"So, it begins again, does it?"
"Once again you play second fiddle, though... Impressive."
"I pride myself on that power."
"That was sarcasm."
"I'm sure."
"..."
"Think they can do it again, only to us this time, Lilith?"
"Not a chance, Typhon."
"Good. Because I lost to that bitch princess and her band of merry misfits once... I don't intend on doing so again."

Amazonia Imperiia

Kraith, Traxilus, Garren, and Count Richelieu would arrive quickly in the Amazon Jungles, through a mix of Mage's Guild teleportation and a quick ride by boat over the blood sea and up the river into the heart of the jungle. It would not take long to find the Amazons, especially with Imperial guides, and their meeting spot, a small area of less densely packed jungle. Here, there were several campfire spots, tents, and more that littered the landscape between trees and shrubbery. A place easy to hide, but also easy to be ambushed in. Along the entire route the party traveled with Queen Alexandria, a woman known for her down to earth mannerisms. Her red hair was easy to spot in the jungle underbrush, as was her rather coarse yet refined mannerisms with the Imperial scouts. For this occasion she wore the full decorative armoured uniform, though kept a collar around her neck, one which many said allowed her to control her lycanthropic powers, despite how aged the leather seemed to be.

Around the meeting area was a loose set of guards, both Amazon and Imperium. As for the meeting site itself, General Florence and the Queen of the Amazons awaited at a large and crudely manufactured table, likely produced by the Imperium right there in the jungle itself. General Florence was an aging general, wrinkles on his face and grey, short hair, though he wielded the full heavy leather suit of Imperial gear with pride. As for the Queen, her dark brown hair and light blue eyes with slight wrinkling around the eyes gave away the same impression of age and wisdom.

Beside this table, and its chairs, was a roaring campfire, where the princess waited, arms crossed, a mixture of irritation and hesitance in her eyes upon spotting the newcomers. Like her mother she had dark brown hair, though with a set of brown eyes, and as the fire crackled and spat out almost as venomously as she seemed to wish to with her own mother, it revealed the naturally fit and attractive form underneath the tight leather armour.

Amazons were, after all, a people known for living on whimsy and carnal lust or rage, due to their relatively short life spans, and perhaps due to their culture itself.

Alexandria looks to the party members, a bit of concern in her steps shown only to those of the party. "Your first goal should be to acquire as much information as you can... Whether you start with the princess, or the queen and the general, really, it is up to you." The princess looks Alexandria over with a raised eyebrow, though, one quick glare and matching growl from Alex at the princess stifled whatever thoughts the princess had in mind. "These people are known for being... Aggressive and sultry, while the Imperium is known for being calm and highly disciplined. Keep this in mind... Remember, we're here to find out if the Queen is in fact under demonic influence. After that, if you need guidance, or assistance, come and ask. It's what I'm really here for." She then looks at Florence and rolls her eyes as he smiles respectfully. "Besides, I had enough of Florence the first time I met him... I could really use an excuse to get out and about."

With that, Alex goes and stands by the meeting table, arms crossed.

At this point, the available options were many, and Alex had given her suggestions as to what to do. Though likely the meeting would start in a few minutes, so the more time the party spent asking one person questions, the less time overall they would have for the others... Unless they split up. There was, of course, the rest of the camp as well, including various veterans, huntresses, and more that could potentially be spoken with.

The only question now, was what would the group do first...

First Blow

The trio of Maher Adonai, Thailen Vicariss, and Erasmus took the same route initially as the Amazonia Imperiia team, they split off, taking a smaller vessel crewed by Liverian Witch Hunters mid-route as they traveled for the blighted lands south of Tuleria. The best way to get as close as possible to the cathedral without fighting through hordes of the near mindless undead was by boat. Thankfully as they approached, a fog started to roll over the blood sea, something normally not possible, yet, there it was. It slowly covered the coast line, growing thick and covering the approach of the trio. The mages of the crew felt something off about the entire affair, but it didn't stop them from completing their mission of delivering the trio... Even still, on occasion, Erasmus would find most of the mages near him, trying to repress the unnatural chill running through them using his unique penchant for drowning out magic. Indeed, even the fog seemed to give way wherever he stood.

Quietly, the trio had been sent out by row boat onto the shore. Maher Adonai was given a simple flare gun, a black powder charge that shined brightly, even cutting through fog with magical bursts of energy. When they needed to retreat, returning to the coastline and firing the shot would be all they would need to do.

As the row boat departed, the true depravity of the situation started to sink in. The ground wasn't simply dead, the roots occasionally writhed with dark energies, the normally benign undead roots now seemingly producing the thick fog that stuck to their clothes. The occasional distant, unholy wail of creatures that supposedly had no functioning lungs left, the constant feeling of being watched. Even as a small gecko sped past the group, one couldn't help but noticed the open rib cage and missing tail. Nothing in this land lived, and slowly, it was becoming dangerous to even be here.

Yet, finally, a single flare shot up from the boat. Green in colour and making a high pitched noise, a similar flare was shot up a few seconds later, deeper inland. That was likely where Wren Vesper was waiting. Yet the path ahead was shrouded in fog. They could always charge forward, to try and reach Wren Vesper before any undead could reach her, or take it cautiously, try to prevent any surprise attacks or ambushes on them... Though it would take longer.

Royal Blood

The City of Liveria, capital of the kingdom of which it is named, remained quiet as Rayne Walker, Auric, Jason Drake, Ceann, and Rayvon Krayvitch arrived. The group would find most of the city's streets quiet, nearly deserted, with most people preferring to remain indoors in such solemn and worrying times. As they walked through the city to reach their destination, stone gargoyles, unmoving, unflinching, sitting atop stone structures would stare at them. The city's walls and main gate even was littered with them, literally glaring at anyone daring to proceed near the city... Rumour has it that some even came alive at night, though, in the capital of the Witch Hunters, this surely seemed like a falsehood.

As the group approached the large palace, they would find themselves ascending a large flight of stairs, grey, lifeless, and yet intimidating. At the top were large doors, guarded by a pair of heavily armed men covered head to toe in chain mail, and wearing helmets that obscured their faces. They seemed almost as vacant of life as the stone around them... Yet, one figure stood out, curiously looking at the two men as she tapped her lip and left foot in unison.

Mikan made no effort to hide her nature, constantly teasing the party in every which way as they rode on horseback from the capital of Renalta to the capital of Liveria. Childish almost to a painful degree, yet flirtatious and full of an almost comedic touch, this woman's attire even seemed designed simply to catch attention when she wanted it, or evade it when hiding in shadows.

Here, with the guards, her high pitched tone contrasted heavily against the unchanging, unmoving, uncaring environment. "Hiya! Name's Mikan, meee-kan, me-kan, got it? Okay! We're the blades sent to help your king! Courtesy of our queens." The guards seem perplexed for a moment before shaking their heads and stepping aside, knocking on the door in a certain pattern. The doors open a few moments later, and with a wink, Mikan motions the party inside, giggling as she too enters the royal palace...

It took only a few minutes from that point, and a few irritated guards being pestered for directions, to find the main throne room. There, a single, bright light shined in on the center of the room, revealing only the metal boots and the bottom of the large and luxurious throne upon which the Crown-Prince sat. Beside him sat his daughter, a teenage woman, also obscured by darkness. It seemed intentional, then, that a single falcon stood between the king's feet and the group as they entered. It stared at them, non-stop, almost entirely unblinking, and while the room seemed suspiciously vacant of guards, one could tell that the dark corners of the room likely held any aid the king needed for surprise assassins.

Mikan bows her head, then gets down onto one knee. "I am Mikan, and these are my compatriots..." The Crown-Prince seems to look over each of them, before asking one, simple question.

"What, are your names... And why did you choose to volunteer to come to a kingdom which openly disdains the one you work for." His eyes seem to hesitate on Rayvon for a moment, before moving between the rest.

It seemed, then, that how the party introduced themselves would help shape what the Crown-Prince might share about the murders thus far... At the very least, it would appease his curiosity, likely a healthy thing to do.

