RP:Signs and Portents

Part of the Township Troopers Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Part of the Hour of Wolves Arc

Summary Lionel and Rorin encounter Meri, a woman who had been present during the terrorist attack near the Eastern Gates. Words are exchanged concerning not only that tragic day but the ongoing Warrior's Guild struggles as well. Elsewhere in the tavern, there are ample signs of elevated tension within the city.

Frostmaw Tavern

Rorin madly executed a violent manuever against the king. The bishop absolutely slaughtered 5 soldiers, but that was no matter to the colossal death toll of his opponents. The king furiously destroyed innocent men and women but Rorin knew he had him on the ropes. It was the end! But then- in a single swoop- a force Rorin had not seen took out the back of the army and utterly crushed the resistance. Rorin cried out and collapsed. Across from hin the winter wolf Isangrim barked happily and finished the job, sending Rorin into checkmate- though it was far more complicated than that. Across the three maps of varying detail and the figurines of guild members as well as pieces for checkers and chess which created some elaborate representation of a figurative battlefield Rorin slid a plate with the remainder of breakfast on it and carefully tried not to disturb the intricate positioning of whatever forces he pitted against eachother today. The Pilgrim lit an herbal cigar as the wolf happily slopped up the plate. Rorin looked on, the available portion of his head being the upper left, his one grey eye crystal clear and utterly focused. Was there something he wasn't seeing? Was there some strategy he had not considered? He idly scratched at the leathery cask enchanted for healing that encased the remains of his right arm. Perhaps if he moved Emrith here and Oline there... no, they wouldn't be able to defend their flank against the spiders. The map of Vailkrins forests mocked him with blank spaces and little detail. So much no one knew. So much Rorin couldn't count for. The bandages that wrapped the other 3/4ths of his head down to the bottom of his ribs felt awfully hot today. Even the black coat around his torso was uncomfortable. Damm these injuries and damn arachnids, he decided with a drink, carefully tugging bandages down from his mouth. He wished he was training somewhere and beating the snot out of soem targets with the bastard sword at his hip. Sitting around for nearly 2 weeks irked him something fierce. What to do...

Meri entered the tavern, dressed as she customarily is when she is in this frigid environment. The woman was bundled up in that very same fur-linned cloak, black in color which always starkly contrasted against the snow making it impossible to be incognito -- though clearly not her goal, she was smart enough to select better attire if that was her aim. Why did she think it was such a good idea to keep venturing up this way? It was a split second question that she does not even bother dignifying with an inward answer. She knew well enough why she was here. Habit kicks in from here, blue eyes sweep across the room as a gloved hand pushes back the hood of her cloak to reveal her features. Her gaze alights on Rorin, familiar to her through the warrior's guild -- most notably being there for an assist in saving her arse with that wasp in the desert. While it can be hit or miss as to how social Meri is feeling, the history witn Rorin is enough to prompt the tattoo artist to approach. She was also curious about the maps and the pieces on them, don't think she is not, but it is not what prompted to approach. "Hey. You want some company?" A hand is placed on the back of a vacant chair near Rorin. "I never really got a chance to say thanks to you and blondie." Lionel. "For helping to save my rear out in the desert. So, you know, thanks." She would wait for Rorin's answer before pulling out that chair her hand was resting upon, or not, depending.

The elf twists her lips into a rictus snarl. Her eyes have narrowed and she has taken several places around the table, arms folded but one hand close to the dagger at her hip. “You would not threaten me so, were we in Kelay.” The Frost Giant bellows, slamming thick forearms across his chest. “And you would not be welcome here any longer, were we following a worthy king!” Nearby patrons tilt their attention towards the ordeal. The Frost Giant is not alone; two companions watch the elf, challenging her to act. The tavern shifts from bumbling to near-silence in the span it takes the elf to draw a deep, calculating breath. Her slender fingers slide across the hilt of her ruby-encrusted weapon, and… Drargon approaches her from behind, scowling at the disruptive citizens. “You must be mistaken,” the bartender says with a spit. “Our leader is no king, but a queen -- great and worthy. Mayhap you boys have had too much to drink and not enough fresh air.” The words flow easily from the retired old warrior, but the look in his eyes is one of contempt. Now it’s the unruly Frost Giants’ turns to draw breath and to consider. A barmaid drops an urn, and cursed herself for clumsiness, but otherwise the tavern is fit in sound for a scampering mouse to feel free. Another moment passes. And then the Giants force a smile, leave their seats, and set off to leave. “Our error, barkeep,” one of them rumbles, and then a man clad in black from head to toe gets up from his close perch, removes his mask, and clears his throat. “You also forgot to pay, Urgon.” The Frost Giant growls with irritation. “You!” Lionel tosses the mask to the floor with a shrug. “Me. Now be a good lad and pay your debts.” Urgon’s two companions look to him, as if seeking his approval to strike, but the leader shakes his head, nervously, and drops the requisite silver upon the wrong table. In quick, long strides, the malcontents exit the establishment. Drargon bows, fetches the silver, and whistles. He's back to his cleaning, the patrons are back to their drinks, and the female elf is out of sight. “Just another day in paradise,” Lionel mumbles, grabbing an ale from who-knows-where and seating himself behind Rorin and Meri.

