RP:Zero Sum(mit)
Part of the Welcome To The End Of Eras Arc
Summary: The long awaited World Peace Summit finally arrives. An opportunity to try and voice that while there is certainly feral undead left in Caluss' wake, there are just as many sentient souls now looking to be accepted in their newfound state. A message overshadowed by the loaded unveiling of an allegiance with Macon, and Larket. Within moments, the summit catches fire- the Rage King living up to his moniker. A portent to worse things to come.
Kasyr adjusts his tie, yet again- partially dislodging the signet pin that kept together the silver and blue silk fabric. He'd endeavoured to look presentable, in a well-tailored black suit and even some small attention put towards his seemingly permanent stubble. Perhaps, an especially astute observer might notice a few crumpled cue cards that are palmed and then pocketed- that said, the most blatant bit of disorder could be chalked up to still-tousled hair and a certain air of exhaustion that seems at odds with his nature as a vampire, though fits perfectly with the blank expression he's sporting.
Kasyr||There were too many damn people here, and too few friendly faces. The turnout from those he'd sent invites to was surprisingly high, but that also included press members, mostly local- though undoubtedly some foreign papers were looking to see what the scoop was. A pack of vultures, looking for the next hysteria-fueling headline they can turn a profit on. Pulling the city from the brink had been the easy part- the problem was keeping it from hurtling over the edge of it's own volition. And as though to prove that very point, a disproportionate number of uniformly undead protestors linger on the periphery of the edifice, carrying banners that espouse taglines like 'Usurper', 'Death to Vampire-kind', 'A free Vailkrin for the Undead', 'End Undead Genocide in Lithrydel', 'More land for the undead' and, with a surprisingly good turn out, 'Breathers gets out, or get 6 feet under'. Just fantastic. Well, may as well get this carriage wreck started. He passes by the various grand tables which flanked the room in rows, if only to stop before a podium placed at its head, his designated station, and one flanked by a number meant for each of the invited representatives.
Macon has travelled to Vailkrin with a full convoy for this momentous occasion. His immediate family, aside from Augusta Jauzon, have made the trip to attend this summit and as such, they travel with the full complement of security and Royal Guards including the big three of Rava, Roald, and Wendell. Atop the king’s head lies the heavy, impractical marble crown of Larket as it often does, but unusually the Veratoakan man is not in his shining plate armor. Instead, he’s been convinced to forgo it for the occasion in favor of fine clothes appropriately fit for a king. The fine fabrics are accented with the purple and gold of The Larketian flag without being particularly garish. Macon sits in his designated seat beside the podium as casually as possible without risk of the stone crown sliding off his head. Behind his chair, standing sentry as much as the Larketian security detail flanking the room, The Rage Axe looms unnaturally upright, the faintly glowing red stone lodged in a socket at the center of the double-bladed axe head peers out at those gathered, emitting it’s currently subtle, infuriating aura.
Meri arrives at the same time that Magikrios does. The woman has not seen fit to come dressed elegantly, instead leaning into the wardrobe of a warrior. The woman is wearing a pair of form-fitting black pants that are tucked into knee-high black leather boots. On her body, is a protective dragonscale armor and matching bracers that shield most of her vibrant tattoos from view. Her blonde her has been pulled back into a neat side-braid. It should be noted that Meri is absent a weapon, but the psion has always been able to make clever use of her surroundings in a pinch. The blonde will follow after Magikrios and claim a seat next to him, wherever that might be, but it appears that Meri is far from happy to be present. Nothing but skepticism and doubt for the purpose, intentions, and agenda behind this meeting.
Magikrios s heavy boots eventually lead him into the main hall. He's not dressed to the nines at all. The Lyastri is doing his very best to look like a tall walking shadow given his all-black attire. His hood is pulled up, but anyone who recognizes his unique fiery eyes would know who's underneath the hood. He's keeping quiet for the most part, choosing to nod to any familiar faces instead of bursting into a conversation. This is not the same lively Magikrios that was present at the AG's recruiting event just last week. Magikrios decides to stand to the side regardless of his personal invitation to the meeting. If he had something to say this evening, he will speak from the crowd.
Kanna || From the skies above the eastern gates of Vailkrin, a pegasus-drawn shimmering white carriage descends towards the entrance of the castle. It is large enough to comfortably seat a few medium-sized creatures, but when the doors open, dozens of pixies and fairies flitter out in their minuscule forms. They take their places on either side of the carriage to form an aisle, then use their magic to convert to a larger size, as appropriate for today's event. As they all bow their heads in unison, it is clear that they are the royal guardsmen of Enchantment. But who emerges first from the carriage is not Lanara, nor Tiber, nor Lunalesca, but Kanna?! She is dressed with her hair elegantly pinned up and her fringe brushed away from her forehead for a more regal look. Today, she wears the same golden colors as the royal guardsmen do, though it has been tailored to fit her very non-fae-like body. Once she is out of the carriage, she turns and extends her hand. "Here, your Majesty. Thank you again for the honor of accompanying you." Kanna's soft voice calls out. The final person to emerge from the carriage is Queen Lunalesca herself. In her elderly age, she looks no less regal with her chestnut hair with silver strands pulled into a simple bun at the base of her neck, and a navy gown with golden trimmings that perfectly accentuates the navy edges of her fae wings. "Thank you, dearie, although it saddens me that the other two saviors of Enchantment could not respond to my call in person, it brings me great comfort to know you will all be present." Kanna smiles nervously as she escorts the Queen into the Great Hall of Vailkrin. She may have not disclosed her status as a bystander while Iintahquohae and Lhyrin slayed the dragon plaguing Enchantment, nor that the two are not the benevolent heroes that Lunalesca seems to believe they are, but Kanna couldn't let down such a sweet little monarch. With Queen Lunalesca holding Kanna's arm for stability, Kanna leads the Queen to her designated seat.
Lhyrin would follow Lunalesca and Kanna into the Great Hall, sporting a well-made black silk tunic embroidered with Vhys’ colors, that of which was accompanied by comfortable black pants, black boots, and a black long-sleeve shirt beneath the tunic. The representative for Vhys had pulled their long mane of blue-black hair into a half ponytail, the ponytail itself braided with small red flowers trailing down it. Kohl-lined eyes scanned the room. They had no weapons on their person, and yet like many attending, they didn’t need them. Regardless of whether or not things were going to get difficult here, Lhyrin had to try their best to remain a neutral party. Their takeover of Vhys depended on it. Much like the Queen of Enchantment and the bardess at her side, Lhyrin would approach the chair designated for them and would seat themself quietly.
