4293/The Four Symbols of Knighthood - 1

The Four Symbols of Knighthood - 1
Date of Scene:	07 July 2016
Location:	Great Painting of Ariamis <PoA>
Synopsis:	The quartet of sidequests begins, courtesy of the famous Knights of Gwyn.
Cast of Characters:	Priscilla, 941, 908, Reiji Arisu, Athela Valemore, Staren, Kushiko, 974, Lezard Valeth, 626, 1014

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Priscilla has posed:
    Quietly marking the first of what is sure to be many similar official jobs for the Multiverse, rather than under-the-table things Priscilla needs taking care of, is a somewhat low-key request that has come through two intermediaries and then been delivered through her as, well, the the only person in Lordran with access to factional task boards. This time, she has assured, it doesn't concern anything that is likely to get anyone killed (yet), but she would like parts of it kept to a minimum of public discussion where here. Here being? Anor Londo of course. Consider it the new quest hub.

    As usual, it is prettiest in the middle of the day, though right now the towering colossus of a mountaintop metropolis seems to be caught in unusually bright sunshine, lit up to the point that it has a kind of faint, fairytale glow from a distance, and looks as if someone expertly cranked up the saturation for a postcard shoot up close. It also looks a little more lively, though any especially large group of humans still look like trails of ants when taking the especially tall stairs or broad causeways meant for others. The meeting place of choice seems to be some sort of cathedral (though honestly, probably a quarter of the buildings in the city look cathedral-esque) that manages to be skyscraper sized while internally only a few floors high.

    Unlike the rest of the city, it has been completely cleared out, meaning that everything from one's steps to one's breathing audibly echoes from the polished marble floors and the absurdly high, Gothic vaulted ceilings. Most of the religious paraphernalia appears to have been taken down at one point and not fully put back up, with one end of the room dominated by a set of gargantuan statues, and the other dominated by an even more gargantuan painting that probably weighs as much as them combined.

    There are only four people to meet inside, but they could hardly be called an underwhelming presence. One of them is literally a giant; a thirty foot tall tower of stoney skin and knotted muscle with inhumanly broad proportions, wearing armour of what appears to be carved wood and thick furs held together with metal chains and fluted plates, with the only professional craft pieces being a totally concealing helmet, and gauntlets that leave the fingertips exposed. One is slightly less giant at maybe fifteen feet, likewise fully armoured and facially obscured, though in what looks like solid, gleaming gold done in an extensively ornate style, with a red-plumed helmet forged to look like the face of a snarling lion. Another one roughly his height looks worse for wear, covered in pitted and corroded silver plate and chain and swathed in a tattered blue cloak that obscures his face in shadow. The fourth is almost normal by comparison, roughly human sized, in shades of similar blue cloth that almost successfully hides black armour edged in ivory underneath, wearing a strange, ivory mask with dark eyes, though a blonde braid down their back suggests they're probably female.

    Despite such an incredibly colourful welcoming party however, people are left to filter in without address, finding them kneeling at attention in arbitrarily drawn corners of the closer half of the room, as if expecting a commander or the like, though Priscilla had told everyone they'd be alone today.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    There's something sort of haunting about Anor Londo. It's a fairy tale city-of-the-gods - but one of those fairy tales where the gods are distant and stern, beautiful but cold. Not quite foreboding, but very imposing. STA PsiMarshal Mel Brock has felt a little uneasy every time she's set foot here, and though that's admittedly not much, she finds her opinion of the place undiminished. She feels very small. Even with the rather large sword at her back.

    It's definitely a new addition to her repertoire. She has never previously carried a blade, but it's there now, a simple black sheath strapped to her back, the belt going diagonally across her chest over the top of her longcoat. The sheath is simple and black with a bit of gold trim, but long enough for the ornate nodachi it carries. Where a simple katana might be three feet end-to-end, this one is closer to four and a half, so it stands out.

    Kind of like the three towers of hello-there waiting in the cathedral. The fact there's a fourth with a much more human size is kind of a relief, to be honest. Her choice in introduction remains simple; a nod to the quartet, and a brief, "Marshal Mel Brock. This is Hrafn. I'm here about the request for assistance?"

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    Gudako is wearing new clothes when she shows up today. Rather than the white and black, almost bland outfit she normally wears, she's got a bright orange shirt split down the middle by a zipper, with a black cloak (complete with Fangs of Nidhogg logo), red neck ribbon, black shorts and black tights, with fancy black and orange shoes. All in all it actually goes together pretty well.

    TL;DR version:

    She's alone, at least visually. The spiritual presence of two powerful Servants is very difficult to mask, her Caster and Berserker with her, if dematerialized. She pockets her cellphone once she enters the cathedral, immediatly analyzing the four obvious faction NPCs.

    She immediatly recognizes Ornstein, gravitating towards the man in gold armor. "Heeeey Dragonslayer! How've things been in the valley? Are we gonna need to go murder more of those drakes? We're always down for that, you know, a good grind never killed anyone!" 8D

Reiji Arisu has posed:
Somehow, Reiji can't shake the feeling that this might have been his fault.

    When you intentionally inscribe the existence of four powerful spirits into the restoration of a world for the purpose of A) Eradicating an overgrown, immortal worm, and B) Persisting to ensure the world remains protected, there are probably going to be consequences. Of course, he did expect that much. A few shrines here or there, maybe; something akin to the esoteric worship of the Four Guardians in his own world... But not necessarily the full restoration of the knights who inspired their creation.

Though with all else that's been going on, maybe he should have expected that, too?

    Regardless, Reiji Arisu, exorcist extraordinaire, filters out from the bustling, hive-like throngs of beautiful, sunlit Anor Londo to make his way up towards his destination. That cathedral, looming so majestically near the great palace, with that portal to Priscilla's old home hanging powerfully at one end. He's come to meet the heroes of the old world, and one, specifically.

    The Wolf Knight Artorias. Artorias the Abysswalker. The one who brought war to the spirits of the Dark and held strong until the very end. Reiji walks towards the shadowed knight, and inclines his head respectfully. "Sir Artorias, I presume. I am Reiji Arisu, an exorcist and swordsman. I've heard many stories about you; you're quite famous here, it seems." He raises his head, then- he has to, to look the wolf knight (more or less) in the eye. "Welcome back to Anor Londo. Things have changed somewhat since you were last here. Might we be of some assistance?"

Athela Valemore has posed:
Passing through the grand city to get to their location was left Athela with a strange sense of both familiarity and distinct alienness.

The former comes from the style of the city being to some degree similar to what she has seen in Bayern before... But that sort of grandeous gothic style is only seen in the large cities like Konigburg and what was one Archengart before being left in seiged ruins. So while vagely familiar, it is not necessarily in a comforting way, and the reminder in the back of her head that this is not her world despite its visual similarities renders it all the more otherworldly. The overly sunny glow the city currently has definately helps with the alien feel too.

