RP:Sauriangate III: Prime Suspects

Part of the Sauriangate Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: Lionel and Hildegarde work together with Khitti, Ameno, and recent recruit Eirik to devise a do-or-die plan which will target the root of the saurian problem. Preparations are made for a final assault on the Prim'ar, allegedly the mastermind behind the migrations.

Frostmaw: Snowless Training Yard

Lionel leans against a stone slab, arms casually resting against its sleek surface. The sun is high in the midday winter sky, but the chill is, as always, rampant. He’s dressed in his incarnadine leather longcoat, black silks beneath, and Hellfire is strapped to his back in the beautiful prismatic scabbard the queen has recently gifted him. He is every bit the heroic figure today, but the colors he has chosen lend Catal’s Last Prince a vibrant mildly chaotic tinge. In short, he’s dressed fittingly. How many will arrive, he wonders? What will he say to them? How will he go about handling this latest in a long and storied line of crises? Questions such as these were once summarily discarded by a younger man who’d sooner leap without looking. Time has had its way with Lionel, and now he’ll calculate -- if still boldly. He taps his foot upon the loamy soil, crosses his arms, and paces.

Ameno had spent the night at the academy, but even now he was worried about his debriefing on the Primal Alpha situation. dressed in his dark blue garments, the white scaled 6' tall draconian left the academy room he had been staying in and traveled eastward to the snowless Training yard were he observed lionel waiting. "Sir" he said saluting has he made his way to the yard.

Khitti was late to everything as usual. Despite that vampiric agility of hers and the shadowstepping, neither seemed to help; soon, though, she was making her presence known by appearing a foot or so at Lionel’s right, a cloud of thick black smoke signalling her arrival, with the signature ‘bamf’ sound to accompany it. She’d yet to meet Ameno so a mere nod is offered to him, while Lionel gets a slight jab to his ribs with Khitti’s elbow, but it’s meant in the friendliest way possible. She seems to be in slightly better spirits than before when he saw her last, but she still chooses to take the road of silence regardless. The vampiress remains hidden beneath her dragonscale attire, emerald eyes shifting between the two males before allowing her attention to roam elsewhere for the moment.

Lionel nods silently to Ameno, his lips pursed. He’s obviously a bit troubled just now, although the draconian ought to know precisely why. This situation needs to be resolved posthaste. It’s right about then that a thick black smoke billows beside the man, and Lionel takes a deep breath, figuring it’s either demonic forces or Khatja Elysse von Schreier. The decency of the gods, or the fates, or free will, or whatever it is that governs this crazy world and does a mediocre job of it, prevails today because it’s the latter, not the former. Khitti’s jab is actually quite painful, considering Lionel had fractured a rib just yesterday before aid came in the form of a certain lycan named Eirik. But Lionel is very, very good at masking pain, so he disguises his wince with a sneer and his grunt turns into a chuckle mid-beat. Quite the resourceful actor, this one. It’s a wonder it hasn’t gotten him killed yet. “Alright then,” he opens, ceasing his pacing and coming to a firm middleground between his two companions. “Let’s get this show underway. If more come, all the merrier. If not, we’ll mail them letters with little chocolates on ‘em. Here’s the deal: Ameno hails from Venturil. And Venturil’s got a saurian problem. And from the sounds of things, it’s the -root- of our saurian problem.” His azure gaze fixes firmly on the fellow. “Tell me what you saw out there. You and Rorin, I mean. Together, we’ll launch a plan to deal with it -- and the saurians entirely -- once and for all. This realm’s got ninety-nine problems as-is. I’d rather a dinosaur not be one of them.”

Ameno nodded and took a deep breathe and exhaled two streams of cold air from his between his teeth, a common habit when he was nervous. "A few weeks ago Rorin joined me on some surveillance of a horde of raptors and a Spinosaur that were not included in the event with our krabby friend, Rorin and I observed two raptors that stood out from the rest, both were of solid colors and slightly taller than the common pack and stood erect like sentient instead of feral kind. These two had apprently been the ones responsible for bringing the dinosaur hordes all the way out here and from venturil. Apprently, they are different, intelligent, and able to speak the basic tongue, the blue one that was there of the two told us after being wounded for failure of leading the packs with to our krabby friend, told us that his kind are from a group of tribes in the forests of venturil and that they were able to lead the feral dinosaurs like cattle eastward to keylay, now the remaining raptor is leading the ferals back to venturil, where they will slaughter the tribe that the one blue one was from. This black one has green striped markings on it, and in venturil we refer to these as Primal Alpha's or as the blue mentioned Prim'ar.

