[h1]Drosil Maeneld[/h1]

Drosil had remained silent and rather distant from the group, essentially throwing a tantrum as far as anyone else was concerned. And while, yes, the entire confrontation had left him with a bit of a bruised ego, it wasn't a grudge he was currently nursing. While he had no desire to apologize to the man, as he didn't feel even the slightest bit beholden to such a deed, nor did he feel that what he said or did, even in an inebriated state as he was, was wrong or deserving of such rude actions. He was aware, however, that his actions had reflected badly on the prince, and he did feel some guilt for that. If he plays the fool at his own expense, that's one thing, but if someone else get's called a fool because of something he did, then that was a problem. But he was left with the issue of just how to apologize for his failing. Sure he could just say it, but he felt the gesture would lack meaning, as they were just words that could be said with hardly any meaning to them. He wished to show Cyril how sorry he was, but couldn't come up with anyway he felt sufficient. 

As they finally approached Gurata, Drosil stayed in the back paying only half attention to events until the sound of drawn steel reached his ears. As people suddenly got ready for a clash, he raised his staff in readiness, unsure of what was happening. The situation calmed down swiftly, however, as Cyril revealed his intention for a Decision by combat, and as the groups parted in preparation, Drosil saw both his chance for reconciliation and a way to prove his arcane power in one fell swoop. As his eyes fell over the others that they'd possibly be fighting against, his eyes would swirl slightly in anticipation, an aching for the coming battle starting in his heart and working it's way through him with a slow burning. While never the first to start a fight, and always looking for a way to avoid it, Drosil couldn't help but feel a certain excitement when ever battle was to be had. It's truly a glorious state of mind to be in, but one that most spellcasters can't experience in full, as castings of true measure take much time and preparation, something which is in short supply on the battlefield. Still, it would matter not, as he had a plan for such things, for now, he had to secure his position in the coming battle. Turning to follow the Prince, he'd quickly make his way to the man's free side, clearing his throat in order to make his presence known. Once he had the man's attention, he'd give a slight tilt of his head, a ready glint in his eyes as he spoke in a fast, excited tone.

"Cyril, I couldn't help but notice you challenge that woman over their with the beautiful specimen of Snow Leopard pver their to some form of combat. While I do admit to having paid little attention to the general proceedings as of late, i would assume that she is some obstacle in the way of gaining Gurata's assistance in dealing with the H'kelan hordes threatening your home, yes? Whether that be the case or not, I'd like to recommend my services in the coming battle, as well as that of my brother, who I'll have to convince, but I don't think it'll take much convincing. Also, if I am selected, I'll need an area of my own to prepare a few things needed to assist me in facing foes in close-quarters. It needn't be big, a simple tent of marginal size would be perfect for what I need. If something like that be obtained, then simply a place isolated from prying eyes would be sufficient. I do hope I'm not being presumptious in my asking, or hoping that you'd allow me to fight on your behalf in order to assist your noble cause?"