RP:The Wars to Come

From HollowWiki

Part of the What You Leave Behind Arc

This is a Warrior's Guild RP.

Summary: Lionel hosts a summit for his various allies in Cenril, where the witches' magical barrier still holds fast against further invasion efforts by Kahran. People from all walks of life converge to hear a plan put forth collaboratively between Lionel and Frostmaw's High Priestess Leone, who ask for volunteers in dangerous missions. Tensions are elevated when a spy nearly offers up the allies' plan to Kahran on a veritable silver platter, reinforcing the cold truth that any one of these men and women could be traitors to the cause.

The Cenrili Branch of the Warrior's Guild

Lionel | [Post 1 of 4] It says something about Lionel O’Connor that despite his high-ranking role in the Warrior’s Guild, today marks the first day he has ever attended its Cenrili station. It’s not that he’s never in Cenril. Nor is it a shirking of duty, not -really-; it’s just that Lionel O’Connor doesn’t have it in him to engage in the pomp and pageantry of any dignified position. He’s a man of action. He has been criticized at times for being a man of too much action. He wouldn’t even deny it. But preemptive action against this lurking threat is what drove him back here two years ago, and drastic action is what’s needed against the many-splendored evils running roughshod across Lithrydel now.

Lionel | [Post 2 of 4] Lionel can count on one hand the number of places he considers safe from the prying ears of Kahran’s spies. Through a combination of extensive screening and rigorous combat training, the Warrior’s Guild facilities comprise three of those places, but he’s utilized its Frostmawian branch overmuch of late and Cenril has the benefit of its magical field which prevents Kahran’s portals from activating within the city grounds. This boon made for an easy choice. He arrives shortly after dawn, sporting his customary thin silk button-up with ridiculous popped collar and matching slacks. Of late, Lionel has taken to shades of red for his garb -- a not-so-subtle nod to the injustice that was Valrae’s execution in Larket -- but other than the color switch he’s as casually-dressed as ever. He brings Hellfire, strapped to his back and sheathed inside his eye-catching prismatic scabbard. If he’s wrong about the companions in his ranks, or the city’s magical field is punctured, he’ll be as ready as they come.

Lionel | [Post 3 of 4] Although this meeting room is often said to be boisterous with the sounds of soldierly men and women downing booze after a hard day’s work, Lionel has requested it be made quiet for the occasion. And although on any other day there are no fewer than a hundred scattered bottles of ale and mead and whisky, he’s had them all set aside. The bar has been temporarily converted into a staging area with a blank canvas and several brushes to choose from. The big wooden benches have been turned at an angle to face the canvas. Additional lanterns have been secured in order to raise the brightness of the room to something approaching professionalism. None of these alterations have especially endeared the stationed crew to a leader they’ve rarely seen, but this crew was in Cenril when Kahran made his existence known some 11 weeks hence, so they silently abide, well aware of the situation’s severity. There’s nothing like a thousand corpses along a shoreline to remind someone the meaning of severity.

Lionel | [Post 4 of 4] Lionel leans against the converted bar, one leg over the other and his fingertips tapping nervously. As allies arrive, he’ll nod to them one and all. Guild personnel will guide the guests to take a seat and strike up conversation with one-another if desired. The personnel will be on-hand as hosts, but they won’t intervene. This is not a Warrior’s Guild meeting, but a meeting of people who, at least ostensibly, agree that it would not be in any remotely sane person’s interests for Lithrydel to go up in ashes by the might of Kahran’s foul armies. “And if I’m wrong about that, we’re all dead,” Lionel snarks into his wine glass.

Leone makes an informal appearance here; she's not in an official capacity for Aramoth nor Frostmaw this time. This is all about survival in a world gone mad, it would seem. The High Priestess is not without her reminders, however. The aging smith is complete with her working leathers; pants and jacket pocked with singes, scrapes, scratches and scars, both in black, envelop the wiry woman's frame. Peeking out from the cuffs of her jacket are the old, fading rows of dark blue runic tattoos, their ultramarine lines and curves like errant veins against her milky skin. The shimmering glare of flesh once made molten and then healed peeks out from the miniature metallurgist's collar, spanning the distance between leather and hairline at the back of her neck, beneath the omnipresent chignon. A long, meandering look is cast toward the various bottles of booze and spirits that are captured, organized, behind the bar. The smith draws her tongue over her bottom lip, and then gently shakes her head before fixing the nearly phosphorescent, lime green gaze upon those attending tonight's meeting. She frowns at Lionel's offhand remark, the teeming, seemingly alive pools of viridian sight swiveling toward the knight. "We might all be dead even if you're right," the diminutive farrier says in low, satiny-striated tones. Like the wine-swilling steward, the petite plover is leaned upon the bar, though she's taken up a position behind it and off to one side of the erected canvas. Her hands are spread wide, making the diminutive woman appear much like a crow in flight. Seated upon the front bench is Bertram, the farrier's companion and paladin, though removed from his holy vestments. Nearby, a silver-haired man dressed all in black marks the cleric like a shadow; a much beloved and welcome shadow. Krice is Leone's constant compatriot and conspirator. The two have traveled to, and arrived at, tonight's meeting together.

Khitti was here at Lionel’s side, just like always. She always said that she would be and now was no different, even as she’s suddenly nearly 7 months pregnant thanks to the intervention of dark forces. There was never any escaping these ‘dark forces’, for here they were, set to discuss one of the darkest of them all. Adorned in a hand-knitted, long-sleeved maternity dress in shades of blues and greens, with black leggings and boots to match, Khitti too watched the arrival of the other guests, a smirk given to Lionel and his snark, “You’re not wrong. No one -wants- their lives to go up in flames. Quit being so cynical.” She’s one to talk; she only just recently lessened her amount of skepticism with most things. She eyed that wine glass of his. After all of the bad things that’s been happening lately, she couldn’t wait to have this child so that she might partake in the tiniest amount of alcohol again--she really frakking needed it. “I’m just a bit worried about all of these people going to the Shadow Plane, though, if you do manage to get volunteers. They’re gonna jump in headfirst and just think they can plow through everything and anything that gets in their way. It isn’t like that. At all. And they’re going to get themselves killed.”

Pilar | It was the day after her wedding, and Pilar was already getting back into the swing of things. World-endy things. She and her new wife shared a nice breakfast before she hopped on the back of her couatl and took off for Cenril. Yozenra had work to do with the Chartsend guards, so Pilar was coming alone. She was wearing a simple yellow pinafore with a white blouse under it, and the blue, starry sash that was the mark of her station within the Mage's Guild tied around her waist. She landed in the street, empty in the early hours of the morning, and sent her mount off until she was needed again. Pilar entered the hall and was ushered to a seat. Lionel and his companions caught her eye, and she looked down. Maybe she shouldn't have come.