Fortunately entering the cathedral offers some relief from the brightness. But the young knight stops just inside the doorway, in part taken in by the sheer magnitude of the open interior and it's towering occupaints. Are they suppose to introduce themselves, or wait to be spoken to? She doesn't want to unintentionally upset someone... Okay, someone else is making an introduction so that's probably a safe bet. "Dame Athela Valemore, Knight of the Sword of Tides." She sticks to the shorter of introductions, as much of the full deal would mean little to these people. "And this is mine companion, Sprite." The Eevee on her shoulder appears to be the only pokemon with her, though likely the Samurott is hidden away in his Pokegem amongst her armor somewhere.

Staren has posed:
    Staren looks wary at entering anywhere in Lordran without his armor. Like he expects one of Gwyneth's followers to stab him or something. Still, the city where Priscilla is queen /should/ be pretty safe, right?

    Right?

    He's been here before, so he doesn't spend much time taking in the splendor -- he wouldn't want to be late, after all. As he arrives at the meeting area, he gives a curious look at the giants and human(?) and is already having second thoughts. The people they're here to /meet/ are wearing armor, after all. "Staren." he flatly introduces himself. "Researcher for the Union."

Kushiko has posed:
Most times than not, the Lotus who sifts through the varied requests and the like for assistance, filtering information and the like for her Tenno often drilled it down to the very base elements. Kill this, capture this, purge this area, etc.

This time however it was a tiny bit different; running under the general motive of 'trust but verify' what little the Lotus had been able to garner on a basic level was reason enough to send along one of her Tenno--possibly more--to gather information and add it to the ever expanding database her Cephalon curated for the benefit of her and the Tenno at large.

To this end it's not solely the providence of single Tenno so much as it is a Tenno plus her companions. The sheer size of Anor Londo and the varying points of entry and access to someone for whom doors are mere suggestions means that the Warframe known as Valkyr doesn't necessary arrive at the rendezvouz point in regular fashion.

Bearing a purple and black color scheme that's somewhat signature for those who may have run into Kushiko's Warframes frequently, one of the windowed openings far above is where she's chosen to arrive through, the faceless visage peering down--not just at those four powerfully hewn knights, but those who approach. She is an outsider to this, and elects instead (for now at least) to observe.

Accompanying her is a fairly /massive/ beast known as a Kubrow; it's fur and patterning seem to mirror Valkyr's own, but only just as she does her relative best to not stick out like a sore thumb.

Besides, it was peaceful here. She liked it.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna's last visit to Anor Londo was one where she observed from the sidelines as a family drama played out, conflict nearly resulted, and she felt especially unwelcoming looks from locals. She also was singularly tempted by something she knew to be particularly unhealthy to give in to. She has been avoiding Lordran ever since, made simpler by the lack of need to visit.

    Now, however, she feels it is her... Obligation? Enlightened self-interest? To return the favor of all the days and weeks that have been poured into investigating and dealing with problems in her own world, by a wide range of individuals. Even if they had their own reasons for doing so, it seems only fair, and likely to encourage further support in the future.

    The big hat on her head and her face wrap conceal her facial features, aside from a few strands of red hair here or there, and her typical ragged cloak and leather armor conceal any sign of whether she is male, female, or even entirely human... But the rotten darkness within her, and a stolen spark of light flittering somewhere within, speak volumes to those who can sense such things. This is no living creature.

    The architecture of the cathedral as well as its scale are far greater than the small chapel in Barrowville, and the abundance of gleaming sunlight on the way here has been something of a burden on the eyes. But the four figures that she is confronted with upon arrival take a greater priority than the glare off the marble. The enormous ones have Carna instinctively evaluating threat and scanning around for places to use as cover if the trio decided that neutral ground shouldn't stay neutral. It's an unlikely scenario, but... One never knows.

    Despite her presence likely being some form of insult to the residents by virtue of being something less than even undead, Carna is determined to do what she can. And step one is to exercise a skill she is still working on to appease the giants.

    She makes a somewhat needlessly elaborate bow to the hosts when she arrives, introducing herself as others are doing. "Carna, a Lantern of Lumiere."

    She then bows again to each person as they arrive, apparently thinking that repeating this reinforces her class and culture.

    A somewhat hook-nosed man with stringy black hair and ragged robes comes swishing into the cathedral during all this, looking around furtively, and craning his head in an almost bird-like fashion to look all around him in paranoia. Also, he is loud. "Marvelous, marvelous. Never thought I'd see the sunlight again. A bit more open than I'm used to, but yes, this is certainly something! Hmm. Yes." He then looks around at everyone greeting the trio of giants and their smaller companion, blinks owlishly several times, and then dredges up manners he hasn't used in billions of years. "Oh! Oh, yes. Hello. I am Enark, the last member of the Order of the Blue Scholars. We are, hrm..." He ventures hesitantly. "Having a... Welcoming party?"

    Carna looks to the Lit man and simply says, "I do not believe so."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
If you think Lezard Valeth would not partake in an so public an event in Lordran, you would not understand the depth of investment the Necromancer of Midgard has in the area. His boots echo in the vaulted, mostly empty area, and Lezard smiles faintly as he takes in the environment, pushing up his glasses in contemplation as a ray of sunlight faintly reflects from the lenses. For once, he's not being utterly defiant, the Manus Catalyst in his possession kept hidden away in whatever Dark he holds it in.

Perhaps that's why he is drawn to the man in dark armor, with the blue markings. He gives the man a deep bow, not one of defiance, but one of apparent respect. "Abyss-walker." Lezard greets. "It is good to see you are well." Again, it seems like he actually means it. Perhaps Artorias' own efforts against the Dark seem to have gained some measure of respect from the hightly prideful sorceror.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
Kyra sees absolutely no reason to dress up any more formally than she usually does. Yes, she was meeting distinguished knights, but at the same time, as an outsider to the world, they didn't /really/ know what passed for 'formal' attire on her world, did they? Maybe punk-ish clothing like Kyra's usual style passes for formal on her world! It's a mystery!

    But while here, she walks and carries herself like someone pretty damn proud of herself, moving with confidence, not at all bothered by the much, much stronger people around her.

    She looks at each figure in turn, carefully masking the intimidation she feels while looking at the thirty foot giant before gravitating to the slightly less large lion-masked knight.

    "Hello! My name is Kyra Hyral of Galianda. I hear there has been requests for assistance?"

Priscilla has posed:
    When the last person enters the excessively grand hall, they get to go a few steps out from under the cover of the pillars and overhanging balconies, and then the door quietly bangs shut behind them, or as quietly as anything described as a 'bang' can be. So broadly focused on the towering giants in the room, it was apparently extremely easy to miss the smaller figure, who is now standing at the crossbolt and bar lock. Unnaturally so, in fact. She speaks very softly, but with the acoustic properties of the chamber, it's easy to hear her regardless. "Please, close the doors behind you. It is disrespectful to the caretakers to leave them hanging open." The fact that she subtly tilts her head towards the Valkyr frame, just enough that she could conceivably see her through one of those eye slits, confirms (at least to Kushiko) why she has any place amongst the quartet with how tiny she is by comparison.

