THE TIES THAT BIND ||| THE LEGEND OF VOX MACHINA

To Slay A Beast Most Foul

A loud, puffing exhale echoed through the Councils overbearingly impressive, pearly chambers as Ragnvaldr's axe clashed to the ground. The man's towering shoulders slumped as he let out a thankful sigh. "Oh, thank the Old Gods and New!" his gravelly voice exclaimed loudly catching everyone's attention after what could only be described as Scanlan's very own form of visual torture concluded.

The sly grin plastered on the Gnome's face dropped in an instant, the realisation falling on him that his unwillingness to create a verse for the confrontational tribal did little to sully his honour. "Damn..." he uttered to no one in particular pushing his kneeling form upright once again, as an expectedly awkward silence filled the air. Though not to be out done in embarrassing themselves, Keyleth's drooping form suddenly lurched over unleashing a another long, chunky stream of vomit on the floor. Luckily, the revolting fluid missed Ragnvaldr's floor bound weapon by mere inches, much to his elation.

Revelling at the sight before them, each of the Council members stared from their raised platform above the hungover gang of miscreants. A number of baffled gasps escaped their mouths, most unsure how to react at the vanity filled display they were privy too moments before. "Uh... Give the Council a moment to discuss your curious group." Sovereign Uriel quickly spoke up, motioning for his fellow nobles to converge on him.

General Krieg was the only one of the lot to have an even mildly impressed look on his face. With both arms folded and pressed firmly on his armoured chest, the blonde haired, fabulously moustached man nodded and followed in the Councils stead. Instantly the crotchety elder Drow, Sir Fince was the first to voice his opposition. "You can't be seriously considering them for such  crucial task." he plainly stated, not mincing his words in the slightest to his illustrious ruler.

"Sovereign, while I'm unsure of the tribal. Their reputation is less than stellar." The gracefully blonde, gown wearing woman said, with an understandably indecisive look plastered on her beautiful features. Strangely, the other Councillors said not a word, as if they didn't wish to speak out of turn. Something which Ragnvaldr scoffed at lightly, bending down to pick up his beloved  axe.

A brief moment passed as the Council spoke amongst themselves, quietly enough so that their new found guests could hear not but a mere whisper from were they stood on the chambers floor. "Well, they do have a bear, and Dire Wolf. Both looked quite ferocious. And the song was entertaining." he mulled glancing between the other nobles, tapping his finger tips against his bearded chin. 

Ragnvaldr's eyes instantly widened as he watched the meeting unfold, himself like the rest of Vox Machina catching the Sovereigns words. "Not a chance in all the hells that worked..." he uttered defeatedly, gritting his teeth glancing at the still smug Bard.

"Why not give them a chance? Perhaps there is more than meets the eye with these warriors." Krieg encouraged, being the first to glance back down at the travelling band of Mercenaries. Each Council member followed suit as Pike's drunken snores grew louder and louder, slobbering against Grogs leather covered thigh while Scanlan still had his lute in hand, waving at them with a wide smile. Vex, Vax and Keyleth all looked ready to keel over while Ragnvaldr and Percy both shared the same annoyed expression, though for entirely different reasons.

Mercifully, Lady Kima being the voice of reason spoke out first. Her firm tone cut through the silent chamber like a knife through butter. "Yeah, doubt it. Let's just call in Agar's Assassin's again." she twitched in frustration, turning back to her nations desperate ruler, pressing her clenched fists to her sides.

One of the palace guards standing on duty right next to the golden throne leaned forward ever so slightly, "Uh, Agar apparently had his hand chopped off in a barroom brawl..." he informed, quickly trailing off and falling back into silence, straightening himself and adjusting his grip on his polished spear.