RP:Serious Accusation

From HollowWiki

Part of the Rise of Larket Arc


Summary: Xzavior returns to Macon in order to get to the bottom of what is really happening in Larket. Sabrina joins them and Xzavior attempts to question the king's loyalty to his kingdom. The Rage Knight deflects suspicion onto The Fallen Paladin Kelovath and Xzavior himself. Sabrina must decide who she believes and who she shoots.


Council Meeting Room

Xzavior had been waiting in the room with his arms crossed and a calm look on his face. Despite having just yesterday accused Macon for holding Josleen hostage, he was back again to have a little chat with the king. He stored himself away in a self made seat and casually waited for the man to arrive. And it would be just that too. A talk. Nothing crazy. And this time he actually had a plan for what he was saying instead of just blurting the first thing that came to mind.


Macon enters the council meeting room outside of his usual armor and sans Rage Axe. His manner of dress exposes this meeting as one that is not on the schedule and it is likely that very few (the Kingsguard that escorted the Fury Knight here) know that it is even taken place. This room has gone unused for some time. Sabrina is the sole remaining member of the council that Macon believes is of any use and so there really is no Larketian Council. The men and women guarding the King’s life wait outside the room so that the snake and the Death Knight are alone and can speak freely, which is just what Macon demands of Xzavior when he enters, “Speak,” looking to get straight to the point this time around.


Xzavior smirked a bit and leaned forward a bit. "Awe, what? No hello? We were allies at one point. Well, as close as allies as we'd get." He said as he came to a stand. "I want to know just what the hell is going on really. And not whats happening on the surface either. I mean what's really happening.Your end goal in all this. If anything involving the underdark is included. You know. Important things like that." He said with a less carefree and more serious face.


Macon is, unfortunately, not currently wearing the stone crown of Larket on his head, cumbersome thing, or he would have simply pointed at it smartly when asked what his endgame is. The Furious King is annoyed with the snark in the naga’s greeting and the entitlement with which Xzavior speaks to him, but he does not snap in a way one might expect from someone who fancies himself The Rage Knight. Instead his words are calm, calculated, and sincere, “I am The King of Larket,” he not so subtly reminds the freeze mage, “My only goals are Larket’s. I seek the recapture of the fallen Paladin and a peaceful end to the war with Frostmaw. The Underdark is far from my mind.” He pauses, narrows his grey stare on Xzavior and threatens, “As it should be from yours.”


Xzavior only raised a brow when he mentioned the fallen paladin and tilted his head as he does, "I somehow believe that both of us know he isn't as fallen as you say he is." Glancing at the door for a moment he continued, "I still remember when Gevurah asked me to assist you with your havoc causing here in Larket. I would't be surprised if you somehow had a hand in his fall from grace. Which in turn, makes it pretty clear that this war you're so keen on wasn't as much of a surprise as you make it out to be. I'm trying to get answers here, and clearly, leaving the underdark behind me isn't going to help me get any of those." Looking on the king again, just as calm as him. Hey, he was doing better this time at least.


Sabrina had entered from the evening chill, mazing her way through the Council room, navigating the seats riddling the path to the strategy table. She takes in the sights before her, stark white gaze scanning the room and noting the few soldiers in it. This wasn’t a time of peace, she expected more. She scans the plans along the oversized spread, not being one of war-type experience it is all just maps and numbers that make no sense. Macon and Xzavior were talking, it was simple busy-ness to occupy her time and not interrupt. A soldier passes by her, eying her up and down, and continues on with some sort of smug look that she caught just at the corner of her eye. She didn’t care what these idiots thought. It was always her they came crying to when their limbs fled their form.


Macon responds to Xzavior’s words and tilt of head by tilting his own slightly more so and putting on a small smirk, “Ah… y’are further out of the loop than I feared… I ‘ave information tha’ the -fallen- Paladin ‘as been down there to see The High Priestess on multiple occasions… and most recently has left D’Artes with a powerful sword… a gift from Gevurah herself.” This is said at a volume that is purposefully meant for Sabrina to hear it now that she has entered the room, though the same words would have been said even if she had not just arrived, they are the truth as he knows it. “It is clear my allegiance is to Larket. One might wonder where yours is before I give any information on a Larketian war t’you…”


Xzavior frowned when Macon went on to question his loyalty seeing as Macon himself didn't seem all too trustworthy himself. Making note that Sabrina had just entered, he quickly changed his look to that of a smirk, "My loyalties are my own and to those I wish to protect. Not to one faction like the underdark. But I am curious. Is it just Larket you're loyal to dear king?" Loud enough as well for Sabrina to hear as she made her way in before addressing her as though he just noticed her. "Ah! Pleasure meeting you here! Macon and I were just trading stories about our time working for Gevurah. I'm sure I told you about that haven't I?"