    Once they are directly addressed, all of the knights stand up at once, though the giant just sits back down again immediately after with a rumble going through the floor. Though he would actually fit fine without stooping or crouching, he doesn't seem to want to talk at a thirty foot distance. The movement otherwise is highly synchronized, as if they had been given orders to wait at attention until spoken to, though they weren't. Oddly, the giant actually speaks first, the absurd, booming bass of his voice the exact opposite of his comparatively tiny compatriot. He does so while pulling out what appears to be a piece of wood the size and shape of a human's head, feeling over it with his massive fingers, and turning it over so that he can go at it with a whittling knife the size of a sword fit for tacky anime. "Well met, friends of our daughter of the ashen sun. On behalf of the others, you have our thanks for indulging this selfishness. I doubt that they will express it so readily as I." He seems very relaxed, leaning up against a pillar meant for architecture as a backrest.

    The knight in gold responds to Gudako first otherwise. Confederate or not (really he couldn't care less, or perhaps doesn't even know), she is someone in the room he seems to regard positively. "Regrettably quiet." Seems he's the tenor of the bunch. "It will be a long time before such a prey rich environment exists once more, but there are others to hunt, and have I the freedom for the first time in centuries, outside of these walls." There is a little bit of a twitch in that sentence. "If you are simply looking for a hunt to occupy yourself, you are rightfully here regardless." He has to look down a little further to see Kyra. "I am Dragonslayer Ornstein, Knight Captain of the Knights of Gwyn. There are four requests, as you can imagine why, and I fear each of them are as urgent as they are self-interested.".

    Reiji and Lezard already know who the abraded knight in silver and blue is. He looks to Reiji with about as much vague recognition as a faceless cowl and helm can. "Believe me, I could say some of the same about you." Surprisingly, for that dark and brooding countenance, he sounds a little young. Hardly a growing lad, but not the growling, gravelly, borderline evil rumble one would expect. Roughly the alto range in this barbershop. "That goes completely without statement, though at the same time, things have changed less for I than the others. It has been a far greater time since I was last privileged to lay eyes upon my home. I am glad only to see it in better shape than I had dared hope." Lezard's presence, conversely, causes him to bristle, but not in an especially hostile way. There can be no question where he's looking. "And I could say they're less charitable regarding you, 'Dark Sorcerer', though out of all of them, those tales are the ones for which I should perhaps be the most grateful; if only because nobody else would be." He trails off darkly. "If only because none other ever saw him."

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    "Dragonslayer, yep! I saw him first-hand, just leaping from drake to drake like it wasn't a thing. He's really skilled and powerful," Gudako addresses Kyra, unprompted, just sort of confirming Ornstein's claim to fame so the conversation moves forward faster.

    Being efficient is a skill you practice.

    "That's too bad, but I guess the point was to clear the valley so people could build there, right? There's always more stuff to kill elsewhere. Infinite worlds! You'll never run out of hunts," is her response to Ornstein himself, her grin widening at his last few words.

    "Well! Tell us about your latest hunt then! What awful place do we have to kill big things in for fame, glory and loot?" And entertainment. The entertainment is important.

Carna (974) has posed:
    Carna looks back as the doors are closed, not liking the idea of being 'trapped' in here, but trying not to let her tension leak into her body language. Instead she settles in to do what she does best: Wait and observe. She wasn't addressed, and Enark likewise, they may learn more by seeing how their hosts respond to the arrivals than to be actively involved in the conversation. Enark, for his part, keeps a healthy distance between himself and Carna.

    Despite agreeing to travel with her, he doesn't TRUST her. But she is at least a known quantity to the water mage, and that makes her preferable to all of these strangers in some weird way.

    Carna notes the hostility towards Lezard by Artorias, and pulls out a small book and a pen from within her cloak to write down a reminder to ask about that. Up until now, she had assumed it was due to the deathly aura he possesses, but...

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    A motley group has gathered to hear these people out. A couple of them Mel recognizes - she gives Staren a brief side-eye and Lezard a much more lingering look - but many are people she only knows from the radio, or not at all. They do seem to know some of these giant people, though. For lack of anything better to do, the Marshal folds her arms behind her back, somewhat more awkwardly than usual thanks to the presence of Hrafn's sheath. She's perfectly willing to wait silently until they say their piece, giving special attention to the 'Abysswalker'. Looking him over with interest, trying to get a sense of his posture, his armor and armament. He doesn't seem to like Lezard. That has her interest.

    She does, however, have words for the quartet. "Doesn't matter if it's self-interested, I think. Long as it's worth doing, you'll get help from at least some of us I'm pretty sure. I'm at least curious to hear what could get the four of you to reach out like this."

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
"..reeeaally now? I helped slay a dragon once. A while ago." Kyra asides, "But you saw this guy in person, huh. Normally I'd go 'pics or it didn't happen' on that but I believe you this time." She grins, completely undeterred by Gudako's obvious CRAZY EYES. "But anyway, let's get down to business."

    She folds her arms over her chest. "Self-interest? Heh, you say that like it'd deter someone like me. I know alllll about self-interest. Though these requests...what is yours?"

Athela Valemore has posed:
Despite her best efforts Athela just cannot shake the feelings of exotic similarity, even less so when the knightly figures before them speak. She can't help but imagine it was a similar sight when the Swords of Justice gathered. Abiet with one empty spot until Keldeo proved ready to reclaim the position he had been pushed from. Or she proved it. It's still a little vague on what the thematics of her championhood pertain.

The thought was only making her all the more self-concious. Did she really have a right to be here, standing amongst the others, some that have already proven themselves to these towering personas? Yet, the oppritunity to do good upon these bastions is not one that can be simply passed over. Idly one hand grips the pommel of the sword at her side, as if touching the legendary weapon conveys some manner of reassurance from her own patron.

There may be the faintest of twitchs at how exuberant Gudako is about things, but Athela harbors a similar preference to getting to the point of things. She may be a knight but talk and 'negotiation' really is not her thing. "Yes, quite. Please, noble entities, tell us of that which tasks thy hath brought together such a varied lot together to enact in your favor."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji is of... mixed emotions regarding the sorcerer known as Lezard Valeth. On the one hand, he's a deicidal madman dabbling in powers he doesn't understand, and wields a staff once used by the Father of the Abyss himself. On the other hand, he's also been a (mostly reliable) ally for the past while.

You don't star as a protagonist in a Capcom Crossover unless you're okay with working with a few demons, after all.

    "Lezard," Reiji says, neutrally. He inclines his head mildly in the sorcerer's general direction, but notes Artorias' prickly response to the mage's presence. Of course Artorias would have reason to be concerned.

He knows more than any the dangers posed by the Dark.

    "I'm surprised to hear that they're already telling stories," the exorcist says, only a little surprised at the bizarre juxtaposition between Artorias' voice and his appearance. Not that he'll poke fun at another man just because he sounds funny, or anything like that. "It's good to hear that you approve of what we've done; there are some who do not necessarily share your sentiment."

    "But we're not here just to exchange pleasantries," Reiji turns his head to regard the face hidden in that helm as best as he can. It's kind of hard, when there may in fact be no face at all in there. "We can do that after we're all off the clock," maybe toss back a few beers or something. That'd be a story to tell. "Like my associates have mentioned, I believe you all called upon us for a reason."

Kushiko has posed:
Kushiko did not expect to go completely unseen and hidden otherwise; frankly if she did, then she'd opt into something else. However, the feminine figure among the Knights of Gwyn is recepient to a counter 'stare' as it were, a passing glance. Well, as much as the eyeless features allow, it's more something 'felt' than anything else.

