Fantasy ♞Legends of Leohain♞ (Medieval High Fantasy - Main - CLOSED)

[Hawke.]

♞Umbra Hold, Thoigard - Third moon of Icewane♞

The sky was grey and dreary outside, and the weather seemed to reflect on the entire stronghold. Shatter Roar stood over a large sturdy oak table, etched into its surface was a map of the entire continent, behind him hung the banner of House Warren, a silver hare, reared up on its hind legs like a rampant lion on a dark blue field.
The banner of Anan had once hung there too, but it had been torn down and burned after the massacre.
The catfolk waited in silence for his companions, tracing the ridges of the table with a claw.
Lady Thelind spoke up, finally. “What’s on your mind, young friend?”
“...Doubt. The odds are not stacked in our favor.”
“They rarely are, but we’re only just now gathering our troops. Have patience and hope. There are many stories of great heroes who started out just like us,and overcame the odds.”
“But there are just as many where the heroes failed.”
Thelind nodded, he was correct, she couldn’t deny that. She only hoped morale would be improved after the war room meeting.

The door opened then, and Lord Robert entered wearing his heavy winter cloak. He looked bedraggled and miserable. As if he had not slept for many nights.
And he hadn’t, he had been plagued with nightmares ever since the massacre.
Lady Thelind poured him a cup of water from the pitcher near where she sat.
“I asked the servants to wake the others… they will be here soon… did you have to call a meeting this early, though?”
“I’m sorry my Lord, but I could hardly sleep with this on my mind. We need a plan of action. And we need one now.”
Robert nodded, sighing and pulling up a seat.
He knew little of war, this was his brother’s field of expertise. He could tell you about great battles from history, but not the strategies employed to win them, and how he wished he could talk to his brother now. ‘It should have been me, he should have been spared.’ Robert thought, a grim expression crossed his face. How he wished he could bring his family back.

In the halls servants were waking the other guests, knocking on doors, offering clean, warm water if they wished to wash their face. The smell of baking bread and roast meat wafted up from downstairs where breakfast was being prepared for after the meeting.
Robert had done his very best to make his guests as comfortable and at home as possible, but he was not the richest lord, and being so close to the outlands made it difficult to convince anyone to bring imported goods from Saphia or Anan, especially with the war going on now.
Each room was equipped with a bed, a dresser, and a writing table, but not much else.

Shatter Roar tapped his fingers against the wood, “What’s taking them so long?”
“They are likely still waking up, give them a moment.”
As if on cue, the first guests began to arrive and take their seats around the round table. ​

 

[DovahBeat]

Krow was among the first to enter the room for the war meeting, looking tired as he walked in with drooping wings. He had stayed up most of the night reading what the holds library had on magic. Being woken up so early after a night so late wasn't pleasant, but he still didn't complain. He placed himself near the table, looking like he could fall asleep standing at any moment. He didn't even realize he hadn't greeted anyone.

 

[sraes]

Helewys deGrey
​

Helewys woke languidly, unused to being so comfortable after so many days sleeping hidden away in the heat of the day and traveling hard at night. The bed was far from luxurious but anything was preferable to the sticks and mud they had reluctantly become used to as they fled the King's ire and two days of having an actual bed was not enough time to readjust. Still they knew they were required elsewhere this morning so, reluctantly, they rolled from the bed and began preparing for the day - it was sure to be a long one.

Answering the knock on the door, they thanked the young woman on the other side for the water and quickly scrubbed themself down in the wash basin on the small writing table in the room. There wasn't time for anything more extensive unfortunately, so they merely ran wet fingers through their long hair and left it to dry into whatever shape it wished. Their clothes were simple fare, kindly provided when they'd arrived as their own had mostly been thoroughly unusable with blood and holes by that time. Just dark boots and pants belted over a shirt with long sleeves, a bit too voluminous for their taste when they so often had to use their hands but beggars couldn't be choosers when the alternative was practically no clothes at all. They had, to their relief, been able to salvage their own overrobe.

The nearly black-red panels fell down their back and chest nearly to their ankles, the tiny white embellishments along the shoulders which had previously denoted their position within the Healing Center in Khipia now just a painful reminder. Still they were happy their blood hadn't stained the dark cloth enough to be noticeable - its presence was a single point of familiarity in a life suddenly turned upside down and they were loathe to part from it.

They slipped a thin silver chain over their head and tucked the medallion hanging from it safely away under their clothes, then looked themself over critically.

Even two days of decent rest hadn't been enough to fully erase the dark circles under their eyes or the deathly pallor of their skin any more than it had given them time to fully heal but when they were satisfied they at least no longer looked as if they were going to pass out if they stood up too quickly, they headed towards the door. With a moment of hesitation, they awkwardly hung their sheathed short sword from the belt and started for the appointed meeting room.

It was surprisingly empty when they arrived, only four people present - maybe they hadn't slept too late after all? That was a relief.

"Good morning," they greeted with the blankly polite expression they used on clients at the Center. Ignoring the yells of pain from their healing side and the duller aches from the rest of their body, they bowed to the room at large before moving to take one of the open seats. They'd yet to meet any of the four present, but at least two of them were very easily identifiable nonetheless. "Thank you for your hospitality these last two days."