Sabrina was eaves dropping, though not entirely on purpose. Macon’s explanation seemed legitimate enough, and it wasn’t especially clear what Xzavior was getting at. Except, she knew he meant to discredit him in some way. She frowned at Xzavior, his face was smiling but his eyes were not. She also didn’t care for his sarcasm towards the king, given all that Josleen had revealed to her. His accusation over Gevurah though, that moved her glare to Macon’s direction. There was an emerald flicker, just for a moment, over the mention of the high priestess. Clearly Xzavior planned on raking through Sabrina’s last nerve to alter her mind about Macon. She makes her way to the gentlemen, a polite expression coupled with graceful steps to ensure no one noticed her irritation. “No. I don’t believe you have.” She stops several paces away, perfect posture indicating she wished the King to explain, but her lips sealed shut as is was not the position of the reigning crown-bearer to explain himself to his audience.


Macon inwardly fumes when his loyalty to Larket is questioned. He manages to cover the expression of rage on his face with a blank glare, but what he cannot cover is the furious aura inherited from The Rage Stone by overexposure to it. It flows out from the king like a wave of madness that threatens to affect those in proximity to the aptly named Fury Knight. “Do not forget who y’are speaking to.” His tone is cold and the words are forced through gritted teeth. This is less of a threat and more of a guarantee that insinuating that The King is loyal to anyone or anything other than Larket will not end well for the Naga. Sabrina is regarded with a glance before he gives the explanation she is requesting, but the words are all pointed Xzavior’s way, “While I was in exile I went to meet with Gevurah…” he hides behind a truth before striking, “...but I ‘ave -never- been working for ‘er.” This is true as well, his own agenda has always been at the forefront. “And from her recent actions it would seem she is backing the paladin now…” Grey eyes narrow as he tries to determine exactly what the naga’s goal in all of this is, before he finishes his return volley, “...given your attempts at discrediting me, I should assume you are in league with them as well.”


Xzavior 's eyes narrowed as the volley was returned. And just like the king's rage, he emitted his own cold aura. Something that didn't usually happen less Xzavior was really not having it. Whether do to the fact that he was so easily parried with the inclination that he was still allied with the priestess or the stone, he was in a worse off mood then he had started. Squaring himself, the naga leaned forward and hissed, "I know full well who I'm speaking too. Problem is I don't care. Whether or not you were exiled at the time, it probably doesn't help to turn to that woman if you're wanting to make a name for yourself that isn't tainted. The position he is in now wasn't because he wanted to though now was it?" He had started to near the kin and where he stood. Practically forgetting that Sabrina was right there in the room with them as his hand started to frost over. As though he were ready to cast or conjure something. "And don't you dare try to say I still work for her when I've been working hard to get her name off my back!"


Sabrina was far angrier than she should have been, her deliberation of whether Xzavior was done with this Gevurah business was always at odds in the back if her mind. That glimmer of frost forming along his dominant arm woke something in her and muscles memorized that snap; thin fingers curl around the grip of that bow she was negligently allowed to walk around with in the presence of the King. It is whipped off her form and transitions into a place of aim with intent to harm, but not at Macon himself, it was Xzavior that lined her sights. Tension was drawn along the spider-silk string and the limbs arch back, glowing under the enchantment that allowed her to brandish a weapon of such physical intensity. Else she’d have not been able to wield with such grace given her physical stature. It was by no mistake she wandered about, quiver-less… harmless. Solidifying in the center of the rise was a billet of golden light and it is grows brighter at the pull of the nock. Her eyes focused on Xzavior with enough darkened malic it could only prove that her intentions had no promise to falter. The arrow is summoned in an earth base, and without so much as a flinch of doubt she releases smooth and effortless. The light of the rod expands, four ways, outlining a sort of wall with enough push force to send an average-sized target several paces back. At very least this form was used to still the hellbeast Rohk in his tracks at a full charge. One elvish word spoken in low tone was directed at him. “Leave.” The bow was still held at the ready, fingers laced around the string once more as if daring him to counter her challenge. The option to rid himself of her presence was the only gift she could manage given their history and the childish notion that he may one day be himself again. But ties were cut, and he put himself in the position to be judged harshly on his actions alone. Her own actions would not be without consequence; firing a weapon in this proximity to the fearless leader drew enough attention that she was tackled to the floor without hesitation, landing weightily pinned on her stomach with a soldier’s knee in her back. She did not cry out. It was most certainly a punishable offense. There was no coming back from black though, it was more difficult to locate one’s calm than their rage, when the rage is always brewing just below the surface. She spreads her hands out, palms facing down and the echo of the bow being flung danced along the serious bout of silence that exchanged between the walls. She was covered, neck to boot and complete with full length gloves so the assault went unanswered and the soldiers were left unharmed. Her eyes were still on Xzavior though, so much hate seething like a lifted veil. Her small frame was rocked back and forth as thin arms were pinned at her back and she is hoisted to her feet to be brought before the King.