For good reason, yet not one that needs explanation here. After the laying out of the fact they /each/ have requests--perhaps to some varying degree--Valkyr shifts her weight from the window edge she's perched on in order to simply jump, with the Kubrow following not long after though the massive quadraped bounds off some of the walls a little on the way down to slow her speed.

From several stories up, her landing /should/ be noisy as hell, but it simply isn't, a catlike grace and only the faintest of sounds as clawtips touch ground. Artorias' reaction to Lezard--really, all of their varying reactions are things that are noted for later by the Lotus' own observation through Kushiko's frame.

Her voice projects from the vicinity of the suit; ethereal at first before resolving more firmly: "Ours is to know that which we do not know ourselves, both of this place and others like it." Her head cants slightly towards Carna, giving both her and Enark the faintest of nods. The Kubrow, Ikaruga, lands, skidding briefly but the batdog making her own guardianlike presence known next to the Tenno.

The faceless Valkyr glances momentarily towards the smaller (relatively) female knight, before she tacitly offers, "We've heard much, but simply wish to see firsthand, to experience, and to work towards the balance where it can be found." One could mistake Kushiko's desires to the whims of a sightseer, but there's more to it than she's letting on.

Priscilla has posed:
    Perhaps unexpectedly, Ornstein very much appears to have considered exactly what Gudako is talking about. The lion's visage bobs with a faint clatter of metal, almost enthusiastically despite his stately size. "I will gladly accept such honest praise, and already anticipate the very thing you propose. I have heard a great many things in the way of how dragons run rampant over other worlds, like nests of rats. I would give greatly to find the thrill of a proper dragon hunt amidst such sport, but, as Lady Hyral of Galianda suggests, there is business first."

    The lion casts its metallic gaze in the direction of the grand castle, before looking back. "With that thing sanctioned by our Archlord present, though I trust her that it harbours no ill intent after it has had so long to express it, I fear that other survivors may come this way believing there is refuge for them, and I would not stand Anor Londo becoming a hive of dragons. She may very well reject them regardless, but I will not test such faith. Instead, I would beseech you to find, at the very least, the one I know of. It has been so long I can do much but hope the beast has not moved in its slumber. Its name is Sinh."

Staren has posed:
    Staren folds his arms and frowns at the knights. "The knights of Gwyn. I remember our last encounter... It's a good thing Lady Priscilla is vouching for you." He's not sure how to refer to her in front of Anor Londoians.

    "It's true that there are dragons on other worlds, but not all are evil. Some beings are quite friendly, or content to be left alone, but shaped like dragons, on other worlds. Be careful when hunting." He looks from one to the other. "So, what's important about this Sinh in particular? Why does it need to be slain?"

Priscilla has posed:
    The more human-sized woman spends a not-insignificant amount of time staring Kushiko's Valkyr down, as if she can see something about the Warframe that the others can't. She practically ignores the kubrow, seeming to find the eyeless human shape much more interesting. She only breaks that stare after what feels like a full minute, sauntering soundlessly over from the now-closed doorway to take her original place, pushing her braid back as she goes.

    "Then if it is correcting the balance you seek, perhaps you would hear me out? Of course, people like you have done more to right the balance of this world than I could claim for my centuries of service, but even now, there are . . . irregularities, that I regret I was unable to excise before we were made to go our separate ways." She breaks from a second, before bowing shallowly. "I an Lordsblade Ciaran, confidant of the Great Lord. I am one who quiets dangerous unrest, through force if need be, but I am sad to say my sisters are long gone, and so there is a duty I cannot perform."

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    "Sinh? So he's a sleeping dragon? Do you need him killed or just found?" It's very important to answer this question now, because once Gudako's routing is traced, there is no erasing it without very good reason.

    "So where was he last seen? Oh! How dangerous is he? It? She? Do your dragons have gender?" Not really important. "What can they do? Oh, oh, are you coming with us? How many friends can we bring?"

    Caster huffs, dematerialized. For her master, she asks, the disembodied voice polite: "It might be more important to know what Sinh did and why it's important to find him. What's the beast's story?"

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark blinks a bit at the talk of dragons. He remembers the one atop the tower of Escher he had seen only barely, and how surprised he was to learn they even existed. "Dragons, is it? I'd only heard of the one. I suppose it would make sense if there are alternate worlds that there could be some with living dragons... Are they all hostile here then? Or perhaps you just like killing them. Hm." He has little place here, and even less on a dragon hunt, but he is inquisitive and wishes to learn more. If knowledge is the primary asset he can provide to others, then knowledge is what he must obtain.

    Carna noticed the twitchy nature of Ornstein, the indicators of someone itching to kill, and makes a note of that as well. She's recording just about everything going on, actually, because there's no telling what will mean more later with more context or what might turn out to be needed in carrying out these objectives.

Priscilla has posed:
    The giant seems to conversationally taking those who want to formally respond to the whole (mostly Mel and Athela at this point), almost deliberately downplaying the otherwise crushingly awkward formality of the occasion with his slow, rumbling tones mingling with the heavy scratch of worn steel over wood. The number of shavings around his crossed legs is surprisingly few, with how long he's been at it. Surely he's strong enough to carve up a piece of dead tree in two seconds flat?

    "Were this a proper audience with the queen, I would commend you on your decorum, but come, there is little need for such deference when speaking to those who bend knee for their honour; especially not to a tired old has-been like me! Hahahaha!" His laughter is like a line of oaks toppling down like dominoes. "I am Gough, formerly known as 'Hawkeye' Gough, though I am afraid that moniker is a poor jest now." He scratches the visor slit of his helmet, only to demonstrate that it has been filled in with some black substance to seal it, rather than just being dark inside. "You see, I don't have much of an eye for anything anymore."

Athela Valemore has posed:
Athela Valemore's Eevee lays her ears back a bit, just from how loud and deep Gough's laughter is. At this point she's less on the young woman's shoulder and more huddled around the back of her neck. Just so many big things around them. She is most definately not getting down to the floor right now. Nope. Nope happening.

Athela is listening to the others mention a hunt, and imbalances, but turns her attention more to Gough when he speaks towards them. "Acknowledging one's past accomplishment is hardly a jest, good sir." She ahrms softly, but does relax a slight bit when it's said such formality isn't so needed. But however there is an effort to still remain respectful, even if more casual. "Perhaps some time you can tell the tale of how your condition came to be, but I do believe we were brought here for more pressing reasons, yes?"

Kushiko has posed:
Whether or not Ciaran has sensed the truth of what lies within the Warframe is of no true matter. The two's staring contest goes without malice all the same, the feline tail of the Warframe flicking from one side to another.

"We would." It goes unsaid there is something that the Tenno feels--maybe just a gut instinct, maybe not--but it is something that piques her curiosity. The others certainly have engaged their respective Knights, and given what Ciaran says, she suspects there's a greater kinship with this Lord's Blade than most. Not that she doesn't let what's being said go unnoticed.