The Hunt For Diana

As with the First Blow and Amazonia Imperiia teams, they boarded the same vessel, and departed midway across the sea after the First Blow team on another vessel. The crew, in fact, was doing a favour for a certain woman... The Felidae, as it was called, owed one of the queens of Renalta a favour, and a journey that would normally take longer than the other two was cut in half, and made safe, even as they docked in the treacherous ports of Southblood itself the crew made all the reassurances it could that Trom, Nadira Adonai, and Hector Thanos would have the disguises they would need to avoid catching the eyes of the especially conniving assassins looking for a little revenge against the Queens.

Thus it was that the trio was left in Southblood, with one last favour acquired by Mikan asking her two mentors for a favour... A lead. An agent of the Crescent Sisters would be waiting for them in a large and burgeoning inn, one that bragged about once having the Queens of Renalta and Sarah Darkhammer in the same place at the same time.

The city of Southblood itself was made out of sandstone, with sandy streets and merchants everywhere. Even the rooftops, flat instead of curved, served as places for merchants to set up shop, or to redirect foot traffic away from what could sometimes be choked with business.

Yet, even still, what should have been simple was not anymore. Upon disembarking and being left in the port by The Felidae, they couldn't shake the feeling of being watched over, almost... Protected. Within a minute of the crew leaving them to their business, Nadria Adonai would find a note in her pocket, one she hadn't had prior to reaching the docks. It read simply to travel into the eastern quarters and go into a weaver's shop known as the Crescent Sisters' finery... Yet their original destination would take them into the western quarter to reach The Queen's Inn.

One thing was for certain, at least.

This city was obsessed with celebrities.

Royal Blood- Rayne Walker

"What, are your names... And why did you choose to volunteer to come to a kingdom which openly disdains the one you work for."

Farm Boy deep in thought. He tilted his head to the side, gazing off at nothing in particular, as if all his focus was on trying to formulate an answer to the Crown-Prince's question. A rehearsed pose, a memorized action, one of hundreds that made up the character of Rayne Walker.

Of course, this action was learned from extensive Soulwalking in the bodies of young Renaltan farm boys. Though his current forged personality usually takes the form of a young lord- polite, educated, understanding, willful- Rayne knew that people usually noticed and appreciated the actions that reminded them of his origins. However, the Crown-Prince may not yet know where Rayne claims to have come from. It made little sense for the young Queen's Blade to share his biography with the man unless asked, but it was possible that enough of these rehearsed movements, accompanied by a more commoner-sounding way of wording certain things, would allow the Crown-Prince to pick up on the origins of this persona. If not, even better, for that meant that he wasn't paying nearly enough attention to see through the disguise.

Young Lord before royalty. Stepping forward, clearing his throat, Rayne begun to speak in a respectful tone with a layered-on hint of nervousness. "My name, Crown-Prince Xavier, is Rayne Walker." Add some Ambassador. "I chose to come here in the hopes that my people and yours might find a way to peacefully coexist." Treading lightly over a sore topic. "From what I'm to understand, you feel that Renalta and Liveria believe in things that are too different for peace, but both our being here and your request for us to be here in the first place prove that there's greater need for us to come together than there is for our kingdoms to want a divide." Kind Commoner to finish it. "Darker times loom ahead, and only by working together can we make our way through the darkness. This is why I joined the Queen's Blades, and this is why I'm here." Hopeful nervous gaze.

Cease Fire

---

The party sent for to negotiate and secure the treatise between the rival factions arrives in a small town known as Kulseruck. They were now deep into Rheinfeld on the border between the established territory of the Rheinfeld Republic and Templar Order after crossing the natural mountain barrier between the two kingdoms. The journey there had been uneventful, truly, but there was a palpable tension that certainly there might be trouble to come.

This feeling of wariness is only amplified within Kulseruck. The town, set within the middle of the plains in a large farming region, is encompassed by a defensible wooden barrier as was Rheinfeld tradition. Along each of the highways was a gate entrance, wide open, with a pair of archers up top looking down as a small party of foot soldiers, or rather militia would seem more correct with their cobbled together armaments even consisting of objects they could find around the shed, keeping watch with apparent boredom.

Coming up, the party can see scorch marks across the fields and segments of wooden wall that appear newer. The guard visibly grow nervous as they adjust their shoddy shields and assorted weapons. It is now, the leader of the party, an elder man with extensive scarring over every inch of visible skin, steps forward. One of the guard shuffles forward, he appears young with a patchy beard but his eyes reveal someone who has seen more in his years than he cares to talk about, the puckered scar descending across an entire side of his face only evidences this. “H-halten! Sie kommen... Sie kommen am Kulseruck. Welche unternehmen haben Sie? “ They were obviously riled by the level of arms the group has... One of them, a wizened man with a frazzled beard of steel and snow stares wide-eyed at the ogre amongst them.

The elder man steps forward amongst the group, with a simple but still well made brown robe obscuring most of his body, with the sleeves drooping over his arms and obscuring them. The slight sound of metal clanking underneath the robe suggested that this was more than a simple elderly man. And the horrid burn marks that covered his lower jaw and stretched down into his neck and unseen below the robe told a horror story that most would be better off not knowing.

“I am Sisera of Renalta, Brother and Royal advisor of Queen Kouri of Renalta” he said with a polite, friendly but at the same time stern and authoritative voice. He pulls up his sleeve and from his burned hands produces a letter with a royal seal.

“I believe there are some very anxious people in your church whom we would be delighted to speak to.”

The men shift uneasily, eying each other and muttering amongst themselves in rough Rheinfelder. One of them takes charge and appears to tell the others of the group off, the young man in charge. He clears his throat, settling his gaze on Sisera and speaks out, obviously struggling, “Yes, they waiting. They are.... Frighten, like.. Like children?” His compatriot shakes his head and corrects, “Nervous. They're nervous. Can't blame 'em. Half the town is hiding out, waiting for everything to get over with.” The younger man seems confused by the stream of discussion before nodding, pointing back behind him, “Yes, do go. Church. Everyone there.”

The guard stands aside to either side of the gate, giving them all passage.... Alhvaharyis would be able to catch two of them making a snippet of speech between each other in Rheinfelder about being thankful they did not have to try and stop a 'damned ogre' and how they 'had enough trouble with the others'.

Beyond the great walls, the city lays out before them. In the center of the town was an old church building, tall and proud, though now somber in its tone with its broken windows and a collapsed wall on the side. One of the doors hangs partially off its hinges. It is not the only building in the town in such repair. Some of the homes and establishments appear to have “good enough” patch jobs set up in their walls, roofs and more. Even the people seem a bit broken as they give the party wary glances, shuffle into the buildings and just overall try to avoid them. A few stubborn individuals remain out in the open, tending to their everyday lives, or as much as they could gather back up. A few even lounge about, obvious refuges from other reaches of the country.

Sisera stands before the church, a relic of a bygone age. Shame such beauty had to go to waste on such a wretched religion. He turns and faces his group of Queen's Blades and looks at them with a slight wry smile.

“Now I'm heading into the Church to catch up with an old friend before negotiations officially begin. Those who wish to accompany me may do so. However, if you desire you may mingle with the locals for a short while, but be quick about it.”

With this last sentence, Sisera gave a quick wink that only his Queen's Blades would be able to see. A hint? Or perhaps just an old man getting his kicks? Who could tell with a man as reclusive as himself.

---

Here Cometh the Wolves

---

Whispers and uncertain reports, that's what the group had gotten. They could all review the request papers passed on to them from their supervisor in the Queens' Blades. It said the same thing, reports of an individual, usually a woman. The motif was always the same... Witnesses of a man in a large coat obscuring his features, in the dead of night descending. Each morning, a new body was being found with deep furrows carved into their flesh. As far as the reports say, they assume them from a rending animal... or bestial humanoid. In further investigation, they would each prove to have a tie to the General Varro Luclin or the Archmagi Janelle Naeloa.

