Spikes, Horns, and Stone 24
"Even if nothing else, we'll need all the help we can get when we walk into the Temple."
"I agree," Hultressa nods curtly before her eyes flick back towards Eldyra, who's constant little twitches seem to momentarily escalate before she claws back some small amount of self-control back into herself. "As for you, Princess of Tiranoc…I would offer a draught which could ensure dreamless sleep that you might recover yourself, but I doubt that such would be accepted."
Even before Hultressa finishes her offer, Eldyra is violently shaking her head, one eye twitching as she does not so much look as glare at the sorceress. From where you sit, you can see the tension steadily threading its way through her entire body. The flex of the muscles across her body, kept so perfectly preserved by the master fleshcrafter that Hultressa is, are more than obvious as she hunches slightly in place. Some might mistake it for her clutching at herself out of grief or fury or even just pain, but you can see the way that the bare soles of her feet have squarely planted themselves onto the carpeting. You can see the bulging of her leg muscles and the tightening of her core, all of which is something you would associate far more with someone about to try and launch their entire body across a table to do something more than likely violent.
So you quietly reach out to her, and while you do not do anything nearly so sudden or aggressive as clutch the wrist that is connected to the hand currently squeezing incredibly tightly on the hilt of
Death Thorn, she does jump slightly as you simply place your index and middle fingers there.
Her eyes, momentarily rolling about in her head, finds you, and the twitches and tensing slowly begin to ease.
"…I will be fine," Eldyra says through ground teeth.
"I disagree, but," Hultressa snorts as she stands up and stretches so much that you can hear something in her back pop, followed by a small sigh of relief. "I shan't press you on the matter at the moment. It has been a tiring day for us all, and I need sleep if I am to perform at my best tomorrow. You," she flaps a hand at Eldyra dismissively, "Can sleep wherever you wish so long as you do not attempt to pass beyond into either mine or my daughter's quarters. There's…," she pauses, frowns, and then rolls her eyes. "Would you have some kind of moralistic reason to refuse a proper blanket?"
Eldyra's eyes flick to you and then to her.
"Was it woven by slaves?"
"What?" Hultressa's brow furrows and then she frowns again, eyes widening as a bit of aristocratic pride returns to her frame and stance. "Asur, you think me so poor a Druchii that I require
slave-made materials and objects?" She asks imperiously, eyebrow and hip cocking in the same moment.
The sorceress spreads her arms out wide and scoffs.
"Every single object throughout my demesne that was not looted within this Tor is made by the most superior of beings –
elves," she says in the most pointed of tones before taking a few strides over to one of the dressers, "Did a slave,
perhaps, wield the axe used to cut the tree down? Perhaps," she nods, "But it was a true elven artisan that took that wood, treated it, and shaped it with all their centuries of expertise. These cushions," she points a stabbing finger at the various pillows on the chairs and couches, "Were hand-stuffed by Druchii maidens who partake of their own expensive oils and perfumes to smooth and soften their supple hands, who's weaving costs more gold per hour than you would scarcely believe! The silk worm farms may be staffed by overseen slaves, but the
weaving?" Hultressa shudders at the very thought even as Eldyra stares at her in a mixture of incredulity and vague outrage. "This wine!" She continues, tearing open one of the cabinets containing the racks and holding it outright, "It was Druchii that enchanted the lands, guided the growth with magic, and while slaves may have picked the grapes it was elves that gathered the venom of the spiders and milked the scorpions, and
this bottle was personally pressed with the
elven machinery created and maintained by
elven craftsmen."
She tosses her hair, and scoffs once more.
"Woven by slaves," she whispers it again while rolling her eyes. "I may aim to make myself a pauper in all accounts to the rest of the Druchii by the end of this, but in the meantime, Princess of Tiranoc, do not dismiss the artisanry of elves, for no matter what else we are between one another we
are elves," she finishes with her chin held high.
Eldyra's jaw drops open ever so slightly as she is confronted by the sheer importance that Hultressa holds upon her luxuries.
"You…," is about as far as the squire gets before she can summon no more words.
"You know," you speak up, making both elves glance at you, "Just, for future optimism purposes, you probably shouldn't speak so dismissively of slavery in the future, especially if you get to Ulthuan."
Hultressa clucks her tongue and then nods a bit deeply to you.