Yet Valkyr does return the bow in respect to the shallow one offered. "Though there is much we do not know personally that we seek to understand directly." After all, there's only so much that could be gleaned from research by the Lotus. "We suspect your task is something more... precise in nature." she concludes.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
"Please, just Kyra is fine." she's quick to point out, inwardly cringing at the name Hyral. It never did get to a point for her where she could accept the name. Every now and then the thought of abandoning it and just becoming 'Kyra' floats up in her mind. It would be easier on her, wouldn't it...? No more reminders of her family.

    But down to business: "Sinh? That's a very ominous name. How old is this dragon? And where did it last fall asleep?" The rest of the possible questions are covered very thoroughly by Gudako.

    Despite being a white mage, she doesn't seem to intimidated by the thought of hunting down a dragon. It's unlikely that she'd do such a thing alone, after all.

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    Mel eyes Ciaran sidelong for a moment or two; sure, she said 'if necessary', but that's still talk of quieting unrest, potentially by force. It's concering. But she'll at least listen.

    Gough has more of her attention. "Sorry to hear that, but it's good to meet you, Gough. I'm not real big on formalities myself." She'll use them if she has to, but at heart they're not really 'her'. Athela's statement draws the Marshal's attention briefly, before she nods. "I'm with her. Might as well get down to business while we're all here."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Then you don't spend much time here, do you?" Artorias asks rhetorically, and as good naturedly as it seems he can with that twisted stick right there. It might be a trick of the ear, but it sort of sounds like there's a second echo in his voice in particular, like it's bouncing back from the front of a helmet that doesn't exist, and bouncing back out, before finally reflecting from the marble like everyone else. "This city throngs with pilgrims, some clerics in their own right, but almost all followers of prophecies, seekers of divinities, pursuers of relics, or upholders of covenants. It would be impossible for even the most apostate of scribes to pass up the opportunity to record such epics."

    "You are correct, however. There is something I would ask only of another who has seen the face of the Abyss." With that he reaches for something he'd left at his side around the nearest pillar, and with a great scraping of metal, produces a sword that is over twice Reiji's height, easily a greatsword even on the knight himself; the kind of thing a Servant would struggle to wield. While it looks like it would once have been incredibly detailed and well made, and in fact, it radiates some tattered vestiges of what might have once been a divine aura, the entire thing looks like it was submerged in a vat of acid and then subject to some kind of black, metal-eating mold that has since petrified. Just looking at the thing gives off an incredible sense of deep, gnawing doubt; a kind of insecurity that inevitably preludes grasping for too much power, which seems to ooze from pores in the metal.

    "While I am aware that a replacement could be made, I doubt it would ever truly replace a companion of such value. This was given to me by the Great Lord, and bears his blessing. I had resolved to be rid of it when I first saw the light of day again, but knowing there are others, some part of me had hoped that one of you would have found a way to purge my trusted friend of his sickness, so that I may reward his long and faithful service."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
Lezard nods to Reiji as he's greeted, and he tips his head. "Reiji." He says politely. He seems to be in a particuarly good mood today, being so tactful. Then again, Reiji is a potential threat as well, the man's holistic skills possibly being... inconvenient in some situations. Registering on Lezard's threat meter seems to be a good way to ensure he's polite.

It might also be a good way to find a way to oblitrate you, but that's the risk you take.

The response from Artorias barely makes hi a beat. "Believe me, Abysswalker. I don't think they really understand what it would be to have him as a neighbor." His tone is lightly dry, almost amused. "It is hardly my fault that their ingrained biases have lent themselves to choosing to misunderstand what is required in order to accomplish anything of worth. After all, you know more than most what is required to face the Dark."

Priscilla has posed:
    "I could very well say the same for you. If the two of us would come to blows here, who do you truthfully believe would emerge victorious?" Is Ornstein's suddenly much less hospitable reply to Staren. After all, the catboy had been there when he had been made to fight eight Elites on his own; not exactly a beating he'd soon forget. Lords forbid Faruja were here. "I had no interest in whether they are believed to be good or evil, or worshipped as demons or gods, or even thought of as little more than beasts, after experiencing such heights of exhilaration, there is no going back for me. I will hunt where my Lord commands it, and I will hunt where my Lord allows it. The cross of my spear is for nothing else."

    He does relent somewhat at the more pertinent question though. "Did? He is an Archdragon, of the Everlasting lineage. Long ago, all life fought them for the right to exist amidst their carefully tended nothingness. He is an enemy of the gods, and deserting his kindred does not mean the war is over for him. I have already told you that I would not have Sinh come within fifty miles of Anor Londo, especially not with my dear friend Gough in his condition, but perhaps this will help you understand why."

    "During the war, the First of the Dead unleashed a miasma of disease so virulent that even the unliving were sickened by it, and killed in droves, weeding out the lesser amongst them like a wildfire through grass. Sinh is a dragon whose evolution served only to survive the unfathomable toxins that suffused his being before he fled, fearing a death that dragons should not, and to this day I am certain he remains bloated with them, to the point where fighting him here may very well gas every resident to death instantly."

    He then shrugs with a clatter of platemail at Gudako. "If they do, I do not believe they care. Sinh is hardly the greatest amongst them, but the danger comes from aggressing him to begin with. I have only tales to tell you of where he is said to be found, but knowing those things, I doubt he will have moved in hundreds of years, crippled as he is. If you find him, I ask only that you bring back his head." He then looks to Kyra. "It is as close as any tongue can pronounce. His age is also irrelevant, if it is even a number. They are older than any have been alive to verify. His rumoured perch is not far from here, but deep underground. I would not go without a map."

Staren has posed:
    Staren shrugs. "In this situation? I bet you can kill me in one hit. Maybe two." he states flatly. He listens, and scratches his head. "Sounds more like an enemy of life itself. But... perhaps, the problems with fighting him are ones we can work around. I will keep that in mind."

    In the meantime, others have exposited their own quests. Sounds like someone needs a sword purified -- probably not his job -- and someone else has had their vision stolen. That's more up his alley, maybe.

    Staren nods to Ornstein. And then looks to Gough. "Is that your quest for us? Restoring your vision? Or is that just an offhand mention?" Staren's not sure how famous what happened to the witches actually is.

    Which might be for the best -- he's not sure he can replicate that feat without Eureka's help.

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
"So he's a very /toxic/ dragon. How interesting. There may be ways to create counters to that but only if a sample were available. More importantly, that could be dangerous for fighting him. Cutting off his head will release an ooze of poison, possibly killing his slayers in turn if they don't take proper precautions. I'm picturing full PPG here, I dunno about you, Gudako. There is some chemistry that can be prepared ahead of time."

    She glances to Gudako again, "So how about it? I get my friends, you get your friends, and we go slay a poisonous dragon?"

Priscilla has posed:
    "Your suspicions are well-founded." Ciaran replies in low, even tones. "There is one who walks along the streets of this city as if she has any right to be here. A former adherent to the Lordsblades, and thus one of my former sisters. I know not what sort of madness spurred her on but simple boredom, but in the end she is responsible for a great many deaths never sanctioned by our Great Lord; killing for sport, with the training she had received, for no other reason than that she could. Unfortunately, by the time we learned of any of it, our affairs were far too deeply scattered by the fading of the Fire, and I expected never to see her again."

