Keith
Filing in nearly last, Princess Irezora found herself with a quick choice to make that would affect the duration of the summit. Of course, the Thyseer delegation was to be seated next to Alynthi in the center, however, Delsandra had yet to take hear seat amongst their chairs. While each group of representatives were separated slightly, such adjacency might offer ample chance for conversation or worse, argument. It had been a long while since both Irezora and Delsandra participated in a political event together, in fact, unless the doomed festival could be counted (Irezora would not) the number of engagements involving collaboration of this degree could be counted on one hand. 

Unfortunately the choice was straight forward enough. The Princess walked towards the furthest left seat designated for Thyseer, placing herself squarely between their wildcard and the unknown that lay with the Kara-Tur delegation.
Isabel
*The last words that passed between them were said, the last moments of the greetings long past. With a wave of his hand, the king breathed in deeply, exhaled, let magic flow through him once more. He neither trusted the snakes within his castle nor the snake without - and the golden arches that had lined the walkway from the wayshrine to the small pavilion melted like wax before the flame, crashing into a silver flood of mercury, joined by the iron throne he had received the royalty from. The mass of writhing metal soon calmed, and he separated a part of it with the wave of a finger, formed it into an orb of silver material roughly the size of a writing desk. 

The orb streamed towards his guards, heading between the legs of the one who had unfortunately been saddled with Corinthian's pet. The orb snapped itself into a boxy form around it, nearly instantaneously enveloping the animal in a cage of thick iron bars, too small for it to slip through, missing any lock or key. He trusted the snakes within his castle as far as he trusted this snake without - which was to say, nor worth an inch. The rest of the metal formed into a strongbox, padlock, and key, each of which was given over to the guards. There the weapons would stay for as long as his guests were in his castle. Their guards had none, they carried none on their person, and the mages of the court were standing by in case of untoward spellcasting. 

With a nod, he directed his family and his advisor to advance as if there was a battle to come - it was apparent in the grim set of his expression exactly how enjoyable he found this meeting. To know when magic was being cast, he had made certain preparations - and as he led his delegation forward just behind the Thyseer party, he strode beside Princess Irezora for a moment, giving her a sharp look - thankfully, she had made the necessary preparations, and a cursory errant touch of the hand passed the ring stealthily from one to the other.*

_ _
*The ring did not so much as touch his skin, however - as their hands seemingly accidentally collided, the steel annealed to his armor seamlessly as if it were sinking into a pool, the mark aligning itself to the top of his ring finger, a simple carat that could have been a scratch to the rest of the world, before disappearing entirely once it was properly aligned. The runes he flipped to the inside of his armor, concealing them from view entirely, though keeping their form as he rearranged the metal. 

It was done, view blocked by his hand and hers. The afterglow of a cold spot blossomed at the top left corner of his finger where the ring was absorbed, confirming what he needed to know. He breathed slightly easier, though his head was downcast, and he made a brief apology for his haste to push forward. 

One step after another, guard after guard, he approached the meeting chamber, bracing himself to face them all - the slaver queen who knew his secrets, the sickening creatures who skulked beside her. The child king in a man's body, his twisted crony by his side. The three sullen brothers and their sister taking the lead. The aasimar with glowing eyes and godly gifts from their seat of hypocritical judgment. The prince from beneath the sea. The madwoman and the inventor. Temperance's sister. And him. 

When the Thyseer delegation took their seats, he was grateful for Princess Irezora's behavior - letting Delsandra talk to the Kara-Tur party was a nightmare waiting to happen, and with a quick glance and nod he thanked her. He advanced into the room with head held high, the face of iron ever in place, and strode around the table to his seat, eyes sweeping across the seated monarchs and their heirs, observing that their guards had stood back, that they had taken their seats in earnest. It was time to lay out the rules of the conference. He hoped, for Devinah's sake, and for all of theirs, that they would be able to listen.*

_ _
"Your Majesties." *His voice thundered as he stood before the throne of gold and iron he had fashioned for himself, taking his place in the center of the crescent table.* "Your Highnesses. My thanks for your attendance. I must ask you all now to lend me your ears as we establish guidelines for this conference of ours."