Khitti was a little bit better at being perceptive than Lionel was at being an actor for she caught that wince, and offered a frown in return as a sort of apology before her thoughts turn to the subject of the saurians. “So vhat are ve doing zhen? Killing zhem? Forcing zhem elsewhere? Offering zhis intelligent one something of value in exchange for getting zhe hell out of zhere?” She had, of course, been unable to attend the excitement that had taken place in Venturil, and were she unable to help deal with them this time around, she could at least give suggestions. “Extermination seems to be zhe better route, zhough, if zhis one continuously returns vith zhe ferals.” She finally pulls her hood off her head with a sigh, then crosses her arms over her chest, “I’ve never hunted zhe lizard types before, aside from one dragon. It’s been nothing but spiders and undead for me, so it’d be a learning experience.”

Eirik himself is late to arrive. Not that he wanted to be, simply because he had gotten lost finding his way here. Heavy footfalls would be the only thing to announce his arrival. The outsider stands clad in a hodge-podge mixture of armor; a chainmail sleeve works its' way up his left arm and weaves into a steel pauldron. A metal gauntlet encases his right hand while steel greaves start at his ankles and die just below the knee. The rest of the man is covered in silver stitched black leather and cotton drab, few pieces like his fur-lined cloak, look rather new. A greatsword of some considerable work lies strapped to his back, its' magics already witnessed by Lionel himself. He wondered how the man was after the other day, but such thoughts would not be voiced. The Lycan expresses no dislike for Khittis' extermination idea and prefers to don a silent role. Silver eyes continue to watch the group from under the veil of his rather large scar. The berseker awaited his orders, a target and to be pointed in its direction with the rest of the group. The only sign to show he is listening is a silent nod to the information given.

Lionel narrows his eyes as Ameno speaks, his attention so verily fixated that he’s oblivious to how immaculately perceptive Khitti really is. He does, however, catch her frown in his peripheral, and he smiles easily at her, that self-same contagious optimism at the forefront of his appearance. He gives them both a chance to speak, silently observing Ameno’s gestures, his tone, as he formulates a plan of action. He knows it’s on him to make the call. As guild co-champion, aye, but as a man he’s aware others look up to for guidance. That knowledge once pained him, but at last he’s coming into his own. Eirik’s arrival surprises Lionel, but in a good way. His easy smile is made all the easier at the lycan’s approach -- a curious reception to a man so skilled in combat who has not yet been well-acquainted. Could Lionel possess the ability to see the measure of a man after just one encounter? If so, it’s no supernatural feat, no glory of Halycanos, Ishaarite fire spirit lodged within his fabled blade. If so, it is merely human of him. “This Prim’ar,” he slaughters the word, “it sent the saurians eastward at a time of political uproar. It -- he, she, whatever -- it knew what it was doing. It herded them, focused them on a key location. It sounds like it knew how perilous, how tightrope, the situation would be between Frostmaw and Larket.” He pauses, trying to make peace with his conscience before he continues. It’s a constant struggle for leaders with any semblance of one, and Lionel has a hell of a conscience. “...I want it dead. We give it one chance at surrender, and then it’s dead.” He shakes his head. “We can’t afford greater mercy than that. One chance. One shot.”

Ameno nodded "yes and I think we need to kill it before it returns to forest of venturil. If we Venturil's know one thing, and a slaughtered lizardmen tribe would incite other tribes to begin attacking venturil, the Prim'ar must die, before it reaches the forest."

Hildegarde exited from the Academy of Aramoth in simple Frostmawian wear that was mighty similar to what she wore to the Larketian wedding. It’s a tunic, undercut with chainmail and fur-trimmed. It’s light, protective and it can be easily mistaken for everyday wear, rather than a bit of armour. As the Silver exits the Academy, she is not surprised to see quite so many faces. She knew there was a meeting to be held today, she had already informed her Knight Commander that she would be unable to attend due to other pressing matters. So instead of making a scene or delving right into the conversation, the Silver hangs back and watches the proceedings with a quiet yet wary interest. New faces. Strangers brought dangers, but these were unusual times. Dangerous times, indeed.