Rorin puffed his cigar, drank, tapped his fingers, sighed- all the signs of a frustrated man. Under all these bandages it would be hard to tell he was just 17. His birthday had actually beem just a few days ago. He idly maneuvered some pieces until a stranger appeared and took his thoughts. A woman he recognised, "oh, sure, sure, sit down. It's all right, that's what we do. You're Meri, right? We haven't really met. You know Eirik?" He'd only seen her with him so it was a natural inclusion. Rorin did wonder how the two knew one another and if she was an official member of the guild. He sort of cleared a small space for her and gestured towards the canine seated across him, "this is my companion, Isangrim," the winter wolf bore his namesake, a fur pattern of a dramatic grey mask around his face ringed in white that became mottled along the body. "What brings you here?" The pilgrim asked conversationally. However the tavern falls quiet due to a giants rumbling. Could it be? No. But one of his followers. Rorins left hide slides slowly the pommel of his sword as his one eye tracks over his shoulder. Many more than he are ready. Due course as well after recent events. But no matter. Order is soon restored and Rorin is back to looking at his maps. "Taking a day off Commander? Or just dodging your usual escorts?" Esche and others tended to hound Lionel these days Rorin knew. Too many questions and so little time.

Meri barely had the chance to get settled into that seat before he scene broke out, blue eyes pulled toward the little drama and watching it intently. The details are observed until the situation comes to a resolution thanks to the involvement of Drargon and Lionel. It's not until after the dispute seems to be settled that Meri actually hunkers down into that seat and sets about answering all of Rorin's questions. "Business," is all Meri really has to say about why she is up here, sliding her cloak off of her person and letting it hang over the back of her chair. As more of an aftethought she tacks on a few additional details. "With Eirik. You are correct, the name is Meri. Your own name is Rorin, am I right?" Blue eyes shift to the companion Rorin introduces, a smile tugging red lips upwards. "It is nice to formally meet the both of you." Lionel settles into a seat behind Meri, causing the woman to look over her shoulder in what some might consider to be a paranoid fashion given the words that follow. "You know that feeling you get when someone keeps is behind you and keeps looking over your shoulder?" Her tone is not a harsh one, it is definitely a cheeky one, no need to be brutal over what she deems an awkward seating choice. Meri saw no harm or disrespect in her commentary. It was a playful poke, as she is prone to doing to many people. It continues, these words being lobbied at Rorin next, "He sort of has the look of a man who would not even know what to do with himself even if he had a day off." Back to Lionel, "I was just telling Rorin I never had a chance to say thanks for saving my rear with that wasp. Thank you too."

Lionel seems oblivious to the awkwardness of his choice in seating. For all his quick swordsmanship and crisp vocal tones, the man is still in the process of relearning basic social engagements. It's a good think his masks are so well-made and his step so spry, or else anyone who had heard that Frostmaw's Knight-Commander can be aloof would still be able to identify him at a glance. "I know the feeling all too well, myself," he says to Meri with a smirk. Lionel's paranoia is in fact rather vast -- and most who know him would argue, rather well-founded, at that -- but dulcet notes in his tone suggest that he is being just as playful. "No thanks necessary, Meri. Rorin and I, and all the rest of us, were made stronger by your presence. And your continued presence when we make for the Vailkrin region will no doubt be a similar boon. You..." He pauses, biting his lower lip. Perhaps he shouldn't have begun this sentence. Well, it's too late now, Lionel O'Connor. "You must be good friends with Oline, perhaps, to risk life and limb again despite that... unfortunate incident with Eirik. I'm sorry if the guild does not evoke much visible confidence just now. Tensions are running high for a host of reasons."