 

[Sleipnir]

Silvyr Spicer was already up when the servants came calling.
The man set his knees down on the hard floor where he had just heartbeats before been doing push ups, instead sitting up to look at the door when he was interrupted by the sound of light rapping against it. Silvyr took a sparse few moments to draw a deep breath and pull his nightshirt back on before going to answer it, nodding to the servant's call to the meeting and their offer of water. "Thank you, my friend," he replied quietly before taking it to fill his basin and give himself a quick washing.
He turned, stilling, to look at the pages scattered across his writing desk. Verses. Poetry.
But to him, it was more than that.
They'd told him, when he woke up -- they'd warned him what had happened after he fell in battle. What was lost. He turned further to look over his shoulder to the sword and painted shield resting against the wall. I swore an oath, he thought mournfully. I swore. I could not uphold it.
But he could not dwell upon that now, he warned himself. No, no. A new dawn was breaking. He had no choice but to greet her. He could not lay in his bed and waste away to nothing. There was justice to serve: Lives still to save! And he would see to it that he succeeded in that at least. It was atonement, he supposed, but that was okay. Atonement would have to do, if it allowed him rest one day.
...If he ever let himself have it, anyway.

After staring at the poetry he had written there on the desk for another few moments, Silvyr drew a breath and, without making further effort to straighten his appearance, grabbed his cowl, tossed it around his shoulders and pulled it over his tousled silver hair, and headed out. Now was not the time. He was needed for important matters, and he had no intention of letting those who relied upon him down. Not this time. Not this time.


Upon approaching one of the further rooms and knocking upon the door, one of the servants jumped back just as soon as their knuckles touched the door. Inside the room, a young woman gave a loud, startled yelp, and immediately following, there was a great fussing. When the door opened, it was answered by a young woman, her dark hair messy, her eyes bleary. She was still stumbling and half asleep. "...Hah?" she managed, furrowing her brow and blinking against the light.
"A meeting has been called," they told her. "Your presence is needed."
"...Oh."
"...My lady...?"
"...Oh, you mean now. Oh- okay. Yeah. Um..." she sucked in a breath and shook her head, then waved a hand and shut the door. It was only a handful of moments before she opened it again, wearing a sleeveless quilted tabard, her hair combed but not pulled back. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Great. Yes, of course. I'm coming. I'm coming." She slipped past the servant then and hurried down the hall. It wouldn't do to keep her keepers waiting. Seia wasn't used to places like this, she had to admit: She had never been in a keep before. Not once. She'd never been tended by servants or shown finery of any sort. She wasn't sure just yet what to even do with herself, were she not given a direction in which to swing her sword. She couldn't complain, though; not with a certain, dry pillow under her head and bread baked fresh for her each morning. Even if she wasn't quite used to mornings yet.

 

[Mep2Mep]

Moz groned to the sound of the door knock. He didn't want to leave his bed as it was the most comfortable thing he ever slept in. It was better than the beds in a dirty inn or the bunk in a prison. But Moz forced himself out of bed, he was only dressed in a green loincloth, so he grabbed his black cape and his bo staff. He also grabbed his satchel, where he hid his trusty dagger.

He opened the door and saw that there was a female servant waiting there, "Oh I'm... I didn't..." But Moz cut her off. "No, it's alright." The servent offered the bowl of water, but Moz declined.

With the help of his forked tongue, it helps him lead to the meeting in which they were serving breakfest. His eyes almost bulged out at the arrangement of food and the smell of it freshly cooked made his stomach grumble with glee.

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Skotádi
interaction: (whoever?)​

titanic limbs moved back and forth gracefully coated in black scales. a deep grumbling voice emitting a low humming but surprisingly cheerful tone. wafting through the air was the smell of fresh cupcakes. Zooming out one would see a titanic crocodilian humanoid scales entirely on black making cupcakes. despite his youthful-looking appearance, Skotádi was particularly old. his old cape flapping around behind him. pulling the cupcakes out of the impromptu oven he'd add icing then some sprinkles before arranging them all neatly into a plate and bringing the fresh cupcakes into the very serious meeting. stepping inside the smell of cupcakes filled the room. "anyone what a fresh cupcake yes? I assure you you'd do well to have some it tend to help calm the nerves and in such I case I do believe one would need that yes?" Skotádi said in a calm voice deep voice of an old man.

 

[DovahBeat]

Krow turned and glared at Skotadi, unamused. Maybe he was in a foul mood from lack of sleep or from being forced to be in the same room with beings he feared, but he wasn't having this tom foolery.
"Seriously? You bring cupcakes to a war meeting. People's lives are on the line and you think, 'oh cupcakes will fix this!' If you can't take things seriously you should go back to the kitchens. " he snapped, tempted to knock the cupcakes from Skotadi's hands.

 

[Mep2Mep]

Moz looks at Krow annoyingly. He didn't like the Faes attitude.
"I don't know what your problem man, but cupcakes make everything better," Moz tells the annoying fae. He grabs a cupcake and chomps it down. Moz enjoyed the sweet taste and gave them a thumbs-up to Skotadi. As he licks the remaining frosting with his fork tongue.
But Moz gave a warning to Krow, "Besides I think you should watch your mouth fae."