Rumiko was a quiet, shadow of a presence as she entered; careful not to bump into anyone as she made her way deeper inside. This time she did not wait to be addressed, but simply followed the flow of people entering the Hall. Gone were the travel-worn clothes the nymph had worn the last time she stood within these walls, replaced with a fitted ebony gown that seemed more appropriate for the setting. Crimson hair was brushed, collected and pinned high on the back of her head, leaving the column of her neck and the black diamonds on display as she moved to find a place where she could better view the podium and the male that stood behind it. Once still, green eyes wandered over the crowd, looking for familiar faces and finding two rather swiftly. If Meri or her brother caught her gaze. she'd offer a dip of her head in greeting. She still hadn't managed to tell them of her return. Oops.
Leoxander was not a lazy man, but for the sake of convenience, saving time and memories he’d rather not address, he was already and abruptly there, perched in one of the seats against the wall in a slouched posture, a shift to one side allowing him to dig out his flask as he observed the others coming in. Almost armored, but the usual attire was hidden in a worn duster and there was a sheathed black rather than a compound bow across his spine.
Lefty spider crawls on fingertips, the glowing red eyeball securely held between the palm heels of a pair of ancient simian hands, or as the common folk call them, monkey's paws. He makes his way through the undead masses who welcome his presence, and at least tolerate his living attendant. The impeccably dressed avian man walks proudly among those lacking a heartbeat, trusting his master to handle the details of straightening bent feathers, or removing them altogether should need arise. A few undead growl menacingly at him, but he simply nods serenely. Lefty's left hand sparks violet in warning. Whether the avian's calm or Lefty's threat was the cause, the crowd turns away. The eyeball is here to listen, but the avian is here should a voice be needed.
Laezila enters flanked by two massive drow, the heeled clicks of her boots marking her appearance as they echo throughout the foyer chamber. Hood is drawn up, and her face concealed with a white, faceless mask, the small and slender matron of House D'l'Sel D'issan scans the room with vibrant blue eyes. The drow beside her are almost bestial in appearance, growling low and bulging with muscle as they escort her in, likely lycanthropes.
Meri 's stoic expression fades when she catches sight of Rumiko, long enough to greet Magikrios' sister with a wink. Then back to being overly serious, even slightly disgruntled looking.
Quintessa is here dressed in a gown of green and black, the crest of House Blackwell embroidered on her chest. Her long raven hair rests like thick curtains on her shoulders, her blue and golden eyes peeking out from under them as everyone else gathered here. To her credit, for the duration of her time in Vailkrin she has completely avoided the media, instead trying her best to linger around people she recognized. Even as an exile, Quintessa is making sure to use this time for diplomacy, giving soft greetings to the world leaders she knew personally as she passes by. It is Queen Lunalesca that holds Quintessa’s attention the longest, however, having gifted the changeling the sunstone earring she was currently wearing. Her majesty must have deemed this extremely important if she pulled herself out of her Queendom in her infirm state for it.
Iintahquohae crawled out of her mountain of paperwork to attend this. Not necessarily because she thought she was ready to play politics with others (she absolutely isn't), but more to make sure Kasyr looked the part. Presentable. Naturally she thinks she's done a good job with her tailoring, but... Why is he -readjusting- the tie. It was fine the way it was. The seamstress lengthens her stride to catch up to him and quickly re-fixes it and its pin. “Don't touch it again,” Inks quietly warns. She dons similarly colored attire, but deliberately plainer by comparison to Vailkrin's King. Going for relatively gloomy Vailkrin-chic felt appropriate, and again deliberately, not her own work. Someone from House Ventra made her dress for the evening. Her primary goal in attending this meet was to observe, keep her mouth shut (mostly), and learn. Maybe take notes. ...She should probably take notes. Quickly she waves for one of the Veiled to fetch her a notepad and a quill whenever she settles down.
Lanlan :: A voice can be heard distantly, seeming to come from nowhere, or everywhere. The faraway sounds cannot be deciphered as they are yet too jumbled by the ethereal passageways that become the roads for the Archmage. They’re coming closer, and as they do it seems one might finally be able to make out the meanings, and then suddenly they are quieted. It’s as if the speaker has become aware of his proximity. There is the sound and sensation of a door being opened and closed, even though as far as anyone could see, none was. But then Lanlan is here. For the occasion (as with every occasion), he’s dressed elegantly, with a touch of mystique. A vibrant purple coat of matte, lightweight fabric hung over his shoulders, sleeves empty. It seemed to be one solid color until caressed by the light, and then a delicate paisley pattern could be seen in shimmering gloss. The backside of his coat shows a design that appears at first to be only an abstract grace, but upon looking away, one would have the impression of a pair of enormous, piercing eyes, staring. Beneath the coat, he wore a tailored tunic of pristine white, with silver filigree decorating the buttons and his cuffs. Under that he wore sleek black pants, expertly cut to accentuate his figure, and black slip on shoes. As a final touch, he wore his rings of opal, that seemed at times to be a dull echo of his own skin; and an armlet that was fashioned to appear like a moth made of silver and jewels, its wings curling around his bicep. Though each piece of jewelry might’ve had its own magical signature, the armlet was the most powerful. Indeed, it is the most important and treasured accessory he owns, concealing his thoughts and feelings from any who might wish to pry. Accompanying him are three aether-winged butterflies, and as he strides toward his seat, they land delicately on his shoulder, upon one hand, and on the part of the table that was his.
Magikrios 's eyes scan the crowd for members of the group of people that totally doesn't exist. There are no nods, just quick eye contact.
Laezila finds her gaze from behind that mask fixated on Lanlan.
Lita had not seen fit to bother with additional armor for this gathering. Dressed in the usual little black sundress she pads barefoot into the great hall, the onyx gem of her circlet high on her forehead beneath raven curls. The crow-winged leather bracer on her left forearm might be seen sporting a particularly fancy compass alongside the usual silver emblem it held (she's no idea what to do with the phoenix one yet). Dark eyes scan the faces present, a brief glance spared for Meri and Magik before she'll find her way to a seat beside the pirate, who looks rather comfy all things considered.
Meri shares a knowing glance with Lita as she catches sight of the vamp champ.