Rather than a trip across part of a continent and the Blood Sea, the group used magic means to cross the distance. Through a series of a teleportation hubs set up by a broadening mage community, they managed to essentially 'hop' their way to a closer place where they could manage to walk... Of course, that may have been of little comfort to some, as the final mage joked, as they still had to take a ship to reach Port Luclin. There, they were met with an escort and brought to the local official office. As they enter the main conference room, they would be able to see a trio of individuals all in similar attire marking their station as local law: A human of marked higher station, and a pair of lizard-folk with.... more than obvious mixed blood. One other individual stands in the room, a white winged animal standing vigilantly at her side and watching those entering with predatory intrigue.

The woman, short but still managing to hold herself tall looks over the group even in her middle age, her lips pursed into a tight line. Esyllt and Jelial would feel a wave of worry wash out from her, before reassurance filters in as her eyes rest on her mage apprentice. A faint trace of a smile flickers over her face before she clears her throat, shifting her weight and resting more heavily on a staff of more tribal design and evident age. “Some of you may know me, already, as I know you. For those of you who do not, I am Janelle Naeloa, the Archmagi of the Magi Society of Tuleria and one of the three who hold a governing seat in this kingdom.” She drifts off into silence, her eyes stopping on the vampire, distrust quite apparent at the sight of her before she continues. “I am sure you are all aware of the gravity of this situation... Have even heard some of the concerns held by those in political power. I have come, at least for now, to discuss a few of these matters with you... But, before we continue...” She reaches a hand out to the closest of the foreign investigators. “I would know you all.”

Royal Blood

So...this is Liveria...

Such were the thoughts of Auric as he and his company rode into the streets. It was a sharp contrast to his homeland of Rhinefield, the streets and buildings were dark, and the atmosphere unnerved him a bit. All around, the streets which he imagined were normally bustling were eerily silent, and he couldn't help but wonder whether the inhabitants were somehow afraid of the Queen's Blades. He knew that this mission was going to be a tough one, especially with the bad blood between Rhinefield and Liveria, so he would have to conceal his homeland as best as he could, though his celestial heritage was going to be an issue he couldn't avoid.

As the group approached the palace, Mikan had made several comments that struck Auric as snide. To him, she seemed to be taking far too much light of the situation, and was far too flirtatious for his liking. Still, he knew better than to mock her, what little he had heard of her was that she was quite the devastating assassin, though he couldn't confirm the reports. Even so, it would be best to stay on her good side, even if Auric was a bit put off by her mannerisms. Eventually though, they reached the palace and she had gotten the doors open for them.

Auric marveled at the rather magnificent architecture of the building, he never had been inside a palace before. The decor was a bit dark for his tastes, but given the rest of the city he wasn't surprised by this. At length they were conducted into the throne room. He thought the falcon was a rather strange addition to this situation, and stared at it for a couple of seconds before he resumed walking with the group. Auric swiftly followed Mikan's lead, bending knee before the prince. This was a rather unusual situation for the nation to be in, welcoming foreigners into their lands, and he knew that he would have to make a good example.

It was then that the prince asked "What, are your names... And why did you choose to volunteer to come to a kingdom which openly disdains the one you work for."

Auric responded with an immediate introduction "My name is Auric Oranthar". A few seconds passed as he worked out how to answer the next part of the prince's question. His first instinct was to respond with the fact that he didn't owe allegiance to the queens, but realized that it could be easily taken the wrong way. Not wanting to keep the prince waiting he continued with what he thought was a succinct and honest answer "As for why I am here, I simply go where I am needed most. I will do everything I can to help." he added with a hint of a smile.

Sarah's Request

It had taken some time to get where they had, Kasim Ambibilus, Naream Baenre and Andrea Llolth'Allin had followed the tall woman with silver hair and death pale skin from the place where the mages guild had teleported them according to her very precise instructions. There was no simple light here, the drow walked behind Darkhammer in her heavy robes and thick travelling cloak, neither of the three needing any special lighting. Kasim was in the rear with a bundle of torches, one lit and held. The cold close walls of the Underdarks caverns made the play of light from the torch held by Kasim dance and play amongst the rocks creating intimidating shadow puppets of darklight that seemed to twinkle with remorseless malevolence.

The scent of ancient damp stone filled their nostrils and wet moss could be seen on just about every bend. And Darkhammer was not slow in her movements as she guided them past one turning after another going deep into the stone, indeed it took a full five days descent into the dark to reach the point they now stood upon. It was a plateau of clear stone some four hundred paces across. Amongst the camp it would be noted that it wasn't cold, and that the light, such as it was more suited to drow aesthetics than any light Kasim would care for, was provided by stalagmites heated, probably magically.

A day was spent in the drow camp where Darkhammer bribed some of the lesser of the Drow War party to allow them to provision and rest themselves, while there Naream and Andrea would overhear talk of their Leader Shaera who they are beginning to suspect of some cowardice, several scouting parties had ventured below and either had not returned at all, or returned in such a state that Shaera actually had them burned. Whatever it was seemed to create a great unease in the Drow Leader, but he wasn't pressing right now, instead waiting for word of reinforcement.

Taking this as a providential sign on the next morn Darkhammer lead the team once more into the darkness and down, down, down into the bowels of the world.

Another two days found them in a great cavern.



The temple stood of carven black stone, a ziggurat of impressive size and appearing impregnable but for the stone steps at its base made of the same black material veined through with silver striations, a stone unlike any those present had witnessed before, though Darkhammer was not about to enlightened them to whether or not she herself knew what stone it was. Deep within the entrance the stone was clear and visible, both to the drows darksight and somewhat to the light of the torch Kasim was currently carrying.

Though it showed signs that men with torches, or more specifically, dwarves, had entered, the tattered remnants of webbing can be seen on the floor.

Darkhammer stared at the entrance. "It's up to you now." She smirked. "Let us see if you live up to expectations." She didn't mention that if they did she'd owe Xixis ten gold pieces.

---

Carnival of Chaos

The Whitemarch Brothers and Aneura Shivan did not, along with Hanus Wolfblood get to benefit from being teleported around, indeed there was little need. The village of Arian lay within Renaltan borders and the party ultimately simply walked to the village staying in inns on the way, or even sleeping in makeshift camps if there wasn't an inn within easy reach. The Drow General did not have many words for the party he lead being more concerned about the letter delivered by Crow. It unsettled the man and his silver eyes appeared deep in thought throughout their whole journey and he constantly assured his hair bound back in a tight and severe warriors ponytail more often than was strictly required.

As they got closer to Arian, so too did the tensions rises, the sense of being watched near constantly was an overwhelming sensation and yet no sign could be found if looked for, it took two days of this before, sooner or later, each of them realised that as the sense of being watched grew, there always seemed to be crows present and watching. Even if attacked they returned soon after, and several times in great numbers.

It was Hanus that wondered aloud if such a strangeness was not why it was called "a murder of crows" but soon he dismissed the idea. While watched they were not attacked upon the road, though the sometimes redness of the crows beaks says that more than one other thing had been.

The day before reaching the village of Arian they found the body of what was either a small dwarf, a gnome... or a human child, but its body had been so thoroughly pecked apart by crows that there was no simple certainty and Hanus seemed disinclined to investigate too closely. Moving on they finally reach the village of Arian.



The streets of the village were mostly empty. Few lights were on in the dwellings and a fear could almost be felt on the air. Wherever they looked Crows were perched on the sidings of buildings or along the gutters of their rooftops, some were pecking at thatching on poorer houses.

But what came next, what the blades did next, was in their own hands.

Or was it?

Here Cometh the Wolves

The former general eyed the group of people with a veil of disgust in his eyes hidden by the thick black hair that swayed in his face. And any quiet sneer he made to himself was obscured by his thick, black beard. He traveled half-way across the world in order to help a group of Elitists who frankly dug themselves into this little mess they made. It was obvious that the killings were political in his mind. Who ever was the culprit wasn't trying to stir the pot. This trio of leaders seemed to do that well enough. Instead it looked like the master puppeteer was trying to tip the pot over completely. Get all three of these idiots to start getting paranoid and kill each other, and if some Lizardmen died in the process... fuck it. No one would really gave a damn. Not even those repugnant moralist back in the Renaltan Bureaucracy and that sickening Queen of theirs. Why did he agree to this? Was being a beggar that much worse than being a Dog for the state?

