually find Maldor to be all that disagreeable. Maybe it was just because he was nicer to her than other folks, thogh.

Xzavior would give a nod of thanks when Lionel allowed the naga to take his place in arms beside them. He'd offer whatever he could to stop this big bug issue. Which frankly, a nice big ol ice storm in a den of insects could do a load of wonders. Never seen any wasps in winter have we? Moving back when Lionel went on to perform a ceremony, he raised a brow when he looked to Valen. He applied to be in the warrior's guild? He would see him joining the Mage's but perhaps he just didn't know Valen in that light to make the judgement. He'd seen the vampire fight once in a spar. Speaking of, the naga really should join in a few matches as well. Work out those kinks grown over long months of little to no action. However, when the name Khitti was called, he was back to being curious. He's met her a few times. What had happened to the girl and why was she now the center of attention. Until of course Maldor came out to have a talk. The only real visible reaction being the naga's eyes coming to slits as he regarded the man, he was calm. Though hoping for any reason to show some aggression. However, with what he knew about the guy, he doubted the invader would be that dumb.

Kreekitaka hadn’t gotten a medal, and that was okay, he supposed, if that was the way things had to be done since he wasn’t an official guild member when he’d been through the saurian stuff. He planned on ranking quickly, though. His attention now was primarily taken up by Valen. Or whatever this other thing was which was pretending to be Valen. His facial crushers flared again. “Mages,” he muttered under his breath. “NoTAH! a sane one among ‘em...”

Emrith :: It is a trait of Emrith that while he is polite, he takes certain things as his due. He gives only the slightest bow when news of his promotion is announced, and does not make any flowery speeches or humble shows of gratitude. He has fought hard for what he has earned, and the deeds speak most eloquently on their own. He has no desire, either, to bask in adulation; promotion simply means that he is better armed to aid the guild in future endeavours, and the spell-blade will not be found wanting in this regard in future. When Khitti's name comes up, Emrith's face is the only indication that he is less than pleased. "While Khitti has shown her merit as a guild member in the past, by all accounts," Emrith says smoothly, "she has also shown that trusting her is, at best, problematic. She must not be allowed to further jeopardize future missions, whatever her rank, whatever her personal stake might be. I will bow to the decision of someone with greater rank than I, but I will not accept censure if I am once again forced to divert myself from a target in order to neutralize a threat which should not be there." Emrith has further hot words on the subject, but he stifles them; needless heated confrontation will serve no one, and for the moment, he can watch and wait. The woman clearly has more going on than a simple desire to betray people, after all, and this must be borne in mind. "If she is part of any mission going forward, until such time that her...difficulties...are sorted through, she must be guarded. Her damage potential must be put before all else, even her ability to help. We cannot afford another fiasco like the last. Guard her, and ward her, if she is to come along at all. I do not appreciate having to watch my back within a guild of members who I am supposed to trust, nor being asked to do so by someone whose orders come from above my own station." So much for diplomacy; it had to come out sooner or later.

Beldur takes his promotion with grace befitting a knight. Though, his drake-hatchling showed her excitement at the news. Chirping excitedly as it ment better meals for her. Her eyes turning to the new initiates before her master sighed and pulled her down. His head nodded to Lionel. Letting out a sigh of releif at the news. Though his main goal was still not in his grasp yet. No matter for now. He'll gain some lords attention sooner or later. For now, the wasps are their biggest threat. And he should be focused on that. He inspects the creature now. The excitement still fresh in his mind, though his disipline as a knight helped him control it.*

