Headed by a Snake

Tycondrius had Legionnaire Karodin pass word to the other guild leaders. They would convene in two bells to discuss their next course of action.

He doubted that Bannok was in a proper state of mind to call the order, himself.

Centurion Zenon assisted Aria with triage. Sorina had her broken leg healed. However, in her weakened state, she could manage a slow jog at best. She seemed to grow very, slightly closer to Lone in that time... a small positive in what was generally a shite situation.

Sergeant Salt and his gunners kept watch at the perimeter... their ranged weaponry loud enough to alert the entire camp of attack.

Tycon asked Athena and Tanamar to guard him as he sat, cross-legged in a quiet corner and... appeared to meditate.

The Dwarven notes he collected earlier with musings and rough sketches about the city's layout had abruptly become far more important than they originally had been. He needed a short time to compile the information and parse anything useful out of it.

There had to be another way out of the city... or failing that, they needed to find a way to break the Fourth-Circle barrier that sealed them inside of it.

...

⟬ Brazen Guard collective meeting. ⟭

Tycon narrowed his eyes upon seeing the Dark Elven Priestess, Ariadne. She had come from the triage area and had yet to put on her armor... The colorful pink tunic she wore had splotches of blood.

She wore a haggard expression, likely from mana exhaustion... The white glow of the tattoos on her dark skin had dimmed.

She needed to rest.

Unfortunately, they did not have the luxury to grant her more than a few bells.

"Aria, where is Brother Bannok?" He inquired.

"Oh," The Priestess fanned herself with her hand, "Mah husband's feelin' a bit under the weather-- oh, err... He's not feelin' too good."

Tycon closed his eyes and nodded quietly. The absence of the Brazen Guard's leader surprised him. Recent events must have weighed upon the man heavily...

While unsurprising, it was also inconvenient.

He cleared his throat and addressed the adventurers gathered...

"Leaders of the Brazen Guard collective... Upon analysis of some Dwarven plans I happened upon, I have reason to believe there may be an exit at the very bottom of the Dungeon."

Tycon briefly gauged the reaction of the crowd before continuing. Morale was pitifully low with the betrayal of a dozen Stormbrands and the loss of a score of adventurers, including an Iron-Rank Silver Pyromancer and a Gold-Rank Hunter.

He sat on the ground between Aria and Tanamar... where Bannok would sit. If the human would not command, then as the most capable Gold-Rank amongst them, he would do so in his stead.

In doing so, he would maximize the collective's chance of survival...

"There is a flowing, underground river that should lead to the outside. Guild Letalis will lead the way."

An Iron-Rank Scout seethed in contempt, "--And why in the seven hells should we listen to you, Tactician? When your gods-damned plans got us into this situation in the first place?!"

That was grossly incorrect. Humans in their weakened mental states would seek to assign blame to anything they could, no matter how illogical.

...It was rather annoying, though.

"Now hold on fer jus' a Flame-flippin' minute!!" Aria stood up in a huff.

Tycon held up a hand to calm the enraged Priestess... "I say again... Guild *Letalis* will be descending deeper into the Dungeon. Any and all are welcome to join us. Any and all are welcome to strike off on your own...

"Though in doing so... you will most certainly die."

Any and all that dared to bar his path, Tycon would dispatch, personally. He was not in the mood for social games. The members of Guild Letalis would survive, even if he, himself, had to drag them out of the depths of one of the seven hells.

...

Tycon spent some time conversing with his guild members. As the situation had the potential to become even more difficult, their morale and mental stability were paramount as they descended deeper into the Halls of the Dead Serpent.

Sergeant Salt and his gunners were busy performing gear maintenance, cleaning out their rifle barrels and repairing nicks and cuts in their armors. There had suffered no casualties, thus far... but their group had emptied their stock of healing potions.

Tanamar and Athena were doing well, supporting each other as they have been. Thankfully, Tycon didn't have to worry about those two.

Sorina was sleeping to recover the energy spent after being magically healed. Lone quietly watched over her.

Zenon was still upset from Photios' betrayal... but the Centurion agreed that getting through the situation was more important than dwelling on the fact.

Korr seemed... fine? They had a brief conversation about... archery, of all things. Either she wasn't concerned about recent events or speaking about nonsense was her way of coping. She did express that she liked working with the Brazen Guard and that it was a shame to lose the men and women they did.

Tycon sought to maintain his own arms and armor. He was cleaning the dust and soot off of his helm when he was sought out by Legionnaire Karodin of Emberhold. Interestingly, Duelist Ptolema of Guild Snowy Village had accompanied him.

"M-m-master Tactician!!" Karodin was out of breath for some reason.

"I'm really sorry about this, Tactician," the short-haired Duelist sighed. "I told him you were busy-- but he insisted."

"It's fine." Tycon raised an eyebrow... "Good afternoon, Miss Ptolema, Mister Karodin. I have a cross pein hammer if you'd like to remove the dent from your helmet."

"Good afternoon," Karodin saluted, "And yes, I'd like to borrow that if-- THAT'S NOT THE POINT!!"

Tycon pursed his lips in confusion... "Very well. May I ask what the--"

"There's an emergency!!" Karodin insisted, gripping his fists like a petulant child.

"...Very... well. What is... your emergency?"

"Bannok's gone missing!"

"I fail to see how that is an issue. Out of anyone in the Brazen Guard, that gentleman can take care of himself."

"I mean-- well... I uh... err... I--" Karodin fumbled for human words, "I'm just worried about him."

Tycon nodded. He returned his curved blade to its scabbard before summoning the maintenance hammer from his spatial ring.

"I want this returned," Tycon politely stated, as he handed it over.

"R-right," Karodin nodded.

"I'll make sure of it, Tactician," Ptolema bowed politely.

"Before I search for our gentleman friend..." Tycon hesitated... "I'd like a word in private, Miss Ptolema."