Magikrios does offer Leo and Lita a slight nod though. He even makes it a point to fold his arms. It's comfy.
Leoxander was taking note of who made their presence known, and those that loitered in shadows - a thing Vailkrin had plenty of. The rogue tenses slightly when Enchantment’s queen enters to the great hall but she’s at a distance or there seemed to be some reason it wasn’t bothering him, yet. Watching Lita cross the room, he didn’t beckon or draw attention to her, but if she hadn’t seen or sensed him yet it was only a matter of time. Cracking his neck before a drink from his flask, he opted to remain silent and take in what he could before he had to speak up. If he did. Eye contact was made with those that looked his way but only Magikros got a very subtle raise of unshaven jaw.
Kanna waves to those she knows, and mouths 'oh my gods!' while gesturing to the monarch seated in front of her. Having known most others before they were in leadership positions, the bardess is clearly starstruck. It seems it runs in the family.
Kasyr takes a moment to flick it's top, confirming the acoustic cantrip's working, and shedding his last excuse to procrastinate, "I'm not much for speeches, so I'll try to keep this short. First, thank you to everyone that has attended, not only for the cities sake, but it's future- and the continent at large." He takes a breath, less out of necessity, and more to provide a slight pause, "Not even years ago, Vailkrin was shadow of itself, providing proof to every foul rumour spoken - of apocalyptic cultists, ambitious sociopaths, et worse things besides. Of a return to ways when things like the parasite of Lithrydel roamed the continent." Regardless of how much poise he tries to maintain, he can't quite help the reflexive clench of his hand, nor the way it cracks a part of the podium. It nearly derails his train of thought, and it's only due to feeling of a sleeve-cached card that he remembers to continue,"Terrible events which nearly repeated themselves, as the city found itself dealing with an unprecedented surge in population- of undead forced into this existence, of mindless ferals, et things which still bear the vestigial taint of what created them. A disaster on an unprecedented scale." He probably should have written a speech, that would have been smarter. "And yet, you're here today- despite every protest that's been levied by certain interests. Despite the fears of many that this city would not only be ostracized by it's neighbours, but would face prejudice, an inability to exist beyond the city walls, et even a war of extermination."
Lanlan becomes aware of a small feeling within himself that sends a tremble into his long antenna-like eyebrows, and he scans the room. Among two warlike drow, is another one, far smaller, and far deadlier. The mask is what pulls him back through years, to a time of darkness and intrigue and blood and stagnant air. The signature on the return mail was real. Or someone was playing a game.
Kanna || Queen Lunalesca turns her head as Kasyr speaks, awaiting the purpose of this summit to be announced. As Kanna's excitement fades and his mention of the vermin of the hollows is brought up again, the human digs her nails into the palms of her hands. Unclenching her hands, she thumbs at the armlet carved of ya-te-veo wood curling down her left arm, and the thick wooden yew and willow wristlet upon her right wrist.
Meri :: Kasyr begins to speak to the crowd and Meri finds herself responding with a slight lift of the brow. Perhaps as Kasyr goes one, Kelay-Sage’s co-leader will hear something that begins to answer her questions about the point of today. Or maybe her suspicions are already being confirmed. A look is given toward the Guardian of Sage.
Macon sits and listens and waits patiently while Kasyr speaks. The Larketian King is unsure how aware the other world leaders are of his heavy involvement in this gathering's inception, but he is sure that the current speaker's clout is what brought most of them from the corners of Lithrydel and Rynvale out here today.
Leoxander nodded to Lita before his focus directed toward Kasyr.
Laezila yanks her attention from Lanlan and toward the speaking Kasyr as he begins, though her mask hides any reactionary expression. The Underdark certainly has a few issues, however, and so she lingers, listening.
Magikrios 's arms remain folded as Meri's look is met. There's no reaction, only the slight turn of his head back towards Kasyr to keep listening.
Kasyr probably should try and gauge the crowds reaction, but he's rather actively attempting to suppress his empathy in that moment- if only because it helped to suppress the animosity emanating from outside. Regardless of what was said or done today, that was unlikely to change any time soon. "That said, I can understand if there are concerns about Vailkrin. Not long again, certain interests had seen fit to try and paint refugees from Trist'oth as invaders- a clear ploy to incite genocide, and benefit certain factions that were positioned to act on this 'threat'." Yes, there were some fairly obvious air quotes there. "And though we are currently working hand in hand with our drow neighbours to reclaim their territory, so they can return to the home they knew- I know that others amongst you likely have your grievances. Whether it's the undead which have been left abroad in Caluss' wake, the trepidation that has likely accompanied my own ascension to the throne, or other things besides." It's at this point that he taps the podium again, "Et so, in respect to the goodwill you've extended insofar as arriving here- I offer my own, that Vailkrin will honour the support it's been provided by it's neighbours, and the peace we've fought hard for." This was getting long in the tooth, though- and there was still that Faustian deal to address, One which saw him rather pointedly talking over a reporter's attempt at asking about 'Undead concentration camps, locally & in Kelay'. Rather ironically, given, "But you have questions, no doubt, and have done me the courtesy of listening. So, I'll open the floor to those present- albeit starting with King Macon Jauzon of Larket- whose recent efforts to help the restoration of the city, and the ongoing expansion to the necropolis has been pivotal." Which is more or less Kasyr's cue to take a step back, and maybe sidle off to the side, closer to wherever the seamstress was.
Quintessa maintains a stoic expression as she watches Kasyr speak at the podium, her arms crossed one over the other in an almost defensive posture. If she felt any particular way about what he was saying, she doesn’t show it.
Lhyrin did their best to resist a heavy sigh. Actually, no. They did end up sighing, but half of it was to cover up the noises of hunger that emitted themselves from the forsaken elf’s stomach. Why had they chosen not to eat? That was a silly idea indeed. They especially could’ve grabbed a pixie-sized snack when they and Kanna met Lunalesca in Enchantment before coming to Vailkrin. Well. Now they were in for the long haul. In a room filled with a few delicious individuals. And these damnable protestors were only making things worse. Lhyrin’s long gangly fingers reached up and pinched the bridge of their nose. After a moment of contemplation, they leaned over in their chair towards Kanna, whispering quietly to her.