"Fair enough, Frederick. Forgive me," she places a hand against her chest while looking between you and Eldyra. "It has been a
trying day, and I am not acting with the decorum that should be expected of a woman of my station. There will be a blanket. Use it, or do not," she shrugs with one shoulder and then immediately strides away.
Leaving you and Eldyra alone. Alone in a place of absolute elven luxury, as so passionately declared by Hultressa herself. Countless cabinets of wine, of glasses, of fine porcelain dishware and golden or silver candelabras strewn about the place. The softest carpet you've ever felt on your feet beneath you, and some of the absolute finest woodworking in furniture that you can determinedly say is the most masterfully crafted that you've ever experienced. Save, perhaps, for the literally sung into place innards of a vast living tree within the depths of Laurelorn, but then that only lends itself to Hultressa's point about elven craftsmanship. Though you would say that some of the better accoutrements provided in the depths of Zhufbar – after the trial was complete at least – could match it. If you play your cards right, you can hopefully completely avoid Hultressa ever coming into contact with the Carpenter's Guild, and vice versa.
"I am having difficulty believing that this is not yet some other vision thrust upon my broken mind by the sorceresses of this place," Eldyra whispers aloud to you, her eyes squeezing shut as she bows her head.
The hand that grips
Death Thorn so tightly loosens just long enough so that she can grab your nearby hand, at which point she squeezes so tightly that you can practically feel the bones grind and crunch.
"They'd give you a vision of me killing Dreadbringer and flaying his skull while cutting it off?" You snort, but Eldyra does not respond nearly so contemptuously as you.
"They showed me so many things," she shudders in place, eyes still shut, the strength of her squeezing hand growing stronger. "Sir Tyrion arriving through the doors. The Everqueen herself leading a host of all her Handmaidens, bow in hand. Even the Seafarer himself, bringing the vast fleets of all the Sea Lords to bear for my rescue."
Your smile dies, and you let her fall against you, shoulder to chest, as she begins to quietly weep again.
"Then they got…creative," she continues, voice choking slightly. "I do not know how, but they…they brought my father into being, and even though I
know he is dead, it was so…so
real…," she huddles into you a bit more. "They made him…they made me think…they made me
feel-,"
"And they never will again," you interrupt her, reaching out and embracing her more fully. "He's dead. Their Cult of Khaine was gutted. We blew them to pieces, you understand?" You inform her, resting your chin atop her head now.
To see the proud squire reduced to this, it just makes you want to kill Tullaris all over again.
"Blew them to pieces. All those so-called Brides got to die, and not a lot of them to anything like blade or hook or otherwise, but to that disgusting rank black powder that for all their unholy skill and speed they could not escape," you grind out, seeing it from above in your memories as you rode Oskana through the skies. "The Cult on this Ark are the ones who've been bled this time, bled dry, except a few stubborn drops left. And regardless, a little under half of the Coven of the
Claw died too, thanks to the fighting and the coup."
She doesn't respond verbally, she can only nod as she sobs quietly.
But you won't demand more than that from her.
You may never know the totality of all the details of her tortures.
You do not need to.
You just need to see if it's at all possible to try and kill the last of the Cult of Khaine on the
Claw of Dominion and try to kill off the rest of the Coven as well.
Eldyra does twitch and push away from you when the doors swing open again, this time revealing a terror awkwardly carrying a thick blanket over one forearm. It doesn't actually seem to have fingers, this terror, as instead both of its arms have become maces that terminate where the hands should be, covered in hooks and spikes and ominously glowing dark runes of surely accursed magics. Does Hultressa get a particular kick out of seeing these abominable creations of hers doing utterly mundane tasks like this? You would think that a craftswoman such as herself, and as foul as the craft itself appears to be, would have some kind of outrage if she ever saw her creations being used as such. Like if someone tried to use Ghal Maraz as a mere paperweight or the like. At least, that is your thought for a brief moment before you remember that as far as you know each and every terror was once upon a Druchii themselves. And given the hellacious mixture of pride she's taken in over a thousand years of life as one of them countered with her absolute loathing and hatred for the Druchii, it is entirely possible that it is not so much that it is a terror doing it but a Druchii. One of the supposed destined great cruel masters of the world entire, reduced to near mindless monsters that she occasionally uses to fetch blankets and carry dinner plates.
"Well," you say into the silence as the terror deposits the blanket over one of the couches and then turns to leave once more. "Are you going to take it? The blanket."