Lionel actually discerns Eirik’s silence. It’s funny, though, because Eirik -- for as long as Lionel has known him, which admittedly has not been long -- has *always* emphasized silence over speech. Yet now, there’s something palpable about it. Various guild members are clearly tense at mention made of Khitti, but the first to broach the subject is Maldor. Valen. Maldor. Valen. You get the picture. Lionel’s brows furrow at the man’s analysis, and something even earns a curious stare from Esche. “I’ll agree that Amarrah’s the threat,” Lionel confirms. “I admit, I don’t know the first darn thing about the Shadow Plane. Various cultures have their own interpretations, and that holds stock worldwide from what I’ve seen, but I’ll take you and Amarrah for the sages on this field, and Amarrah sure ain’t happy to help.” The bit about polo champions earns a cant of the head and a double-blink, but Lionel rolls onward with the real meat of the conversation. “Amarrah,” he continues, but only after Emrith has spoken and Lionel’s own face has visibly contorted several times over. Almost everything he’s said has seemed reasonable. Indeed, once again Esche has ended up quite interested in his fellow elf as a result of clean, efficient, and logical deduction. But there’s that nagging, brutal, dagger-in-the-dark little tidbit about killing her if she crosses him again. It’s still logical. It’s still clean and efficient. It still makes sense, but it hurts profusely. Lionel is a leader, though. Men and women can die if he does not lead them well. He cannot afford a breakdown. He must proceed. A breath is drawn and he continues. “Amarrah,” he repeats. “She’s a rat bastard with a sultry voice. She’s the culprit here, and she needs to be dealt with. I’ve known Khitti since my return to Lithrydel. She’s family to me.” He lets that sink in, more for himself than the others. “But circumstances here mean that Khitti, through no will of her own, crossed the line.” Another pause. “Brand, as well as several guild guards and advisors, are gonna be tailing her like mad from hereon out whenever we’re on a mission.” He points to Esche, who bows humbly. “-Several- guards and advisors.” Then he nods to Emrith. “And as your leader, I feel it is my responsibility to apologize to you right here, right now.” Lionel bites his lip, pacing. “I promise you, had I known that could have happened, far greater precautions would have been taken. I promise you again, we won’t let it happen again.” One last pause. “That will be all. We’ll meet back here in five days sharp to discuss Emrith’s plan and head down Gualon way. Deserts, people. Think deserts. Alright, then. Questions?”

Eirik isn’t one for long winded speeches, and Oline is regarded with a small smile. The lycan takes a step back, resuming the position he once had. Though he might have personal issues with Khitti after the dilemma he did remember her in a different light. His first opponent in the tournament and she put up a damned good fight. However, thoughts die as he continues to listen to the Knight-Commander. Lionel is right to be concerned by Eiriks response of silence. She was enslaved by something else. She had no will of her own, and such a thing touches upon a more than personal note. It strikes home for him and instead he chooses not to even discuss the topic. Silver eyes shift to the scar upon his left arm, nearly shaking his head at his own thoughts. At the end of the meeting Eirik nods, but instead of taking off, waits to see if he can have a word in private with Lionel. He had no questions regarding the meeting.

Valen , the Possessively Possessed, woul regard Emrith's words as if he could not have cared one iota about what fate befell Khitti or Amarrah, but that would change. "Look...bud." He would say, looking at the other Vampiric Elf with a pointed stare. "You touch one hair on that lass' head and so help me I will string you up by your balls, if you go after her without consulting the rest of the guild that is, no matter how reasonable it might seem. This guild is a family, and Family is supposed to show support. Yes, Amarrah needs to be dealt with and make no mistake I will more than happily join you in putting that creature back to where she belongs or destroying her outright but there are ways to go about it and assuming Khitti has any say in what that thing does...is assinine, and contemptuous, and altogether quite rude. Valen might think you are pretty but so help me..." He wouldnt even finish as he smoothed down the front of his shirt and looked to Lionel with a shake of his head "No further questions at this time Govnah. Also Valen says thank you for the medal and the rise through the ranks. I apologize sincerely if I..." And here is when he would look at Xzavior, roguish grin, but a mad look in his eyes for a split second "Overstepped." With that, his head would jerk back to look at Lionel, hands clasped in front of him as f he was the teacher's pet.

Oline had questions... but she felt as if now were perhaps not the time to ask them. Despite it being PRECISELY the time to ask them. Hers were more... personal, and not directly related to the overall mission at hand. Curiosities. Whether they were later directed at Emrith, Lionel, Valen, or the whole lot of them remained to be seen. Rather than dwelling on them, she would approach Valen/Maldon and rest her hand gently upon his shoulder. Leaning forth, her lips would whisper into his ear a playful condemnation. Otherwise, she'd simply listen and commit to memory all that she heard.

Xzavior would turn to Kreek and frown a bit, "Hey! I'm sane! Now..." He muttered the last bit. There was a short bit of time where he wasn't exactly friendly like he is now. From all the talk about this Amarrah character, he couldn't help but think about Valen and his situation. How fun. With more then one person in this position, he guessed there was a lot more to worry about then just bugs and spice and everything not so nice. He could only wonder what was happening with people nowadays but he couldn't say much now could he. Wasn't as though Xzavior has been the perfect being either. Having no questions in mind, the naga went back to place himself by his daughter of a wyvern and wait out the rest of the meeting less approached otherwise. The bulk of the conversation was done, he'd be waiting for orders. Made it easier now that he was going to be staying here in frostmaw for a bit to help out with the other issues as well. When the vampire turned to him with that mad look, Xzavior returned it flatly and said, "Subtle." Before going back to ignoring the thing. He didn't come here to be harassed. He came here to lend a hand.