 

[Huntertabbysandshark3]

Skotádi
interaction: Mep2Mep DovahBeat​

Skotádi would look down at Krow his tooth-filled maw turning from a warm smile to that of a disappointed glare. " Krow... i never said they would fix everything simple calm the nerves of those around us.. a jittery worried mind is no way to plan a war one must be focused and to focus one must first calm down, if you were to calm down and consider this in a more long term fashion you would understand" Skotádi explained in a calm slightly condescending tone gently patting him on the head before turning to Moz with a grin "yes that is correct sometimes just a bit of sweetness can help calm one down.. do not allow your emotions to cloud your judgment in this time.. it is more important to look objectively in such times of war then to act out in fits of anger or rage" Skotádi explained calmly.

 

[infectedmouth]

Rotormuth had been dozing in his bed, his almost too-long body barely stayed in the bed, and his tail hung over the side, laying on the floor. He groaned deeply as a knock tapped on his door and his long tail slipped into his bed as he rolled over, shivering at the temperature change on his scaled skin. A knock came again, this time much more frequent and urgent, forcing the gator to slowly rise up, scratching at his maw with a small hand. He had forgotten where he was for a moment, pale eyes studying the room as he sat stock still, taking in the tapestries along the walls and the picture of one of the many Gods by the door—Rotormuth had long since forgotten the God’s name, as he never dabbled in their stories.

“I’m coming,” the gator finally roused once he came-to.

The knocks only came once more before it went quiet. “There has been a call for a meeting,” the person on the other side stated. “You have been requested to go.”

“Of course I have.” Rotormuth mumbled under his breath.

Pulling the blanket off, the gator shuffled towards the end of the bed, feet touching the ground and immediately recoiling. The cold of the floor was harsh on his feet, used to the warmth of the swamps regardless of the seasons. He wanted to curl back up into bed. Rotormuth mulled over what to wear, picking through some outfits before he’d open the door, unaware of fresh water and clothes just on the other side. His mind was a fog, lagged by the travel from Anan to Umbra Keep. He wondered, distantly, if this family was worried, or if they cared at all. They only gave mild responses when he told them what Kester’s army did. He shook his head and looked down at the outfit he had tossed on the floor from the day before, the worn tunic and thrown aside wrap. His family either did not care, or they figured Kester got to him. Either way, Rotormuth did not bother to miss them. He had a new family now, with Shatter Roar and Lady Thelind. So much as they were, of course. He was one of the dozen that they had brought in.

“Would you like me to come back for breakfast? I can leave your clothes and water at the door for you.” The soft voice sounded again, and the gator nearly leapt out of his scales.

Right. He forgot about them. Rotormuth pulled his wrap across his abdomen and did it up at the back, allowing his tail freedom. He opened the door and glanced out, then down. And down. And down. A mousefolk stood, holding the tray, nearly leaping out of their fur at the sight of such a giant- giant- enormous scalefolk. The mousefolk squeaked and dropped the tray and quickly ran down the hall, leaving the gator to smile. There was one thing that the gator didn’t miss, and that was watching little creatures run from him. He picked up the tray and carefully placed it on the table by his door and shut it with his tail, hesitating when he saw Seia basically sprint by.

Rotormuth studied the bowl of water, still rather warm despite the wait, and barely spilt despite the drop. His reflection stared back at him, if not a little shaky. He could see his pale eyes and the long, ugly scar down his snout. He bared his dull teeth and dipped his hands into the bowl, disrupting the image. His scaled hands scooped up the warm water and he splashed it on his face and carefully rubbed, a low gurgle leaving his rather round throat.

Mumbling to himself, Rotormuth dressed himself in the clothes provided—minus the pants, of course. The gator wished that he looked a bit more like his anthro scalefolk ancestors than a walking alligator, but he could not pick and choose. Instead, he wiped his wet hands on his tunic and left his room. The gator dragged his tail on the ground, occasionally lifting it up if a too-cold spot on the floor made him shutter. The chills of Frostgrip were beginning to fade, though it still remained rather cold in the mornings. He folded his arms over his broad chest and entered the room, seeing a crocodilian and the cupcakes they were offering. Scoffing, Rotormuth headed for a chair.

“Good morning, Lord Robert, Lady Thelind. Good morning, Shatter Roar and Krow.”

-

Panicked, Basite woke rather grumpily as someone knocked on his door. He stomped a wide hoof and flung the door open, staring down at the servant. They flinched at the violence that was displayed, but did not falter. The centaur leaned down, very close to the servant’s personal space, and plucked the tray from their hands. For a moment, the servant’s skin turned pale, as if they were to pass out.

“Don't wake me again,” Basite snarled at the servant, dropping his tray on the bed he could not use. “Unless it is important.” He whipped back around to the servant.

They had not budged. “It is important, sir. Lord Robert had told us to waken the guests for a meeting called by Shatter Roar.” They shakily replied.

“Hmph,” the bay roan replied, using a back hoof to shut the door.

He turned his attention to the tray and dabbled his hands in the bowl to rub his face clean, screwing his eyes shut as his hands quickly wiped his face off, rubbing up and down frantically. He did this a few times until the sleep was rubbed out of his eyes and he felt much more awake. After that, he used the water to set aside for later, and turned to the clothes on the tray. As if, he thought grumpily, and plucked the tunic out.

The tunic didn’t even fit properly. He left the tunic mostly open and left the tray and bowl of water, along with the pants that Lord Robert clearly forgot that the centaur couldn’t wear, on the bed. That he also couldn’t use. Ducking under the door frame to avoid hitting his head, Basite entered the hall, watching a woman pass by. He shrugged and followed her, yet refused to speak to her. If she was going to the meeting, he would follow.

