[u]Valence Sayal, the Cultist[/u]
A great rushing sound surrounded him, beating at him with very real, yet very ethereal, force. He could feel it mentally, but not physically. This was the meditative state that many of the Cultists work their entire lives to achieve; those raised within usually master it in their teenage years. He had been the only one to master it before he was double digits. It was part of the reason why he held such influence that even the elders took everything he said seriously. 

But the meditation was broken by voices- yelling voices. Regular ones he could do with, and if he focused hard enough, he could meditate in the middle of one of their wild parties. But he was relaxed, and he had gotten his meditation in for the day. So he opened his eyes, just as a young Gem burst into the meditation room directly in front of him. A panicked, anxious expression on the Gem's face was all that Val needed to come alive. Shifting his weight backwards, just enough for him to balance on his feet and off his knees, he stood, and plowed forward, waving for the Gem to follow him.

"Alright, what is it?" he asked, placid-voiced despite his obvious alertness. 

"Sir, we've been seeing a lotta movements from the Horned, and now there'saben increased movement towards the 'pass!" The young Gem's voice was frantic- he must've only been thirteen or fourteen. 

"Get me a full written report from the scouts. No- get me the scout or scouts themselves. Now!" He waved vaguely, voice rising as he marched to the Commons of the great fortress.

Almost immediately upon entering the common room- a large, circular room that extended up four stories, with balconies lining the sides from various rooms- the few that were in dried up from their laughter and jokes when they say Valence. One of them stood- his closest rival, a bright fiery Gem named Teron. Fortunately, their rival was a friendly one- enemies would not do, here. 

"Any word, boss?" he inquired, and his compatriots got to their own feet behind him. 

Not bothering to pause, Valence simply offered, "On my way for it now. Join me?"

Four more footsteps fell in line with his own. Passing out of the central Commons room, he strode down the now Southern corridor, heading towards the 'welcome' room- the primary entrance to the fortress. A gentle breeze blew down the corridors, stronger as they came closer to the fortress entrance. Pathways and tunnels snaked off from the sides, each of these, now, with thick oak doors reinforced with steel, runes engraved on the stone around them, and on the door itself. The closer they reached the surface, the more 'checkpoints' they walked through- stone walls that jutted out from the smooth sides of the tunnel, making the relatively spacious tunnel a sudden bottleneck, impossible to mark in formation through, impossible to fit more than four people abreast. Slots for the inside to slip spears, arrows, or swords through, depending on the need, with small shutters to close them if they use fire or start sticking their own weapons through.

Valence Sayal was confident in his and the fortress's ability to hold back the Horned, but that doesn't mean he should be overconfident. Most of the actual defenses of late were put up because he worked the Cultists back into shape, from their steady dulling of mind, body, and preparation.

Striding into the primary, biggest surface-side bunker, with a catapult mounted on time (painted gray), and slots for their giant crossbows to fire through within the bunker itself. He glanced out the massive slot- relatively small, if one were passing through the pass- and took note of the very empty, desolate mountains, before turning and heading into a side room- the 'airlock' of sorts for allowing people in or out. The double oak doors that were leading into the bunker from the fortress corridor, as well as the oak doors leading into the entry room were open- he didn't like that. But he'll bring it up later.

He marched into the room with his five comrades, where three scouts were busy shoving the usual biscuits and jerky in, downing cups of wine between mouthfuls. Three soldiers stood in the room, as well, and the messenger, who was busy unloading a small tray of food and wine onto the table- scouts don't usually eat much, especially when in the field.

Sayal and his four companions waited ten minutes for the scouts to finish eating, before information began being exchanged.