Kreekitaka shook his head when it was time for questions. No questions yet--just a sudden need to be elsewhere. The talk of fighting had him itching for one, but he couldn't exactly get out of the chair. He was still building strength, but he still couldn't lift his jawblade. So he felt that he should probably leave before he felt too strong an urge to punch someone in the mouth. He signaled his guard and was about to allow himself to be led away, satisfied with the day's events. Lionel was, he was certain, going to be busy with enough things that he needn't be bothered at the moment with questions like--wait, yes, there was one question. He gestured again to stall the orc attendant. "I wanTAH! a queen egg." Well, not so much a question, and more of a statement. Oh boy, here we go.

Emrith has said all that he intends to say, at least until Valen addresses him. "I am first and foremost a member of an organization which has stated aims," the elf says calmly. "Your bravado gets you nowhere. I will do whatever needs to be done, and I will answer for it when I have done it, but I tell you this once, and once only. Do not threaten me again, lest I decide that you, too, constitute a dangerous element that should necessitate my involvement. I care not if Khitti has a say in what happens, in the context of mission completion; my heart is with her for her plight, and I do not mean Khitti herself any ill will. But if she is the method by which a more malign entity threatens this guild, or the world at large, and if removing Khitti's ability to act as unintentional harm is the only means I possess of ensuring our success, then I will do what you cannot. I will do her no harm that she does not merit, and if she is warded and guarded and generally kept from hurting others, I will consider the matter closed. But if you think I am going to let something evil run loose simply because of the nature of volition or soft-heartedness, you are sadly deluded. Mark me well." Lionel's apology earns a nod of respect, for even if it was not necessary - it was hardly Lionel's fault that Amarrah went rogue, after all - it is a sign that the man is taking it seriously. This is all Emrith could have hoped for. He has registered his displeasure and made his stance clear, and beyond that, there need be nothing more said, at least to his way of thinking. He takes a few steps away when it is clear that the meeting is going to disperse, but hangs around on the off chance that anyone might need to ask him anything. His own planning will proceed apace without external input, but he is always more than willing to cooperate if others have ideas. He simply stands near one wall, listening and watching, quiet and contemplative.

Beldur listens to the others intently. The knight might not have known entirely what was going on, but he knew that he should learn first before opening his mouth. His drake on the other hand wormed her way out of her masters arms before flying to Lionel. Ploping herself on his head and just going to sleep on him. The young man sighing as he watched. "I'm sorry for her. She still has yet to learn personal space." He would walk up to Lionel, the large bug remaining in the side of his vision, though not his main focus at the moment. Emrith's words gave him a clue as to what was going on, but he does hope, wordlessly, for the best.

Lionel watches as Valen and Emrith speak boldly. As a leader, he ought to intervene. What will he say, though? Emrith’s aim is true and fair. Valen’s passion has the right protective motions in mind. It was all so much easier back when Lionel was the rogue hero, the loner who saved the world. It was so much easier… but far less fulfilling. With that stray, if random, thought in mind, he takes a single step forward to intervene… only to be caught dumbstruck by Kreekitaka’s kingly demand. He tilts his head. He blinks and blinks again. Were he an anime character, Lionel O’Connor would wield a lone sweatdrop upon his forehead down to his brow just about now. Yet instead he is real, even if his expression is no less ludicrous. In the heat of the moment, Beldur’s drake perches upon him and sleeps, and it is as if the world comes to a total standstill. Grasping for words, for thoughts, for anything that makes sense, it’s all he can do to dismiss. “That’s a wrap.” He breathes it out hastily. Frostmaw’s Knight-Commander. Catal’s Last Prince. The Hero of Hellfire. With a tiny drake on his shoulder and a crab king who wants to play at god. This is his life, and it’s ending one moment at a time.

Eirik sees that Lionels hands are full, "I'll try again later." his voice low and grainy like rocks being crushed beneath a weighted boot. The near six foot Northman exits the area through the large double doors and back out to the training yard, where he would do just that. The meeting now off in the distance of his mind.