Khitti blinks as she catches the scent of the Silver, peering over in her direction. She’s hesitant as she always has been around the Queen, but even moreso now since that blasted Raiez went and mucked up her feelings towards the dragonfolk. There’s a respectful nod and the briefest of smiles given. The metal clad doggo known as Eirik is also regarded warily as she returns her attention to Ameno and Lionel, “Utter annihilation zhen. Good plan. ‘Vhen’, I guess, should be zhe next question.”

Eirik 's gaze shifts momentarily as Hilde enters and nods to the Silver. Never having been formally introduced, the Lycan has no knowledge of who she is; he was new here after all. Khitti receives the same in kind, but Eirik shifts his attention back to the explanation at hand. One chance to surrender, he thought. Hands move to the hood atop his white-walled head and pull it down. It had become apparent that this mission is high priority. Like Khitti, he too wondered when, or if by chance this wasn't just a meeting of information but one of a mission. The lycan further carries his shroud of silence, continuing to listen.

Lionel isn’t fond of strict deadlines, but his whole life’s been one strict deadline after the other. Such is the way of things that when Ameno notes the Prim’ar must be felled before the forest is reached. That makes things tricky -- that makes this priority one, even in a field of countless other priorities. He sighs, but in the middle of that sigh, the queen arrives. Instantly, he straightens posture, offering her a graceful bow. Boy, has he improved his bowing. “My queen,” he greets, even though she hangs back. That ought to be enough to give Eirik an idea who he's dealing with, although it isn't Lionel’s expressed intent. “We’ll intersect and engage the Prim’ar’s forces in five days. Make preparations. Alert the others. We’ll bring melee weapons as well as crossbows. A small fighting force -- ten or fewer. This is a hit. We’re going after the Prim’ar directly. Ameno, you'll guide us.’

Ameno was almost frantic when the Lionel mentioned the queen behind him and he quickly bowed. "Yes sir," he said to Lionel understanding that he would have to guide them, which likely meant he'd need to scout the area within that time, just to make sure. continued whisps of visiblily cold air vented from his mouth, increasingly nervous with both the responsibility and the queen near him.

Hildegarde was not one for all the formalities, so when Lionel hails her as Queen and bows she makes a small gesture as if to ward it off. Maybe she’ll get used to the bowing one day, but it is not this day. “Venturil will be a hard march,” she tells them. “Do you know how you will get there? And have you practiced against such beasts before or do you go in without much experience against them?” she asks, not in order to undermine Lionel or the operation, but to ensure that the maximum number of warriors possible return alive.

Khitti nods in response to Lionel’s orders. “If you can find me a bow vith a string strong enough to handle vampiric strength zhat I might borrow, zhen I vould take zhat. I may be getting better vith zhe melee combat, but if ve’ve got one shot at zhis, I’d rather go vith vhat I know best. I don’t vant to be zhe one to screw it up just because I’m not fully trained in it yet.” Then she addresses the Silver, “A distraction might be best, if zhe main one is highly intelligent. Perhaps him and I,” a nod is given towards Eirik, “might prove useful vith zhat.” To suggest that a Khat and dog could work together, it was madness! “He seems capable enough anyway.”

Eirik takes note of Lionels' posture, his bow; more importantly the words he used. He watched the others react to her and it finally hit him. Like a sack of bricks. It seems that Eirik is standing before a queen. The outsider, mid-discussion, would turn, click heels together and slam arm to chest. Then his head would bow low momentarily, silver eyes meeting the ground before he rises. This wasn't done to formally apologize, but to offer the respect she deserved; Eirik being a new arrival was to blame for his lack of knowledge. Such things as bad manners were normally beyond him. He was hopeful she'd be forgiving of his ignorance. If he did meet her again, proper respect would be shown immediately. The Lycan turns and listens well. Had the group been training before his arrival? Did they know Lionel had brought something wild with him? By wild, he only thought of himself. As a berseker and Lycan things could get rather dangerous. Mostly for Eirik, should he succumb to his inner rage. Jaw begins to clench tightly. What would the others think of him? This is the part the newcomer worried over, not the fight itself. Eirik listens further still to Khittis thick accent unsure where they hail from. A bow string to handle vampiric strength? He paused, a look of cunfusion smearing his visage. Still the wanderer said nothing.