Zahrani had finished her training early, and upon recovering her satchel of armor, she hears something unusual. The warrior's meeting room was unusually quiet, and the smell of booze didn't waft nearly as powerfully as most days. She turns the corner and sees lots of people shuffling in. Her feline nares flare with curiosity, the paladin striding calmly towards the entrance. Blue eyes contrast sharply with black fur; she is clad in a simple set of steel plate, with a reinforced hood instead of a helm. The only jewelry she wears is an amulet of Cyris. A well-crafted mace is holstered to her belt. She spies Khitti, and the androgynous panther raises a hand in greeting, before searching for other familiar faces.

Krice was a shadow with eyes, returning to Cenril at Leone's side but just out of reach. He hadn't been back to the coastal city since the massacre that led to the erecting of the magical barrier and the slaughter of Her people - for reasons. But now, accompanying the High Priestess and her paladin, Bertram, the warrior entered Cenril's Warrior Guild headquarters and paused by the priestess' chosen table, affording Lionel a nod of familiar respect. With gentle urging he might be made to sit, but it was his preference to stand at the ready, poised for action should the need arise. The silver-haired man did not interject himself into conversation; man of few words as he was, more often than not the times he chose to speak were of more significance than conversation about weather events or fashion fads.

Blut arrived after some convinseing from the guards and with alot of odd looks. Blut understood that a bit too well more than once did he have to show them the letter of invite for entrance. Blut wore his assassins garbs the black leather armour covered by the cloak. The mans wraps made it clear who he was to any who meet him as he stepped forward in stride he overheard the conversation with Khitti as he approached the group. "I do quite agree I don't feel quite comfortable being buried in a realm thats not quite my own." Blut chimed in looking at the members individually "Lionel maybe you should remind your allies to keep a open mind." Blut spook softly his head turning to motion at the warriors who had their eyes on him.

Kreekitaka rumbled up to the table just in time to hear Khitti's remark. It worried him--everything was worrying, these days--but he was one of Lionel's "greatest fighters", and so he had to push aside his fear curse and act like he normally would. "ExcepTAH!," he said, interjecting himself into the conversation, "for HHHTHose of us who speciayize in pyowing HHHTHrough HHHTHings in our paHHHTH." The uyeer found that focusing on the fight ahead was a good way of focusing his mind and pushing the curse back. Still, it was difficult today, more than it had been before. "DAH!oo I hear correcTAH!yee? Are we going an' invaDAH!ing Kahran's home? Finayee, iTAH! is abouTAH! TAH!Ime we TAH!ook HHHTHe fighTAH! TAH!oo him." He crushed one claw into the other, the motion making his cape ripple smoothly behind him. As he still had a shop in this location, he had been able to aquire some lovely fineries to wear this evening.

Nasada :: Raevyn had no idea why she came to the Warrior's Headquarters. She was nervous. Upon return to the mage tower, she found upon her cot a letter. It was a strange thing, as she did not really know too many people in this land, and those that she did know, she spoke to on a fairly regular basis. There was a twinkle of hope that perhaps her dear friend Diryon had written to her, after being absent for so long- No such luck. What was inside, however, was far more interesting. And so, because of the horrors she faced against Kahran's army twice before, the young girl thought that it might be in her best interest attend this requested meeting. Although, now that she had arrived, there were butterflies rampant in her gut. She was not a seasoned warrior or some sort of powerful archmage. She did not have the knowledge she thought might be necessary to offer any sort of proper insight. Still, she would once more tell herself, 'A new year. A new beginning. A new you." Raevyn walked side by side with her large undead guardian, the gentle click of her ghastly scythe breaking through the silence. From beneath the hood of her winter lined cloak, those dead blue eyes traverse from one face to the next, a slight nod to those that were both familiar and those whom were not. Not wanting to stand out, Raevyn found herself a seat fairly quickly, passing off her weapon to Baelok to hold onto for the time being.

Krice was here in a serious capacity, but despite the nature of the conversation and the grimness that could have followed, he was unable to mask a smirk that curled the left corner of his mouth as Kreekitaka spoke. It was always a bit of a hit to the funny bone, hearing the crab's first words after a time of not. Serious by nature, his amusement faded shortly thereafter and he focused on the words spoken, casting his eyes about the room - affording Pilar and her new wife a nod, as well as greeting similarly others who might meet his gaze.

Bastion was here! He arrived a little later than he'd prefer, but alas, there were always those in need, and he'd used his eyes to thoroughly scout the place before he'd entered. He'd also gone over who was in attendance, and now, felt overwhelmed from exerting his ocular prowess... and thus, he donned his blindfold when he'd found a seat, and sipped from a skin of water, while listening to Lionel go on. He'd told Lionel what he'd learned that was important, and he'd informed him of what he might have to offer, if need be. He'd sit quietly and watch for the rest, glad that there was unity among the strong in times of crisis. If these lands survived major events like this, it was because those in power took care to address such threats as were Kahran.

Khitti waved back to Zahrani with a faint smile before shifting her attention towards Kreekitaka, that smile disappearing entirely, “Aye, and keep your mind on the task at hand while you’re over there, please. I have enough messes to clean up over there when I’m no longer in my current state.” The crab’s many ‘victories’ that he so loved to boast about had not been forgotten. The Shadow Plane was not some place she intended to let him think he could rule. “And it’s -not- his home. Thousands have died there, just as they have here. He’s vermin to both realms and nothing more.” Very evil, powerful vermin, but you get the picture.

Gilwen had spent the better half of the week recuperating in Sage, and had the arranged meeting been for anything other than discussing Kahran, she would have happily kept herself at home. Alas, the fiery headed elf was arrived, looking a little less than haggard, and dressed uncharacteristically simple in a white tunic, leather leggings, and boots that weren't quite laced all the way. She forewent the gloves that usually had covered her hands for the past months, with gave light to her still blackened left arm, the discoloration having peaked an inch below her elbow. Despite the casual setting of the meeting, she was still noticeably armed, a dagger sat sheathed at her hip, and a knife tucked into her right boot, but the weapons were present due to habit, and not because she expected to use them. Lazily, the elf moved through the room, not bothering to greet anyone, and sat herself in a chair close to the bar.

Krice glanced toward Khitti as she spoke with Kreekitaka, dipping his chin slightly in deference to the weight of her words.