Rorin nods. Business. Business in Frostmaw. "Yes, Rorin Gilead, pleased to meet you," he offered his hand respectfully. "It's quite true. I believe he'd even take his sword on vacation," Rorin chuckled and reset the pieces. Both he and 'grim studied them dutifully. Rorins hand pauses as Lionel speaks. There were several things any of them could say to that sentence. Rorin elected to strategize his troops.

Meri by nature is not a people person although her years here have honed that skill in various ways and for various reasons. Rorin's hand is met with one of Meri's own gloved hands. Were the climate warmer and her hand offered bare the paladin would see that her tattoos extend all the way down to her knuckles. His hand is given a shake and then released. The conversation continues, words mostly geared toward Lionel since Rorin seems to have returned to planning, plotting and moving pieces around. Meri had no doubt he was listening to what she had to say, though her own gaze was mostly locked on Lionel while she speaks. "I have had the pleasure of spending a fair amount of time with the giantess. I would definitely consider her to be one of my close friends. She and I have...numerous plans together in the future. Tattoos, work with Eirik, spiders, so on." A casual shrug of tattooed shoulders. "And while Eirik is also a good friend and I do value his opinion considerably, I am also my own woman. Perhaps that was an interesting meeting for me to witness? But ultimately...not really my business and I don't feel inclined to judge the woman in question for I have never conversed with her myself."

Lionel tucks his mug of ale to his lips and makes to draw a sip, suppressing a small sigh of relief into the cup. His breath leaves a mark on the rim, but a sturdy swallow of the stout drink conceals even that. Best not to appear so outwardly overjoyed when folks give Khitti the benefit of the doubt. He knows in his heart she is a good woman, worthy to be judged on her own merits, not upon the outbursts of the previous evening. But he also knows, firsthand, the danger Khitti's vile rival presents. Amarrah, the being who had inhabited Khitti's body and jeopardized the guild's safety during the mission to the Southern Sage, is right to be feared. Lionel cannot blame anyone for feelings of uncertainty, distrust. But he hopes in future instances they will trust that he has a keen eye on Khitti and the realm's best interests in mind, even if she is as family to him. All this thought in a few stray heartbeats. "Yes, well." He lowers the mug and smiles. "I'm glad to know the giantess has friends. Oline has been invaluable to the guild since her joining, and I consider it my duty to look after her as best I can. I believe she and Rorin are reasonably well-acquainted, too." He nods to the squire. Inwardly, he is suppressing a broiling of emotions. The events near the eastern gate have left Lionel a wreck, but he can't afford to show it now. Some measure of normalcy must be put forth. Somehow. Even if that damned teleportation magic -- the familiarity of it -- has left him terrified.

Rorin is half and half on people. Some people he enjoyed and others he could have substantially less of. He was indeed listening and willing to participate where he had want to. Oline and her new tattoos. Rorin was meaning to get onto her about her new lifestyle but she never stayed around him long these days. His own fault. Khitti... her piece is on the board as well as a marker of Amarrah. They seemed strayed from the pack and cast into uncertainty. Perhaps that is merely a reflection of how Rorin feels or a tactical assessment of her. It would be hard to say. Rorin had not been at the attack on the wall nor had he personally spoken with anyone there, merely read reports, as usual. It was a lot to think over. Rorin moved his own piece closer towards the hives board. He believed Lionel was waiting for a moment to tell him not to go. He wouldn't listen. Things were becoming complicated on and off the board and Rorins opposition knew this. Isangrim eagerly moved pieces into place. Rorins only true addition to the concersation thus far was a tense sigh.

Meri gives a slight tilt of her head when Lionel declares that he is glad Oline has friends. That statement puts Meri on the defensive, the psion may not always be the -best- friend to Oline, but she was still a friend. "Of course she has friends," Meri is quick to respond, protectively. Oline was not some sort of freak incapable of meeting people who might actually like to spend time with her! All people really needed to do was give her half a chance (and manage to get past the accent, that could be rough at times). Blue eyes slide over to Rorin, her expression a deadpan one when the Commander calls to light their familiarity. "Yes, I believe that they are acquainted." And what Meri has heard? Well her expression makes it seem like she has heard something but this woman is not likely to tell. She does like to play her cards close. "She has been having a bit of a rough go lately, actually. I really have no idea what I can do to try and cheer her up." Those words might be meant for Lionel but she is sort of pointedly looking at Rorin. Plus, when it comes down to it, what could a human really do with a giant set on her vices? Take the bottle away? I mean, she could try...but she has seen what happens when Oline loses her temper and thus she usually opts for the 'don't do things that piss the giant off' route. Plus it is sort of like the pot calling the kettle black. "Anyway!" Now that Meri has hopefully made things awkward.