    "I assign the motivation of petty, malicious curiosity to her only because it seems that she never made use of the souls of all of those she slew. She kept them for no other reason than to, when the time was right, request absolution of a Pardoner, whilst the Lady of Sin Velka was far and long away. As she is without sin in the eyes of the gods by holy covenant, the Darkmoon Blades, even under new rule, cannot act, and neither may I, but I have not forgiven. It is none of my concern, and not my duty, to report the death of a woman who is friend to the Lords no longer, at the hands of another godless one amidst the rabble, do you understand? Especially if it were to preserve the fragile stability of this place."

Carna (974) has posed:
    Enark actually brightens at the explanation of Sinh's danger, oddly enough! "Ah, toxins! My specialty! Or, well, treating them. And I suppose using them too. And it is not PRECISELY my specialty, but my Murmurs are not called 'Poison Sea' without cause. Perhaps I could assist in mitigating its contagion with the proper preparations..." He trails off at Kyra's words, and then nods in agreement. "A sample would be beneficial in the extreme. Though if it is as virulent as you say, Sir Ornstein, I must wonder if you have any ideas about how one would get close enough to engage it without succumbing to acquire such? I can ward against poisonous effects, but that only goes so far at my level..."

    Carna looks towards Artorias and speaks for the first time since her self-introduction. "Can you tell me more of this Abyss as it pertains to your world? Is it known for having... 'Void creatures' associated with it?" She eyes the sword that Atorias wields, wary of it, but feeling an odd draw as well. Different from the draw to feast upon Light. Almost... A desire to return to the force that spawned her? But that would be foolish. Why would she seek oblivion? She shakes it off. "Lord Valeth has far greater knowledge and power than myself, but if I can assist in the acquisition of any materials... I will do what I can."

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    "Ooooh. That sounds like a big kill," Gudako says, pondering. "So we're going to need gas masks or some other kind of protection... Caster, you'll be in charge of making poison resist talismans, it'll be better than nothing. It sounds super nasty though so let's keep someone like Sanary on call too, huh?" Having not interacted with Kyra much in the past, the fact she's a White Mage flies over the magus' head.

    She turns to look at her though, nodding. "Yeah! HEY MISTER VALETH!" she shouts from across the room, evidently with no respect for the sanctity of the cathedral. "MISTER VALETH, MISTER ORNSTEIN WANTS US TO KILL A DRAGON FOR HIM! IT'S FULL OF HORRIBLE POISON!" If you imagine this is how MMORPGs handle the 'share quest' button, you'll have an even better experience playing them.

    Oh yeah. She turns back to Ornstein and Kyra. "So what's killing Sinh going to do, besides protect this place in the event he was going to ever wake up and come here? Oh, and where do we get a map?"

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    It's not necessarily that Reiji doesn't spend much time in Lordran. He does regularly make a few appearances to keep tabs on the goings on, but that typically means leaving the city in exchange for delving into the more... untamed reaches of the world. "Hmn, I see, so they're that kind of story," he considers, tentatively, looking just a bit uncomfortable at the prospect of being an object of pilgrimage. "I am but a man, however."

Somewhat of an understatement, that.

    The line of Arisu are more than just mere mortal men. It shows, perhaps, when Artorias unlimbers his massive, storied greatsword. Reiji feels keenly the blade's corruption-- and its lingering divinity, but his eyes do not turn away from it as some others might. Nor does he seem particularly keen to reach out and touch the blade, either. But...

    "I see. You wish for your blade to be restored," he considers, then nods. "The corruption is... Extensive. It will not be an easy task." But that seems to be par for the course in this world. "I believe it may be possible, however. The Dark seeks the flame. It craves the light of divinity, which may be why your sword's curse runs so deep. But that means there may be a way to... lure the darkness out, and destroy the corruption externally. But we might need an even brighter divine power than what lies in the sword"

    "Lezard probably has more insight into whether my idea holds water. But I think it's sound, if... risky." A shrug. "Of course, I could always try some more traditional methods from my world. Or there might be another answer out there, somewhere. It's just a matter of work, but not... impossible, I think."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Ah, you have misunderstood." Gough says patiently. "I had meant to warn you that my request above of all others, comes from nothing but deplorable self-interest. This . . ." he taps his eyeless helmet again. "Is the very reason by which I thought I may have something to gain by loitering amongst true heroes. Do not mistake my intent, for I do cherish my work." He rolls his rough thumb over a series of incredibly intricate carvings engraved on the wood chunk, though what they're supposed to be or what they could be for is unclear. "It is a nuanced art. But all the same, a hawk is of no use to its falconer without eyes. If there is a chance that I may take up my bow again, then I would take it, though no matter what, I can consider myself lucky to be alive."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    So he really does want his eyesight restored. Mel considers that for a moment, before nodding faintly. "No, no I get you. If it's something I can help with, I'm willing. In the short term, if we need your bow, uh..." She finally unfolds her arms from behind herself, scratching the back of her head. "There's something I could do, at least temporarily. I'm a psy-" She stops herself, realizing Gough might not know that word at all. "I have a gift that lets me reach out into the world with my mind. My strongest ability is moving things, but I can also connect with the minds of others. I /might/ be able to lend you my eyesight for a minute or two at a time, if we have to."

    While she talks, the Marshal reaches back to give her weapon's sheath a light tap; a silent request for Hrafn to show herself, in case her long memory might have something that can help. "As for the long term, I think we need to know how you lost your sight first."

Staren has posed:
    "That also sounds really interesting. I mean, I can sympathize. Hunting down this woman sounds like a service to everyone in the land." Staren notes to Ciaran.

    "But you..." He looks back to Gough. "Well, just what the others are asking of us is starting to fall into place. What can you tell us about your ailment? It's not /just/ that you've gone blind, is it? There's more to why and how."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    There wasn't a woman here, a moment ago. There was no level upon which a body existed in this point of space. Now there is, and with what can most succinctly be described as a bright, gold-yellow dancer's dress, she could hardly have gotten in here without being noticed. She's not the type to avoid notice.
    Hravn, that being her name, steps around from Mel's back and to her side, looking up at Gough. "I could tell stories of those who gave up their sight, but to regain it, that seems quite a bit trickier. Ah, a question for the former-hawk, though. Is this really for yourself, or for your 'falconer'?"

Athela Valemore has posed:
A cursed sword, a betrayer, a virulent dragon... Certainly a strange collecting of tasks to be dealt with. Athela takes brief note of each topic, but as the others are well covered in discussion by others in the group, she turns her attention back to Gough rather than comment on the others. She notes how despite the loss he is still carving, which certainly takes no less skill to do so despite the handicap.

A faint quirk of one corner of her mouth briefly hints at a smirk. "The desire to regain your ability, your purpose for a cause... let us just say I am fairly familiar with the notion." She pauses a moment, fingers idly tapping the hilt of her weapon before she finally removes her hand from it, feeling a bit more at ease due to Gough's casual nature. "Do tell us of how we may be able to assist."

Kushiko has posed:
Tacit silence is what greets Ciaran for a few moments; the taloned hand of Valkyr reaching to lightly thread blunt edges through purple-black fur. Seems interesting, she would muse to herself, far beyond the nominal sight of those who are gathered here, within the privacy of her Orbiter.