 

[Mep2Mep]

Interaction with: Huntertabbysandshark3 ​

Moz grinned warmly at Skotadi, then he realizes, "Oh where are my manors." Moz clears his throat, " My name is Moz Coatl." Moz bowed a bit.
"It's nice to meet a fellow reptile, but I haven't gotten your name. As I have come a bit late and I wasn't properly introduced." The reason Moz was late is that he angered some noble, that involved with some magic hair regrowth potion.

 

[birdgeoisie]

Sybella awoke with a start at the rapping on the door. She grumbled, slowly digging herself out of the mound of pillows she had slept in. She was the sort who liked to nest, gathering as many plush things she could to snuggle in with. Yes, she had gone and raided the unused rooms for more pillows and blankets in the dead of night. Now these nests were great for sleeping but made things much worse when getting up in the morning. How early was it, anyways? There was light filtering in gently past the curtains, but it couldn’t have been that light.
Eventually finding her feet on the ground- incredibly cold ground, might she add -the noblewoman stepped gently over to the door. It opened just a crack so that she could peer at the servant. “Yes?”

“Your presence has been requested at a meeting, my lady,” the human girl said with downcast eyes.

Right. She had almost forgotten that she was here to help, not just laze about in a nice, fancy keep. “Of course. I’ll be right there,” Sybella replied with a perfect smile and perfectly perfected, even tone. She was hardly a morning person, but she had learned long ago how to fake the necessary niceties of nobility long ago. Even in the smallest moments that didn’t matter she couldn’t remove herself from the formalities and the fakeness. “Give me but a moment, dear.”

Dipping back into the room, she tugged on some of the nicer, silk night clothes that were provided to her, then returned to gesture the servant into the room. The human girl placed down a steaming bowl of fresh water to wash up with then turned and headed again back out the door. Sybella had no doubt the measly staff here were busy with such an influx of guests, but she still tried to catch the servant’s attention before she left. “I need help with my dressings and my room does so require some tidying up and- hey, excuse me, serving girl!” She was being ignored? Sybella gripped the frame of the door and leaned out into the hallway. Several more servants were brushing past with little regard, and other refugees scurrying up and down. The serving girl was already practically lost down the hallway. “Well, never mind, then!”

Sybella returned within her chambers, shutting the door with more force than she had intended but frankly she thought it was only fair. How dare these servants treat her so poorly? She, of course, did not even consider that the girl had simply not heard her before she left. No, this had to be a sign of a poorly run keep. Perhaps she could have a chat with their mousy little lord…

The noblewoman set to work getting herself cleaned and dressed and ready to play politics. It didn’t exactly intrigue her but she saw the necessity of it. She herself had been forced to flee her college in Saphia, hunted like a dog through the woodlands. Sybella was no outdoors expert, but she was a terribly determined individual. And once upon a time she had even learned how to hunt. She had spent weeks wandering through the wilds, terrified for her life in a way she had never experienced. It was the best she could do to simply survive, even if she did have to sob herself to sleep every night. And she never found anyone to travel with, which was perhaps the worst part. Or maybe she had, but she was too paranoid to give anything a chance.

Even now, as she walked down towards this war council all clad in a cloak that seemed to shimmer on its own, so perfectly handcrafted with the right materials to catch the light just so, she found herself eyeing everyone with suspicion. Who of these people would simply turn on them and get this whole rebellion killed?
The room was already full of quiet mumblings by the time Sybella arrived. She slowed her pace to survey the seats, searching for someone to sit next to that wouldn’t drive her up the wall. Spotting the lord of the keep himself, she made her way towards him. “Good morning Shatter Roar, Lady Thelind, Robert,” she offered a polite smile, sitting next to Robert. At the very least Robert was of nobility which meant he had to be a little better than the vast majority of this rebellion. “Your home, Robert! I have found it to be so very… beautiful! So very…” she struggled to find a word for a moment. “Utilitarian.”

 

[DovahBeat]

"Touch me again and I will hex you." Krow threatened the lizard, before taking a breath and trying to make himself more mentally presentable.
"Morning, Lords, Ladies, and everyone else." the bard mumbled, rubbing his face. He then leaned forward, and let his head fall onto the table with a thunk. He shouldn't have stayed up so late the night previously, he was regretting it now. He hoped that they wouldn't have need of him until later in the day, going back to bed sounded nice. Knowing his luck, though, it wouldn't be the case. He'd probably be tasked with something involving labor or a lot of effort.

 

[Tetro]

Labashi hadn't spent much time sleeping, and instead used their time to experiment more with the new plants they acquired in the 'Old Lands' as their people called them. When Labashi got the knock at their door the lizard looked up from the plant and kept their eyes locked onto the door as it opened. It seemed they were being summoned to a meeting. It was a shame to leave their new specimen, but alas they agreed to be of assistance to the rebellion even if it meant postponing the riveting activities they so enjoyed.

Labashi entered the room not too long after being summoned, dressed in his normal attire, just as the fae man threatened to hex one of Labashi's kin. "If I am not mistaken I do believe our common enemy resides outside of the walls of this current domicile, not within." After speaking, a dry, throaty, repetitively heaving growl emanated from their mouth, their throat and mouth moving in such a way that anyone looking could guess Labashi was currently laughing at his 'joke'. The shaman's humor was odd, to say the least, and could hardly be referred to as such by those outside of his own tribe. "Good morning, everyone," he nodded respectively to all in the room once he had finished laughing, becoming silent as he waited for things to begin.