Eldyra manages to a small huffing laugh, wiping at her face before looking back at you.
"I suppose you've already partaken of such comforts, then?"
"Honestly? No," you say nonplussed to her befuddled blink. "The wine, yes, I'll cop to that," you sigh. "Same with the food, the kitchenware, but we're in a damned Tor of Dominance on one of the oldest Black Arks in existence as near as I've been told," you shrug. "If I somehow made sure to only use or eat things that involved no abuse in their line of creation, I'm quite certain I would need to invent a way to float without touching the stones or walls. And I'm no wizard."
She makes a hiccupping cough as she tries to chuckle.
"I'm quite certain you are correct. Every stone of most Black Arks are bloody and torn from the breast of Ulthuan by the Sundering, and tainted by the civil war before it regardless," she says, voice a mixture of hoarse and begrudging. "But what did you mean, before?" She looks over at the blanket and with a tired sigh rises and begins shuffling over to it.
"I haven't really gotten a blanket while I've been here," you inform her as Eldyra reaches out as if the blanket is going to somehow turn into a sheet of acid or something, though your words do make her wheel about to stare at you.
"But…," she shakes her head, "I don't…,"
"I've largely just slept without one. Naked, sometimes. In my armor, mostly," you shrug again.
The Asur's reaction is about as best as you might have expected as she seems to vaguely recoil from the very thought.
"Where? Here?" She asks, glancing around the living quarters, "I…,"
"You've been resting here for the most part," you inform her, "I spend more of my time sleeping in the…workshop, the outer facing one, the room with the exit into the rest of the Tor."
"A sorceresses workshop," she says dubiously. "That seems incredibly irresponsible."
"I'd say it's the poisons and draughts and spells she's been testing me on that would be more that," you snort, making her eyes go as wide as they can go.
"You what?!"
"In case I'm captured," you raise your arms up in surrender as she abandons the blanket entirely to walk over to you, hands starting to poke and prod. "I'm fine. I get healed up afterwards regardless."
"You just let her…!" Eldyra rasps at you, shaking her head in horror. "That's…that's insane!"
"A bit, perhaps," you admit, "But then, we're working with said Sorceress to get off the Ark. And if nothing else, she will do anything she needs to so that Gwendolyn can be saved."
"I…," she pauses and then just shakes her head, focusing instead on grabbing you by the jaw and moving your arms around so she can try and discover some sort of hidden seam or rune or the like.
After a while though it becomes obvious to you that she is going far beyond what is necessary. She keeps going over the same spots over and over, and you know what busy work looks like when you see it. Or, in this case, are directly experiencing it.
"At some point you do have to rest," you say gently, and she freezes in her ministrations. "Blanket or no, you
do need some rest. Odd to say, I'm sure, after you've been in the state you've been, but that wasn't proper rest and you know it."
She doesn't respond.
Not immediately.
"…I'll still be here when you wake up," you say even more quietly.
"You can't promise that," she whispers back, head shaking even as she sways slightly.
It's coming, it's happening even as she denies it. You stopped the constant frenetic movements that were letting her ignore how utterly wrung out she is by all that she has suffered. So now all that exhaustion is rearing up like a Bonegrinder giant swinging a club made of one of the truly massive Drakwald oaks. She sways in place more than she is actually shaking her head, and you have to put your hands on her shoulders to steady her as she almost stumbles a bit.
"I can."
"No, no," she insists, tiredly, mumbling almost as you guide her carefully back towards the blanket. "No. Every time, every time I woke up, they did something new. They did something worse. I can't…I can't risk it. She has spells, we'll…we'll go to the sorceress," she's half saying into her own chest. "She can keep me awake. She can!"
"She could, probably. Shouldn't, though," you shake your head. "You have to rest, Eldyra."
She tries to resist, to refuse, but she can't stop herself from sitting down on a different expansive couch, one entirely separate from the one she's spent all this time in gentle repose on. The moment she hits the, apparently, incredibly expensive cushions she begins to go limp like a noodle. It is a bare moment's work to take the blanket and partially swaddle her in it. Not so much that she could ever possibly mistake it for something constraining or imprisoning, you wouldn't dare do that, but enough that unconsciously she clutches it to herself. She's still refusing to sleep, however, putting incredible work in keeping her eyes open, though it seems like they've got a few tons attached to each given how each one opens and closes independently to each other. Sighing, you grab one of the chairs and lift it to position it over within her sight.