The Lotus too is listening, and understands this sort of task all too well. If everything is as it appears to be of course.

"We would have full understanding," the voice of the Tenno begins. "That she bought herself absolution with the blood of others in such a way knowing you could not raise a hand against her." Valkyr's head cants slightly, wisps of light flickering at her shoulders for a few moments more.

Her thoughts on this are modestly interrupted by Staren, and though Kushiko's face is unseen, there might be a slight brow-raise of 'what' there.

However as her face isn't readily made available as she's merely projecting her voice through the Void energy that permeates her frame, she nods once. "We do understand this desire and need. Especially as that which we can do could be done so in a way that it is a mystery that no one feels the need to solve."

Priscilla has posed:
    "I do not think any man could without having seen it. Without having felt it." Artorias concludes. "I blame them not for wishing not to understand, or to believe. It would be grand hypocrisy now after how long I strove to be certain they would never have to. No matter how long I would be lost in that void, I swore to remember that, if nothing else. These humans are better off not knowing their common father." How odd. Does he not consider Lezard human? At least, not fully?

    He then shakes his head towards Carna, though not as some kind of explicit denial. "The things of the Abyss are known to none other than those who have tread it, and of them, these men were the first since I who had ever managed to return. In fact, there is little known of it at all, and I would keep it that way. It is inhabited, if that is what you would ask, but their nature is beyond what I can describe. To walk amongst them is to walk amongst the creatures of the deep ocean. It is their world, which they have never left and which none have ever entered, and if by some miracle you are able to survive within it, you would be hard pressed to recognize any of them for what they are, and even harder still to fight them."

    "You speak as someone who knows far more of the mysteries of this world than any human, thinking nothing of your age and your foreign faith, should ever be aware of. That in of itself is proof that you are beyond the ordinary. At this, I can no longer offer anything useful. Only my deepest gratitude, and an intent to repay you in whatever manner is possible."

Lezard Valeth has posed:
He does turn back to see Artorias produce the mighty Greatsword. He actually flinches back for a moment, his body tense as he sees the great, tainted weapon.. And then his eyes fixate on it, looking deep into the black twisted metal. "... Your weapon bears the mark of the Abyss deeply. I suppose I can see why you might wish to have the consumption removed from it." He ponders for a moment.

Carna's comment causes Lezard to look to the Unlit, and he nods. "The nature of the Abyss would... require a great deal of explanation. It it intimately tied to the primal fundaments of this universe and has a great deal of metaphysical... complication." He glances back to the twisted blade, as if to punctuate his statement. "We can discuss it in detail if you wish, but unless the Abysswalker or another wishes to offer their viewpoint there is no need to burden those here with treading such a thing. Regardless, I would welcome your assistance, as I certainly am interested in... resolving this issue one way or another."

Oh, and then there's that yell. The resonating call of Gudako causes Lezard to blink for a moment, before he turns in her direction. His answer comes over the radio, apparently not seeing the need to yell in the cathedral. He's not hammy enough for that at the moment. He does, however, nod back.

Reiji's theory gets a rub of Lezard's chin. "The Dark is both comfort and hunger. It is consumption and silence. Your plan could work, but it could just as easily cause your divine force to be consumed as well. I doubt that would be... preferable to you." He smiles faintly at that. "I think we needs must understand the nature of the corruption afflicting the blade more before we can properly purge it... If it is possible." He shrugs... And then he blinks, chuckling as if something just occured to him. "Alternatively, we could find something of equal power and value to perhaps displace the curse upon. Nothing is without sacrifice, is it not?"

Priscilla has posed:
    Staren doesn't seem to be trying to get a rise out of the proud knight, so that's good. Hearing him set his mind to the task of how to kill a dragon is even better. "Indeed." He says to Kyra. "If I knew the method how, I would gladly find excuse to venture myself, but I am no sorcerer or sealer, chemist or assassin. I have warned you very well, but all the same, I have heard your kind are not known to heed them." This sounds like it comes off as a compliment to him. "I will leave the matter in your capable hands, though I will think nothing of it if you require an expedition first to locate what you need. Even more, if that is the case, I will try with all my might to accompany you to the day he is killed." He speaks partially to Enark. "To that end, all of you are welcome."

    "Aside from keeping whatever of him you like, save his head . . ." the Dragonslayer pauses for a second regarding Gudako. "I imagine you would care little for an honourary title, and so I ask if you would be content with what it is I would give to a knight come successful from his first hunt, to aid him in the pursuit of more illustrious prey after he has proven his seriousness." Does he detect that Gudako is a fellow person-who-thinks-dragons-are-assholes? "I will have one for you immediately, if you so choose, though I would ask you speak not of that particular with our Archlord, for now."

Gudako Ordria (908) has posed:
    Gudako doesn't hate dragons.

    She just sees them for the loot pinatas they are.

    Kind of like she sees most monsters, really. And in some cases, most people. You are not defined by what you are, do or say, but by what you're worth. And dragons are walking piles of materials and experience, and you can't go wrong with either. Nor can you go wrong earning favors and reputation from someone like Ornstein.

    "Sounds like a deal to me. And I don't know, a title could be neat. We'll be sure to prepare enough you can come with us and get the head yourself, that sounds like a huge pain to carry around when we could have you stabbing Sinh in the face to ascertain the kill in person."

    So things they need... a map of the area, ways around the poison (between Caster and Kyra they should be set? hrm, might be worth looking into more, just in case), a healer or three on-hand, and a bunch of willing dragonslayers. Finding THAT last one shouldn't be hard.

    "Oh. Oh! I have another question. Why's he been asleep, anyway? Are your dragons really content to have all this power and sleep on it? That's such a waste."

Reiji Arisu has posed:
    Reiji has only met Carna in brief passing. She is... Lezard's protege, it seems. Or at least, something like that. "The Abyss is... as Lezard and Sir Artorias say. It's something that is fundamental to the nature of humanity in this world. Human hearts are made of both fire and dark; to drown in either completely twists the body, mind and soul. It's not a pleasant experience."

Not even humanity's great father could resist that corrupting force, after all.

    At Lezard's advice, Reiji nods. "True. I'd rather not be responsible for the corruption of divinity in general, and I don't think displacing the curse necessarily solves the problem. It just... moves it elsewhere; if it would even do that. You know as well as I do that the Abyss has a tendency to spread like cancer if it's allowed to do so. We might just end up with two cursed items instead of one."

    He shakes his head. The pendant might work, but that seems all kind of sacriligeous. "For now, it may be best to do as you say. To learn more about this specific curse, find a way to break it without causing unnecessary issue down the line."

    The exorcist lets the hand that had been rubbing at the knub of his chin fall. He offers Artorias another shrug. "This is my job, Sir Artorias. The Arisu family has always stood to bar the Demon Gate. To protect people from the dark and the things that lurk within it, you must know it-- and know how to fight it. Don't worry about payment, for now, let's just focus on repairing your blade. It would be helpful if you told us everything you know about its construction and nature, however."