 

[Hawke.]

♞ Lady Thelind, Shatter Roar, Rob ♞

Shatter Roar gave a heavy sigh and rubbed his face with a large paw, "Thank you, Skotadi, for your generous offer," He cut in. "I'm sure you meant well but please refrain from bringing any food into the war room. We wouldn't want to ruin the furniture here."
He had hoped that the bickering wouldn't start this soon, but he suppose he should've expected it this early in the morning. He looked to Lady Thelind, whos nose was wrinkled in distaste at the bickering scalefolk and fae.

"We will not have bickering, or threats here today, children." She said, "In front of the Lord of the keep of all people!"
Robert looked raised his hand, as if he was going to say it was fine, he didn't mind. But Lady Thelind brushed him off and continued, "I understand we are not all nobles here, but I expected better manners!"
Those who had stayed in the keep for any amount of time since the arrival of Shatter and Thelind knew that she did not have much tolerance for bad manners, and was swift to correct anyone who stepped out of line. She was not unkind, but some of these people certainly tried her patience.
"Good morning, Rodormuth, Helewys." She nodded in greeting to the newcomers. "Well met, Moz. And of course our Lady Sybella..."

Robert slumped in his chair, not looking very lordly, that was until Sybella spoke to him.
"..Oh... Yes, it's not very much." He said, sitting up. "It's difficult to get any of the fine things I'm sure you're used to, being this close to the Outlands and all. Not many merchants come our way." He said, giving her an uncertain smile. He had not known Sybella very long, but he had known enough nobles to tell she was not entirely sincere. He always had a hard time discerning sincerity though, it was a curse.
"Perhaps you have suggestions, as to what I could improve?" ​

 

[DovahBeat]

Krow was tempted to make a rude gesture towards those who addressed him, but refrained. Wouldn't do to get him kicked out of the hold. That, and he was too tired to be invested more. Instead he let his head stay resting on the table. He was so exhausted. Maybe he could just rest his eyes a little, just until the meeting actually started--
The next thing he knew, he was sound asleep, the sound of soft, even breathing coming from him with the addition of his wings relaxing until they were limp.

 

[sraes]

Helewys deGrey
​

Helewys, settled at the table well away from the nobles heading the meeting, watching with slowly growing incredulousness as people began to trickle in slowly. Well this certainly was a... ragtag group of people, though they readily admitted they they were just as out of place in a war council as most of these people appeared to me. Still, they would have thought something a little more organized would have been arranged given Shatter Roar and Lady Thelind's reputations.

Their initial impression wasn't much improved by the immediate bickering that broke out.

Nodding a polite greeting to everyone that followed them in - whether or not they returned it - Helewys sat back and took the time to take full measure of each of these people that they were to be working with in one capacity or another. They assumed they would be healing but truthfully knew too little about the broad strokes of the Resistance's plans to make any assumptions just yet. At the very least this meeting would allow them to put some names to faces in the event they had to piece those faces back together again at a later date.

Although given how quickly hostility had taken hold over something small, they figured it might just be 'sooner' rather than 'later'.

Luckily Lady Thelind seemed to have things well in hand and things settled again, people continuing to come through the doors. Some seemed familiar with each other, but most seemed to be strangers. Accents ranged from all over the continent and the species were just as diverse - nothing they hadn't seem amongst the clientele at the Center but still an interesting mixture. Being one such 'stranger' themself, and still in a not-inconsiderable amount of pain, Helewys kept an ear on the people around them to get a better feel for the mood of the room.

 

[Sleipnir]

Silvyr kept his head low right up until he came upon the war room. He hadn't carried his sword or shield with him, but he imagined the way he held himself and a brief introduction would be enough for Shatter Roar and lady Thelind to recognize him as a capable soldier worthy enough of responsibility.
Are you, though?
He made a face at the dreadful thought. It wasn't in his nature to brood, he reminded himself, and he had best make an effort not to start now. It wasn't as if that would bring anyone back. He heard voices in the war room up ahead and held onto the unpleasant expression -- sounded unpleasant. Surely it was too early in the day for tempers to flare? He sighed and ducked into the room at first attempting to discern what had occurred as he pulled his cowl back off his head.
Then, after a moment, his attention fell upon the ginger-haired man across the room.
The blood felt as if it stilled in Silvyr's very veins, and for several long moments, he couldn't think to speak or act or respond in any real way.

In that time, Silvyr believed he felt a shorter woman push past him -- and so Seia entered the room -- but he did not seem to notice. After a handful of moments, though, he seemed to regain conscious thought and instantly, ser Silvyr Spicer fell upon one knee on the cobblestone floor, head dropped, and kneeled before the ladies and lord present -- but when he spoke it was clear his gesture was for neither Sybella nor Thelind. "My lord," he said, voice shaking. "Lord Robert. I... I thought you... I believed that..." He hesitated, then for a few moments, said no more. Finally he looked up. "I'm here to serve, my lord."

Seia, meanwhile, had mostly ignored what she had passed: Silvyr was a stranger to her, but one she could tell was of a noble persuasion of some kind. That he should grovel before his superiors did not surprise her. She meant to address the trio before her: No doubt she must recognize and respect them, but she didn't intend to debase herself. All the same, though, as she went to take a seat, she was distracted by the man asleep in his chair. A Sylphid, it looked. She took her seat beside him, lightly tugging his head up by the hair for a brief moment as she did. "Hey, up with you," she told him. "This is a war table, not nap time, yeah? Up, now. Maybe ask for some tea if you're struggling so much.

