[img] http://i.imgur.com/2uDBgEK.png[/img]
[img] http://i.imgur.com/8mPMSWF.png[/img]
[img] http://i.imgur.com/QLodCtj.png[/img]

[b][u]Thaum: The Tower: Seventh Floor: Dr. Dream's Laboratory[/u][/b]

“C’mon, Big Bro!” Dylan hissed between his teeth, struggling to lift the heavier and larger man’s arm over his shoulder and drag him across the rubble strewn mirror hall to follow behind everyone else in racing for the room’s exit, the three shadow doppelgangers that had been forming from the ooze into copies of themselves moving to take chase. Don said or did nothing, the man having already passed out from the gas he had inhaled from the statue room they were trapped in, with no way of properly knowing what the effects were. He could feel the man’s heart beat, and hear Don snore in that ridiculously loud manner of his, but who was to say the gas might not have been poisonous as well? 

As the team ran, Moira covered their rear, doing enough to swing her giant Great Sword around and prevent their foes from gaining on the Pride, long enough for Xandra to hammer their way through the exit. As they all fell through, the exit vanished behind them. And for once… for a brief moment… they were safe. 

But who knew how long that could last?

An elevator ride lifted the Pride up, up and up. Don and Marcus rested slouched against the wall, the two having been most severely affected by the gas and exertion to break free of the room. Amy’s healing magic kept Marcus on the side of consciousness, but he was as near unresponsive. Her magic helped to heal any wounds he may have had, but he still remained magically spent and exhausted, barely able to keep his eyes open. Estelle crouched beside him to comfort him, after thanking Lute for his help in carrying her to the elevator. She too still felt groggy after her exchange with the gas, but enough to still keep moving. To speak and move on with the mission. 

“Thank you, Lute,” Estelle said with a smile. “You helped me out.” Estelle turned back to check on Marcus. Any and all thought or consideration for the wound on her shoulder, or how she came to acquire it, had long since vanished. 

And then the doors opened. The laboratory was revealed, in all its crimson stained glory. And Dr. Dream… Dr. Dream, their client, stumbled forwards with a horrific gash lining his stomach. He collapsed to the ground and died, only after fingering the blame for his death on both Atlas and Marcus. Everything moved too quickly for them to do or say anything. To stop it… before he was down on the ground. 

“AMY!” Estelle screamed, looking at the blonde cleric. Screaming at her with her expression to do something. To reverse this. 

She looked to Marcus, who she carried with the help of Lucien. He was unable to talk, unable to begin to explain or clarify what had happened. But she also knew that Marcus… Marcus would never do a thing to cause this. She knew him too well to even possibly consider that as something that could happen. Dr. Dream was wrong. He had to be!

But how? Why? Why had he made those comments? Why did he accuse Marcus? 

And Atlas… how was Atlas involved?

She turned towards the raven haired man, expecting an answer.