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Gavin... smiled. Despite the scars and stitches that made his face seem like a patchwork creation, it still managed to look very much like an ordinary grin.

"...now..." he began, leaning forwards on his elbows upon the edge of the table, "...I'm listening."

"That was it. We attack Latent when the tournament ends. Chances are that most of the competitors would be there to watch the finals, not to mention spectators which are probably metas as well." He shrugged, "And then we can grab all the civilians we want while we're at it."

"Hmm." Darshendros rubbed his chin, as he always does when he's deep in thought. He was familiar with the tournaments around Leviathan, but had yet to get a chance to see the HoH tournament, which started before he returned to this world. If it was anything like what he saw before in Leviathan, there were sure to be plenty of powerful persons around - especially at the finals match.

"Muster our strength. Summon what we can and make all the preparations needed," he said, just throwing out a suggestions. "There can be no room for mistakes. It would also be nice to know what we'd be up against so we may prepare accordingly."

"As is a mind too full of themself to take in all possibilities."

Shaking his head, Darshendros pushed his seat back and rose to his feet, having already forgotten about the Knight a moment after he departed the room. He had learned - the hard way - the consequences of misjudging, even underestimating, an enemy. He was not going to let the arrogance of a death knight change his tactics, not after they've worked well enough for him many times in the past. He didn't last this long by blindly rushing into a war without an accurate assessment of his opponents.

"I will be in my realm, rallying the hordes and ordering my spies about. Contact me when the time to attack draws near."

He brought his hand up to the brooch holding his cloak together, touching the insignia on it and vanishing.

"...Im quite okay..."

Both individuals saw different spectrums. Menos was curious how the other council members thought...though he felt not like asking.

A necromatic council of six...they didn't have numbers among them if they themselves were to go up against anyone whom happened to be in Latent at the time of the attack. However, the council had hoardes. Legions of undead, hellspawn, and abominable creatures at their disposal. Creatures who did not fear death for they were already non-living. In the end, it would come down to a combination of numbers and strength. Say for instince, an opponent had enough strength to wipe out several legions, then it would be their strength against the legions number.

Menos put the math out of his head. He didn't like to over calculate things...it only led to stress, and uncertainty. He slid is hand accross the table and waited.

"...What now...do you suppose we leave and prepare?"

The inquiry was directed at the remaining three.

Henry blinked over the rise, and scowled softly in thought as huge groups of the things left, and then made his way back to camp.

"May all the gods damn Michael...the reason the demons are gone is because undead INFEST the place..." He stomped into the resting place, cut off from any wandering dead by powerful magic. For the first time, the companions would actually see the seemingly mild Henry, angry and on edge.

The trip hadn't been overly abysmal, or really exciting, but now that they'd gotten to their destination, things took a strange turn. Right now they were very well hidden, but that didn't mean a great deal if they were only safe now in order to jump into the boiling pot later on.

"At least we know where the ghouls from the forest came from...scouting parties." A curse, as he looked up and closed his eyes, obviously thinking about what to do.

"We have to continue, while the things are still occupied in Latent...I only worry that they may have left some behind..."

"Shhh..." John whispered as he stroked Juuni's hair gently, comfortingly, before turning back to the task at hand.

The wide display of weaponry John carried on him was fanned out before him. Bullets, iron ignots, knives, guns, even the gauntlets he wore, they were all spread before him as he sat cross-legged, hunched over, busy in his task.

Fighting undead monsters was hard. For one, they tended to not stay down when they needed to. Secondly, there were always butt-loads around, since their real strength mostly lay in numbers.

So John was making sure he was prepared. Everything was clean, sharp, ready. He wouldn't be caught with his pants down again.

"You certainly aren't the only one, starborn. Do what you need, we are here but to guard you."

Mere gritted his teeth and shared a look with Tomorrow. Even though his magic tended to delve into the darker realms, he wasn't so emo as to fall for necromancy. Those people had issues.

He settled down into his jacket and began to work on his own mental defenses, building up to a plan.

"I don't know what good it would do," This was directed to the Tribal. "But I think we should assume that it would be best to go in from one of the higher windows, rather then the front door. I might be generalizing, but undead like to keep to their birthdirt, like most creatures associated with the necromantic arts. The how, of getting up to that window...I am unsure of...because it's a good bet that they'll know we're there if we tred on their defenses."

Henry didn't want to ask Tomorrow to be a one man distraction, but unless the Tribal had a differant idea, the sorcerer was at a loss as to how the three of them would be able to get in.