 

[DovahBeat]

Krow was about to groan and tell off the person pulling his hair when he opened his eyes and realized it was a girl pulling his hair, and a terrifying looking one at that. He shot out of his chair, falling over it backwards in his panic. "Sorry! Sorry! I was up late last night reading what I could on necromancy and I didn't know we had a meeting so early and--" He cut himself off, realizing he was rambling and probably shared a bit too much. He stayed where he was on the floor, too petrified from that whole interaction to compose himself again.

 

[birdgeoisie]

Helios had woken up a few short minutes before the call to the meeting arrived. But every bone, every muscle, hell, every patch of fur ached. He had only arrived last night, starved and beaten and dehydrated. He had spent the last weeks wandering the nearby wilderness, ensuring straggling refugees managed to find their way to the keep. And even before then, while he wandered the outlands fancying himself something of a hero, he was always try to ensure everyone else was safe before himself. It meant he often found himself giving his scraps away and taking every sword strike, every punch for himself over any innocents.

It also meant that he was unbearably weary. Couldn’t they let him sleep for longer? What would his council even be needed for? He was good at one on one combat but he nary had a clue about waging a war. And he had been living in the outlands for so long at this point that he didn’t even know anything about the politics of the kingdoms. All he really knew was that the king went mad and started to kill mages recklessly.

The catfolk growled a throaty grumble as he stretched, then yelped feeling one of his injuries pull, sending a strike of pain up his spine. Helios craned his neck to frown at a bloody bandage wrapping up a stab wound on his abdomen. It was a shallow stab, but a stab nonetheless. Matching wrappings adorned his right arm and his left lower leg. As it turned out, trying to fight a growing army of witch hunters all by your lonesome was not an intelligent idea. Helios had certainly learned that the hard way.

Once he had squeezed into the provided clothes- they were a little tight and he may have ripped the shirt a bit, but it was alright -he headed out into the hallway. He made sure to give a smile and friendly wave to everyone he passed. It was only right, considering they were allowed to stay here, safe from the King’s men. Carefully so as to not aggravate his wounds further, Helios picked his way to the war council.

The meeting had evidently already begun by the time he arrive so he tried his best to slip in unnoticed. Of course, he did happen at be a nearly seven foot tall, bright orange, tiger man adorned with a massive sword. He was conspicuous no matter his efforts. But he quickly purred a quiet apology and made his way to the nearest open seat next to a ginger haired elf, to whom he gave a quiet hello.

 

[infectedmouth]

Rotormuth tipped his snout to Lady Thelind when she greeted him, and he pushed up onto a chair. He felt his legs swing, feet unable to touch the ground. For such a wildly tall creature, he had such short legs. He put his hands on the table to balance himself while he adjusted his hindquarters further into the seat, his tail taking up most of the chair. After a while of adjusting, he finally relaxed and leaned back. Listening to the group bicker, Rotormuth realized he missed the swamps. While they were slightly crowded with scalefolk like himself, they were not crowded like this, with a winged one yelping over a lady waking him, a croc...looking being offering cupcakes, and so much going on.

He wanted to go home.

Rotormuth's bird, an Egyptian Pover, landed on his snout, making him startle for a moment, lowly grumbling to himself before he gently set the bird on the table. Without further ado, the winged creature crawled between the gator's hands and sat down, making itself quite comfortable in the reptile's arms. It would much rather nestle in his mouth, the gator knew, but now was not the time. He leaned his head on a fist and gazed down at the map on the table, tapping his other hand's fingers upon the wood. He wondered who had made the table, if it had been Shatter Roar himself, or if he had found it or had it commissioned. Or if Lady Thelind made it. Either way, it looked beautifully crafted, with such clean lines and wonderful details.

-

Basite drew a short, relieved breath when Seia did not perceive him and kept on her merry way. He could hear his hooves clop on the cobble, the sturdy surface bothering him. He knew he'd have to get fitted for shoes if he were to stay here much longer, but he refused to let another person near him. Instead, he put up with it, limping and occasionally seeming to forget how to walk all together. His hooves were heavy, the feathering along the back of his legs were clogged with mud and dirt from the Outlands, barely leaving what his feathering used to look like; a wonderful golden colour, lost to the stains of who he was formed to be. An outcast. A monster. He was nothing but a creature to the herd he once loved and knew.

If that was how he was to be seen as, then that was what they would get.

Basite entered the room and loomed in the doorway for many moments, trying to figure out where to stand. Unlike many of the residents of Umbra Keep, he was a fucking centaur. He was the only centaur. He knew that some of the residents were massive--Basite glanced at a giant catfolk that had entered just before he did, as well as an alligator and a few other big beings; but where would he put his horse half? He was giant enough on his human half alone, let alone with a draft body to go with.

Rather unpleased at the situation of having to squeeze in, Basite stomped a massive hoof and shook his head. He'd rather wait in the hall and listen from there than stand in a room and be forced to be close to people he didn't want to be near in the first place. Why couldn't they hold this in a bigger room? He thought, bitterly, as he had to shuffle over for someone leaving for a bathroom break.