Macon stands and moves into position to give his prepared statement/announcement. Fort Freedom employs an illusionist to work events such as these to stand at the back of the room in the king’s line of sight and project his pre-written speeches to him like a magical teleprompter. It is towards this individual that Macon’s slate gaze shifts to so that he can find his starting place. “Thank you to Our hosts. We are attending this official summit today in part to show Our acknowledgement of the legitimacy of King Azakhaer’s position, and, as he has stated, to commit to Larketian aid in the restoration and betterment of Vailkrin as a whole. This recognition will include a defense agreement that ensures any contention of Kasyr Azakhaer’s leadership role, either foreign or domestic,” he stares down the numerous undead protesters present, “will meet a united Larketian and Vailkrinese front.” His voice is as gravelly and serious as ever while he thinks back to a time when he himself was recently crowned and this was exactly the kind of endorsement he craved from any one of his colleagues. A short pulse of fury radiates from The Rage Stone as Macon moves off script to the dismay of the teleprompting illusionist and continues, “To the undead who might seek to contest his rule, I will offer a reminder that with Caluss’s defeat, your waking death now resides solely in the domain of Vakmatharas, to whom my son serves as prophet. The Lord of Death is paramount to your survival. Crossing Vailkrin or Larket is now akin to crossing Him.” He lets this threat hang in the air while glancing at Prince Guillem near the front of the gathering and sending a small nod his way. The Furious King clears his throat and will continue…
Rumiko 's expression had been mostly blank since her arrival, though a slight downward turn of her lips came as fingers laced before her. Her attention swept across the crowd, taking note of those that were paying attention to Kasyr and those that were watching others.
Leoxander turned to look at Macon with an bland expression, at least not giving into rude habits to scornfully ask, 'Who the hell is Macon?'. No, he'd try to behave, for now, but had no appreciation in blue eyes for the King.
Iintahquohae hasn't written much of anything down by the time Kasyr finished his speech, but her attention immediately shifts toward King Macon. She's never actually met him before and only heard stories until now. Out of anyone here, it's him that she's most curious about.
Kasyr is wondering if he should have, maybe prepared a speech. Compared notes. -planned-. As it currently stands, Kasyr can't actually stop himself from a brief lapse of neutrality- a wince, that transitions to a faint pinch of his nose, before it's redirected to a hopefully natural-looking slide of his hand over his face- maybe held for a moment or two longer than it needed to be, and through his hair.
Leoxander blurted out, likely out of turn. "What sort of benefits Larket gonna give you dealin' with this?"
Kasyr told to Iintahquohae, "Daedria smite me. This man doesn't have a diplomatic bone in his body. Unless it's thinly veiled violence."
Lita will leave watching Kasyr during this speech to Leo. Instead, she watches the faces of those assembled. Interested. Intrigued. Doubtful. Suspicious. She's not sure there's a wholly positive member in the bunch. She lofts a brow at King Macon's approach to the podium. She'd met him once, maybe twice. Though most of what she knew of him remain shrouded in rumor. She shifts in her chair, brow furrowed slightly. Vailkrin and Larket as bedfellows? Her stomach suddenly felt like she'd swallowed stones. Uriphiel quietly arrives, clad in a magic-induced human disguise. He maintains his distance toward the back of the room, trying to get a firm grasp on what was taking place. He had heard of a summit for the leaders of Lithrydel, an event in which he figured that he could finally come to know the names of those with whom he would one day seek audience. Uriphiel would rather be here on behalf of his race, but with the current political climate of Schezerade, and his abrupt disappearance, it was most unwise to reveal himself to be among the living. For now, the Shar kept to the shadows in order to observe.
Meri has heard about enough. The blonde was already cynical enough about the motivations behind today's events. Her annoyance festers as reporters seem to have the region of Kelay in their mouths. And for what? Rumors? And now Macon is invited to speak? Of all rulers? "And there it is." With zero interest in the direction this summit is taking, Meri walks out. There were plenty of others who could fill her in, if it does not hit the printed press first.
Laezila makes some sort of noise, it's hard to tell if it's positive or negative, but it is a reaction. One of the massive drow that flanks her leans in to whisper to her.
Quintessa has to cover her mouth to hide the smile that forms on her face at Leoxander’s outburst.
Lhyrin rolled their eyes at Macon and his declarations. Especially the ones that involved Vakmatharas. This guy was literally the worst Vakmatharas devotee in all of Lithrydel. Who was he to say such things? The dark ranger watched the human unblinkingly, dark stormy eyes fixated on Macon. Can you feel it, Macon? The utter disgust? Lhyrin literally couldn’t give a damn about anything else Macon had done. It was just that his ways of worshiping were an affront to the almighty god of death himself and the fact that Lhyrin was forced to allow them to continue was frustrating to say the least.
Magikrios 's eyes shoot across to the room towards the reporters trying to ask about the concentration camps in Kelay. The elf stares a little too hard. Kasyr's words were easily drowned out as he tries to pick up on anything else the press might let slip. He gives it a short moment longer before looking up to listen to what Macon might be trying to spew.
Iintahquohae blinks, contorts her features to display confusion. The reason is twofold. The beginning King Macon's speech possesses the tone that she was informed he was known for, and a thought that crossed her mind that distinctly did not belong to her. But the voice is recognized. She casts a sidelong glance toward her sire, and due to her uncertainty in whether or not she can communicate similarly, Inks is grateful for her decision to ask for something to write on. She scribbles down two words and angles the paper for Kasyr to catch a glimpse. 'I noticed.'
Kasyr is wrenched out of his brief spiral of 'what the hell is happening', by a question he's pretty sure was levelled at him, but he can't quite be sure. He wasn't at the podium, but the question seemed a weird one to ask Maco- oh. The kensai perks up, quirks an eyebrow at Leo, points a finger at himself, and then towards the raging royal at the front of the room with a quizzical expression. Though, speaking of curious- whether it's Magik or anyone else inclined, there's all sorts of questions being asked by reporters, including rumours of co-ordinated undead extermination squads across the continent, a concentrated purge by Xalious, and a fair number of sordid topics aside- including whether the reclamation of land for the now populous undead was a gods given right. Just, lovely stuff.
Lita glances sideways to catch sight of her fellow artist taking her leave. Not that she could blame Meri for such a thing. The blonde might have been right, it seemed.
Lita shares Magik's disdain for the press with mention of Xalious. She had little love for the place on a personal level. Maybe the members of the press were party favors and she could eat one on the way out.
Quintessa ’s eyes follow as Meri leaves the congregation, her mouth still covered to hide her expression. This was turning out far more entertaining than she anticipated.