Lionel is pleased with Ameno’s gracious willingness, and then needs Hildegarde’s wise counsel as it comes. Ameno replies to the queen first, however. "I am well-versed in quarterstaff usage against said creatures, and I have commonly used the Craugmoyle Pass.” That last bit takes Lionel by surprise. He’d never thought to ask the draconian his route. Now he has an answer to a question of Hildegarde’s he’d not yet been prepared for. “The battle in the Northern Sage,” Lionel mentions. “Sauriangate, the troops have taken to calling it. We fought the full force of the saurian threat. I'm glad, and proud, to say we suffered no fatalities, either. Our allies with the Healer’s Guild really came through.” It is odd that the encounter occurred less than a league from the fateful Battle for the Bridge, which would happen less than a fortnight later. How many bones from how many races lie scattered there now? “But we’ll double our training,” Lionel continues, mindful of the guild leader’s purpose. “Not all of us were there, and those of who were will doubtless have much to teach. As for the trip itself, I'd thought to ask if the guild could collaborate with the Eyrie and borrow a few wyverns. But Craughmoyle Pass sounds apt. We’ll rely on you for that part, too,” he informs Ameno, who merely waves his certainty. To Khitti, he smirks: “You’ll have your bow. I’ll have it fresh-forged.” Forges aren’t necessary for bows, Lionel, but at least you’re trying. “I think I know someone with precisely the right skillset to make it happen.” Alvina’s first orders as an official employee of Frostmaw, as it were. “Well, there we have it. That’s the plan. Through the pass, and we’ll cut them off, take down the leader, and end this tyranny.” He grimaces to the queen, but his tone is soft. “Gods know we’ve got enough problems as-is. This one ends this week.”

Hildegarde offers Eirik a tiny gesture of her hand as if to say ‘it’s cool, don’t worry’ in reply to his hurried mark of respect. While it was likely true she had earned her crown and the respect of those gathered, she did not like to assume that respect was given. She preferred to earn it. “A quarterstaff is all well and good until you have swarmed by the beasts. I think team work will be vital, here,” she advises. “I cannot afford to leave Frostmaw and aid with the mission, but I will ensure that the Eyrie is yours to employ and to assist with transport,” this is likely no surprise to Lionel at all. When Khitti mentions the bow, however, Hildegarde is ready to interject until Lionel does. “I have a design for this bow,” she tells Lionel. “I would like you to send it off to whoever you intend to make it, for their consideration. If they like it, then they ought to use it. I think it will fair suit our Khitti.” With the finalisation of the plan, Hildegarde nods her head in the affirmative as if to give her consent to the plan. “Very good. To those who require additional means, such as armour, weaponry, supplies, be sure to submit your request prior to departure. I can try to have something made for you on the fly,” she assures. “Remember. What good you work here will not go unnoticed. To those of you who seek not only to advance in this guild, but to advance in life? My eye is watchful.”

Khitti grins at Hildegarde’s mention of the bow design. Oh yes, this would be good. She composes her child-like joy for the moment, nodding at both of them. “Right. Okay. Five days, zhen. I vill meet you all out zhere. I’d, uh, rather not take a flight. I much prefer my feet on zhe ground.” The blue dragonscale hood is pulled up over her head once more, another nod, this time in goodbye is given, “Zhis has been lovely, but I must return to zhe tavern. I left a blonde Catalian in an unfortunate predicament and I must see to it immediately.” The vampiress starts her departure, blinks, then side eyes Lionel, “-Another- blonde Catalian zhat’s not present.” With a wave, she heads off, taking the path through the wilderness that’d head eastward.

Eirik nods in affirmation to Hildes' words, her direction to submit requests for armor, weapons, and supplies. Eyes shift back to Ameno, Khitti and come to rest on Lionel. Tactics. He would need a plan of action and some basic training for the upcoming task. The berseker sought a fight and the advancement of his own skills. His head wasn't so lofty as to think of gaining anything beyond a capable reputation, and a ferocity that never waned. He watches Khitti leave, but stays himself, to start use of this training ground if he is indeed allowed too. He saw nothing wrong with the plan, and had no particular arguement with any of it so far. Besides, what say in these matters would have even -if- he didn't agree to any portion of it.

Lionel is a blonde Catalian, and thus, momentarily confused by Khitti’s words. Thankfully, she clears it up as she departs. “That’d be perfect,” he says to Queen Hildegarde, nodding enthusiastically. “I’ll get those bow plans to Alvina Liadon, and The Eyrie’s mounts are much appreciated. We’ll make this happen, people.” He scans the area -- eyes flickering from Ameno to Eirik and back to the queen. “I’ll get letters out to those who missed the meeting. Five days from now, the saurian threat ends.” He exits, proudly. The Warrior’s Guild shall prevail.