 

[RavenSong]

Luna wasn’t as easily stirred by the knocking on the door. Overwhelmed with exhaustion after her escape from the previous master she served. Perhaps it was but a matter of time before her past caught up to her but this morning she slept and slept deeply. The servant, after being told to press the matter further opened the door and politely tapped the slumbering woman on the hand. Luna instantly felt the warmth of her fingers and awoke at once with a startled gasp.

“Ngh! W-what?” She rubbed her eyes quickly and realized dawn had only began to illuminate her darkened chambers. The servant girl bowed her head and replied. “You’re presence is required at the meeting hall my lady”.

Luna squinted and shook her head before rising and setting her bare feet on the cold floor sending shivers up her spine yet didn’t mind. She was too tired to mind.

“I’m at his majesty’s service.” she muttered sleepily with a yawn.
The servant girl had a worried look upon her face which Luna quickly noticed. “What is it?” She asked as she reached for her garments.
“I’m sorry my lady” the girl started “You’re probably the last one to awaken, I do suggest you hurry.” She bowed her head and disappeared out the door.

As if she just heard a rallying horn she stood up and quickly got herself dressed in her usual attire of leather armor, vambraces, and a cloak before finally strapping her sheathed sword to her back.

The air was brisk as the light struggled with the darkness giving into the first rays of the rising sun, ultimately dulled by the thick clouds that loomed overhead.

Luna stepped out into the torch illumined hall before the voices began penetrating the silence in her psyche. “Ugh.. not now..” she scoffed. She quickly reached for a vial on her belt, opened it and drank it until empty. Drops of blood dripped down her chin which she would clear with her sleeve.
The chilled air filled her lungs as she started towards the meeting quarters. It didn’t take long before she quickly noticed the commotion. “Confound it!” She whispered. They were all in assembly.

Panting she reached for the door when a giant centaur came storming out. She dashed to the side swiftly. “Whoa!” She exclaimed but noticed the creature was in fact very frustrated and didn’t press the matter further. She held her fingers to her lips as she walked in looking in the direction of the centaur. She’d never seen one before, they were magnificent.

She slipped into the room quietly and looked around at everyone. Surely it was a diverse group and while some seemed crankier than her she was relieved that no one felt the need to punish tardiness.

She started towards Lord Robert quietly as he spoke to the noble next to him and quickly knelt and held a small part of the end of his winter cloak pressing it to her forehead. “It’s an honor to finally be in your presence Lord Robert..” she let go of the fabric and looked up at him. “My your guidance see us through this darkness.” She glanced at the man next to him and bowed her head when she noticed he was also nobility and disappeared back into the crowd of heroes.

She scratched her head as she squeezed her way through the others. Surely she had to show some gratitude for the shelter and sanctuary, though she worried that it might have been too bold. She shrugged while taking a cupcake from the table and quickly biting into it and nodding her head in approval “Hmm.. these are great..” she smiled before leaning against a pillar that supported the structure.

 

[TheCrowKing]

Dawn’s first light was the primary retriever of the male tiefling’s attention, pulling him from the depths of a realm of parchment and ink he immersed himself in several hours before. He’d awoken much earlier than the arrival of the sunrise, his slumber plagued with restlessness and pessimistic thoughts that integrated themselves into his dreams. Such had been the past several nights, those spent in travel to Umbra Keep as well as those from the night before in which they spent in the confines of Lord Robert’s home. It was an unfortunate cycle, one that wouldn’t be broken anytime soon, but the demon-kin wouldn’t complain about the below average hours of sleep he’d gathered. Rather, he’d brought his gaze from the walls of text with an expression closer to relief than anything else; finally he wouldn’t be sitting idle when there was so much to be done. Perhaps, today more would be accomplished with the arrival of others.

Snapping the ancient text shut was a drawn out sigh, the tiefling would stand from the writing desk to begin to prepare for today’s affairs, returning his reading material back to the confines of his belongings. Unlike others that experienced a tasting of the war first-hand, he’d have the blessing of planning his aid, and thus having been able to prepare a bag of belongings. From the few and far between glances outside his lodging, he’d caught sight of several individuals arriving with nothing more than the clothes on their backs, if that weren’t destroyed as well. For this, he could consider himself quite grateful, easily choosing his own clothing over that that was provided for him. The fabric glided like silk across his skin, the excess fabric gathering itself at his feet, not that he minded it; it was far more comfortable than anything he could have been given.

Anziium must have taken much longer in his daily rituals than he came to realize, the soft knocking at the door snapping him from the dead stare he’d been giving himself in the mirror. His hand was locked in a frozen stroke of a soft-bristled brush through his hair as he came to once more, a bit startled that he’d managed to zone off like that. Bronze gaze removing themselves from his own reflection, they shot towards the doorway at the much more fervent knock. Upon standing, he only partially opened the doorway, much preferring to see whom it was coming to visit before fully allowing them inside. Anziium’s presence was met with that of a shorter servant and their word of a meeting being held. A soft word of thanks was passed between them as he took the bowl of water, offering them a time estimate on when he’d arrive. He wouldn’t be late, that was for certain, he couldn’t stand being late.

Not five minutes or so later, the tiefling bard exited his sleeping quarters, locking the room with the corresponding key before he turned to carry himself further down the hallway, away from the direction he was requested to go. Before he could even bring himself to be present at the war council, he first had to take care of what could be called family affairs. Producing a secondary key from the folds of his clothing, he jammed it into the lock of a distant room, pushing the door open in hunt of a particular individual. And there they lie, still very much swaddled in layers of blankets, their matching hair a wild mess that appeared to have been taken through a wind tunnel. Of course, this didn’t come as a surprise, but a sure-fire irritation. Hell, they hadn’t even awoken to the delivery of the servant.