Leoxander folded his arms in disappointment, locking his eyes on the King that seems to volunteer for being locked up in his castle.
Macon raises his hand towards Leoxander as he questions the benefits of this deal for Vailkrin. The slight nod that accompanies the gesture implies that an answer is forthcoming. The immigrant-turned-king can feel Lhyrin and other undead’s disdain, he can sense the frustration from those like Meri who have already walked out in disgust, and more than anything else he can taste the worry that his words are stirring up, and as usual he revels in all of it. Then, The Rage Knight comes right out and says the word upon which this whole summit was predicated, “This -allegiance- between Larket and Vailkrin will stand under the eye of The God of Death and will be protected by His divine power as much as it is Our own strength.” There’s the zealotry rearing its head, a requirement of the curse-lifting agreement between The Larketian people and Vakmatharas. “Our collaboration will include an expanded trade agreement that will distribute resources from both kingdoms as well as Trist’oth and the Underdark as a whole while we work to round up the remaining underground undead and make use of them in the recovery of that region.” Benevolence… definitely nothing for Trist’oth to worry about there, right? “Vailkrin and Larket will fill the voids lef’ on the world stage and bring about Lithrydelian prosperity once more.” Macon grins, he’s not once yet broken out of his practiced Lithrydel/Larket accent, but now the Veratoakan starts to come out. “Frostmaw…” a pulse of fury comes from the Rage Stone, “...once heralded as The Kingdom of War, has been decimated and knocked t’Her knees while Larketian military might grows by the day. Xalious...” another wave of anger washes over the venue from the angry artifact in Macon’s axe, “...who’s primary purpose is t’protect Lithrydel’s font of magic, which their civilization was built around, saw The Great Tree nearly killed on their watch, thankfully spared by The Grace of Vakmatharas… while The Larket Academy of Magics stands on the cutting edge of arcane innovation and device creation. And Cenril…” one more avalanche of rage comes from The Stone and The King alike now, “... Lithrydel’s premier port of trade, betrayed its own people in favor of a branch of The God of Undeath’s army, which it ‘arbored and defended within its walls for months. Vailkrin and Larket will be the beacon t’ lead Lithrydel t’ a new age. You ‘ave all been invited ‘ere as an offer t’come along or be lef’ behind…” For his last two words, The Rage Knight gets back on script; “Any questions?”
Leoxander murmured something to Lita under breath.
Laezila has one of the growly, massive drow call out, "Who spoke for Trist'oth in this deal?"
Kanna || Queen Lunalesca raises her arm as though to request permission to speak. She grips the edge of her chair and Kanna gently assists her so that she may stand tall. Well... as tall as a fae can be, anyways. She looks wholly displeased. "As someone who may very well be the only leader present who has lived longer than a few centuries, I must say that a summons for a summit between all world leaders without any context beforehand led me to believe that this was an urgent matter." Lunalesca smiles, though it seems feigned. Kanna averts her eyes, which have gone wide with surprise. "With all due respect, the Kingdom of Enchantment is not concerned with the constant power plays of an unstable kingdom. The only thing that concerned me was whether there would be a migration of the dark fae population out of the Dark Forest back to our kingdom to accommodate your drow refugees, given the departure of your most prominent one. We have only now begun to heal from the last decade's tragedies of the Elven Drow war and the Archmosian Invasion; while we recognize your authorities and do not object to your partnership, I believe I have heard enough to know that there was never a reason to call us out here save for self-congratulatory ones." Kanna's eyes are the size of dinner plates, and flicker up in alarm as the Queen takes her arm. "This unseemly lighting is a travesty on my old eyes, please walk me out to the carriage, Miss Hero." Kanna dares not speak, but she does nod her head and carefully lead the elderly monarch off the stage and out of the Grand Hall of Vailkrin.
Lita yells out from her seat, "Join us or swim with the fishes doesn't sound like much of an offer of peace. What of those of us who don't follow your god and have no desire to?"
Lefty taps his avian attendant on the ankle. "Yes, Master Lefty. It seems our fears were founded in fertile soil. The atrocities are merely beginning, and from two fronts." The undead protestors were grumbling their unease as well, a few seem ready to throw down. Lefty sends out a pulse of violet energy from his fingertips, urging patience. The pompous ass isn't through talking. We need to hear more, perhaps this Larketian with the false prophet knows where their lost brethren are being held and tortured. He certainly seems to be in on it.
Iintahquohae looks from Macon to Kasyr, and gives her sire a very long look that gradually sours with every comment Macon doles out for different regions across Lithrydel. Allegiance? She mouths the word. This is news to her.
Macon say to Laezila, "I imagine it was the rubble tha's currently crawlin' with feral undead."
Laezila tilts her masked face a bit, as the pair of large, lycan drow flanking her study the Larketian king. The feminine figure lifts a gloved hand and taps her councilist badge.
Kasyr feels something fraying inside, a weird sense of fury that's no doubt partly fueled by Macon's rage stone, but which has roots all of it's own in the words being spoken- in the careless subversion of what the summit was supposed to be. There's a spiral happening again, but it's now some political worry, nor even the judgement of his peers. It's a profound anger at the once bastion of the Coterie being dragged through the dirt to make a point, and the attempt at leveraging Vailkrin as a threat. For a brief flicker of a moment, the stone beneath the Revenants feet corrodes, and a palpable flicker of murderous intent seeps through the room almost indiscriminately- a bleak, near-bottomless thing. And it trails after him, hungrily, as he steps back over to the podium, to Macon, and curtly states, "Move. I have some questions to answer, and others need to speak. You can proselytize in -your- city, monsieur." Whatever courtesy had been there's slithered elsewhere. And while he might -currently- be patient enough to allow the rage king a moment to step away, that faint corrosion, that untethered aspect of revenancy, hasn't exactly abated.
Leoxander glances at Lita, and after a moment stare, he shakes his head and states plainly. "Kas, yer a different flavor all together, man. But Rynvale will have nothing to do with that sorry ass and the royal cushion he nests on. I'm sure I'm not bloody alone in this crowd or any other sayin' Macon's half rumor these days. What -we're- doing is makin' these lands better, yer majesty. Not you."