Lionel merely lifts a brow at Meri's retort, unaware of what his phrasing may have elicited. In the meantime, a pair of soldiers passes by, canting their heads respectively toward him. It has been difficult, spreading word that he prefers this over elaborate bowing, but at last word seems to be spreading. Even in the midst of all this chaos. Lionel surveys the tavern; all told, there are 13 soldiers in attendance, 3 of which disguised. He can't shake the feeling it still isn't enough. Not now. Not after what happened. The Catalian quietly contemplates Meri's changes in tone and inquiry. His azure eyes study her very briefly, and he opts to maintain his airy cadence. "I don't know her very well. I should amend that. But Frostmaw has just suffered a terrorist attack... my time is limited." It always has been, Lionel, but it's best not to open up too much on these matters. "I hope you'll be continually supportive, as her other friends surely are." There. An acknowledgement that Oline has multiple friends -- something Lionel himself likely wouldn't have known without this discussion. Interpersonal relations are such a chore. Who knows whether this will satisfy this woman? People are easier to read in battle, by far. Lionel has made progress on regaining his capacity for conversation, but it does not come easily, or quickly. To Rorin, now: "There's something we need to discuss. It's about your injuries, and the pending mission." Then, after a pause, a surprise. "Will you be healed in time? We can't afford delay. I only want you with us if you are ready." Lionel has weighed the scales. Multiple wars plague and haunt Lithrydel now, even if most are not yet aware of it. Rorin has chosen his path.

Rorin sort of wondered how Oline and Meri became friends as well. Seemed like it would have some story to it. Rorin knows the poor girl has had more than 'a bit of a rough go' but that was Olines to admit. To cheer her up... well that was sort of a big job. To get to her to kick her habits? That was an extensive job. Rorin began forming pieces around Oline out of his thoughts. There could be seen a much deeper level of care in their placement than others. "How goes the production of the auger bolts from Alvina?" He seemed to ask Lionel offhandedly, "is Ranok working with her? I wish I could rush to the forge myself honestly," the heat was bad for his arm though. Rorin was restricted from plenty of his hobbys like this. To Rorin he has but one answer, "I will be ready." It's obvious he would say that no matter what though.

Meri flashed a smile to Lionel. Don't worry FireSwordGuy, there are many others in the world who have asked themselves the same thing. Will it be enough to satisfy her? Or is she just going to keep at it? It seems that it will, for the point about cheering her up was never really -meant- for Lionel anyway and judging by the way Rorin seems to be turning his thoughts to Oline's piece (were her piece obvious), Meri has formed the opinion that her message was received. The warriors begin to discuss events that they are dealing with, most of them Meri has had the misfortune of witnessing first hand. "Yes...I was there that day," she comments to Lionel, in regards to the terrorist attack. "What a mess." Meri had several questions about that days events but as the conversation is steered toward the battle with the spiders? A point Meri is not shy in seeking clarification on, "The pending mission we all discussed the other day?" Or listened to people discuss in Meri'a case. Rorin is given a thoughtful look, "What is the timeframe on that looking to be like again?" There were so many things discussed, Meri could not recall if that was one of the details mentioned.

Lionel finishes his ale. "I believe they're almost ready." Alvina has been hard at work manufacturing the means by which the Warrior's Guild will stand ready to continue the battle against a terrible, utterly alien foe. As if by way of not only furthering his answer to Rorin but replying to Meri as well, he continues with, "and although no timeframe had been determined at the meeting, I believe we should engage the enemy in five days' time." (OOC note: This suggests I'll be announcing the mission event for this Sunday, but I need to double-check with a few people first to ensure this is good for them. There's a slim chance it will either occur on Saturday or next weekend, depending on their replies. I'll send out a guild newsletter tonight with the final determination, and I'll tag you in, Meri.) Lionel grimaces afterward, eyeing Meri again. She was present during the incident here in Frostmaw. No suspicion is raised; Lionel is not quite -that- paranoid just yet. After all, it was a celebration. Or rather, it was intended to be. "Events are spiraling rapidly out of control, here and elsewhere. Frostmaw seems to be the epicenter, although Rorin and I -- and others, too -- are of the belief that various other locales have been affected as well." He won't specify he means Larket above all. Either the woman is familiar with his short war against Macon or she isn't; either way, his point is made. "We're doing everything we can to restore the peace."