Kyra Hyral (626) has posed:
"I really think personal protective gear would help. Like Gudako said, gas masks, stuff like that. We'll have layers of defenses against the poison, both physical and magical. Can't be too careful here, right?" And unlike antivirus software, the protective measures mostly compliment each other, not interfere.

    She cringes a little as Gudako calls out to THAT LEZARD but she doesn't give him the gift of an even bigger reaction tonight.

Carna (974) has posed:
    "Oh. Well, perhaps I am not needed after all," Enark says, self-deprecatingly, as someone named 'Caster' is also assigned to the task. He automatically assumes they are better than he is. After all, they can make poison-resistant charms or some such. He can't do that. He can buff resistances and heal people and shoot poison of his own, but that's about it. Though perhaps between him, Kyra, and Caster, they can resistance-buff and healspam through this ultra-plague that can affect 'even the unliving'. That sounds plenty dangerous to the Dead sorcerer. You can't really have too much protection when facing that alone. When it's also attached to a DRAGON...

    The welcome from Ornstein, however, has the Blue Scholar puffing out his chest a bit proudly that he is recognized as having some worth, however meager. "Well, I shall endeavour not to fail in this task! Perhaps it will even lead to a breakthrough in how to deal with a certain dragon back home as well!"

    Carna bows her head in acknowledgement. There is much she still does not know. And those bottomless horrors had definitely defied her understanding... She probably would be better off not venturing to this world's Abyss. The advice is taken to heart. To Lezard, Reiji, and Artorias, Carna says, "I have a very particular skill set. If killing a manifestation of some sort is what is needed, you have my service. Otherwise, a quiet step and a careful eye might uncover something to facilitate the process."

Priscilla has posed:
    Gough pauses his wood carving for a moment's rumbling, thoughtful breath at Hravn, though to say he didn't blink at her appearance would be silly for incredibly obvious reasons. "It is for myself no matter from which angle one looks at it, I suppose. There is a great difference between being used, and being useful; or instead, being of use, and feeling as if one could be of use. I doubt there is much I will need to raise my bow against once again, but all the same . . . well, call it sentimentality."

    He then tells Staren, Mel and Athela what they're asking. "Though I am a giant, our Knight General Gwy-" He very abruptly cuts himself off, then lets loose a rumbling chuckle. "Ah, but he goes by 'Solaire' now, doesn't he? He magnanimously accepted my oath despite what I am, in recognition of naught but my skill, but inevitably, others were not so pleased. This armour I wear, at least its steel, was crafted for my official inauguration at the war's end, but the purists amidst those who could command the gods' forge sabotaged this helmet, layering its eyes with resin." Isn't resin supposed to be that thing that comes from trees? "Needless to say, upon donning it, my eyes were burned into uselessness. Dear Ciaran had the conspirators brought up and executed, but it has been far too late since then. Mind, as is custom, a giant does not show his face to anyone. If you have any desire to humour such a demand, only then would I, some time later."

Priscilla has posed:
    "Yes. Quite." Ciaran responds to Staren, perhaps a little waspishly at the word 'interesting', but not about to discourage him from the conclusion. Then, she inclines her head towards Valkyr. "I had a feeling since I first saw you that you would somehow understand. Though it is a well accepted gesture of penance, to give up the souls of those slain, or else a piece of thine own in lieu of such ability, and to beg the Goddess' forgiveness, I do not believe it is the right of a Pardoner to do so in their Lady of Sin's absence, and I suspect the bond of Sin to the Darkmoon's lists was annulled only for said Pardoner's profit. I would not spit upon the custom, but it has been twisted deliberately. Worry not however. Aside from myself, Lord Solaire, and the others in this room, none other know of her origins, and I doubt many, if any of the pilgrims, will mourn her; that is if she hasn't set to butchering them already. How tired she must have been in an age where none could die. If everything is in order, I will have a missive delivered to you shortly."

Mel Brock (941) has posed:
    "So your eyes were... chemically burned out?" Mel is trying to get her head around this. Hravn does make an interesting point, though, and to Gough's rebuttal, she replies, "If you go down that route there's no such thing as selflessness. Everyone gets something out of acting for someone else - favors owed, gratification. Hell, I'm a police officer because I get warm fuzzies from protecting the peace and serving the people. Don't look at it that way. If all you get from being able to serve your lord is satisfaction at doing a good thing, that's plenty selfless as far as I'm concerned. I think I'm definitely gonna help you out. We'll have to see what we can do."

    The most immediate thought is medical technology, but there's no telling with an injury like this. Might be too old, might be touched with magic and resistant. She looks to Hrafn again for any suggestions there might be.

Kushiko has posed:
Valkyr inclines her head once as the Tenno Operator responds in kind, "We do. We know what it is, matters of honor, even in places where the light is not allowed into." After all, she had through listening to the others conversations, the occasional mentions intuited what it meant to be a Lordsblade. It was knowing without remembering to draw the parallels to the old days.

Unspoken is the matter of payment beyond the service of eliminating such an individual and what that would do. Besides, they could trade just as easily in information and influence.

"Of course. Send everything you can; the Lotus for whom I serve will ensure we accomplish this without risking any more innocents as best as we are able."

Staren has posed:
    Staren winces at the description of what happened to Gough. "I'm certainly willing to at least /try/."

Heaven's Armory (1014) has posed:
    Hravn listens along without visible reaction. "Well, it's not that he's wrong. And it's not that he's right. There are a few sides to the motive of self-improvement." But that's not the really pertinent thing, just a musing side-note. "A way to heal eyes burnt-through... there should be many ways. Medicine, magic, gods and demons. I haven't been in this area long enough to know its gods, but are there none of them who would grant a selfish miracle, however pious?"
    To Mel, "Perhaps this can only be something to think on."

Athela Valemore has posed:
Looks like they get a telling of the tale now after all. Athela nods her head a bit. "If there is a way to assist we shall most certainly try to do so." Self-interest or not, she can hardly see an issue with what is being asked for.

Priscilla has posed:
    "If they were, they wouldn't have gone to war." Ornstein concludes for Gudako. "I will never claim to know the mind of Everlasting beasts, only their behaviours. Sinh, as shameful as it is to admit, has survived only due to the creature's cowardice. Whether it sleeps hoping to purge itself over millennia, or whether it hopes simply to outlast the world that would wish it dead, I cannot say, though the beast nearly succeeded in the latter. I doubt any other of his kind would defend him any more than they would the paledrake, but to be certain . . ." he quietly shakes his head.

    Artorias responds to Reiji and Lezard, as a matter of course. "I cannot possibly ask of you to sacrifice anything of worth to yourselves for something like this. I can selfishly hope for it, but would forsake my honour as a knight to make such a request. To simply tell you of this blade's history however, is well within my means, though it will be too lengthy for this gathering."

    Gough lets out that breath with a titanic sigh of titanic lungs, quaking into another chuckle at its tail end. "That may very well be. If you would be generous enough to grant such a request to a blind old bat like me, then I would be a fool to argue it." Meanwhile, Ciaran finally, fully and formally, bows to Valkyr, or perhaps in some way to Kushiko through her, (or even, through her, to the Lotus she speaks of?). "That is all I could possibly ask. May the Flames guide thee."