"Go to sleep," you tell her again. "I'll be here when you wake up. And if I need to get up and go somewhere, I'll wake you up first."
Eldyra doesn't say anything, but instead just tries to affix her gaze on you as long as she possibly can, trying to carve your presence into her mind such that even all her newfound tortured instincts cannot deny it.
You sit in the chair and remain there as long as it takes for her to finally go to sleep.
==================================================================
When you do wake up, it is to see a Hultressa dressed for socio-political combat once more, giving you a single silent nod as she walks past you with head held high as she heads for the outside world with a new staff in hand. She's gone so far as to apply some makeup as well, or perhaps a magical glamor, or both, adding a dark plum coloration to her lips and a complementing shade of purple as an eyeshadow. A considerable amount of her skin is bared to the world, as is per usual, the rest of her covered in lengths of purple and black silk and thigh high spiked high heels outlined in silver. Normally she should be making a bit of sound, especially with the doors opening and closing, but presumably she's using some magical method to silence her movements from the ears of a still slumbering Eldyra. There are no terrors about either, only Hultressa passing in and out of view. In fact, the only reason that you probably woke up to see her going was from the strange slightly spicey and fruity scent that she seems to favor as a perfume on occasion.
Still, you made a promise, an oath, and you aim to keep it.
So it is that you do not rise from the chair for another hour, simply making sure to watch the fitful sleep of your Asur friend, tormented by daemons of the mind that you can't really help her fight any more than you have at this point. Not so strongly that she begins to lash out in her sleep, nor does she weep while slumbering, but her expression is most definitely not one of peace. And it is not you who finally wakes Eldyra, but rather the scents and smells of cooking eggs and meats and roasting of vegetables which eventually filter into the chambers. Something so simple and pleasant that manages to spike through Eldyra's nightmares and makes her start to wake up. As you expected, the very first thing that she does is shoot her eyes open so that she can look around, and then lock directly onto you. A relieved shudder comes across her body as you wave at her with a smile and then rise.
It is of course around that time that Gwendolyn arrives, this time balancing but three plates strung out across one arm, the other pressing the doors open and closing them behind her with a foot.
The young Druchii girl is very quiet as she delivers breakfast between all of you aside from a quiet murmured greetings sent your way. To Eldyra, she can only deliver the occasional furtive look before looking back down to her food, or at you, and then it repeats all over again. Eldyra is in similar straights, it seems, though you know that she has been party to Black Arks being brought low before in recent times going by elven reckoning. Though that was more her fighting alongside others while the Everqueen was present, you do not think that she spent her time specifically cutting her way through any and all of the children that would surely have been on-board the Arks that were brought down. Each and every Black Ark is a mobile city-state after all. But unlike those previous times, this child brings her food, is nominally an ally, even, and it seems that Eldyra, who is not even yet a century old, doesn't know exactly how or what even to begin saying to her. Gwendolyn is, supposedly, one day going to be going to Ulthuan herself if Hultressa has anything to say about it, but she is also a young girl who has to your knowledge never actually experienced much time with other children. Or any, really. Any that she might have, you don't like to think about what must have happened to them between then and now.
"Are we going to keep making bombs today?" Is the first thing that Gwendolyn decides to say out loud.
"Probably should, your mother's spending a lot of time but not
all her time away from the pyramid," you decide after munching on a bit of well roasted cabbage and meat.
"…bombs?" Eldyra asks, and Gwendolyn jumps slightly in her chair and turns her face away, almost embarrassed if you are any judge.
"Bombs," you nod, looking over at the slightly furrowed brow of the Asur. "We've been making explosives, or rather, first making black powder, then making explosives, for Hultressa to position around in one of their main food production pyramids."
"But
no magic," Gwendolyn chirps, emboldened by your words, "Because otherwise the wards would pick any unauthorized magics being brought in."
"You…you taught a child…how to make black powder explosives," Eldyra says slowly.
Her head swings back and forth with an unreadable expression on her face.
"She's smart, she's dexterous, and because her fingers are still a bit more slender and smaller than mine, she can make even finer adjustments than me," you point out, shrugging. "At least, without any of the tools I'd normally be using."