Zahrani also spied Bastion entering. Noticing that he had covered his eyes with a blindfold, the paladin silently makes her way towards him. She lowers her hood, revealing a panther head and a single braid of shoulder-length black hair. Her ears dart every which way as she picks up snippets of conversation, strange smells of human, elf, and...crustacean? She takes a seat next to the young acupuncturist, her divine aura signaling that she's nearby.

Gilwen is totally sitting on a bench. Not a chair. Correction made.

Bastion knew it was Zahrani that sat next to him, even without the aura, and smiled. "It is good to see you here, Paladin Zahrani. I believe your presence denotes a ray of hope, in troubled times." She was were a paladin should be, serving as the shield of the helpless. She earned more and more of his respect every time he met her anew.

Penelope had received the mysterious letter at her doorstep. Rumors had been spreading like wildfire through Kelay and Cenril about the healer who had disappeared from Sabrina’s Guild and returned only to find Mrs. Mallard, her only motherly figure, dead and her baker’s dream shattered. Ruari, the waiter? Well, she had been trying to search for him for weeks praying to find him still roaming the land without a speck of dust on him. In the meantime, patrons of Kelay had seen her travelling to and from with logs, tins of paint, and tools. Strangers mentioning that she had relocated at her deceased brother’s abandoned cottage in the Silent Forest. The girl goes to this meeting for a chance of closure and nosiness, not for anything more—so she thinks. The frizz-haired girl makes a quiet entrance with a gentle escort that visualizes her condition. Penelope is tired, possibly thinner, yet poise as she has always portrayed. She sits in the back, although her heart leaps for the familiar faces towards the bar: Krice is at first-sight, Lionel, and Khitti was vaguely familiar. The healer keeps herself silent and still-as-stone; legs crossed in her checkered black and white checkered pants, her black dress-coat is open with a black high-neck collar with a shiny silver necklace.

Krice turned his head, acknowledging faces as new people arrived. Past the hilt of his back-mounted katana he spied Penelope. His eyes met hers for the brief moment she glanced his way and he offered a nod, though he remained by Leone and her paladin, Bertram, returning his attention to Lionel shortly after.

Kreekitaka paused in confusion. "Is HHHTHere more TAH!oo DAH!oo over HHHTHere?" He had expected something called a shadow plane to be mostly just darkness and villainy to smash. If there were additional things that could be done, that could prove to be an interesting place indeed. Before he could ask what she meant about cleaning up messes, however, Gilwen's arrival distracted him. He'd managed to get the woman to a healer after the battle for Larket, but he hadn't been able to follow up with her afterwards. It would be good to find out how she'd been, but rude to simply slide away before his initial question had been answered.

Zahrani gently places a warm hand on Bastion's shoulder, smiling as she says, "Please, you can call me Zahrani, my friend. Paladin is not a title." She surveys the other attendees, recognizing few other faces. Should Gilwen meet her gaze, the feline would offer a calm smile. Beyond that, she was here to listen and offer help, if she is needed" For the magically sensitive, her aura is visible; it takes the form of subtle amber lights playing across her fur and whiskers, and they move like light being refracted through moving water.

Pilar sat alone at one of the tables, still debating if she wanted to be here. Zahrani's aura of magic did draw her attention, though she didn't see it so much as feel it... And it burned a little.

Blut looked around as he watched comrads in arms talk time and time again. People he recognized some he doesn't but relatively speaking he was known by ownly a handful of people in the room. Spying Pilar he smirked as he approached her "ah if it isn't my healer I've yet to repay you for your deeds. Please take this and present it to the commander or don't your choice ." Blut spook softly and kindly. In Bluts hand was a copy of a spell smiths findings. Revolutionary spells of defence and enchantment were contained within custom made to face off against Kharans forces of darkness. With one small adjustment made the spells nakeing them worthless against Blut but unless people were extremely familiar with the original text they would not be able to notice.

Krice 's eyes drifted across Gilwen briefly on their way back to Lionel, but something in his periphery drew his focus away. Zahrani, someone with whom he was not familiar, seemed wrapped in a curved wall of illumination, refracting off the shape of her body. This held his attention a little longer than necessary, but the importance of this meeting ensured that his attention did not stray for long.

Gilwen , only after seated herself, moved to take in the many faces present in the room. Those recognized earned a brief glance and nothing more- except Zahrani, who was given a nod of acknowledgement, and Kreekitaka, who was met with a wide-eyed stare; clearly the crab-man still intimidated (read: terrified) her.

Nasada :: Raevyn was sort of zoning out, little pieces of conversation picked up here and there. She was a bit lost in all of this, and for as much as she tried to carry herself with newfound confidence, she was definitely feeling a surge of anxiety. The bag concealed under her robe was opened and would rummage through it for something to snack on. Snacks were a good distraction.

Khitti :: It didn’t take much for heavily pregnant redhead to get a little irritable--you would too if your sister went missing in another realm and you’ve suddenly been thrust closer and closer to the dreaded waddling stage in your pregnancy. Just think of how Brand feels. -He’s- the one that has to live with her. “No,” Khitti said flatly to the Uyeer and left it at that. With a shake of her head, she glanced elsewhere, giving a nod to both Bastion and Krice. Finally, olive-green eyes settle on Penelope and the other women is gifted with a brief head-tilt, vague recognition on Khitti’s features.

Hudson has arrived with a bit of his gangster entourage as well as Cenril's mayor, Uma Abelin, who, like Lionel is wearing red. (Hudson is clothed in an apolitical fashion, which is to say he's wearing dad jeans and a polo.) The group drifts in the general direction of Blut and Pilar. "Congratulations again," Hudson greets Pilar, before pivoting and greeting Blut with a very brisk, "Yo." One of Hudson's men is carrying a six pack, and Hudson helps himself before gesturing that Blut and Pilar are likewise welcome to a beer. Uma declines, she turns her thin smile on Pilar. "I heard you were married recently and that the ceremony was beautiful. Congratulations," she says.

Pilar looked up at the man she only knew as Darius, then took the offered book. “Thank you, sir. This... This will help.” Her attention was then grabbed by the arrival of Hudson, Uma, and their posse. She smiled to them, and graciously declined a beer. “Thank you, thank you. It's... It's been surreal. I'm sorry, ma'am, I don't think we've met properly. I saw you at the Yule Ball in Frostmaw, I think?”

Kreekitaka nodded, deflated a little--one less thing to occupy his mind--and took the opportunity to slide sideways towards Gilwen, lowering his body a little bit and folding his paddles to try to seem a little smaller, and hopefully less intimidating. "I regreTAH! noTAH! having a chance TAH!oo see your recovery," he said, extending an open claw to shake, "however, I am happy TAH!oo see you were noTAH! permanenTAH!yee injureDAH! in HHHTHe fighTAH!."