Quintessa lowers her mouth as the humor of the situation quickly fades. She listens carefully to King Macon’s words, mentally stealing herself against every assault of the Rage Stone against her mind. Is this what this summit was about? A show of power? The founding of a new empire? Quintessa shifts uncomfortably until the Queen of Enchantment speaks, and the changeling shifts her attention accordingly. Would Enchantment be a better home for her people after all? With the state Vailkrin was currently heading to, Quintessa is having doubts.
Magikrios watches as his wife takes her leave. The elf remains listening just long enough to hear the rest of Macon's speech before taking his own leave. There's a quick look to Quintessa and Rumiko and something whispered to himself. Maybe. Lita and Leo will see a quickly approaching Lyastri who seems to mutter something to them before making his exit.
Lhyrin || The words ‘Any questions?’ triggered something in Lhyrin. There were plenty of questions to come, to be sure. And Lhyrin had one of their own. “Hello, yes. I’ve a question. But first, please keep Vakmatharas’ name out of your mouth.” There was more than a hint of irritation in Lhyrin’s voice. “Second, why are you the literal worst worshipper of Vakmatharas in history?” If Lhyrin was a certain mouthy redhead, they would’ve pretended to be writing down their question on an invisible pad of paper, and would proceed to do the same with whatever answer Macon was given. But alas. That’s not Lhyrin’s way of doing things. Instead, the pale elf shifted their attention towards Kasyr. “Lord Azakhaer, I don’t think you’ve really thought this through to be perfectly honest.” They stood from their chair as Queen Lunalesca and Kanna made their own exit in much the same way Meri had. “It’s not often I question your judgement and yet here we are. Perhaps next time, don’t put the most hated man in Lithrydel and Rynvale on the podium before anyone else. If there -is- a next time, anyway. As the representative of Vhys, we will have no part in this ridiculousness. We have better things to do, like building and prospering, than entertain the likes of this man.” And with that, Lhyrin would head out to the carriage they rode in with the queen and bard.
Rumiko 's gaze had shifted towards the door the moment she'd watched Meri leave, and she had been content to watch the exit and contemplate her own departure, though something kept her rooted in place. Something was amiss. Her attention shifted back towards the podium only after Kasyr seemed to take hold of the focal point once more, and she'd would wait to see what more he had to say before she made any decisions about where she and her loyalty would lie.
Leoxander didn't look away from Macon but there was a subtly gesture of thumb and smallest finger extended to say he understood and agreed.
Lita shrugs and not in disagreement with Leo. There's some semblance of gratefulness to see Kas take his podium back from the mad King. It's not quite that but maybe almost. It's certainly not enough, she knows. "Kas, we came here on good faith of your long history in these lands. But you're selling your soul and you city to this one," she stands, nodding towards Macon. "and Rynvale won't condemn itself to the same fate." She glances at Leo, ready to head out, when Magikrios catches her ear. She doesn't respond but will continue heading towards the exit.
Uriphiel seemed to fall into a state of shock after listening thoroughly to the man at the podium. His cool gaze shifted between the many protesting his words, attempting to figure out how each and every one fit in.
Macon has begun to answer Lita’s question when Kasyr approaches the podium and cuts him off, “Worship of the God of Death is not compulsory for p-...” Wendell, The Kingsguard Mage at the side of the leadership seating area begins weaving his fingers in preparation of casting a defensive spell as a precautionary measure against the revenant’s approach, but stops short of pulling the trigger as The Rage Knight turns to his fellow king and nods, “Of course.” He stomps around the decaying parts of the floor and raises an open hand, magically beckoning his famed, infuriating weapon into it, the middle-aged man holding the large axe as support as he lowers himself back into his seat.
Lefty , along with every other undead demonstrator begins to quiet. Like he'd told them, listening is doing quite a bit of good. The choices made by the Usurper, Lord Azakhaer, are causing this meeting to unravel. Perhaps, despite Kasyr's best efforts, we'll have a peaceful resolution to this debacle.
Lita will only nod in acknowledgement of Leo's words, and will have to assume the pirate is somewhere behind her. Leoxander took those first few steps toward Lita.
Leoxander looks toward Kasyr in the way out. "You should'a given me a heads up what this was about, mate." His tone belayed his disappointment as he fell into step with Lita and made his way out into the dark Vailkrin streets.
Iintahquohae has stormed out of a meeting before, but that was over a guild. Would her leaving the scene here be read differently? Did it matter? The hall is in chaos as it is, and her appointment as Lady was with her intention to focus on rebuilding Vailkrin. She can leave on that note. Whether or not anybody hears, she gets to her feet some time after Kasyr has already moved to reclaim the podium. “What a massive waste of time.” If she manages to cross the paths of any leaders on the way out to a side hall, she immediately stops to give some sort of apology and make it very, very clear she doesn't agree with...that. And broadly gestures at whatever Macon and Kasyr are doing up there with a wave of her arm.
Laezila nods to the apology offered to her, as the Matron of House D'l'Sel D'issan.
Leoxander was paused for some reason or another before he could leave the building.
Kasyr gaze only briefly flickers towards Wendell, the motions of his hands earning him a mouthed reply, a venomous dare, though the moment passes. Even now, the feelings swell inside him, a despairing black rage that's hard to gloss over, lending a certain rawness to his voice, "Alright. Well, I suppose at least I can address the questions of the people who-, " Stayed isn't the right word. Leo was simply slower to leave, if only because he'd paused to utter his disappointment. "If you want to know -what Larket offered? Stone, the ability to provide the resources to make housing and improvements to the necropolis. Et what I offered, to the letter, was a guarantee of protection from my city, et from myself." There's a pause there, because, on some level, he's waiting for some sort of protest, or aggravated interjection from the king, but if that happens, a few hummed bars in Daedria's consecrated space is apt to at least reduce the volume so the Kensai can continue, "Because right now, the city seems intent on shooting itself in the foot. Because every attempt at fixing things is met with hostile resistance, so the only thing I can do is reach out to every resource out there to fix things. Because if not- ...How long is it til another civil war at this rate? Another genocide. Murmurings of violent genocide. I can't imagine the rest of the continents forgiving anything with Caluss. So, yes- my concern is fixing this city, et addressing the problems. So, I choose -peace-. That said-" There's a sidelong glance there, a seething look addressed at Macon, "I'm not your weapon to leverage, and this es -not- Vakmatharas' city. You're right, he abandoned it. Et whether people choose to follow the one who did stay here, or do their own thing, that's their decision." And he has to stop himself from talking, because, for just a moment, there's the taste of blood in his mouth, and a vivid image of just how quickly this problem could be resolved. But, it was never that easy, was it? "That said, I can't imagine that's your only question, es it?" There's slightly less heat there, almost an entreaty for the other man to stay. But- his feet were still moving, weren't they?