"Do you want to help?" Gwendolyn asks much more tentatively, glancing at Eldyra and then looking away again as Eldyra begins to look back. "Just…some of its material limits, but…," she trails off into an inaudible mumble.
"It's something to do," you say, making Eldyra glance over at you instead. "Plus, if you're lucky, one of the ones you make might kill a Druchii or two. Otherwise…there's plenty of wine to drink," you jerk a thumb at one of the cabinets in question.
Eldyra's jaw works a bit, her eyes darting back to the child and then to you, her hands trembling before she starts squeezing her knife and fork hard to make it less discernable.
"I have never made such a thing before."
"Oh, it's not so hard once you get the hang of it!" Gwendolyn says with a bit of nervous excitement.
"It's the mixing and grinding that takes more work, honestly," you grunt as you finish your plate.
Once more, the squire glances between the two of you again, her eye starting to twitch.
======================================================================
(Retinue Lies: 74+Gruesome Reputation(20)+Growing Presence(5)+Prior Habits(10)+Pre-Party Planning(5)+One In A Crowd(10)-High Alert(20)-Druchii Paranoia(10)-The Event of the Season(5)=89/100)
When the doors open again with a bombastic slam as Hultressa saunters through, Eldyra throws herself to the ground or more correctly into cover, dragging you with her as she does it. Hultressa's mouth then remains open in the midst what was likely to be the beginning of some tirade or proud announcement as you let out an utterly undignified squawk as you hit the carpet. Eldyra's teeth are bared and grinding against each other as she hunches over you protectively, a pure animal's snarl escaping her as she brings up
Death Thorn in a guard position, the damaged but still powerfully enchanted blade seeming to spark and vibrate dissonantly in her grip. Gwendolyn stares down at her from where she sits, hands still holding the two clay halves of what is soon to be a small tube shaped explosive. The unasked for unholy instincts almost took her, you can see as her hips and legs have managed to bundle under her like springs without Gwendolyn even noticing, but she is far more used to her mother's habits of entering through doors like she wishes to break them off the hinges than Eldyra.
"Eldyra," you cough, and start pushing yourself up with one hand while the other claps her on the shoulder. "It's fine, it's just Hultressa. Eldyra!"
The Asur twitches, hisses, and growls before whirling on you with twitching limbs and independently blinking eyes, the storm grey of her irises seeming to have grown darker briefly before they then begin to lighten as she comprehends your words. Then comes the rage, directed inward, the embarrassment, the self-loathing at the breakdown of control. She practically leaps away from you, though you do not miss how she refuses to let go of
Death Thorn just yet. The weapon of her father, of her family, remains even in its badly damaged state one of her most precious possessions, and one she clearly takes more than a little comfort in. But, thankfully, she doesn't start swinging it around again. More unfortunately, you cannot help but admit that she might well be in no condition to join you at all. The trauma, the near bestial nature she takes on when startled, there is just no way that she can possibly be expected to keep herself under control while surrounded on all sides by Druchii. Especially in a Temple of Khaine where you are quite sure that supernatural bloodlust will be in the air.
"Well, if you're done with that," Hultressa snarks, one eyebrow raised before raising her chin proudly. "I have done sufficient work to bring in the vampire. Not her, specifically, but a figure swathed in blood and murderous intent, skilled, and so on," she rolls her hand. "She will have to pretend to be an assassin sworn to Drakira, but I doubt that will take much issue from the Cult, they are a disconnected and decentralized group at the best of times."
Something in your chest aches a bit when you see Eldyra twitch at the mentioning of the elven Goddess of Vengeance.
You have not forgotten how that word slipped into her broken rambling as she clawed her way out of her coma.
"And the pyramid work?"
"Minor, as expected," she sighs, "I could not deliver more than a handful of the explosives to proper locations, could hardly whisper in enough ears to make it worth an outing in the first place," she clucks her tongue. "Meanwhile, as I went about pretending to seek, others were doing so as well," she says much more ominously.
"Everyone's looking for an advantage in the leadup," you grunt, which Hultressa nods at.
"Indeed. Any and all Druchii of importance, or who
wish to be of importance, are scrambling about to make alliances, gather assets, and to prepare double crosses or triple crosses and so on. My…re-entry into wider society on the Ark has seen me featuring quite a few offers," she sniffs imperiously. "Few worth my time, ordinarily. However," she frowns, shaking her head slightly. "The Cult of Khaine approached me, as I expected," she says, but something in her tone makes you wary.