Zahrani does her best to keep her divine energy isolated just to her body after reaching out to Bastion. She did not sense malevolent intentions from others here, but she concludes that there would be non-malevolent undead and dark arts practitioners who would feel themselves adversely affected if she didn't 'tone it down,' as the saying goes. She's not interested in starting fights with strangers.

Hudson | Uma extends a hand to Pilar. She has a firm grip that matches her now practiced politician's smile. "Yes, I was there, it was very lovely, didn't you think?" she replies, before frowning at the front of the room. "I should probably go see if they need my help," she says, with a quick smile to Pilar before she turns to Hudson. "I'm going to go sit with Lionel and company," she informs him, before striding briskly away to be seated in the 'front row' of guests.

Lionel [Post 1 of 2] Lionel meets the nods of his peers with short nods of his own. Khitti’s and Leone’s gentle remarks to his gloomy forecast of the wars to come don’t go unnoticed, but it’s all he can do to wiggle his eyebrows a bit and manage a grim little smirk. “Let’s get this show on the road,” Lionel says, just loudly enough to be overheard by those who have gathered before him. “First off, I want to thank you for making it out here. Between the weather and the rat bastards razing the countryside, it can’t have been easy. There’s not much I can do about the weather, but to the rat bastards, I say: come at me. I’ll fight them with my last breath. But I won’t last ten breaths on my own. I can’t save this world alone, ladies and gentlemen and uyeer of the male inclination, which is why you’re here today.” He clears his throat, dragging himself free from his lean against the bar. “I guess I ought to start from the top. Namely, the identities of these aforementioned rat bastards. The man who’d set this world on fire calls himself Kahran. Three months ago, Kahran popped in on Cenril’s election night, slew both its candidates, and brought enough of his minions along to sink a ship and nearly invade the city. Aside from the good work done by fighters and rescuers of all shapes and sizes, it was thanks to the quick thinking of a number of witches that a barrier of pure magic went up around Cenril, warding off the invasion force and making this place the hub for common decency it’s now become.” Lionel winces, pausing as he remembers the mafia. Well, close enough. Beggars can’t be choosers. “Since then, Kahran’s kept busy. We defended Chartsend against his horde. Just days later, Larket suffered a blow. And every week I receive reports that hamlets, hovels, small villages off the beaten path are slaughtered and razed and gone. I can’t put a number on the casualties. Even if I knew, what is cold math next to the horror these poor souls have faced? The realm bleeds.”

Lionel | [Post 2 of 2] “The enemy has outposts scattered from one corner of the land to the other. We’ve stopped a few, but finding them is as hard as fighting them. You see, the thing about Kahran is that he’s got control over a network of magic portals which drop his troops from another realm and into ours. It’s why he gets the jump on us. It’s why his creatures spread like an infection.” Lionel isn’t oblivious to the preemptive rumblings of what he plans to say next. He’d have been surprised if the words were not spoken before the meeting commenced. Still, he says them, and with purpose. “That other realm is called the Shadow Plane, and I’ll tell you right now, nothing good ever happens in the Shadow Plane.” It’s not common knowledge, but a woman named Meri may have even died recently in the Shadow Plane. That’s just the tip of the iceberg, as it happens. “Getting there is impossible for damn near anybody, which I suspect is exactly how Kahran likes it. Once there, a visitor is faced with the daunting realization that it’s just as big as our Lithrydel and harder to navigate by far. But we’ll never stand a chance in this war unless we find out where these butchers are headquartered. Better yet, we need to stop them from being able to hop in wherever they like, whenever they like. I… don’t know how we’re gonna do that,” he admits with a note of resignation. “But I know we’re gonna try. And we have a plan to that end. High Priestess, if you would…?”

Leone moves around the bar as Lionel cedes the floor to her. The smith knits her fingers, and lowers her hands to rest against her stomach. "For many years, I was trained in the art of dimensional rifting. Some of you might call this spirit walking. Others might call is Dream-riding, and it's often mistaken for astral projection. Each dimension has its own signature, and we've identified the dimension, or the plane, if you will, that Kahran is entering Lithrydel through. Now, I can open a door between these planes, as some of you may remember from the previous offensive outside of Larket. I can mask a small force traveling through them as well, but it will be a limited force, and for a limited time." The farrier pauses, and pastes her bright, citrusy gaze upon Krice before declaring, "Otherwise it becomes too dangerous. I can, of course, aid with pathing there and back again, so that there's less of a chance that you're going to get lost, though the "there" can be a bit...inaccurate. The back will be bang-on," the blacksmith elaborates. "But before that, we've received word that a much maligned tribe of giants called the Ouroboros Clan are possibly - probably - making armor and weapons for Kahran's forces. These giants, though they are frost giants, are complete outcasts and outlaws from Frostmaw city and Her Highness Queen Hildegarde's realm. They live in the far Western Wilds, and are a very violent, uninviting lot wholly deviant from the giants that dwell in and support Frostmaw. But. If we wish to throw Kahran off balance before entering the Shadow Realm, we'll need to put a dent (pardon the pun) in these aberrant giants' manufacturing and delivery schedule. So our first objective, the most immediate one, is reconaissance - silent, camouflaged, non-engaging reconaissance - on this clan of giants." The smith's brow raises, and her gaze strafes toward the pacifist monk, and soon past him toward the Divine Cat. "If you're interested in participating in this spearhead action," the farrier continues on a moment later, "Please sign up in Lionel's office before the week elapses."

Blut looks at Leone as he moves up to Hudson's lackey "who's that Lionels assistant?" Blut asked haveing never meet the woman before.

Pilar shook Uma's hand and watched her go. She still didn't know who she was, she couldn't recall if she'd been named at the ball. Regardless, her attention went to Lionel and Leone, and she grimaced. She'd heard of these attacks in the countryside. She feared yet another was bound for Chartsend, either from Kahran or someone else entirely. Nowhere was safe, anymore. Had it ever been? Had she known about Meri, she would have mourned her. Even if the women hadn't been best friends, Meri was a nice enough person, and the world was poorer for her loss. If she was lost. The request for reconnaissance was noted, and Pilar knew her skill with illusions, particularly invisibility and muffling sound, would be most helpful. She'd have to sign up.

Krice considered in silence Lionel's grim description of the Kahran-related events to date, his head lifted at an angle of attentiveness, his eyes focused in on the man. Any newcomers to the meeting were acknowledged in his peripheral awareness, little else. When Lionel directed the conversation on to Leone, the warrior remained standing at her side and diverted his gaze, once more focusing on her emerald-hued eyes. He lingered by her bench - and by Bertram - as she stood to address her audience, watching and listening attentively to not only her revelation of Kahran's general location, and the assistance he received from ousted Frost Giants, but also to the plans she intended to enact. When her eyes met his own, he settled into an expression of determined understanding; she and Lionel had his support, and he would go wherever he was most needed. Whilst others chimed in, Krice held his tongue and listened.