Laezila said, "The Council hasn't approved any trade agreement. With the First House more in ruins, we can negotiate for your aid in their stead as the Second House."
Leoxander didn’t particularly want to hear too many of any details willingly announced to the public. He was more interested in the grit between the cracks. “You had a lot of options, mate. You made your choice. And I honest to gods hope it works out in the long run. I may have some questions, but not here.” One last pair of words directed toward Macon, if he were still present. “Surprise me.” While continuing to make his way to the grand hall doors.
Laezila glances toward Lanlan.
Kasyr doesn't have to be concerned about cutting into Macon's speech anymore, and quite frankly- the idea of cutting him in half was increasingly appealing despite the rather dire and immediate repercussions that would have. Which meant, it was time to address Laezila's question, "On that front- Vailkrin has, historically, served as one of the trade hubs with the Underdark. Currently, your slave forces are..well, either dead- or undead et likely the largest population in the area, until they trickle to wherever they desire to be, whether it's Vailkrin, or their place of origin. Or the hereafter, in the case of those unhappy with their forced state of being. My arrangement would be 3 fold. First off, compensation for lives et unlives lost for any volunteers et soldiers who'd be aiding you in the suppression of the revived aberrations et tainted ferals. Two, access to ample nonsentient undead to restart your mining endeavours, since I can't imagine a recovering people whose manpower was traditionally...outsourced, " There might be some pretty heavy disdain there, " es able to take the reins for themselves on that front. Et lastly. Spidersilk. I can't imagine you'll be faring well getting any from the husks that litter those streets anymore."
Quintessa watches carefully as Kasyr speaks but something he says makes her shake her head. Vailkrin was the City of the Dead, so as long as Vakmatharas was the God of Death this would always inherently be his city. Quintessa lingers, however, veiling her discontent. She was content to see this through to the end no matter what.
Kasyr said to Laezila, "Et to be very honest. The non-sentient es the only ones we can offer, because I'm very aware of the working conditions of those mines, et there would be problems, if displaced citizens of the city were found there."
Macon makes a very pointed glance towards the symbol of Vakmatharas carved on the wall, inlaid with a lyre. That’s the only visible response he’ll give to Kasyr. In an action that requires no movement, The Furious King will dampen the effects of The Rage Stone now that he’s stirred up the response from his haters that he all but expected. Of course, all Macon wants is peace too. The last time an ascension to a throne was contested in Lithrydel it plunged the continent into war, one that he came out the other side of. He doesn’t want to see the same thing happen again here… other than the part about him coming out on top…
Laezila lifts a gloved hand to tap a slender finger along her mask in some show of contemplation, "For unrestricted access to your resources in the rebuilding of our infrastructure, troops for the clearing of the tunnels, and your support for House D'l'Sel D'issan to govern as First House."
Leoxander | Although the last condition threw him, he was still trying to puzzle it together as a while. “Are you tellin’ me I’ll be compensatin’ for help I ain’t even requested? You think this spread’s goin’ clean across the channel? Quit talkin’ to me like… “A glance at Macon and back to Kasyr. “An’ tell me what you bloody want from me an’ my crew. 'Cause it seems to me if you're not able to control your city you should be a little more lenient with that pocket purse an' a little less demanding." Toward himself, especially, he meant.
Lanlan rises out of his seat to stand in quiet indignation, while his burning red gaze slides across the countenances of each leader or delegate that still remains. His voice rings out as clear as polished glass, tempered by caution, yet smouldering with fury. “Noble leaders and esteemed delegates. While Xalious and the Mage’s Guild have long stood as a proponent for unity, I believe we have to question the motives of an alliance such as this; that would threaten to undermine the very principles we stand for.” He breathes deeply, fighting to contain the fury within and choose the words that he would like to read about in the following days. “The Mage’s Guild along with Cenril sacrificed much to ensure that the realms would be safe, and indeed rescued both Tristoth and Vailkrin from utter annihilation.” On his table, his feather pen has been scribbling with such fury, that it has shredded the page in half, and has begun carving obscenities into the ornate wooden table underneath. “And so it is with great disappointment that we are met with such derogatory remarks.” He takes one more deep breath. “Mayor Valrae of Cenril couldn’t join us today, for reasons unknown. I can’t imagine what would have kept her away. I say again, and let it be known, that Xalious stands for peace and cooperation.” Hopefully, the amount of times that Lanlan echoed the lines about peace and cooperation do not suggest that he means anything else. Luckily, he has faith that his silver peacock armlet will do as its meant to, and conceal his true thoughts and feelings.
Laezila glances at Lanlan with a stare, expression hidden behind her mask.
Kasyr said Laezila: "I can promise you the aid of the necromancers guild, et by extension, the undead they command. It will not be unrestricted, they answer to Khitti foremost. That said, they will do their utmost to support you when their duties to the city are lessened, since there will be a considerable overlap there. That es what I can offer on that front. Troops for clearing the tunnels es a given. There has been a fair number already delegated to keeping your people in the dark forest safe. As for your place in the Underdark. Before I can promise any support politically, we'll see how you handle the undead populace in your home. I imagine there es a lot to untangle there, et I will not be quick to guarantee anything before I know how you govern, especially in a crisis. I can offer trade, supplies, and troops. But I -will- not leverage -anyone- in this room into a position of power." Did he partially glance back towards Macon? Yeeeah. Though, then there's Leo and Lan. Gods Sakes.
Uriphiel had heard all that he needed this evening. Things in Lithrydel had taken a dark turn and there was not much he could do to stop it. And even if he could? It is not his place. Not now. There was still so much to learn about the kingdoms of this age, and so, still under the cover of shadow, Uriphiel departs from the unruly setting to dwell upon the words spoken during the summit.
Laezila idly fixes her pwafwi, slicing her gaze from Lanlan to Kasyr. Her mask hides that dangerous smile, as her young, female voice rings, "Then I'm going to need blood. For myself and my vampires. In exchange for the spider-silk."