He cursed himself quietly because he knew that answer very well. Even though his Pride gave him a different answer, albeit it was objectively wrong.

Reluctantly he decided to be the first to approach Madam Janelle, he knew from experience to never take a leader lightly, and to never fully trust one either. His hands at his side, compared to Janelle, hell, compared to everyone in the room the man was huge; his posture that of a disciplined soldier and warrior, his body language that of a violent and hard man, but his eyes! Behind the mat of hair and the veil of malice and dislike for pretty much everything, laid crafty and cunning dark red eyes, like that of a Fox. Whether someone could actually pick that up though was another story. Too most nowadays, he was a dumb brute, and he hadn't proved them otherwise in over a decade.

“We've gotten a few reports of whats been going on.” He said diligently to the woman in a voice that was naturally low and harsh,“I understand you and Master Varro have lost a few close aids and such?” He didn't say his name. Not yet. He wanted to avoid that subject, the less people knew of him. The better it would be for what remained of his dignity.

First Blow

It had been an odd sort of journey; they’d started with a number of Queen’s Blades at the start but now their numbers had been slowly whittled down as various groups had departed off to their own mission. Their group; consisting of four people who seemed a matched group for taking out a lich; himself, a walking anti-magic field, Thalien who seemed a capable fighter, Alexandre who seemed to be a spellsword of sorts and finally Maher who by the occasional odd grimace that occurred around him; seemed to be a mage. Erasmus kept to himself during the voyage, choosing to not interact with his two companions which perhaps wasn’t a great option to choose just before taking on a lich, a task that would require a large amount of co-operation, but he just wasn’t feeling particularly chatty.

He’d noticed the tendency for the Tulerian Witch-Hunters to gather and stay around him; he knew the feeling that they felt were a miniscule comparison of what he felt if he tried to summon even the tiniest shred of magic but it was still a very uncomfortable situation. He spent a fair portion of his journey speculating on their behaviour; eventually deciding that they were drawn like a moth to light, he was an oddity; a source of power to these people and they felt compelled to investigate him. The other possibility which was a very worrying though; brought upon by how distressed some of the crew seemed on the outer regions of his field was that whatever was outside of his field was far, far worse than losing connection to magic. Perhaps what they felt was a corruption of magic; such a thing seemed common with unnatural beings like Liches, creatures who’d sacrificed everything they had to become an avatar of unholy magic.

The further upriver they travelled, the more the fog intensified and the more uneasy the Tulerian mages onboard got; even Erasmus found himself idly playing with a small charm wrapped around his necklace, it was a small silver well and in this unnatural place it was deathly cold in his warm grip. Soon the fog so thick that the people on-board could barely see through it and when they passed through it clung to them with greedy fingers, more than one person seemed to be wearing a suit of fog. The fog seemed to be forced away; dissipating even around him at the point of roughly what would represent a strong anti-magic field so it dawned on Erasmus that this fog was being conjured by something. He rose from his somewhat comfortable perch near the back of the boat and moved to the very prow of the ship; getting some odd looks as they same the blanket of fog thin around him and he even developed a little bit of a following as the people sought refuge from the unnatural fog. Once he was at the prow he leant over the front a little, peering into the murky water; as if he were able to pierce its gloomy miasma.

Even the river itself seemed tainted by the presence of such unholy magic; Erasmus had seen many lands affected by all manner of unholy and demonic magic but this ranked as one of the worst he’d seen. The very fabric of the land seemed warped; everything seemed to radiate a sense of hopelessness and an almost overwhelming aura of dismay permeated the surroundings; this Lich was either extremely powerful or attempting to scare off any would-be adventurers with the environment. He absentmindedly tugged on his grey leather armour, hopelessly attempting to re-adjust it into a more comfortable position before he gave up with an exasperated sigh; the chestpiece of his armour was starting to wear through a bit and thus felt it deserved to act like a war-torn veteran.

Eventually the boat slowed to a halt and a flurry of activity began as a row boat was pulled alongside and he was directed onto the row boat; a noticeable number of dismayed looks developed as they saw him leave, clearly missing his presence on the ship. Erasmus was wordless as they travelled towards the beach; in fact the whole scene was deathly silent with the only noise coming from the occasional murmur of conversation and the sluice of the oars into the water that ended with the tiniest of splashes that seemed deafening in the silence. There were no bird-calls, no insect chatter, not even the swaying of the trees; the whole place reeked of death and this occupied Erasmus’ attention.

The secret to this Lich was buried in just how beyond dead this land truly was; it had been blasted and warped so far from life it didn’t seem like it belonged to this world. When they disembarked onto the beach an inhuman wail pierced the air; Erasmus immediately scanned the horizon, hand straying to the pommel of his sword and the cold, grey sand crunched under his heels as he surveyed the surrounding. A small flurry of movement dragged his attention down to the ground where a gecko ran by; even it was undead and living off the aura of corruption in the land. He smirked slightly, undead geckos was a new occurrence for him and just a little bit entertaining as his mind entertained the thought of purposefully reanimating a gecko. This was most likely far from the truth, the gecko had probably been caught in a widespread spell which had caused such damage to the land; it was either the work of some artefact of power, an ancient scroll or an enormously powerful lich.

He wandered a few feet from his three companions and reached down to touch a root protruding from the ground; it was a gnarled and withered thing, it seemed to produce the fog which had blanketed the area so effectively. Using his body to block the view of his companions, he grasped the root, watching what transpired, chewing his lip with a rampant curiosity. He stood up again, a contemplative face controlling his face as various thoughts burrowed their way through his head about just what was going on here. Something just seemed completely off with it all; to him it just didn’t seem to add up and to his great consternation and this gave him the slightest niggle of irk at the back of his mind, like an unscratched itch but it was hastily shoved to the side when the green flare was launched into the air with a shrieking hiss; his eyes naturally followed the path of the missile as it pierced the foggy sky , he felt the occasional pulses of magic from it; they hit him like a minor shockwave. There was a quick reply to the first flare as their contact, Wren Vesper if his memory served him right was waiting albeit now very anxiously because Erasmus was sure that they weren’t the only things out here that would have seen that flare.

He left his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it in an instant should the need arise and turned to his companions and said “Well I guess there’s nothing for it but catching up with her now. But we’re bound to not be the only ones who saw that flair so Wren’s going to have a world of hell coming down on her but we don’t know what’s out there.” Erasmus cursed under his breath before continuing with “so what do you think we do? Charge out there or take our time? Neither seems like a particularly appealing option and I highly doubt we should split up in this fog even with the way it dissipates around me” he said with a wave to illustrate his point. “I personally think we should make it over as fast as we can to Wren; an expert witch-hunter won’t go astray and she knows more than any of us about what’s going on.” His voice stayed calm and even throughout the whole thing; he didn’t quite want to let on about his suspicions about the area until he’d had the chance to talk to Wren.

The Hunt for Diana

As Nadira made her way off the ship she stopped to stretch, traveling by sea (especially a sea of blood) was not her favorite form of travel, wielding blood magic was one thing, sailing on a sea entirely of blood was another . She began to relax as the smell of sandstone and the familiar sounds of home surrounded her.

She was born and raised in Tuleria, but Southblood was her home, she had spent many years in this place under Teila's tutelage. She had not spoken much to anyone on board the vessel, other than a brief conversation with Maher before he departed on another vessel. She smiled as she remembered him giving yet another of his lectures about religion and whatnot, her brother was mad, that's all she could put his obsession down too.

