A quick movement of his head and he gazed at Kenna, giving her a strange look of sadness for a brief moment before hiding it under a mask of ambivalence.  His smile reappeared quite quickly after that as he looked her straight in the eyes, his words filled with a quick truth that was strange even for him, since he did have some level of care concerning the younger woman, she probably hadn't experienced the levels of pain he was accustomed to, and as such he would rather not have her suffer them.

"Oh, please forgive me Kenna, it was never my intention to belittle your abilities.  I don't think little of you, I merely have to approach him as a threat until given otherwise, and I am very used to being alone, and having a companion is something I'm unused to.  If you knew the ways of my homeland, the fact that I have expressed any concern at all would mean a lot more to you.  I do appologize though, since I'm unused to the ways of the surface world.  My kind merely turn on each other the second they have the opportunity, and I don't like having to think that I should end up like them."

Interestingly enough, he was being utterly truthful, his eloquence being something of a buffer should he have to face off against someone whose sword could sense truth.  His ring of protection of thoughts may deter it, but considering the god gifted abilities of a paladin, it wasn't the only thing he should have to rely on, as such, his own mind shifted slightly where he hoped his lady was listening.

Lady of shadow, cloak my mind from this man's blade.  I ask that you merely consider that so I don't die too quickly in your service, I'm sure you have more than a little invested in me...

He heard, of course, no answer to his summons, and expected none.  There were a few times he had asked for such intervention, and on those occasions she rarely gifted him with the pleasure of her companionship.  Consequently he expected nothing from his lady and neither did he expect her to answer, he only hoped.

"I was curious a tad about your military experience, Sword of Torm, and I hope that you make no mistake of my veracity.  I speak words of truth, and aspire to keep my word, and I hope that you expect that of me, and expect nothing else.  On a side note, it's good to know you have a military background, I was in a few wars, such as the Battle of Cavern Hill, the combat which occurred between two major houses, the War of the Shadow-Queen, a fight which I did as a favor to a friend, and several other major conflicts in the Underdark.  I hope with that experience behind me I can more effectively work with you in the future, considering that you and I aspire for the same goal: to deal with these golems as quickly as possible."

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

[Church of Zhoular: Twain, Yashwi, and Kenna]
As soon as Twain is done talking, one of the clerics speak up.  He's roughly Twain's height, and has his well kept blond hair kept short, this particular wearing the robes of the typical priest.  "Welcome, Paladin of Torm, to the Gilshineer Church of Zhoular, He who is Protector and Pilgrim.  We've caught word of what you've been doing in the town and have actually been expecting you.  If you and your party will follow me, I'll take you to the Greater Aflua who is currently in command of our battle clerics here," He said.  He gestured for the three to follow him and headed towards the back of the church, leading the group through a door on the right side of the back wall.  This lead into a back room where a few robed clerics and several armored clerics stood.

They all wore chainmail and had their shields and bladed staffs on their backs, all kept in excelent condition.  The bladed staffs had small, knife like blades on either end, currently covered with metal sheeths that clipped onto the weapon.  A few had chest plates over their chainmail, too, though that fact was nearly missed due to the fact that all but one had their identifying shashes hanging over them, covering their front and back tops, white with gold-colored edges and the image of a half sun over a path on them.  The final, a female human, instead had a smaller gold-colored that went over her left shoulder and hung across her chest, which was protected by the chest plate over full chainmail, and passed under her right arm at waist level.  It bore a badge with the same symbol the others had on their larger sashes.

"Sir Ruehele, the Paladin and his Entourage have arrived," The cleric guide stated.

The female human backed out of the group of battle clerics and walked over to where Twain, Yashwi, and Kenna were.  "Hello.  Glad to see you made it up to here finally.  I was begining to worry that the reluctance of the guilds was going to proove just as troublesome to you as it did us.  I am Ruehele Pinuq, Greater Aflua of the Battle Clerics division of the Church of Zhoular, though one could say I'm more of an acting general right now, as there are combat medics and battle clerics from multiple churchs here.  We all decided, like you, that a concentrated effort would work best.  So how has your progress been with the other guilds?"