Beldur Being late to the party, he tried to be polite and remain silent. Trying to grasp the situation from the clips of speeches that was being made. But his hatchling, who was sitting on his shoulder, seemed to have other idea's. Seeing Lionel, she would try to fly to him. Blowing her breath weapon on whomever tried to catch her with mixed resaults. If she made it to him, she would continue to chirp while heading for whatever pouch might've held his travel rations. Embarrased, he would move to retrieve his drake. A deep sigh escaping his lips as he bowed his head apologeticly to everyone. "Sorry for being late, and interrupting."

Khitti frowned at Leone’s mention of ‘dimensional rifting’. She didn’t feel comfortable whatsoever with just letting someone take the reigns with opening portals to the Plane of Shadow. But… what else could she do? Would Lionel even let her go in her current state? The frown worsened at the thought, but she did her best to hide it. “You’re going to need this.” A new, red notebook was handed over to Lionel, the ink inside placed there only a matter of days ago. “It’s all of the information I was given from the Prophet Emeritus. Copies of the maps are tucked inside as well. And, don’t forget: anyone with magic other than necromancy will be weakened considerably.” With that finished, Khitti’s thoughts shifted back to wondering about all the bad things that might happen while she’s not there and soon after, she started to feel quite unneeded.

Hudson is not paying attention to Uma and doing what he wants, which is about right. But she, and not he, apparently had picked up on the fact that Lionel was starting the meeting. Also about right. "It's Leone, we had beers one time, she's cool," Hudson answers Blut like this is obvious, before they are seated for the meeting to officially begin. If smart phones existed in Lithrydel/where a thing, Hudson would be dicking around on his playing Candy Crush during Lionel's opening remarks. (It's not personal, this is just Hudson.) Since smart phones aren't a thing, Hudson sinks back into his bench and drinks from his beer. He keeps a poker face at the mention of Cenril election night (Uma, for her part, too) and wonders what his daughters are doing. Probably listening to Alvina make up bedtime stories about the Legendary Dog they saw on the street this one day. Hudson bobs his head at the mention of Cenril being a hub of common decency. Leone begins to speak, and at this point Hudson realizes that Krice is here, and Hudson immediately stops daydreaming about what his kids are doing and starts intensely thinking about, obviously far in advance, like pre-writing a duel post basically, a sort of friendly-on-the-outside, nasty-on-the-inside remark he will make to the warrior should they have to interact. Very mature. As a result he is only sort of listening to Leone. Uma, meanwhile, is leaning forward, chin on her fist, entirely engaged. She nods in agreement with the proposed preemptive strike. "A very good idea, I'll see if I can commit some of Cenril's forces," she speaks up. "Do you need any type of forces in particular? We are getting a number of magic users, I believe refugee witches," from Larket, but that doesn't need saying, "who are eager to get to work."

Zahrani has her ears turned towards Lionel, then towards Leone. She takes in the details of who this threat is, and more importantly, how they could stop him. Her blue orbs do not waver as Leone looks at her, speaking on a reconnaissance mission. To the human woman, the paladin asks, "So you need someone who can gather information on these giants in the wildlands. If necessary, I can avoid detection in such areas, if necessary." Her aura only manifests in places of safety. On a serious mission in a dangerous area, the panther wouldn't have any problems blending in.

Krice 's ears would have twitched if they stood high atop his head. He turned said head, glancing toward Uma. 'Refugee witches'? Undoubtedly Larket's witches. At this point, the warrior's eyes shifted naturally from Uma to Hudson but attention there was short-lived. Good riddance. Glancing back at Leone and Lionel, he refocused his attention to important things.

Bastion wasn't one to volunteer for mercenary work. If he was called upon, he would act, but if he wasn't needed, well. He was no glory seeker. There were many people in need of help, and he would give aid where he thought it needed most, foremost. He laid his head on Zahrani's shoulder, careful not to scratch at her with his horns, and then slumped against her. "It's going to be quite the debacle, isn't it? I've looked over many maps, trying to figure out which villages will be targeted, and when... I've been going to them in the order I think most likely, and trying to evacuate them. Many are still more afraid of leaving their homes than of the threat of impending doom. It's difficult."

Blut nooded to Hudon with a brief "thanks" as he proceeds to walk over to Leone. "Excuse me Leone was it. I have a suggestion send me into the shadow plane alone." Blut offered looking resolut at the woman. "I have no need fir food nor water or even sleep) I could chart out the area and make it easier for a scouting mission." Blut explained ready to make full use of his immortality.

Nasada :: Raevyn listened intently to the speech coming out of the man she had previously dubbed 'the handsome warrior'. The reveal of whom the antagonist happened to be, and how he was waging war on Lithrydel- It put a bit of fear into the neophyte necromancer. As his speech concluded and Leone's began, Raevyn removed a small personal journal from her bag and started to copy down important highlights of the things that were mentioned. While interested in the whole affair, she was second guessing herself every step of the way. What exactly could she do to help? Compared to most present, her ability in whole was nothing more than childsplay. Khitti's words regarding magic ability had definitely caught the pallid girl's attention, but even then, she did not feel as versed as she should be by now. Raevyn was hopeless. It took the nudge of the guardian at her side to wake her from those negative thoughts, the large undead male thrusting the scythe back at her to take hold of. "Ain't my problem." he spoke to her, visibly disturbed by something. She watched in surprise as he made for the exit, leaving her to sit there alone.

Hudson is brought out of his intense plotting of snarky remarks by Blut rising from among their ranks and addressing Leone with this somewhat HAM suggestion. Hudson widens his eyes and exchanges a few looks with his entourage. Even Uma looks a little startled by it, although she's mostly distracted by Khitti's remarks ... and her pregnant stomach. It's hard not to look. Suddenly hard to be here, she feels her emotions in her throat. She frowns privately, steeling herself against diving too deeply in the memory of election night and the two losses.

Khitti just laughs at Blut. -A lot-. He’s joking right? That’s very funny. Haha.

Beldur doesn't seem opposed to the idea, given that he knew next to nothing about magic save what was explained earlier. The knight mearly remaining by Lionel's side for now. Holding his drake as she complained about not being able to raid Lionel's rations anymore. "If we're fighting frost Giants, I made some allies with a pair of Frost Giant nobles. I'm heasitent to ask them so soon for aid, but we can hit them on two fronts if need be."