Valen listened to Emrith's retort, and would tilt his head to the side, a contemplative look on his face. "Well of course. You just made it sound like you were going after Khitti regardless, without discourse or group discussion....as if you would go rogue. I was not aware you were so high in the company that you could do such a thing without consult. My apologies." If Emrith thought that Maldor was full of bravado, he would find himself to be sorely mistaken as he was prepared to do anything and everything necessary, to protect that little red-headed girl. Or maybe perhaps, he was just having idigestion. Either way, the entity within Valen was certainly more than content to let it go. "Apologies Lionel, and the rest of you." He would say finally, at Oline's words. she certainly had a way to bring him down to Lythridel again. Eyes would travel to Kreekitaka when he requested an egg, but it was hardly his place to request a reason why, or even tell him 'Nope-ville'. He would leave that to Lionel. With Lionel's words given that the meeting was done, the shadows would simply sweep Maldor away...and he would be gone.

Oline had, while Emrith and Maldor/Valen were exchanged barbs, coiled her arms around the man and glared. She'd been very impressed with and quite fond of Emrith up until now, but he was getting into the realm of territory where her consideration for bonds such as 'guildmate' were outweight by things like 'you are now issueing threats to my family'. Still, she was glad when Maldor deescelated the situation reasonably. Perhaps she was a good influence on him! She wouldn't get the chance to say as much, because at right about that moment a hand reached out from the shadowy void that had taken Maldor and gently hoisted her along with him. Valkr would know where to find her... if he so chose to leave the relatively comfortable roosting of the academy.

Xzavior would be just as confused when Kreek ordered for a queen's egg and instantly thought badly of the idea. However, when the meeting came to an end, the naga came to a stand and cut through the group to come over to Lionel and say, "Perhaps we should talk again for a bit of cooling off. Whether it be business or pleasure it may lead to help each other out eh?" He offered with a smile. Getting the feeling that things were said and done, the wyvern who brought him here stood up and gave a stretch. Asking from across the clearing in an elvish tongue if he was staying or coming with her and leaving. He offered a shrug before turning back to Lionel waiting for his response.

Kreekitaka found his idea ran unopposed and rippled his paddles, pleased. He signaled his attendant again and, since everyone else was leaving, decided it'd be best if he did so as well. Time to go find someplace warmer. And less crowded. Where he could get back in his healing tank for a while. He was now officially tired of being weak. It was time to get down to business.

Emrith :: Once again, Emrith simply takes what he is due, and does not respond directly to Valen except to incline his own head slightly. Stances are clear, and positions have been rendered without any shadows present. He makes his way toward the doors, back out to the main yard. On a different day, in a different mood, he might take up a weapon - perhaps the spear or the quarterstaff - to continue his near-endless physical training. Today, his leg pains him, and he has a green dragon in southern Sage to tend. Ilaerothil is awake and nominally mobile, but despite her size, Emrith is displeased by the notion of leaving her alone. His mind is astir with various unsettled thoughts, not to mention a little anger at some of the proceedings. Kreekitaka's request for an egg is something Emrith intends to oppose by any means reasonable, and the whole business with Khitti and Amarrah and their ability to get people killed is not, to put it baldly, the spell-blade's favourite topic. Being in Ilaerothil's company - or better yet, that of Talyara - would definitely do much to ease his mind.

Beldur :: Nods as he tries to pick his drake up. She would audibly complain, being moved from where she was. But eventually the drake was back on her master's shoulders. Returning to her sleep as the knight apologized. "I am sorry for interruption to the meeting she caused, Lionel." Though given how heated the debate's where getting, he was kinda glad they ended without bloodshed. "And for arriving late. I kinda got lost. I think I'll stick in at the guild hall and train." He shrugs, before turning himself if the Knight commander was finished with him.

Lionel nods to Xzavior. “Aye, that’d do. I’m sure it can be arranged.” Then, when the naga pauses, he shrugs graciously. “Feel free to crash here for the night. Or any night, really. No need to fly around the realm at this hour; the Warrior’s Guild welcomes its allies.” And then, one by one, they all clear out. Even the recruits, with their wasp-in-a-box. Even Esche. All have departed now, with a mission in mind and planning to be done. All but Beldur. The knight-errant’s apology snaps Lionel out of a bit of a daze, and it’s only then that he fully registers the drake’s returned to her owner. “No worries,” he speaks plainly. “It’s good to see you again. Our journey to that cave feels like ages ago already.” He ponders. The cave. Khitti’s rescue. Now it’s come to this. In the midst of a terrible against an ongoing unnatural malestrom of monsters, Lionel can’t stop thinking about his bid to free Khitti from Amarrah. He almost stares off into the ether again, but catches himself just before he slips. “Rest well.” He pats the man on his shoulder and vanishes into the hall. Behind him, the mosaic shimmers in the moonlight. Their ticket forward in this madness.