"In accordance with established decorum, only delegation heads should speak to the council at large - the reigning monarch present or those closest to inheritance, according to your custom. The advisors brought may only speak after being announced by their heads, and only then if they have some purpose to fulfill - for example, background on the intricacies of a particular spell. Secondly, given the severity of the current situation, there will be no discussion of any topic unrelated to the crisis of the events at Sorevelle."

"Thirdly, due to the suspect nature of this magical occurrence, there will be no spellcasting of any kind that is not necessary to breathe on land, so that we may speak freely without concern of magical interference. Fourthly, in the spirit of our being brought together to share this discussion, it is in our best interest to hear from as many perspectives as possible regarding this matter. However, if one delegation is asked a direct question that merits a response, let us do our best to allow the chance for a response."

"Lastly, it is my expectation that in these deliberations, there will be no deliberate disrespect or ad hominem additions from any of us to any other. This meeting is called for a grave purpose, and it is beneath us to sabotage that purpose."

_ _
"If there are no objections, let us begin." *As he sat back upon the throne of gold and iron, the armor itself began to flow like water, dripping off of him like a waterfall onto the floor below. Likewise, the throne melted into a pool of quicksilver as he sat, flowing around the table in a wide arc and slipping out the door, coalescing there into a molding for the door's arch. 

Beneath the cold iron was a simple chair of wooden make, like the rest of the seats prepared for the delegations that had come. Beneath his armor, there was a simple tunic of black with embroidery mirroring his coronation dress, the emblem of Alynthi emblazoned on its chest. The crown of antlers that rested upon his head provided the gold necessary to complete his kingdom's colors. 

The night before, and for several weeks leading up to the conference, King Astalios had paced in frustration, gritted his teeth, and subjected himself to the ministrations of diplomatic advisors, offering much needed advice. Demands were to be absent, they had said - and though he balked at the thought initially, he had been argued into a corner, made to see reason. This was no battlefield command, the monarchs present were not his soldiers; to order them about was to offend, and the wording of the speech had been carefully crafted, painstakingly torn away from his initial draft.*

_ _
*It made him writhe internally to be stripped of his armor, uncomfortable without it. He felt as if his protection was gone - all of his wards, all of the various contingencies he had placed on that suit of armor. All had been washed away as the armor became nothing more than a thin strip of gold on an archway, leaving only the nondescript ring behind. More uncomfortable still was to reduce his throne to this chair. In front of an orc, he had never been humbled, never been laid low. He refused to retreat, refused to yield. But to humble himself here was a necessity. As his advisors had said, he must be simply another representative, no matter whose castle the meeting took place in.

It irked him. Itched at his soul in dark corners of the mind he had not reached in years. But it had to be done. The stern expression was a mask, unmoving. He was bared now, vulnerable in front of them all. He hated nothing more. But it had to be done.*
Kristin
Seated and unsure, Delsandra took a long look around the room. There were so many faces she didn't recognize, specifically the aasimar family from Kara-Tur, the prince from Tritetheas and a few members of the Khisfire royal family. Eyeing the many she did not know with a curious look, her gaze was quickly drawn elsewhere when the Iron King finally entered. Watching as he descended into the meeting room and took his seat, Astalios's words were more than understandable. There was a lot of tension in the room, between specific groups as well. It made sense to keep the conversations on topic as much as possible. A slight tingle of nerves crawled up Delsandra's spine, followed by what felt like hands as hot as fire. 

Phoedite was with her.

When Astalios finished speaking, Delsandra cleared her throat. Given Sorevelle took place in her home, perhaps it was only fair that she began the proceedings by recounting the events leading up to what happened to herself, Astalios, Caleesi and Dhakashira. "Your words are more than fair, your majesty." Offering a dip of her head to the Iron King, Delsandra's eyes then gazed around the room as she continued. "I suppose it only makes sense we start from the beginning. From what I remember, everything was normal and going well until tremors began to shake the castle. At first I believed it to be an earthquake, but even then it was strange given Thyseer has never experienced one before. The sky then began turning a blood red, followed by a terrible voice. It was as if it- clawed into your mind. From what I understand, not a single person within the castle or just outside of it was safe from this voice."