Lanlan has said all he means to, and makes preparations to make his leave. Although, he’s bombarded with many questions, he only answers three. ‘What does it mean that we should question the motives of such an alliance?’ and ‘Is it true that Xalious has been leading extermination squads in Vailkrin?’ and ‘Where does the Mage’s Guild stand on the matter of helping Tristoth?’. He answers them all succinctly and in order with the point of a finger for each reporter: “It means exactly that, we should question their motives.” Then, “No, Xalious is fervently on the side of preservation of all life, even unlife.” And finally, “...We’ll see.” He gives one last look to Laezila, and then Kasyr, and leaves through the same nonexistent door he arrived in.
Leoxander would obviously have to think over the matter, but he had a bit of advice with a glance Macon's way before he would depart. "Pro'lly should'a weight his popular meter before givin' him the floor. King or not, he's gonna earn his way back as a bloody person people want around." Who better to give that advice than the criminal? Without much in the way of farewell, suggesting it wasn't the end of the conversation, the rogue slipped out those great hall doors for real this time.
Rumiko 's fingers flexed and straightened as she continued to listen in silence. She could feel her concealment lessen with each departure, and the soft click of her heels carrying her closer rather than away would be lost to the murmur of voices still lobbying opinions and concerns. The nymph had her own questions, but she would rather not voice them as openly as others and would instead hold them for a later date. Green eyes watched the hostility between the two main speakers before she again took in those still present. She had nothing to offer to the voices here.
Kasyr leans forward on the podium, tugging the tie free from it's moorings since Inks isn't here to stop him. Lanlan's outburst in particular is noted first, "It -has- been noted. Et your aid when Caluss needed to be put down was certainly noted. -I- did not fault -you- for your efforts in that particular matter. My goal here was to try et establish that despite rumours, the city es not a threat. Nor is the populace-" What, going to use their newfound massive presence to brutally murder the vampire populace and then annex the surrounding areas. "- a clear and present danger." Yeah, that went well. "Leo. There -are- people here who are Rynvale born. Likely a lot less than most, but- the bodies that have been dredged up have been from a -hell- of a long time. People who once -called- Rynvale home, et got ripped out their graves by an ascended asshole who didn't know when to die. I'm not asking you to take -refugees-. I'm asking you to treat former citizens as something other than a threat, or a problem to be dealt with."
Kasyr say to Laezila, "I think you misunderstood something, Cherie. Those spiders- The ones in the dark forest. Those giant ones are native to the city. -Yours- got decimated when Caluss ran through. Unless you're going to be weaving something from their festering revived corpses."
Laezila offers a nod, before turning from Kasyr, "We'll speak more in the future, the near future."
Parsithius enters with nobody. Clad in a breastplate cuirass and simple traveler's clothes, the large, muscled former king glances around with azure eyes, over reporters and the podium, the gathered. "Am I late?"
Kasyr is at this point slouching over the podium, the palpable discontent, and passive corrosion in his vicinity having done well enough to dissuade any reporters from pressing any further issues. And quite frankly, they didn't need to. There was enough from the sheer disaster here to fuel the papers for days. Of a civil brewing, while Vailkrin was stranded from it's peers. A city divided. So many headlines, so little time. The trick, really- would be figuring out which one would enthrall the masses the most. Which one would sell? It's something the Kensai is duly aware of, as he draws a cigarette from his pocket, and casually begins to smoke, "I wonder how long until they actually start sending people to kill me." Parsithius presence is -noted-, a cursory look that does little to abate his foul mood. A vague recollection that goes nowhere.
Parsithius nods at Kasyr, "Smoking kills, you know. I'm Parsithius Invernizzi Mediccino," he introduces as he confidently strides through the mass of reporters toward the podium, "Former King of Larket, ex-husband of Jacklin. I recognize you vaguely, mostly the ears. I'm looking for my brother, he's a pirate named Achilles."
Quintessa also takes this opportunity to approach the podium, positioning herself right next to Parsithius. “You just missed him,” Quintessa says in a mirthful tone, the sight of Kasyr smoking causing her to light her own cigarette.
Lefty just smokes, no cigarette needed.
Kasyr stares at Parsithius, and maybe a bit through him, like he's not even wholly there. There's a weird disconnect between what's burning in his chest, and the absurd lackadaisacal nature of this man's... what? Pilgrimage into the midst of the situation. "Wouldn't know him." Barely knew him. The face somewhat rings a bell, the manners- the sort of person who'd say well fought after a grueling fight. But there's just nothing really there to latch onto. Just wisping smoke trailing between Kasyr's lips. "You're more civil than your predecessor."
Parsithius rolls a shoulder, "I'm getting old, been around the block a few times. My predecessor was a long time ago." He nods at Quintessa, "So Leo was here? Hard to catch, him."
Kasyr blinks, almost vacantly, and then finally corrects himself, "Successor." The rooms continued to empty out, and just as the smoke is embering, so too is he. He doesn't even seem fully aware that Leftys still present. "I appreciate your attendance, Tessa. Et your Judicious patience in the face of- not stabbing him." While he guttered the city they both loved. "As much as it would have been richly deserved." He turns on his heel, and offers a haphazard wave towards Parsithius, "It sounds like your situation may be resolved, so- I'm going to-," What? What is he going to do. Just wait for the city to sink. Or maybe Macon to pick a war and try to drag them in. How long til the assassination attempts, and the holy wars all over again. The swordsman bit his lip, and began to make his way towards the doors leading to the upstairs office.
Rumiko was here the whole time.
Parsithius nods to Kasyr again, before turning to face Quintessa, "He seems tired. So you think Leo went back to Rynvale?" He asks her, idly rubbing his breastplate.
Quintessa offers a look that might look sympathetic, but she’s still trying to come off unaffected by everything. “It would be in bad taste for me to accept your invitation and then walk out before it was over.” She gives the room a once-over as it clears out, her gaze stopping on Parsithius before she nods her head. “Aye, I suspect Leo is headed back home.” Quintessa’s eyes finally fix upon Kasyr as he heads away, upstairs, and the thought to follow after him suddenly lights up in her mind. She hesitates, however, not wanting to compound his already terrible mood.
Macon if he wasn't busy being mobbed by press and being ushered out of the venue by his Kingsguard would have corrected that he is Jacklin's successor, not this man's. He had meant his speech today to make it known that he and Larket were to be a deterrent against war with Vailkrin, civil or otherwise, and against any attempts on Kasyr's life as well. For some -strange- reason those sentiments fell on deaf ears today and all anyone present could do was throw a temper tantrum because they weren't brought here to have their feet kissed.