[Fighters Guild: Favarin]
"Right.  Thank you for letting me know, I'll tell my folks to be on their guard.  Johee!  Get me some of the scouts in here.  I need 4 of them and you," He shouted out to another part of the tent.  A few minutes later, there were five scouts in the room, including Johee, waiting for their messages.  "All right, you're all going to go out to the individual guilds and let them know we're having the meeting, and we're having it here.  Ciloba, you take the Merc Guild.  I also want you to figure out what all forces have been purchased from them and by who.  Johee, you're headed to the mages guild since you actually have a high rank here.  Once there, ask to see Master Jordan.  Tell him of the meeting and figure out how many he may have for us.  Chell, you're headed to the Archers guild, same deal, tell them of the meeting and find out how many they have.  Ysareb, you're headed to the Wilders with the same stuff.  Trah gets to talk to the Clerics.  All of you, go now, and fast."

The 5 of them filed out of the tent and dashed off to their destinations, quickly and proffesionally.  Lishnil turns back to Favarin.  "Yes, spys don't normally attack unless somethings up.  We need to get things together fast if that's the case.  Even if it isn't we'll want to get things toghether while the arguement for it is strong.  Just keep a-"  Lishnil stopped talking as he caught sight of something.  He was looking over at the front entrance to the tent with a half suspicious, half confused look.

"Oh, dear.  I do hope I'm not interupting, am I?  Just when things were pulling together for you all, too.  My employer cannot have that, though," said a voice from behind Favarin.  The voice belonged to someone most peculiarly dressed.  It was clothing from the wrong time period, a black tophat, business suit, and dress shoes on a slender, sharp, and all together sinister looking man.  He leaned on a cane with a large red gem on the end that was in his hand.  Worst off, the shadows near him seemed to fluctuate to appear like flames, though there were no flames to create the shadows.  "I believe I'm going to have to end this quick."  He tossed the cane up a foot and grabbed it under the red gem, quickly firing off a shadowy mass at Favarin in an attempt to knock him to the side.  The man then flipped about his cane so that it was held like a sword, a black shadow forming the blade along the staffs length, leaping at Lishnil and attempting to slash down onto the man.

Lishnil threw his chair back and lept up, pulling the whole of his sheet and sword off, not haveing time to draw out the blade.  He blocked the creatures attack.  It looked like Lishnil tried to shout something, but no noise came out.  If Favarin tries to speak, he'll also find that no noise will come out.  For that matter, he'll also find that the room is unsettlingly quiet.

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

(While powerfully enchanted the sword is nothing more than a symbol and a weapon; it is not the sword that seeks falsehoods. As Twain is a tool of his god the sword is simply a tool to Tawin.)

((OOC: My comments meant that YOU are the SWORD of TORM.  Lol.  Not that in and of itself the sword is powerful.  Sorry... Ya, like I said I'm figurative))

---

"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost

((I just figured Blood was being metaphorical.))

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Favarin glared at the final words of the man behind him as he grabbed his axe haft and spun on his left leg. His long practiced motion was the only thing that allowed him to retrieve his axe before, after a quick glimpse of the man, he was smashed in the right shoulder by the shadowy mass. He shouted an unheard curse as his momentum and the power of the shadowball spun him around again, causing him to lose his balance. He smashed the large ruby at the end of his large axe haft into the ground behind him tokeep himself from falling over as Lishnil blocked the attack of the creature. Favarin then gave a strong push and was on his hooves again, taking wide hand positions for greater control in the small area of the tent. The minotaur then lept toward the left side of the attacker (the closest side), pivoting slightly as he slashed his giant axe down upon the thing and attempted to get behind it. He would have activated the enchantment upon his axe, but the silence prohibited him from uttering the incantation...ironically, the magical dampening field emitted would probably cancel some, if not all, of the silencing effect in a sphere with a radius of 1 meter...Favarin made a mental note to research a secondary way to activate his weapon.

---

"SATAAAAAAAAN!!!" --Alex

30 days has September, April, June, and November. All the rest like peanut butter; except grandma. She drives a Buick.

"No, I'm quite capable of dressing myself...where's my pants?"

"Sir Twain here managed to knock some sense into the Wilder's Guild." Kenna said, tugging one tiger-striped pigtail anxiously. "The Fighters were for a guild alliance from the start, and the Mages... They'll be there, I think, but they won't be happy about it." She looked at Twain, hoping he'd cover anything she'd missed.

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Sir Twain saluted the gathered clerics respectfully after introductions then nodded, “Yes, miss Kenna here is correct; all the guilds in one form or another have agreed to join forces, we have the full support from all factions except the mages guild who I have only gained the support of one master and his students however I am sure the rest will follow suit soon enough.” He stated plainly.

 

“The mercenaries of course will follow who they are paid to follow and no doubt those who are paying them will see it in their best interest to have the mercenaries work with us as do the mercenaries themselves.”

