Cryker Reywynn - The Fighting Pits
Cryker felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise and goosebumps form, even through his warm clothes and armor. He turned around, facing his back to Minerva, and closed his eyes, seeing through his tremorsense instead, and noticed Devon and another figure alongside some distance off. He would have to be wary of them, particularly Devon. He heaved a long, slow, sigh, the air now sharp and bitter in his lungs. To back down now, to show weakness, would be fatal. To aggravate more unnecessarily, would be fatal as well.
"I'm not that old, Minerva, in my thirties, forties in half-elven years. Time hasn't been kind to my appearance, though." He said with a shallow nod. "As for respect, you of all people should know that needs to be earned. It and fear are what the Underground is held together by, after all. But I speak out, and tell you you failure, tell you something that could bring great profit, and you simply repeat your failure. It's shameful.
"Let's suppose, that right now, you were to gather you best, your strongest, your fastest, your most stealthy, and they were to go to the warden armory. Suppose they were to open it, take the weapons and artifacts inside, and get out. Suppose, shortly after, that the wardens were to find out and realize some
mysterious force has taken all their things. The Underground holds the best and most dangerous weapons in the world, and the
fierce, strong wardens, with no weapons, have become nothing more than lions turned house cats without claws.
"This would be the perfect time. Undead on the streets, wardens busy fighting them, or recovering and rebuilding, healing and helping, or searching for the source. They're weary, tired, lazy. They're injured, strained, and spread thin. Few men at their castle. Fewer guarding something no one has ever tried to attack. They would be assaulted by an unknown force, of unknown strength, of unknown origin.
Directly after that same thing just happened to them.
"But perhaps the wardens are too big, and you still cower in their wake. Why not a bank? Why not a business? There are any number of things you could have done, and
deliberately chose not to do. So yes, Minerva, I question you. I question not your strength, not your leadership, not any of those things. I question your judgement, and if anyone has the spine to say anything about it." He said, having grown more fired over the course of the speech. He spat in disgust, and readied himself for whatever might happen next.