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[!] A Congregation Of Clerics [/!]

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Aegor grunts, obviously concerned by the fact another war-cleric is gone, so many disappear but he simply sighs- it seems things won't go the way they should. "Harumph, it'd be best that we gather, and ready ourselves, Hosper needs our aid."

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Mandru holds up a hand.

"You speak wisely, yet do little, one who's name which I do not know; Yes, I must leave to ready my team."

The High Cleric leaves the room, deeming that there's few others left to speak to in any case.

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Aegor simply begins to sharpen his blade upon a whetstone, grunting. 

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