Having lived in Southblood Nadira knew her way around the place fairly well. She turned to her companions “I know my way around here, I can take us too the inn if you like”

A few moments later Nadira started off for the inn specified. Stuffing her hands in her pockets she stopped, she felt something, a bit of paper. Removing the paper from her pocket she discovered a note with a simple message to travel into the eastern quarters and go into a weaver's shop known as the Crescent Sisters' finery. “Hold on, I'm not sure what this means but..” She showed her companions the note and sighed. “Well, I suppose this doesn’t help us much does it, I know the shop specified in the note also, if you wish to carry onto the inn go ahead, But I feel as though I should follow this”

Nadira pointed out the way toward the inn should either of her companions choose to go there instead. “Feel free to come with me”

She turn on her heels and made her way in the other direction towards the weavers shop. As she began to walk away from the docks a sense of relaxation washed over her.. as if she were being protected by some unseen ally.

Sarah's Request

---

Kasim stopped a few paces behind the others, gazing at the strange structure with the avid eyes one would expect to see on a farm boy during his first trip to a city. He'd been much the same on their first day in the Underdark, even though they'd only seen a monotonous serious of caves. Everyone knew the place was a bunch of caves, but they never mentioned just how big the place was. They'd spent days walking through the cave systems to reach their destination, yet Kasim felt sure that they'd not even scratched the surface of the place. It might not be as glamorous as a place like Renalta, but it was something new, and that made all the difference to him.

Darkhammer's voice cut through Kasim's wonderment, at least for the moment, and brought his attention to the task at hand. She'd been another target of his fascination during their trip into the dark caves, though he had made a concerted effort not to stare at her as he had the other new and intriguing sights. It was a queer sensation to quite literally follow in the footsteps of a living (well, sort of living) legend, a woman who'd been made out to be some kind of horrifying monstrosity of untold power, a campfire tale and a menacing name used to threaten children into obedience, wife to an even greater horror than herself... and yet Sarah Darkhammer seemed remarkably human, silently making liars of the tales by her simple presence. Well, Kasim wasn't ready to discount the tales about her powers and whatnot, but the story he'd heard from a Rheinfelder fellow about her being a demon was probably wrong.

A number of potential answers to Darkhammer's statement ran through Kasim's mind, ranging from deferential to mocking. He still hadn't really decided how it would be best to talk to the woman, and he hadn't dared to use his telepathy for aid as he would with less potentially dangerous ladies, so he found himself at an unfamiliar impasse. To the Nine Hells with it, he thought to himself with a mental shrug, I'm not trying to woo her anyway, may as well act natural. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt a tickle of humor at his own conclusion.

"We most certainly will, have no fear." Kasim strode forward with his torch held high, still speaking. "I can count the number of women I've disappointed on one hand, and I'd like to keep it that way." He made it a few paces ahead of the others before stopping and turning round to face them, one side of his mouth pulled up in a crooked smile. "Actually, wait, maybe not one hand, but definitely no more than two. Either way, this is no time for thoughtless bravado. I don't know what I was thinking, trying to be in the front of the band of intrepid adventurers. Everyone knows the guy with the bow stays in the back."

Kasim's eyes flicked toward his compatriots, then back to Sarah Darkhammer, his voice and expression a touch more serious than a moment before. "While I'm being rational, I suppose I ought to ask a couple questions. Do you know where in that big black thing we're supposed to find your artifact? Also, what's the thing supposed to look like? We could wander around lost and confused in there for a few days for your amusement if you like, but since it's important I figure maybe we should get it done quick. Any information you'd care to share that might help us get you what you want would be greatly appreciated." Normally he'd follow a request with a smile, hoping to win through with charm if his words failed, but he felt such coaxing wouldn't help much in this particular circumstance. Instead, Kasim simply switched the torch to his left hand and waited to see how the dice fell.

Sarah ignored the banter with a sly grin that said volumes, and nothing, all at once. "The artifact is likely to be central to the structure, you shouldn't have too much difficulty finding your way, it gets deadlier if you're going the right way is the usual case with these places." She paused considering the next question. "As for what it looks like, you will have no doubt when you lay eyes upon it, not least because its guardians will be trying very very hard to kill you, and keep themselves between you and it, as for any extra advice. Sleep not on the black stone or you might find your wits stolen from you." While her warnings suggested this was as much a test as a task she needed done, the last section left no doubt that she was serious.

Kasim nodded, smiling faintly. "Well then, I'm glad I thought to ask for the extra tidbits. I'd make poor company without my wits, and that wouldn't be any good for group morale. Thanks for the information." He turned to his fellow Queen's Blades and gestured toward the structure with his torch. "Unless I missed something, shall we?"

Here Cometh the Wolves

Her first mission with the Queen's Blades was filled with new experiences. Not only was it Esyllt's first time in the kingdom of Tuleria, it was also the first time she laid eyes upon lizardmen. Their scaly skins, their snouts and strange feet. They were just as their name prescribed; a mix of lizard and man. Esyllt could not help but stare in awe at the creatures, impolite as she knew she was. Esyllt would quickly look away whenever any of them noticed.

It had been her first time to travel by ship as well, which had made the trip all the more fantastical. Traversing the water, having the ship rock underneath her feet (as well as her first time experiencing seasickness) and seeing the coast shrink as they drifted from it, and another grow as they approached it, it was as if they traveled through a world of yonder. Tuleria made that very same impression, and in her entire life, Esyllt had never felt this small before. It was exciting and frightening at the same time. The kingdom of Tuleria was a whole new world...

From the port to the inner city, Port Luclin was riddled with stalls and merchandise. Esyllt found it hard to keep up with the rest of her team, but disciplined herself to ignore all of the city's distractions. The weather in Tuleria was warmer than even the hottest summers in Edmundal. Esyllt quickly found herself sweating and her skin tingling from the heat, but was hesitant to button down like the locals seemed to. Their climate reflected in their choice of clothing, they bared skin and scale in places that made the Edmundal girl blush. Women walked around with exposed legs midriffs and backs, whereas many men, especially the working class, had their chests in display. Their clothing was loose and appeared to be woven out of thin fabric. Esyllt on the other hand, wore a military-style outfit, which consisted out of multiple layers. It wouldn't be until they would meet Janelle that Esyllt would even adjust her collar. In a land of small estate-lords, appearance was crucial to negotiations.

Once inside of the official's office, Esyllt could feel her heart pounding. She had to take a moment to catch her breath and mute the feelings all these consecutive new experiences had running through her entire body. Combined with the weather and her outfit, it was quite taxing. Nonetheless, she followed Saul when Janelle asked for their introductions,

“I am Esyllt Boudica, knight of Edmundal, commissioned in the name of the queens of Renalta. At your service.” She introduced herself with a light bow, but kept her eyes on the creature next to Janelle. The beast had a beak, Esyllt noticed, but this creature's body was more akin that of a panther than a bird's. It had similarities to a griffin, even if Esyllt herself had never seen one. Perhaps she kept her eyes on the beast a little too long, as if trying to figure something out, but even Esyllt did not know at the time what prickled her curiousity towards Janelle's pet.

“Please excuse my colleague for his manners,” She referred to Saul, who clearly attached less value to proper introductions than the young knight did. She was nowhere near as graceful in her rhetorics as her teachers would have her be and it was clear that her efforts were hindered by her travels. Esyllt could not have gotten used to the climate in the hours she'd spent in Port Luclin, and so her breath was deep and her bowing tense. Regardless, she tried, doing her best not to let her gaze wander to Janelle's pet, or the lizardmen in the room.

“However, his assertiveness is a virtue. To begin, we would like to confirm the information we've received from your messenger, if you please.” Esyllt stated before the triad, “Namely, as my colleague stated, the identities of the victims, but also the suspected method and nature of the crime.”