Rorin informs her that it's to be at the weeks end, if Lionel hasn't already. "Emrith will lead us there with his cursed ring. I assume we'll be taking mounts, as Vailkrin doesn't sport a tower of the Eyrie if I'm not mistaken? Not to mention their assorted pasts are not exaclty in alliance with Sir Lionel. The sky's would not be friendly to us there and the forest would be thick to see through or land in. Then there's the matter of the actual assault. We have no idea what we're getting into. We could create a base camp with healers and soldiers and a cart. Likely this will not be as easy as our last runs. Those were in and out. Clear grounds. We had assumptions. Now... we have nothing to go on save for this one piece," he held up a spider token to the light and stared at it as if through it he could discern all enemy movements and nature. If only. "We have Ameno with his insecticide. Khitti, Valen, and Emrith will be more powerful here- Emrith especially. Be wary of traps and hunters..." there he was strategizing again. He was reciting the only things they currently knew. He prayed for just a little more, a single clue, but no manner of divination could provide him with this. He was lost- figuratively and literally as most of the maps of Vailkrins forests were dastardly blank. They were going in blind following a man with a hunch. They must be prepared. This Lionel knew. It must be an overwhelming task to try to organize themselves amidst the chaos. But isn't that what leaders do?

Meri may have some idea of the on-goings of Larket and the tensions between Larket and Frostmaw but all Lionel earns is a smile in that regard. Some topics were better left at implications rather than spelling out every single meaning, especially in a public setting. "Well it is good that you have managed to increase security measures around this place since then." A beat. "Eirik invited me on a patrol, in which a number of men tried to ambush the party he had with him. He was on a hunt for information about where this red dirt is coming from? Managed to nab a guy and take him to the cells, I believe." Or at least Eirik had explained he was going to take the man to the cells while sending Meri, Oline, and Sabrina on there way. "You guys were not able to question him and get any leads off that guy? It kind of seems like whomever organized the attack on the celebration may also probably employ the guys who tried to ambush us..." Rorin and his strategizing are not forgotten, they do not go unheard even if Meri's curiosities do ultimately lay elsewhere. "I have been out to Vailkrin, but years ago. I am sure what we are dealing with now will not be quite the same as what I saw then...probably far more intensified from what I have seen and heard. But I do think the plans thus far will serve everyone well."

Lionel once watched in terror as the Dark Immortals blew Vailkrin away almost entirely. Tens of thousands, blinked out of existence. He chooses not to dwell on that city any more than necessary. Anyway. "We'll be on our guard the entire time we're there," he tells Rorin. Idly, he thumbs at his mug. A group of Rynvali are playing cards loudly in a corner of the tavern, but bits and pieces of their conversation can be discerned, and it concerns the deaths of their firestarter friends at the hands of unknown assailants during the wall ceremony. Not two tables to the west, a pair of foreign knights whisper to one-another as they gesture disdainfully to the rest of the people present. And to their left, a smattering of fellows from multiple races seem unable to enjoy their beverages in peace, nervously scanning their surroundings as if afraid. There is an undercurrent of dread in Frostmaw now, even here. "I hadn't been informed of this prisoner, and the men and women in my command have never been anything short of expedient in their duties." Better warriors than Lionel, them. Lionel still has the heart of a rogue hero, but slowly he has come to accept the role he must play. "If you'll excuse me, then." He rises from his seat, nodding to them both. "It seems I have unfinished business. Thank you for informing me." He makes ready to leave.

Meri was disappointed, but this disappointment was inward. It was no lie when Meri said that she was up here for business but only one aspect of that business was represented. Another smile curves at the corners of her red lips, it is not a full one and does not reach her eyes as the subject matters discussed today were somber. The smile was a cordial one birthed from those learned social habits. Meri seemed inclined to follow his lead, also rising to take her leave, "Of course. I will see you sometime in the future."