 

His gaze slide across the gathered clerics before snapping back to Ruehele,

“I hope you do not mind but I took the liberty of sending word to the fighters guild for a meeting; they would be sending runners right about now to inform the other guilds so that we can gather and decide what needs to be done for the protection of this settlement and the people within.”

(( <_< ...I'll talk to him when I next see him on.  I really can't comment because I haven't seen it.))

[Church of Zhoular: Twain, Yashwi, and Kenna]
"Well, I'd expect that of anyone who loves their money," Ruehele said about the Mercenaries Guild.  "Also, I guess that means we will be seeing a runner soon.  Barabus, gather the maps and such.  You will join me when we head over there.  For now, we are going to wait for the runner.  I assume you will be joining us to the Fighter's Guild, Sir Twain?"


[Fighters Guild: Favarin]
The creature was cut in half by the axe, falling into two peices on the remains of the Axed table, shadows flowing forth from the wound like smoke.  During this time, Lishnil distanced himself from it, holding his sword confidently as he glared at creature.  At first, it seemed like it was over.  It didn't move for a few seconds, but soon, the whole mess turned into a shadowy ooze and flowed together.  It shot upwards into a humanoid shaped, the beast catching its staff in its hand as it came up from what should have been its grave.  Its details quickly reformed.  "Ah, it's not often I, Vendetta, get cut.  Please, don't do it again, it's such a pain to reform.  Perhaps I should just do things the easy way for me,"  He said, brushing his arms, the shadows fluctuating wildly again, seemingly waiting for something else to happen.

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

((Elbows Twitch sharply in the ribs and waits for him to post. ))

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

((I guess I'll get this going again))

Favarin quickly spoke the incantation to activate his axe under his voice, then glared at the thing's back, the Saphire at the tip of the weapon now shining with a brilliant inner light, "Guards!" He bellowed before a quick check of Lishnil to make sure he was in good condition. His eyes snapped back to Vendetta, glare still in place, "I warn you now, fiend, leave now or you'll be cut in places you won't easily reattach." He gave a snort of anger, raging over the shadowball that had plowed his shoulder, and scraped the ground, adjusting his defensive stance slightly, to more easily spring an attack off.

By now a quarter of the gemstones embedded in his axe's haft were alive, glowing beautifully in their spiraling pattern down the shaft, though beauty was the last thing on Favarin's or Lishnil's mind.

---

"SATAAAAAAAAN!!!" --Alex

30 days has September, April, June, and November. All the rest like peanut butter; except grandma. She drives a Buick.

"No, I'm quite capable of dressing myself...where's my pants?"

((Still no sign of Twain... er, Twitch.))

Kenna shrugged. "I guess we will. Nothing better to do."

---

I swear, now you're just doing it to piss me off.

Nods, "I will be attending, I prefer to be privy of such matters."

[Church of Zhoular: Twain, Yashwi, and Kenna]
At about that moment, the corrier arrived outside, and seconds latter, one of the preists came with the message.  He poked his head into the room.  "Sir, message from the Fighter's guild.  They request audiance with us."

Ruehele noded her head.  "Thank you, brother.  I will be leaving to this meeting now,"  She says before looking over at one of the other battle clerics.  "Gather our maps and such for the meeting so we can share our information."  He noded as he and another rolled the maps and some other scrolls up and handed them to the one as Ruehele began towards the door.


[Fighters Guild: Favarin]
"I don't have time for you anymore, Minotaur.  It would be best if you stayed out of this," He says before a wall of shadows fills the gap between him and Favarin.  A sound almost like electricity scraping on metal is heard as Vendetta attempts again to strike out at Lishnil again.  "And you, good sir, need to die."

Lishnil pushes the feind off and chops down at it, again their swords meeting and making the same odd sound as before.  "It's not my time yet, beast."

---

Serrif:

Reality-(noun) illusion caused by lack of alcohol
Beer(noun) medicine used to relive people from hallucinations

Technoguild

((So no one heard my call for the guards...))

Favarin checks the gems on the hilt of his axe, a radiant amnethist coming to life about half way down the haft marked for him about 10 seconds. He snorted in frustration and took an impatient mighty downward slash at the wall of shadow, holding near the end of the haft and using all of the leverage he could muster, thanking the gods for the strength enhancements on the haft and blade, shuddering to think of what would happen to them under such pressure without the magic.

---

"SATAAAAAAAAN!!!" --Alex

30 days has September, April, June, and November. All the rest like peanut butter; except grandma. She drives a Buick.

"No, I'm quite capable of dressing myself...where's my pants?"