Stepping around their mess of tossed about clothing, the tiefling came to approach the bedding, sparing no expense in roughly shaking the female awake. “Fara, wake up.” He muttered lowly, rolling his eyes as she continued sleeping as if his shaking didn’t bother her in the slightest. “We don’t have time for this, wake up! We have things to do besides sleep all day.” And yet she slept. Not particularly a man able to tolerate nonsense, Anziium stepped back towards the door, retrieving the water bowl that sat in the hallway. Well...couldn’t let it go to waste, now could they? And with that, he unceremoniously deposited the water straight onto the lazy sister of his, it having much more of an effect than himself attempting to wake her. So much so, that he had already moved back towards the hallway the moment she shot up with howls of protest and anger. “Make certain you make yourself presentable before you join myself and the others in the--” Dodging the empty container tossed at his head, he sighed and made his exit. “And do behave. I have no time for you.” He wasn’t about to be late because of her.

With his “errands” now complete, the bard would stroll back down the corridors before catching sight of several others moving towards what he could only assume was the war room, he particularly choosing to follow a white-haired woman affront him. He certainly didn’t go out of his way to introduce himself, even less so when she began speaking to herself, he finding it a bit...distasteful. Nose slightly crinkled, he’d slip around her and the exiting centaur to find an empty seat. An inclination of his head would be offered to those that met gazes, but he wasn’t about to make a fool of himself with a grand entry as some others had before his arrival. Now, if only he could put faith in his sister to arrive relatively soon and not as the closing of the meeting. What a farfetched hope that was.

 

[Hawke.]

♞Robert - War room - interacting with Sleipnir ♞


Robert paused when he heard the voice of his friend, the one he had thought dead for so many days. He wondered for a breath if it was real, or a trick of his sleep deprived imagination. He turned to look behind him, hardly seeming to notice the woman taking his cloak to press it against her face it as he nearly ran over to Silvyr, Silvyr. Not all hope was lost after all, then.
He knelt in front of the half fae, not even bothering to ask him to rise. He hardly considered himself a lord so what did it matter?
He placed a gentle, albeit a bit cold, hand under his friends chin, asking him to look up so he might see his face. "By the Gods, it really is you!" he exclaimed before pulling Silvyr into a hug. "There are no words in any language to describe how happy I am to see you."


♞Shatter Roar - War Room - interacting with Rotormuth infectedmouth ♞

That was perhaps the most joyful Shatter had seen the little lord since he arrived, perhaps now he would begin taking to his newly gained role, as young as he was.
The lion gave a low chuff, this rag-tag group was already squaring up to be quite the mess, but he had seen much worse during his time as the king's general. Those disputes usually ended in blood, and a letter of condolence sent to someone's family. But this was not a King's army by any means, even Robert's meager forces were more like a family than anything. And that seemed to work out for them, though it was sure to cause grief. Perhaps, he thought fondly, these ruffians could become like family. Though it would take time.
He turned his gaze downwards then to Rotormuth, tilting his head like a curious dog might. "Admiring the table? Beautiful isn't it? It's an heirloom of house Warren's. Back from when they were one of the Great Houses."

♞Lady Thelind - War Room - Open♞
Lady Thelind sat back in her chair, her posture still as perfect and graceful as always. Even at her age she maintained a sense of dignity. Her eyes scoured the room critically, raising an eyebrow at the young Fae when he said he had stayed up all night reading about necromancy. Perhaps he did not know that necromancy was illegal. Surely the young woman waking him would correct this, but she made a mental note to keep an eye on him.

​

 

[sraes]

Helewys deGrey ​

While never the most overtly social person in the past - they'd often been too busy for that - Helewys had also never considered themself a wallflower by any means. Yet here they found themself, sitting in a room with various strange but interesting people and instead of introducing themself or asking questions they were... strangely uncomfortable being so crowded.

Certainly not an issue they'd had before.

Not wanting to think too long on the root of this new neuroses, Helewys determinedly shifted their attention to the very real present instead.

Luckily something - or rather, someone - quickly drew their eye. The silver-haired newcomer seemed interestingly frozen in place until all at once dropping to his knees like his strings had been cut as he looked at Lord Robert with obvious familiarity. There was a story there, definitely. Before they could get too wrapped up in the drama unfolding before them, however, an unexpected crash of noise had them flinching into the back of their chair in shock.

For a split second they remained frozen as the slam of Krow's chair hitting the floor threw them for a loop before they gave an annoyed toss of their head and shifted enough to get a look at the boy around the table.

He seemed more nervous than actually hurt, though, so they straightened back up.

The same could not be said for the large catfolk who sat next to them a moment later, however. They would recognize the careful movements of someone injured from a mile away - even if they weren't acting in exactly the same fashion.

"Good morning." They returned the greeting, sharp eyes quickly making a tally of what injuries they could see as well as some guesses at others they could not. "Are you well? You look like you could use a visit to the healing ward." Not that they knew where that happened to be - if, indeed, there even was one - here at Umbra Keep.

And also perhaps not the most polite first impression they could give, but work had always come before 'politeness' in their book anyways.