Penelope is stoic for most of Lionel and Leone’s speeches. Krice was nodded to in courtesy, and although Khitti looks confused, Penelope nods to her as well. She leans forward, a satchel full of herbs at her side along with notebooks full of her scripture. The girl is keen on the words that were being exchanged throughout the meeting. Kahran was responsible for this darkness, whoever he was. Kahran was responsible for the death of her loved-ones. The woman rises from her poised state and saunters over near Khitti. “Hi, we… barely met at a point in time, and I don’t know if you remember me. I’m Penelope, Penelope Halifax. Mrs. Mallard’s second hand at a time until I joined the Healer’s Guild. Rumor had it you worked at Cenril’s bakery while I was away and are the owner of the new one...” Pause. Her chest grows tight and her back tingles from the anxiousness that was her surroundings. “I’ve been meaning to stop by and talk to you. I’m interested in assisting you, if you would like another hand,” she hesitates and inhales slowly. “I’m curious if you know a name by Ruari? He was a waiter at the tearoom. Do you know if he is still around?” Or dead (ooc: Ruari is a NPC, so this could go either way).

Zahrani leans against Bastion as he rests his head on her shoulder, offering a reassuring smile to him. "People will do what they feel is best. It is hard when what they think is best could mean the end of them. My offer to help you still stands, as well."

Blut turns to face Khitti but not a word was said for a while. Blut finally spoke "I sacrificed my eyes for Chartsend. There I no length I won't go to to save this world." he spoke in a tone that wouls make it clear he was not jokeing far from it.

Gilwen wasn't rude enough to outright ignore Kreekitaka, but she was blatantly hesitant in acknowledging the crab, slowly moving to accept his extended claw (and the contact was brief). She confirmed that she wasn't grievously injured in Kahran's attack on Larket, and that she had made a full recovery from the incident. Thankfully, Lionel and Leone's words rescued her from conversing much longer, and she turned her full attention onto the duo, if only to put the crab out of her mind.

Gilwen was content thereafter, to avoid conversation altogether. She clearly wasn't in the best of moods.

Khitti blinked as she’s approached by Penelope, then nods, “I do know of whom you speak. From what I hear, Mrs. Mallard’s family and the rest of the employees are working in Kelay now. Mrs. Mallard was the only one to pass that night in the attack.” With the way Penelope was speaking about the bakery and such, she kept her personal feelings towards Mallard to herself.

Kreekitaka raised an objection: "Perhaps we oughTAH! TAH!oo approach HHHTHe gianTAH!s an' see abouTAH! recruiTAH!ing HHHTHem TAH!oo assisTAH! us wiHHHTH making arms an' armor?" After all, if they were skilled enough that someone with realm-wide resources felt their craft was best for his army, their abilities would be quite useful to the rest of them.

Lionel takes Khitti’s offered tome with a curt nod. It seems it’s all he has time for insofar as pleasantries are currently concerned, is nodding. Just as Khitti is about to step away, however, he offers her a brief but deeper look. They know one-another well enough, these two, that she’ll be positive he senses her misgivings over one of the pending missions -- and his considerable preference that she not attend it. “Thank you,” Lionel adds, before returning his gaze to the rest of the crowd. But before he can speak further, Beldur offers something of an ace up his draconian sleeve: the aid of two nobles who might be willing to help field their equipment and expedition costs. “Do it.” His gaze lingers on Beldur appreciatively; the knight errant has proven his worth time and again of late. That’s when Kree voices notes of diplomacy, prompting Lionel to shrug. “I like that. Trouble is, I’ve already seen some of the things they’ve gotten involved in, and I’m not keen to extend an olive branch without first learning more about them up close. We’ll see what they’re up to and make the call once we have. Now he’ll turn to those gathered, finishing things off with a direct call to action. “To reiterate: first we’ll be doing recon and possible deterrence against those giants calling themselves Ouroboros. The following mission will be further recon -- this time in a far more dangerous place. We’ll suss out Kahran’s location and get a real feel for the size of his forces. Hopefully, we’ll sever his portals’ link to Lithrydel in the process. I’d tell you this isn’t going to be easy, but given what we’ve already seen, I know I don’t have to. Now go. Be safe. Look after your loved ones. Lithrydel needs every last one of you.” Lionel studies the unused canvas as he waves his hands to indicate that this wraps the meeting. Good. Anything to keep potential spies on-edge. The canvas was there but nothing came of it. He doesn’t want to think about it, but he has to -- if there are foes among his ranks, he needs every available distraction. Lionel is playing the long game as best he can here, which is to say, barely adequately, but he’s trying. Little to Lionel’s immediate awareness, one of the several Warrior’s Guild trainees who had taken seats between the summoned allies turns his face wayward of the others and -- for a fraction of a second -- their eyes go full-black. A kind of miniaturized portal appears from -within- the spy, oblivious to the naked eye and hard-suppressed against most magical detection, through which they intend to convey the contents of this meeting...

Leone looks down to the red journal that Khitti presents to Lionel, both ebon brows rising along the canvas of her forehead in unspoke question toward the steward. A gentle nod is offered to the pregnant woman before the smith's attention shifts to Uma. What a lovely sight the new mayor was, sitting there in her elegant manner. And she's /such/ a humanitarian, too! The smith refocuses on what the mayor of Cenril is saying. Leone leans in toward Uma, folding her arms over her chest while kicking one ankle to cross over the other at an extended angle. "We will take your best two. We'll need those skilled in shadow magic, of course, and planar magic, if you have any. We're hoping to keep the offensive group small, just a quick in and out, hit and run sort of thing." The smith's posture straightens somewhat, and Zahrani is the next to garner the full brunt of the luminous, leafy green sights. "Sounds like you'd be perfect, then," the sacred smith's grit-on-glass timbre issues forth, "I do hope you'll sign up in Lionel's office formally. We'll need your talents." Her interactions with the feline paladin are abruptly interrupted by Blut. The farrier's face slowly hardens. Realization dawns in the lemon-lime sights the more she looks at the assassin. Assassin indeed: this man had tried to kill her before, when she was in her cups, in Frostmaw Tavern about a year past. The smith frowns gravely, her plump, tawny mouth drawing into a hard line as she looks at Blut while he speaks. The smith's bottom jaw drops, and she inhales a breath before speaking in fully enunciated, somewhat harsh syllables. "Participants for the Shadow Plane initiative will be chosen carefully, based on skill and mettle. We need to cover a wide range of possibilities and positions here. Obviously, with a multi-pronged offensive, no one person will suffice. Can't wait to see your name in the available pool of talent." The smith's attention snaps away from Blut suddenly, impulsively. There's a creeping feeling at the back of her head, and all of the hairs on her arms stand up. The farrier stares at the person who, unbeknownst to her a fraction of a moment earlier, has black eyes. She sniffs, and takes a step toward the portal-wielding one. All at once, the High Priestess's arm shoots into the air, an uneasy feeling permeates the air, the sort of feeling you get after dragging slippered feet across carpet, and then reaching for a doorknob. Then, in a blink, a black bolt of lightning peals through the room on a collision course with the mysterious caster and the invisble portal.