Sarah's Request

Naream had his eyes closed, just listening and taking deep breaths of his old home, for almost a hundred and fifty years he had been on the surface following his master and then got stuck in a infernal pocket-plane dimension, granted he managed to learn quite a few of his former master's secrets there and some of his plans which opened his own eyes to the possibilities open to him. All he needed was a certain tome, a tome which was rightfully his and yet was stolen from him after he had saved that blue haired queen! So upon his release from the pocket-plane he had wandered the world, travelling in the direction of Renalta to reclaim what was his, only to be refused, ignored even! They had stolen from him and refused to give it back! The only reason why he hadn't blasted death magicks around in righteous fury was that they offered him a deal, join the Queen's Blades and perform a number of tasks and then it would be returned to him, well that persuaded him, the number of armed royal guard and other powerful individuals... and a promise to a certain green haired Fox.

He opened his eyes and looked around, he was home now, well not his real home but being in the Underdark after so long, felt good, a homecoming of sorts. He smiled softly, surprised at the nostalgia he felt and the comfort he felt by being around other Drow once more. He sighed wistfully, yes he had missed that feeling of checking over his shoulder all the time for a dagger about to be thrust in his back, making sure his food wasn't poisoned and no 'unfortunate and yet sadly fatal accidents' would happen to him. Sarah Darkhammer's voice brought him out of his reverie and he listened, frowning. He and his master had a brief encounter with the undead woman, as he recalled Harrad had been quite infatuated with her, he did not see the appeal in her, he preferred his women alive.

The human among them, holding his torch spoke up and Naream just rose his eyebrows, scoffing at his first words, 'have no fear'? Was this human foolish, fear keeps you and your senses sharp and alive, especially here in the Underdark. Was this human trying to woo her or think he was in some kind of theatrical play, because for some reason he had a feeling he should clap or something... that or throw rotten vegetables... and for some reason write a review. Even so he did ask a good question how the artifact looked like. "I think if she knew where it was inside she would have told us already.... I am more interested in what is known about the dangers." He narrowed his eyes and looked at Darkhammer accusingly, "And why she can't get it herself, which should speak for the dangers that lie within... or powerful wards." He hoped it was wards against a particular type of undead, in this case Sarah's kind and not regular because if that was the case most of his spells would be useless.

He shrugged, "Even so, assuming we do find it, I suggest the spider worshiping bitch takes it, if it is a relic or artifact of a religious nature, let it be picked up by a servant of a dead religion with all the gods dead and buried." He said gesturing to the third Queen's blade, another Drow.

[Cease Fire, Renaldo]

Renaldo and his party were let through the Kulseruck gate. The guards looked upon with curiosity and suspicion at the entirety of the party, but much of the suspicion was directed at the ogre. During the trek to the city, they traversed a rugged mountain-range and proceeded to introduce themselves; the climb upwards was not too perilous for these experienced men (and one female) and the journey downwards was even easier.

"Name's Renaldo Ysattara," his posture was straight as a lance except for the mace holstered on his back. "I'll be your Cleric, but not your babysitter, for the duration of this mission."

"I believe there are some very anxious people in your church whom we would be delighted to speak to.” Sisera beckoned.

"The old gods of Rheinfeld will safeguard over them for in this time of need. Every moment we wait, is a moment lost towards negotiation. Take us there, at once, good sir." Renaldo added cautiously, knowing there are many out there who did not view the ancient deities as still-functioning. They followed Sisera past the wooden gate and towards the outskirts of Kulseruck, where upon Renaldo saw a church steeple in the distance.

---

His hood hung onto his head precariously in the soft breeze and every so often, Renaldo pulled it downwards to conceal the horns protruding from his temple. Largely anxious to get the mission started, he pondered the circumstances that led up to him joining the Queen's Blades. It had been some time since Renaldo washed ashore near Rheinfeld and since then, he had been on a personal quest to uncover what demonic artifice plagued his physical & spiritual body. Renaldo grew more irrepressible by the day and was reluctant to share this with even the Queen's Blades. He fret not at this most grievous of "curses" enacted upon his soul, for he found some degree of solace in dusty tomes and the arcane; in them, solutions to questions Renaldo had not yet thought to ask. If assisting this decrepit-looking Sisera would somehow unite the Kingdom of Rheinfeld, Renaldo would not shirk his duty lightly. Peering into such mystical mysteries may provide answers to unification of the region which are beyond the grasp of politicians. Laying his eyes upon the derelict cathedral and small city, he felt the sense of urgency and sympathy. Renaldo wished for nothing more in this moment than to see it restored to its rightful glory, for the humans should not live as do the exiled gods - in divine squalor.

---

Renaldo's next action was clear, he would survey the surroundings and attempt to garner sympathy for the Queen's Blades mission by conversing with the locals. It seemed that the wary and reluctant-to-engage peasants were already aware of their presence.

Renaldo muttered to himself ("What exactly are these people scared of? There must be reason for this anti-social sentiment.")
"It would not be wise for us to delay negotiations much longer. May I recommend that one of us assists and protects Sisera within the church, right now? The Sisera MUST remain safeguarded at all costs!" he posed the query to the other members.

"It would not be in our favor to miss out on the crucial preliminary stages of this cease fire... I shall attempt to gather intel. Anyone interested in such a course of action should head into this run-down town with me, but tread lightly. Who among us shall is most suited to protect the Queen's brother?" Crossing his arms, Renaldo surveyed the men among him - Lothar Wolff stuck out immediately. Renaldo knew the man was a native to Rheinfeld and he did not doubt his loyalties. Both REnaldo and Lotar had ties to the Papacy, but the Wolff house had fallen out of favor with the Pope in recent decades. He sure as hell wouldn't be the first to suggest Lothar's name.
The air in this locale was stagnant and the longer they stood waiting around, the more conspicuous they would appear.

First Blow - - Thailen Vicarris

---

Thailen watched the distant flare slowly fade out of sight as Erasmus talked. The thick fog made it hard to find landmarks to use as potential directional guides, and she feared that if she turned away, she would lose sight of where to go. So it was that when she answered, it was with her back turned to the group, head slightly turned, and eyes locked straight ahead. "I agree. The longer it takes us to get to Wren, the more likely it is she'll have to move to avoid-" Thailen stopped, trying to think of what may await in the dead lands. "Avoid whatever is out there."

Images of grasping claws and towering shadows filled her mind, flitted across her vision. Raising her knuckles to her lips, Thailen muttered a quiet prayer. Mortals were not meant to face foes such as this, not alone. Yet there was no other choice. Without the gods, they were all that was left, and the world relied upon the frailty of man. With a grimace, Thailen adjusted the sword hanging at her hip and the whip slung over her shoulder.

Around them, the fog continued to mock, and tried to fill her mind with doubt. The sounds of her companions and of the departing boat were muffled. They became flat and distant, as if from a dream. Everything began to drift away, leaving her alone amidst the dead and blood. No. She had to focus, had to ignore it. "The devout need not fear," she murmured, "for they shall be held aloft and blessed. They will fight in Their name and be shielded, and will never be in vain." Taking a deep breath, Thailen lowered her hand and began to stride forward. "Let's go. We can't risk missing her."

Here Cometh the Wolves

James did not enjoy his time travelling with Saul. The guy didn't come across as the best person to be accompanied with for missions that had anything to do with talking to others. Saul sort of always came off as brooding during every second that passed. James saw Saul as someone that maybe had some deep prejudice. He also was seemingly too opinionated, and a bit rude. To James, travelling with the guy made it seem like he had a ‘God forbid we have to do our job’ type of attitude. If anything, it could just be something he has against the parties involved with this mission.

James didn't know what it really was with Saul. He never put any thought into why the guy seemed so bitter. James didn't really care at any rate, I suppose. The soldier just annoyed the ranger with how he carried himself. The whole deal was similar to when there is a fly in a room with a person, and it just becomes irritating to them. The difference being that James had a giant fly.

If Saul wouldn't tear James a new one—and I mean not the common saying, but quite literally—the ranger would probably tease the guy about it. Teenage angst jokes would have been traveling with the party the whole trip, but James knew better than to pick on any person or thing that was right next to him. Especially someone who alone could crush him. James preferred keeping a big distance between him and his targets.