_ _
Swallowing, the princess allowed herself a moment to breathe. Regardless of what anyone thought of Delsandra, she was still a person, and that night had scarred her more than she had let on. The princess's bright eyes dulled slightly. "The voice spoke to us all, the pain- gods, it was unbearable. I felt as though my head would explode. What it said was-

*The Devourer's eye has settled on us. A Catalyst yet to discover itself lies dormant in ice. Mother and daughter and son will perish, the great terrors will return, but only united will the Devourer fall."*

Stopping once more to allow each individual around her process the words, the princess continued once more. "After the voice had finished speaking, four of us here fell under some sort of spell or curse for a few moments. If I remember correctly, it was King Dilitrios that fell first, followed by myself. I am unsure out of Lady Scarleth and Queen Runacri who fell third and fourth, but what I do know is we all experienced a vision. Once we had all awoken once more, the four of us retreated to a room where Lord Olagwyen cast a protective barrier around us so we could recount what had happened. We shared the visions we had with one another, then I ended Sorevelle to ensure my people and castle were safe and unharmed."

_ _
While Delsandra had not noticed, it would be clear to everyone she was trembling slightly. The fear of reliving the vision and terrible voice was crawling up her spine and tugging at her shoulders, but with a straightened back and determined gaze Delsandra did her best to shake that fear away. "As for the visions we saw- perhaps a medium as Lord Olagwyen had done before? To allow others to *See* What we saw?" Looking to Astalios for guidance on how to proceed, Delsandra fell silent for good. There were a few ways they could do this; go in the order as Delsandra had remembered it or allow whoever wished to show their vision go. If Delsandra had it her way, she'd not show it at all if it meant saving herself the pain of seeing it again.
Isabel
*She seemed different in some way, he thought. The zealotry in her eyes had died down, and there was nothing much about her now that reminded him of the way she had acted at Thunder Fest. That had been a creature of questionable sanity, he thought - that Delsandra was no longer here. What had happened that night that she had been... Unbalanced? He could only conjecture. There was little to do but listen to her now, and continue with the conference as planned.

Fair, she said. He resisted the urge to let out a long breath. There was still a little eddy underneath the skin that drove him forward, to be decisive, to act with conviction. He had to temper his every word with the expectation that he was among equals. That was easier said than done - the voice of command was so comfortable for him that he had to extract a petition or request forcibly from his throat. Her description of the events of Sorevelle were also relatively similar to his own, with only minor differences in the places they had been - and he could discern no detail of import that would be helpful to add. 

She was shaking slightly, as if the fear had caught up with her, like a man shivering in the cold after his fire had gone dark. He had not known the vision had affected her so - surely, it was an unpleasant experience, but this was far deeper a wound than he had expected. Perhaps that was the reason she seemed unsure. When she asked for a way to project the visions, and the vampire's name was mentioned, he knew time was of the essence - no matter how he had to put the words, the first offer could not come from Lazaroth.*

"Thank you, Your Highness." *He nodded his head to her in a gesture of respect, tone a great deal gentler than he had believed himself capable of in the moment.* "With regards to the voice, and the events leading up to the implantation of our visions, I have nothing pertinent to add. I second the motion for a showing of these visions, as it is expedient and effective."

_ _
"I now present the Grand Mistress of Magic, Lady Caleesi Scarleth, who will now act as medium, and relate to the council the visions each of us has had, with our consent. If for matters of national security this is objectionable, I motion that we have a court mage in our confidence project the vision instead, following Lady Scarleth's presentations." *He suggested.* "In addition, Lady Scarleth will elaborate on the level of magical power necessary to break through the wards at Sorevelle, and project a vision of that magnitude onto the guests at large."

*His eyes first rested on Queen Dhakashira - she would certainly recognize the wording from their private discussion, and he had explained his reasoning fully to her then. The same held true now - he did not expect those not allied with Alynthi to open their minds to an Alynthi court mage for fear of espionage, just as he did not wish to allow that miserable creature men called Lysanthir access to his own mind. She had extracted his secret regardless, but she had not extracted his troop organization. Too much valuable information was buried within for them not to conceal some of it.

He turned to Caleesi next, a gentle nod in her direction signifying that she was to do her duty. He worried for her too - if the visions had affected Delsandra so, perhaps he should have kept closer watch on her. He did not think she seemed all too different from the norm, however - perhaps there was something yet to be discovered. Perhaps she hid it too well. They would soon see how well she handled the pressure - and he hoped for her sake that she was able to keep composure.*