February 21st:

"Wow..." Snarg seems to be at a loss for words for several moments. "Why ... just go with a few? This is huge! I'd gladly go and stop him right now - all the nations, clans, and tribes should be marching against Gaerlan! The Warden show me that he's on an island chain off of Holtburg right now. But ... how are you planning on getting there? Unless," he takes a hesitant glance towards the door, "you're not thinking of ... flying there?"

Rory lost his grip on the disgruntled dispute he had. "I..." He faltered back, and gently set himself into a new grass chair. It was happening again, to another island. His eyes flitted about as his mind went back and forth, glazing as they involuntarily stared into space, a side effect of abandoning their primary function to be affected by a mind torn.

"I'll swim if I have to," she growls out, though with determination and not anger directed at Snarg.  She also turns to Zeiss.  "Use your head, Zeiss.  From what you guys told me that you discovered from your Tusker friend, Aphus Lassel... this island... is home of the Tuskers.  So think."  She holds up a single finger.  "Vesayen Lassel, home of Humans, who served on day to day needs and tasks for people."  A second finger raises.  "Marae Lassel, home of... the farmers, a massive facility dedicated to growing crops for an entire people."  She holds up her third finger, and looks Zeiss in the eyes.  "And Aphus Lassel, home to the Tuskers."  She pauses for emphasis.

Zeiss blinks at Fierneceal.

"... I still do not understand what it has to do with me. I'm... I'm just a guy who possess certain skills others don't."

Fierneceal shakes her head.  "I have no idea what we're walking into, none whatsoever.  The Tuskers could be hostile, or friendly, or just people, or dead, or there could be big Tuskers there, or who knows what.  I want someone who knows how to talk their way through a situation diplomatically."

Rory's eyes narrowed. "Those...bastards...and now, he's..." Unable to muster any fire behind his anger or form coherent sentences laced with poison, Rory grew weary of his scowl, which faded into a worried look. He held his hands up and rested his forehead against them, thinking.

"You want me to talk to the Tuskers?"

He looks with disbelief to Fierneceal.

"The last one we met almost attacked us on sight! And what about this Gaerlan? If he is a Scion like you, then he must be capable to mind-control these Tuskers. I doubt there is much talking to be done."

"We've got to get there before he leaves then!" Snarg can barely stay still, fidgeting with his newly regained energy. "Aside from a hub, what's the quickest way to travel? Airship! We can get there in no time at all!"

Rory lifted his head at Snarg's change of tune. "Is that so? And what about all these people you wanted to help just a minute ago?"

"What is your problem? Are you trying to pick fights? There's no one saying that they can't be helped with this room."

"W-we still have to figure out how to get this thing off the ground! Have any of you forgotten about the transformation devices just waiting to go off down here?" While they were valid points, he brought up nothing he hadn't said before, and it wouldn't be hard to notice that he was pulling them from nothing.

"There's others aside from the people inside this room that will help. This is way bigger than our group - this concerns all of Dereth!" Snarg pulls out the Warden's stone and holds it up. "Why not let those who aren't flesh and bones to do the job below? I know of a certain person who's been here recently and can keep secrets too. He can help coordinate things here. We'll find out how to fly it, even if the Warden won't help us. There's some smart people here - we'll make it happen! Fiernaceal is right though. If it comes down to it, we'll swim to get there first if we have to and have reinforcements coming behind us."

Spoiler:

Rory was broken. There was nothing he could say or do to change the situation, nothing that could change what needed to be done. He didn't answer or respond, just let his mouth hang closed. He pulled out another bottle of mead and started walking out of the room, a somber look on his face. By the time he was outside, he hadn't even opened it. He didn't.

*Z who has appeared to be sleeping this entire time, sits up and turns to Fiernaceal.*

"I'm afraid I've missed most of your talks about the Gold Lord, but, if I'm understanding you correctly, he is the one who is the root cause of this suffering.  Correct?"

*Her tone is calm cool sterile with no emotion.*

Fierneceal frowns faintly at Z.  "Yes, he's ... " she flounders for words.  "Evil."

"In concurrence," comes an odd hollow-sounding voice from the corner, causing everyone present to jump in alarm.  The air waves oddly, like heat in the desert flicking through the air, as a tall, skinny looking scarecrow-like humanoid is standing there, with a tall brutishly carved rectangular plate of metal clamped to where its face should be, showing two eye slits and a mouth.  "Evil is a good adjective for the rogue."

Snarg jumps at the sound, reaching for his sword, but relaxes when he sees what it is. "Whew, you need to stop scaring me like that. Have you been following us ever since the jail cell? I guess you heard what's going on then."

Spoiler:

Zeiss frowns at the apparition of the scarecrow. He fold his arms, and decides to not say anything.

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Rory darted back into the room. Whatever the Warden had to say was important, and maybe he'd have something to ask him, too.

Fierneceal jumps.  "Who... what the... that's not the Sotiris from before, what ... who?"

"No need for alarm."  It stretches its long, thin arms to either sides, the sound of straw scraping against itself filling the room. "On observation for some time.  Had to Portalspace during shockwave.  Waiting for true privacy."

Zeiss sits down, takes out some dried fruits and feed Rainbow.

"If it would not be of hindrance to your objective, then I would join you, Fiernaceal."

*Z's voice has a very odd note to it, and of course she is speaking far more formally than she does normally.*

"So, uh, I'm guessing you've got something up your sleeve if you're popping in just now. What've you got in mind?"

"Nothing," the thing replies somewhat flatly.  "The Eleven have the capacity to assist in some small ways, mostly information, but are uncertain about alignment of..." there's a pause.  "...chaotic group in accordance with principles of Order.  Disorganized, unhelpful, unmatched.  More information is required."  The straw arms drop again.

"What info are you wanting then? What's it going to take to convince The Eleven to help out some more? You know what we're going after, we can't do this half-way. Our groups may be a little, er, 'different', but don't you think that might be exactly what you need? If we're going after the Gold Lord, we don't want something he'll expect, we want something that he won't. Maybe even something a little crazy. Heh, I'd think that you'd even admit that we're pretty good at that - being chaotic like you said. Playing off our strengths could be a lot better than trying to be something we're not right now."

"The rogue is... a concern, but only a small one.  Larger threats present obstacles.  Global long-term stability decentralizing."  There's a pause, and the 'head' tilts to the side slightly.  "The Eleven represent order.  Your group does not.  Particularly the pouty Elf.  More information required."