Pilar yelped as lightning burst forth from Leone's hand, the hair on her neck standing up. She watched it careen toward the spy, her first instinct to help him, until she reminded herself that Leone was a powerful wielder of divine magic and probably had good reasons for doing what she did. Didn't make her any less uncomfortable though.

Khitti briefly stared at Lionel in silence after his ‘thank you’. She knew he meant well by keeping her out of there, but she couldn’t help but feel like he was making a mistake. She could still do -something- couldn’t she? “Yeah…” was said at length, that frown of hers resurfacing. The redhead offered a nod to Leone as she grabbed her coat and put it on. Nothing more was said as Khitti headed for the door, the others mingling together still and Leone dealing with the spy. The frown is still there and present as she passed by Zahrani, the reminder of the lack of help from the paladin’s chosen god, as well as the other benevolent deities, still fresh in her mind. Khitti would soon exit the headquarters, opting to take the long route home to the wharf, where the Tranquility lay docked.

Blut took a step back as he saw the bolt fly back at the spy. Blut shook his head as he turned to take a seat by the bar as he muttered "waste of time" to himself. He sat and waited for everyone to spill the beans unaware of the spy in their midst.

Krice watched Leone's features change to reflect her cool ire and he followed her gaze to Blut. Unfamiliar with their year-ago history, the warrior could not deduce a reason as to why there was animosity. Still keenly aware of Leone's discomfort, the man addressed Lionel with a casual but respectful, " Take care, Lionel. Stay strong, stay ready," before the priestess' movements once more garnered his attention. He watched her move toward an unknown person and stepped away from her table to follow, though remained a few paces behind. Krice halted to her right and just out of reach when she stopped a moment later, to observe the crackling of magic that zapped from her into the unknown portal-wielder. He reached over his left shoulder to grasp at his sword, holding it - still sheathed - by the hilt. Just in case.

Kreekitaka was considerably less familiar with Leone and her abilities and the sudden drastic action being taken caused him to make a somewhat unmanly sound and jerk backwards, startled in a manner some might consider very out of character for him. He froze, motionless, mentally fighting for control of himself against this curse that mired his every thought in constant fear, and, with great effort, lifted himself back up to his full height and stepped back towards the bar, pretending that he totally hadn't just cowered away from the display of lightning.

Nasada :: Raevyn felt like an idiot. She did not belong here. She had nothing to offer this campaign in any sense. Corpse-like eyes drop to the floor and she frowns. So much for a 'new you'. The girl was feeling out of place amongst all of these people who seemed to have much to offer, who seemed so inter-connected. She was an outsider. A useless one at that. As she rose, she was overcome with a strange electrical feeling, turning then to witness the sudden attack from Leone. Raevyn stood in silence, stunned by what had just transpired.

Zahrani would sign up as a potential candidate for the first recon mission. Emphasis on potential, for there may be other places where her talents are needed. She turns to Bastion, but open seeing the bolt of black lightning peal through the room, she rises to her feet within a blink of an eye, placing herself between the young boy and the lightning bolt's target. Her left arm raises up, and a ward of divine magic materializes in front of her like a riot shield, her right hand deftly wrapping around her mace. She would not advance, but act as a protector to Bastion, assuming he didn't move.

Hudson | Uma would surely be buoyed if she knew that Leone was woman crushing on her rn. In her view, this gig has been nothing but stress day in and day out. At first she'd nursed a bitterness: how dare Fitz die on her like that. How DARE he. But now she's come into her own and realized that she doesn't miss Fitz all that much after all, that she likes being Mayor. Even if it means taking direction from the mob sometimes. For now, Uma is free to listen to Leone, and she reaches into her handbag to retrieve a notepad, on which she writes, "2 magic users: planar, shadow," before shooting Leone a quick smile, one of mutual respect. Uma's dark eyes, brimming with quiet amusement, follow the other woman as she addresses Blut. Her mouth quirks in the quickest of suppressed smiles, and then she looks behind her for Hudson, who has thrown one arm over the back of his chair in the image of 'chill meeting attendee.' It's at this moment that Leone smokes the mole in the room, and Hudson's face goes alert, his posture straightens immediately, ye olde wolf's itch skittering up his arms. Uma of course is on her feet, arms held out in case she need to cast a barrier.

Lionel senses something, too, but it’s just the return of a gnawing ache in the back of his neck. His sword may be magical, but Lionel himself is rather mundane. And mundane men are susceptible to the physical rigors of stressful living. It comes as a real shock to the Catalian when a black bolt of lightning streaks across the room and incinerates the initiate. Lionel lofts a brow and whistles. It’s the best poker face he’s got, but he knows exactly what this means: any of them could be spies, and there is nowhere truly safe to keep secrets. Involuntarily, his left fist clenches. One way or another, he’ll have to find a way, or doom will surely befall the realm. “Damn it. Thanks, Leone.”

Beldur nods as he got his assignment. His drake looking up at him as if he forgotten something. And the reminder hit him. Hard. "Before I forget. I may know a potential source to his enhanced power. When I was serving the Frost Giant nobles, I had a team rescue some elven prisoners. POWs from the Drow's siege of Sage Forest. He was, I don't understand it well, but he was "stealing" their magical energy. I don't know very well how it would work, but if that improved his magic, then he might be more dangerous than when you last saw him, Sir Lionel. I sent the elves to Frostmaw to report to the Queen. Hoping they will be of aid." He would then hand his drake a piece of raw lamb's leg. Not noticing the spy as he explained. He had been here many times and didn't think that there was any way for a spy to infiltrate.

Gilwen was startled from whatever thought held her mind captive by the sudden burst of lightning, and she stood, whirling to face the caster, her hand on her dagger's hilt. However, the recipient of that magical casting drew the elf's attention, and after realizing the threat had been neutralized, her grip loosened before falling away entirely. She moved toward the exit of the building then, forgoing any farewells.

Leone is sweating. Just by that single act, that summoning of divine smiting, the smith is shaken. Realizing that she's essentially quelled the room into silence, the farrier stands upright and rigid, like a soldier at attention. "Well," the blacksmith breathes out the word, "I suppose that's our lesson here." It seems as if the statement is in direct support of Lionel's expressed observation. "Ah," the war priest says somewhat nervously, "If anyone needs to speak to me personally, you can do so either in Fort Frostmaw, or send me a missive to make an appointment."