After the woman reached her hand out to James, Saul spoke before anyone else even had the chance to. When he was done, James waited for Esylit to finish since she began right after. The ranger let a pause clean out the room before he spoke, since Esylit just apologized about Saul. James did not understand why she apologized about him. Then again, James always tried to ignore the man’s personality as much as he can.

James took the woman’s hand—the one who introduced herself as Janelle—and gave her a warm smile. She intimidated the hell out of James so the smile was not an easy effort, but he was able to pull it off. He let go and saluted his host while he introduced himself, “James Schatten of the Queen’s Blades. It’s lovely to meet you, ma’am. But I am sorry that it had to be through duty.” James waited for the remaining two to introduce themselves.

Hunt for Diana
“At last, sweet land.” Trom said, as he walked down the gang plank. Any length of time spent on a boat was to long for him, preferring to places with opportunities to escape or, at the very least, hide. Close spaces and rocking floors were also not good for ones stomach, as he had found out during the voyage. Thankfully, that time was behind him and now he could enjoy the wonderful port of Southblood.

“Almost like home.” He mused looking at the hustle and bustle of sailors and shore men scuffling about. He took a deep breath in and savored the wonderful cacophony of scents that tended to permeate port cities. He heard Nadira off to his side “I know my way around here, I can take us too the inn if you like”

“Sure, that seems for the best. Lead on oh beauteous guide, I’m sure you won’t lead us astray.” Trom responded with a grin. He quickly fell instep behind her, assuming the role of body guard, to try and ward off the preying eyes of cut-purses and thugs.

He was scanning the crowd, reveling in being back in semi familiar surroundings, when he heard Nadia produce the note. Reading it , he felt the familiar tug in his gut that had served him well over the years and nodded to Nadia. “I’m with you, this best serves us following it. Besides, the Inn shouldn't be running off anytime soon.” With that he fell instep behind her as they moved off towards weaver’s shop

Amazonia Imperiia

---

Though the trip was brief, Count Richelieu used the time spent on the road and sea to examine his companions. For a mission that seemed to hinge on Diplomacy, they didn't look very peaceful but rather soldiers on a conquest. The goblin in the group seemed to have the social finesse of a nailed board and the other two men looked like military officers. Richelieu had gladly received this assignment because he had been under the presumption that he was sent to help create peace between nations, not to kick off a war.

And then there was the Queen herself. Richelieu could not lie; she was a wondrous sight to behold. He secretly wished however that Kouri was sent instead however. Though Alexandria was known for her ferocity and loyalty, he personally preferred the regalia and nobility of Kouri. He also thought it was rather odd for a diplomatic mission to be heavily armed. As for Richelieu himself, he stuck out in the party like a sore thumb. He had not a single weapon on his being and in favor of armor; he wore simple robes that designated his spot as nobility. Even without the robes it was clear as day that Richelieu was wealthy due to his smooth features and elegant mannerisms.

When they finally arrived at the meeting place, Richelieu carefully listened to the Queen’s words. As she left to the meeting table, he bowed politely to the rest of the party and gave them a warm smile. “I believe it would be best if I conducted my search with the Queen. While I believe that she can more than adequately handle herself, my talents are not suited for violence and I can make sure of her safety. If someone wishes to accompany me, I will not object though it would be wise to not misconstrue my words for submission. I fully intend for this to be a peace conference, not one to incite war.” He said as he passed a brief glance to their weapons.

With those words he strode away from the group without a backwards glance towards the wooden table that Queen Alexandria stood by. As he reached the table, he bowed deeply to the Amazonian Queen before drawing himself a chair to sit at the crude table. Though he looked very out of place among his surroundings and peers with his soft features, he had every resemblance of being totally at ease among the nobility.

“I am quite fortunate.” Count Richelieu calmly proclaimed at the table, breaking the silence amidst the group promptly. “I am quite fortunate indeed,” he repeated without the semblance of sarcasm or explanation evident on his lips. “It is not every day that I am blessed with such good company, and such precious moments such as these are not to be taken for granted.”

Pursing his lips gently, the Count looked lost in his own thoughts for a moment until realization flooded his eyes at once. Chuckling lightly to himself, he steepled his fingers on top of the table and locked eyes with the Queen of the Amazons. “How terribly impolite of me it is for me to not introduce myself properly. I am Count Richelieu, and it is my pleasure to finally meet the Queen of the Amazons, along with her beautiful daughter.”

Carnival of Chaos

The continuum of premonitions, those bad omens, did not lend towards a pleasant travel for the target town; Aneura could see well in the eyes of Hanus Wolfblood that little could distract his mind from the letter. That, or he was originally an individual with nothing to say. In either case, she greatly appreciated the relative silence accompanying the group, able to collect her thoughts on the mission given her.

How she had been so quickly allowed a hand in the workings of the Queen's Blades, despite arriving so recently. She wasn't one to trust in her own skills so willingly, but the event had solidified an esteem in her she lacked before. Surely this mission's results could secure her an even greater confidence, in both herself and in others. The people of Renalta were warm and open, but she couldn't yet shake the feeling that her condition still elicited poorer judgement in many.

Spear and shield were in hand long before the town of Arian was even seen, wariness brought about by the appearance of a mutilated victim of crows. Aneura kept her eyes trained on the environment with the nervousness of a rabbit in an open field. The crows' cawing was like an eagle screeching into her furry ears, then, and presented themselves as the most obviously peculiar feature of the town. Aneura stood before the brothers and Hanus, thinking to herself for a brief moment before turning to them and presenting her opinion.

"I'm sure you're all capable of noticing the ominous nature of this town, and I dare not proceed further without gaining a better understanding of it," she pointed with her shielded arm towards a small home at their right, but one of the many establishments in the village, though the closest to its border. "I say we inquire the owners of that building before walking further into the streets, and risk finding ourselves caught amidst something unpleasant," she explained.

The two brothers nodded in agreement and followed suit, trailing just behind Aneura as she walked up the short steps to the building's wooden entrance and rapped upon its surface three times in slow but hard succession. She awaited for someone to hopefully arrive before her, doors open and inhabitant lively; such would at least dispel some of her fears of what had befallen this town. By the crows alone, she thought it to be some horrid and widespread usage of dark magic. If there a villager to answer her questions -happily at that- things would be clearer and less... in the darkness, so to speak.

Sarah's Request
Eins Nimgrud

---

Drows. Why did it have to involve drows?

Blasted thieving bastards living in their shitholes in the Underdark. Not that she herself had personally seen their treacherous nature, but she heard enough from others, especially of what they did to women. That thing about the pits they threw women into still gave her shivers. She'd rather die than suffer through any of those drow tortures. Which was exactly why she was walking behind the two drows. Showing your backside to a drow was an invitation for one to shove his dagger in.

Eins Nimgrud readjusted the straps holding the large gilded sword hanging off her back, and continued on walking towards the others.

All those days trudging through the darkness guided by nothing more than a flickering torch and that strange woman didn't do much to help either. The darkness did not bother her as much, for she can partially see in it due to her fake eye,but the woman... the woman gave her that feeling. That feeling of unease. If she was as powerful as the legends say she was, then why did she need the Queen's Blade? Couldn't she just waltz right in and grab it? And for that matter, why was she, Eins Nimgrud, sent along on this mission? She didn't refuse it because of all the money, and the prospect of helping push back those demonic things, some of which wants her blood, but this mission would be more suited for those stuffy stealthy mercs who thing they are so better than everyone else because they can skulk around better than anyone else. With bloody drows along for the party as well.

"Its huge."

Big, black and imposing, the ziggurat they arrived at looks more like a tomb to her than a temple. Though she was no tracker, there was clear signs that some people had entered the temple, most likely the Dwarven expedition. Now dwarves, those were people she likes. Except for the duergar. Those people were assholes.

The thing inside her head shifted uneasily.

While she hated that blasted thing for being in her head, she had to agree it was right for being anxious. Even if she was not betrayed by those drows, any tight spaces inside that temple would inhibit her from using her sword, a pitiful situation where she might as well slit her own throat and lie down dying quietly.