Macon stands tall, his chin turned up at the Naga as he approaches. The response to the freezing hand presented towards him is one of defiance and daring. The consequences of assaulting the king are far worse than what Sabrina faces after her bow bound threat. And for what? It is still unclear to Macon what exactly Xzavior is after here, and so his rudeness seems petulant and pointless. Sabrina makes her move and the guards close in. The King does not flinch as he never believes that the projectile is meant for him (overconfidence perhaps). When she is brought to him he is already growling at the ones holding the healer, “Release her.”(‘you fools’ is left out, but almost felt in his angered tone) Briefly he fears that the residual effects of The Rage Stone on him have caused this reaction from Sabrina and he adopts an apologetic look that is quickly washed away to return his expression to that of hard stone. The guards do as the king commands and the councilwoman is set back on her feet and Macon remains silent.


Xzavior wasn't just doing it for the hell of it. There was reason, though for a greater cause, or self satisfaction, would be left to him. His attention was drawn to the movements of the elfess. She had moved in a way she hardly ever seen her do and for the first time, in his direction. As the arrow landed and the wall formed, his eyes watched Sabrina even as she was brought to the ground. He was lost for words. He didn't know how to react to the fact that she had just threatened him. Still for the longest time he flicked his wrist and scattered the frost before moving past them and out the door, saying as he went by, "I've said what I needed to. I'll see myself out." Oh, how far they've come to have ended up like this.


Sabrina jerks her arms away as she is released under order of the King. She rubs her shoulder, one pulled too tight to her back, all the while the wash of murderous intent is directed toward the belly-heavy guard that thought his weight was manageable for such a frail frame. She’d heal before she left this room, but that anger just boiled inside her. A thinner soldier elects to retrieve her weapon, hefting it from the ground like he expected it to weigh as much as it looked. He tosses it in his grip a time or two and hands it to a fellow man, who in turn mimics his partner’s astonishment. It was well on its way to being handed back to the elfess who snatches it outright and positions it in its resting spot about her form. She is scowling, for the most part, pouting in a hostile fashion. She didn’t like people touching her and she didn’t like them touching her things either. For a genuinely peaceful sort, there could only be one thing to blame. She is particularly vulnerable to emotion to begin with. Xzavior’s exit is not awarded with so much as a second glance, leaving his retreat with the exit… at her back.


Macon, once Xzavior has left and Sabrina has her bow back, offers the elf a nod and a “Thank you.” He had no need for her to intervene given his highness, so his thanks must be for something metaphysical. Her choice to defend him and act against the snake may have been driven by the furious aura he put out, but it must have been a conscious decision to point the not at Xzavior instead of at him. Loyalty. Service. There are inklings of hot in that heated action of hers, and these are qualities that The King can, and does appreciate.


Sabrina didn’t understand his gratitude, and she wasn’t in an accepting mood to let the whole ordeal just dissolve. “I didn’t do it for you.” Larket was on the brink of war, a war with two fronts. It could not afford a King under challenge. She had accepted this. After her talk with Josleen she was beginning to see Macon with some version of clarity that had not previously found solace in her gut. She turns from him and heads to the exit. Each step away from his presence made the air feel cleaner, her own weight lighter; she felt the tightness in the muscles of her expression and the tingle of white-knuckled fists she began to relax. It was at the door in the grave-silent room Macon would have heard her inhale deeply and over her right shoulder she looks back at him as if first learning what just took place in this room. She adopts a stoic expression and with a single-handed push to the door invites herself back into the chill she just receded from.