Penelope felt a warm burst within her chest. Ruari was safe. Mrs. Mallard the only one harmed. The girl had a new mission: find Ruari. The blast of lightening caused the woman to flinch. What was this world coming to, and did they really need –her- help? A gasp of air released out of her lips. “Dear, Sven…” The woman leaned against the bar to collect herself. She then grasps the strap on her satchel and moves quickly towards the door.

Lionel scoffs in wry agreement with Leone. Her posture has changed, though, as has her readily available constitution. He takes a single step toward her, then thinks better of it; surely, Krice will be at her side momentarily. Lionel smiles slightly toward silver-haired enigma. “You as well, my friend. I’m glad you’re by our side.” Just because any one of them could be spies doesn’t mean he can’t live in hope those closest to him are not. His attention then shifts to Beldur, who has brought another revelation even as some of the allies depart. Whatever traces of the smile he’d offered Krice remained, they’re gone now, his face hard as Larketian stone. “When it rains…” He mutters. “Still, the more we know, the better our odds. Thank you again, Beldur.”

Bastion remained calm, even as the bolt struck the infiltrator, not so much as shifting from the impact. He smiled at Zahrani, though... appreciative of her protective instincts, and instinctive bravery alike. "I fear he is no threat, Zahrani. Not anymore. It is fortunate, it would seem Lionel as vigilant allies."

Krice’s gaze drifted over the retreating Pilar, aware of the reason as to why, but otherwise his attention remained on those still lurking in the room. His fingers flexed around the hilt of his katana as he looked around, guaging the reactions of the others present. To Penelope he glanced, but Gilwen's departure drew his focus away. And then to Blut, whose back was turned. The warrior squinted both eyes slightly but whatever thoughts passed through his mind were diverted to the others; the girlishly startled Kreekitaka, the prepared Uma, the bristling Hudson. When Leone stood, he lowering his arm and exchanged sword for elbow, reaching out toward the priestess. They knew each other well, and his knowledge of her Divinity ensured that his attention remained on her. " Let's go," he murmured, his voice slightly urgent. " Gyl can take us back to Frostmaw."

Hudson throws a menacing glance or two at random people whose only crime is in being close to the man who just got toasted. Eventually however he realizes that the threat has indeed been neutralized, and that he's getting the wolf itches for no reason now. The meeting is over. He and his entourage stands and the men begin to make their way out, without waiting for Uma. For her part, Uma lingers for a hot second in Leone's vicinity as a precaution. When it is apparent to her that there will be no further magical stirrings, she addresses the blacksmith and Lionel both: "Very productive discussion. We must all band together right now. I will be in touch." And with that, she allows herself to be swept in the general procession out of the meeting area.

Krice glanced briefly back to Lionel. " It pours," he concurred, grimly.

Nasada :: Raevyn swallows hard as she looks over Leone. Do not incur the wrath of that one. With the meeting concluded and the young scythe-toting necromancer once more doubting herself, Raevyn quietly made for the exit. Commence emotional eating!

Zahrani lets the ward dissipate as the threat was neutralized, before turning back to Bastion and giving a heavy sigh. "So it would seem. I've just learned to assume that any foe could make like a phoenix and rise from the ashes." She leans against the young boy again, letting her heartrate subside once more. She realizes in hindsight that bringing that ward to bear was much easier since her acupuncture session.

Bastion smiled as Zahrani leaned against him, noting the way her muscles moved, and how quick they were to relax. "You have less tension in you. Your mind is clearer, no? It's about time for another acupuncture session, if you're interested, Zahrani."

Beldur nods as he lifts his now satisfied drake. "You're welcome. I'll see if they are willing." The drake chirps proudly as if she got her kill herself.

Zahrani raises a brow at the mention of another acupuncture session, responding to Bastion, "I might just take you up on that offer after this first reconnaissance, if I am asked to be part of it." She turns to the pile of ash that WAS the spy, "Thought that mission might have just gotten more complicated." If Lionel were still in the room, she would turn to him and ask, "Where is your office, exactly?"

Lionel watches Kreekitaka leave, pausing long enough to wonder if the uyeer will be alright. He’s hit a bit of a sensitive dilemma, that uyeer, but one which could nevertheless damage his colleagues’ livelihood -- and his own as well -- irreparably. “Oi,” Lionel mouths, almost directly into Zahrani’s face as the paladin delivers a sudden inquiry. “Oh, uh. That’s more of a philosophical question than I daresay anybody realizes. I do have an office, but…” He waves his arms outstretched dramatically. “I take it with me everywhere I go. For simplicity’s sake, I suggest meeting with me at my real, tangible office, up in Frostmaw. I’ll be there for the next few days handling affairs of state. I’d be happy to speak with you then.”

Beldur would pull a page from his satchel. Reading it before it lit itself on fire and caused a magic circle to form around him. He lazily waves to Lionel as those who could read would see he was headed to Frostmaw. "Till we meet again." His hand catching his rebellious drake before the portal wisked them away.

Leone looks a bit guilty as people begin to make hasty exits. The smith rounds the bartop and grabs up a bottle of whiskey. "Just a minute," she says to Krice, all of the usual inflection gone from her voice. With a shaking hand, the farrier pours herself three fingers of the caramel-colored liquor, her eyes fixed upon the spot where the blackened floor holds the remains of what once was a living, breathing person. Or bug in person garb. "Just a minute." The reiteration is an absent one, and after tipping back the double, the smith sucks a breath of hair through her teeth.

Krice moved with Leone to the bar, ever supportive of the woman, and hovered close by in case she needed physical support as well. Whilst she partook of liquid tranquility, he diverted his gaze outward to the room behind her, watching their surroundings whilst awaiting the return of the priestess' nerve. He glanced briefly at the pile of once-spy on the ground, as reduced by Leone herself, but his concern was not for the now dead person. His concern was for her. Only when she was ready would he lead her out of the room, to the triangular-headed, dark-green wyvern awaiting their return outside.

Zahrani stands up, looking to Leone as she begins to drink. The paladin quietly approaches, offering a polite nod to the other paladin guarding the woman. She wasn't sure she could say anything to help Leone; she did just take a life, in front of everyone in the room. The feline simply says, "Thank you." before moving back to her seat and retrieving what little equipment she had in her satchel. Her tail swishes idly behind her.

Lionel wraps one hand around the back of his head, quelling the ache. With his other hand, he’ll swipe a bottle of fine red wine, pop the cork with aplomb, and take a serious swig. The ‘wars to come’ can wait one night.