"…what happened?" Gwendolyn asks in a bare whisper.
"They are asking everyone," she declares. "Everyone. They're seeking favor and attention and gifts and allies from…everyone. They're desperate," she chuckles cruelly a bit. "They're so weakened that Alyssa is running roughshod over them, dominating them utterly. She's taking their temple for her own auction, and in doing so is raising up Hekarti and Atharti over them, I suspect."
"Is that allowed?" You can't help but ask. "I thought the Cult of Khaine was supposed to be the overall dominant Cult for all Druchii society."
"Outside of specific locations," Hultressa waggles a hand back and forth in the air. "Ghrond is, obviously, more dedicated to the Goddess of Dark Magic, then there's the Savage Huntress' city, and so on, but…yes," she shrugs a single shoulder, still frowning. "The
Claw has always been bound and connected to Ghrond, but the Cult of Khaine has always been the most powerfully represented on it as well. That…may be changing."
The sorceress looks genuinely disturbed.
"Does this change our plans at all?"
"Hmm? No, no," she shakes her head again, looking at the bombs on the table and you, as well as scrutinizing the bits of black powder evident on Eldyra's fingers. "The Auction was always going to be an intersection of a dozen or more plots and plans, and the potential for violence would have been high even without our…activities," she snorts. "It simply means that I might need to account for one of the other Cytharai's followers attempting to rise up more powerfully than expected. All the better, then, to lie and say that I am drawing one of Drakira's sworn to my side – the expectation will be that she will desire bloody vengeance against them. But they will not recognize her, and stoke paranoia all the higher."
"Good to know, then," you muse.
You do not know everything there is to know about the Cult of Khaine's doings, you gave up that opportunity, but it is still
some information.
"So…what does this mean?" Eldyra asks, blinking rapidly.
"It means that we must plan for tomorrow anew," Hultressa declares, hands going to her hips and staff remaining upright and unmoving where she planted it.
Choose For Day 2 of 2 1/2 remaining before Auction:
By refusing Gwendolyn's Choice, you have lost all chances at gaining early entry to the Temple of Khaine and must move outwardly instead. Hultressa can dedicate her time to either increasing the damage dealt to the Pyramid or to making efforts to pretend at rebuilding her retinue so that she can actually bring in other assets - such as Frederick himself, Johanna Fuerbach, Roland, and perhaps even Jaqueline or other Bretonnian slaves. But she cannot do both with equal time and effort, and one must take primacy. And now your sorceress ally has gained new concerns about what going on with some of the disparate Cytharai Cults on the Ark. She has traditionally disdained entertaining the presence of any of them, Khaine or otherwise, but that may change if the information that could be gained might be more valuable. Is it, however? Moratorium For 3 Hours.
Auction Retinue Secured
- Hultressa and Terror Guards
- Frederick von Hohenzollern
- Johanna Fuerbach
[] Pyramid - The more bombs, the more confusion amongst the overseers, the more manipulation, the greater the effect when the trigger is finally pulled. The greater the effect, the worse of Alyssa's position on the Ark will be, and the worse the food crisis would become. Hultressa will already be spending time with this, and has done so already, but the more she does, the better the end result - or worse, if you are Alyssa Voidreaper. The kind of destruction that could occur if properly focused upon could be quite effective if triggered at the right time, even if it is just to force Alyssa to send away some of her strength at the Auction to investigate.
[] Retinue - The more effort and time Hultressa puts into this act, the more assets she can actually bring with her to the Auction as her presumed efforts 'work out' in terms of recruitment. Some effort will already be made, enough to bring Frederick, but any other assets will require some time put towards this. Doing so will allow Hultressa to much more strongly justify bringing in others, arming them even as her guards, and so on. Therefore, once you are at the Temple of Khaine, you will have that many more weapons and bodies at hand to aid you.
[] Cult Investigations - The Cult of Khaine is acting with greater desperation than even Hultressa expected, and now she is uncertain as to which of the Cults may actually be trying to gain proper ascendance in the coming Auction. It is rare for Khaine to be displaced by another of the Cytharai, but not impossible to happen. After Dreadbringer's death, it may well be that other Cults think that now is their time to rise, and as such, it may do well to account for them more thoroughly for the upcoming Auction.
