Stratagem

The Great Hall rumbles with hundreds of voices. All of which speak freely on topics that only those nearest can decipher from the rest. Servants work feverishly, taking orders and dishing them out to hungry Nostrum, as the kitchen's cooks inevitably fall behind. An expected result during such an event. Tired men and women sit irritably at each row of tables. Some, unsure of what to anticipate from this assembly, and others, knowing the outcome will surely be unpleasant. Though Pureblood leadership is strong, solutions do not often co-align with what any one Nostrum would think to be ideal. Yet, they argue not with what is final. Once the heavy entrance doors are pushed shut at the base, and their seal is announced with a loud knock, the room begins to stir even more; Recognizing that their speakers will be joining them soon.

"Any clue what it might be?" Cronn directs to Briar, through a mouthful of roasted, seasoned chicken breast.

"What what might be?"

"Their resolution." Swallowing the dry meat, he proceeds to wash it down with a swig of ale. Then, continues with his investigation. "Is it more likely of them to claim we should return to the field in greater numbers, or will we abandon yet another set of orders?"

"It would be in their best interests to send us back out and continue tracking down what remains of The Knellers." Belial butts in. "With what we alone have seen, it would be very unwise to allow The Knellers to maintain possession of those... things."

"I have to agree with Belial." Yuler remarks, cutting against the bone of her own dish, but not having the stomach to indulge. "I can only assume that, in any case, we will return to our initial duties."

"It seems we're about to get our answer." Briar turns where he sits, sliding against the bench and facing a wall opposite the closed doors.

From both corners of the room in this direction, cloaked men and women make their way over to a lifted platform centered against the back wall. As each takes a seat behind a lengthy table placed in the middle of it, they await the rest to do the same. Once all are seated, Convener Achlys steps into view. Approaching the platform, she sets sights on the only chair that remains open. Then, whilst standing in front of it, she examines the entirety of the scene before her and lifts a hand just above her own head. With the index finger and middle finger pressed tightly together and outstretched, she juts the thumb and squeezes the remaining fingers against the palm. As this gesture is made, a wave of silence begins to fall over the Nostrum, and their full attention is given to Achlys and The Council. Motioning with the other hand, she waves from left to forward. In doing so, she summons a group of servants- cloaked in a similar fashion as the councilmen. Acknowledging her silent command, they begin walking out across the Great Hall. With one stopping off every five tables or so and facing those who reside at them. Once every servant is posted, they stand with their arms tucked away in the sleeves of their cloak and seemingly await further instruction.

"Welcome back, Pureblood Nostrum." As the sentence leaves Achlys' lips, it is replicated by each of the servants simultaneously. A practice that has always made Briar, Cronn, and many others uncomfortable. Even though it is known to merely be a way to ensure that The Council's word is heard by all across the Great Hall. "It's come to our attention that yet another unanticipated risk has manifested just beyond these walls." Many Nostrum turn to one another to share confused looks, while others begin to whisper about what insights they have on the subject. "Our previous request for your efforts to be put solely into stopping the ringing that continues to go on has reached a conflict no one could have foresaw." Clearing her throat, Achlys reaches towards the table before her and lifts the same cloth Briar can only assume, he had given her.

"I had something like that confiscated as we came through the gate out front." Says a whisper from somewhere down Briar, Cronn, Belial, and Yuler's table.

"Some of you have come across these curious, treated fungi during your time out in the bogs and beyond. Many of you, however, have not even the slightest clue what they are." Ensuring the cloth does not come undone, she delicately places it back on the candlelit table. "This reagent is one used only to expose the beasthood that lays in wait of those who have been infected, and to attract those who have been infected greatly. It is an impure abomination, and it has cost us many, many Nostrum." The room becomes even quieter as those who have been affected seem obligated to think about their losses. "I apologize, from the bottom of my heart, for these passings. We will not let the legacies of our fallen die with them. Nor will we allow the beasts that took them from us to go on living." Taking her seat, Achlys rests her chin against her chest for a moment. Seemingly trying not to succumb to guilty grief. As she does so, a tall, lanky councilman takes the stand.

"Starting tonight, we will be reorganizing which of you travels with who, so that we may... we may... silence!" The elderly voice shouts out, trying to speak louder than the outbursts of confusion and anger that spill from the Nostrum. Without the assistance of Achlys' servants, his voice is overtaken with ease. BANG! As a mallet strikes the table, Nostrum start to regain their original, docile state. "As I was saying; We will be doing so, so that we may ensure the safety of those who have made it out alive, as well as those who have been fortunate enough to not encounter the threat Dried Clathrus Archeri poses, yet."

"Yet?" Cronn questions, cocking his head back. "What is that supposed to mean?" Knowing that he will not get an answer to this, he looks back at The Council, just in time to see a third stand to speak.

"We understand your distaste with this decision, but it is absolute. Many of you have been with the same partners since the beginning. While this is great for companionship and trust, it now poses the biggest threat to your safety, and theirs."

"In essence," Achlys begins again, standing once more and having her words repeated through the servants, "we must separate those who have been injured during a struggle recently from those they are closest with. This way, we can ensure that if a transformation is to take place, it will be easier for those in the afflicted member's party to manage the situation." Keeping her eyes on the table, she displays deep sorrows and a yearning for forgiveness as she speaks what she must. "Those who have been forced to turn without telling others they were ill, or without even possessing the knowledge that they were infected, were not the only members we have lost. In these situations, it has become abundantly clear that those who died in a battle against their ravaged party members, were brothers, sisters, friends, lovers." As she admits this, Achlys' eyes coast towards Yuler, who sees the unspoken apology written within them. A quivering lip is quickly bitten down on as Yuler attempts to stop tears from rolling. "We understand your concerns with separating in a time like this, but it must be done for your safety. For your family's safety." Pushing her chair away, Achlys gives a puny bow and heads off towards her quarters. Not speaking another word.

"Now then," the third council member begins again, "we will be sharing our orders with you after your meals are finished."

"Once you have been given your orders, you may return to your rooms and rest." The third takes their seat, as a fourth, youthful, feminine member continues to speak loudly across the hall. "Give yourselves some time to think on these changes and understand that they are merely temporary. Those of you who do not have members that were bitten, clawed, or otherwise punctured by a beast, may head to your rooms without seeking the orders. When the sun sets, all will be returning to the field, with the exception of those who have been guarding the Keep recently. Rest well, Praise Tomorrow. Let perseverance be thicker than blood."