"I'm more interested in rescuing the dwarves that went in there. Stands to reason they would know more about this place, and be of some help in recovering the artifact."

Here Cometh the Wolves-Jellial

Ever since he had read the note, Jellial had been consumed by a sense of worry and guilt. He was irrationally fearful for a great many individuals he held close. The news that he’d managed to glean from the note was not good: Lizardmen, werewolves and his mistress, Janell. All three of the people he held dearest to his heart, or in the case of two of them; their species, was neatly wrapped up into that single note.

There were enough Lizardmen in the city that it was unlikely Que was involved, and Maylene had enough sense not to get involved in murder. The worry in his heart was likely unfounded and irrational. Despite this, Jellial knew that he would feel better only when he saw the three beings that made up the triumvirate of his social grounding.

The only real cure for the anxiety building in his chest was to be away with fear and to get to the land of Tuleria; to home.

The journey was swift, yet despite his magical talents; he felt a sense of nausea whenever it came to transporting. Any other form of transport was preferable, but none had the speed that the group’s urgency demanded. So without any gripes or grumbles; Jellial was home, to beautiful Tuleria. Everything was as it should be: with strong stone houses that could withstand the desert and deep blue oceans that carried the naval pride of Tuleria itself. He had always wondered what it would have been like: aboard a naval vessel. Had fate been but a little different for him, he would likely have spent his life afloat. Instead, Jellial was a magus of reasonable standing and skill with far more blessings than he likely deserved.

The actual arrival to Tuleria had been uneventful, which suited the mage just fine. He had been happy to not be forced into major action after the jarring travel of the transporting magic, which thankfully had been agreeable enough not to force him to empty his stomach. Port Luclin was an agreeable enough station, and the guards were of a reasonable status. He recognised neither of the lizardmen, although that meant nothing of merit. The individual he did recognise brought a smile to his face he didn’t attempt to hide.

The first instinct was for Jellial to break forth from the group and embrace the master he held so close to heart. The magical matriarch had been a maternal figure to Jellial ever since his magical gift had started to flourish, and she was an anchor for his existence. Without her, Jellial would not be half the man he was today.

Because of the importance the woman presented to Jellial, he was more receptive than most about the small emotions she displayed. The washing wave of worry and sadness, followed by a gentle smile aimed at him, followed by the donning of the professional mask. She seemed as in control of the situation as ever, and that meant that nothing disastrous had befallen his brother-in-blood. The wind mage let out a brief, relieved sigh.

The introductions began quickly enough, as Janelle asked for the various members of the Queen’s blades to introduce themselves. He had yet to learn of any of the people, who he would be calling ‘ally’ for at least a while. The first to speak was a brutishly tall man; whose entire demeanour was almost repressive in its bulk. Then was a woman, pretty as a picture, but who looked like she could probably slice the magus in half without battling a delicate little eyelash. The thought had the wind mage chuckle. He would normally have indulged in the small talk, if his worries for Maylene were not still paramount in his mind: Then the next Blade himself by… taking Janelle’s hand? Did this one think himself her equal? He was tempted to throw the fool-boy onto his ass for so callously taking the hand of his teacher. It would be easy really, he could slice him apart with violent winds, or rip him apart with claw and fang and…Jellial felt a trickle of liquid against his palm. His fist was clenched tight and the slightest hint of 4 bloody claw marks had formed where he had gotten over-excited. The thought of killing the bearded man had been enticing, but the thought of transformation…of feasting…was greater still. The room was filled with so many enticing scents that it made the wolf inside drunk with excitement; an excitement that was repressed only by a combination of willpower and the magic of artifice.

Deciding to try and press Janelle for answers in private, he touched at his innate gift of telepathy. The touch of his mind would not be unusual for Janelle, and nor would Janelle’s rebuttal be a new sensation for Jellial. It would take little more than a light push from her, and Jellial would retreat without a hint of annoyance. His loyalty was vast, when it came to Janelle.

”Lady Janelle, have you heard any news from Maylene?” He said, only to Janelle. The moment of intimate communication might have meant more, had the worry in his voice not been obvious. The bond between a person and their Sire can transcend simple affection; as Janelle would likely know.

"I have not, but there are talks of a lycan pack in the city right now." Janelle’s words were quick and direct: just as he had long since come to expect from his teacher. Maylene was an unknown factor; and that put her in danger. He had seen the reports on the letter, and he recognised the description of what could very likely be a Werewolf’s attack. You could say he was intimately aware of what a Werewolf wound looks like.

Sighing heavily, the blood-haired mage ran a hand through his hair before he stepped to the front of the group and turned to them, presenting his back briefly to Janelle. “I suppose I best begin my own introduction. I go by Jellial, and I am Janelle’s representative amongst the Queen’s blades. I guess that makes this my home turf, so if you need any immediate help; I’ll be sure to provide what I can.” His eyes briefly dwell upon Janelle, and then they turned to Laenaia and Esyllt one after the other. He was intrigued by the lovely women, although for entirely different reasons. One of them was purely for her enticing appearance, but the other was for a different reason…A certain uneasiness that had Jellial wondering upon her intentions. Despite the uneasiness, he offered the pair a playful smirk and, to Esyllt in particular, he offered a wink.

Here Cometh the Wolves

The trip to the Tuleria Kingdom was faster than what Laenaia had expected. Even so it was still a tiresome trip for the heavily clothed woman as she tried to reign in her desire to act upon her bloodthirst and attempted to close on the Clean Blooded human in their group as the male's body language had simply shown that he didn't appreciate socializing and seemed to had an hair trigger for violence if she even dared to approach him. A result that might reveal her nature as a vampire and even prove to be fatal considering the size of the brute of a man. As such, she had chosen to stay away from Saul during the duration of their trip and voyage, lamenting the reason why she had chosen to take a mission that took place in Tuleria, a place she had known to be a large cooking pot of races with incredibly few place to use as a cover from the sunlight, which shone as if it wanted to burn the ground in the desert. She never liked passing through the Kingdom of Tuleria before and had done what she could to get to another, colder, place as soon as she was able, hopefully this mission would prove to be brief.

When they arrived, the Blades had almost no time to relax on solid ground as an escort came and took them to the official motive. Now concealed from the sun's glare, Laenaia took down her hood, revealing her face and her currently blue eyes. The vampire only gave a passing glance to the lizardmen in the office before studying the sole half-human, half-elf in the room. Although the most eye-catching about Archmage to Laenaia was the creature that stood vigilantly to her side. The appearance of the majestic beast screamed that it was a griffin but she had never saw another of the same breed as this one. Curious and forgetting the existence of the other people in the room, Laenaia attempted to study the creature using magic, although she only discovered a magical connection between the creature and the Archmage, one so strong that she thought a thread was tying the two of them together. Her brows knitted into a frown as her mind connected some dots, there was only one explanation when there was a magical connection as strong as this, it was when a contract was formed between a master mage and an incredibly high ranking familiar. Apprehension and respect started to show in her eyes when the griffin seemed to puff up proudly and looked at her with intelligent, gleaming eyes.

'I know I am a magnificent sight, but do pay attention, Night-Huntress.' A voice then suddenly said from nowhere into her head. While she quickly identified that the voice was the familiar, it still jolted her awareness back to her surrounding and a small blush forming on her face. Her attention then focused to the ranger in the group, James, as he took the hand of the Archmage and introduced himself. She quickly guessed that they were introducing themselves to the Archmage. She quickly formed an introduction in her head as the mage that smelled like a wet animal introduced himself...to them? Laenaia blinked before nodding an understanding afterward. She returned the smirk that he gave with a small smile before falling into silence as she waited for the next person to introduce themselves. When she noticed the eyes of the Archmage and her familiar were on her, she realized that she was the last person. She gave out a small 'ah' before offering a curtsy to the Archmage.

"It seems I'm the last," she said whilst bowing. "I am called Laenaia, currently a member of the Queen's Blade of Renalta. It is an honor to meet you, Archmage."