Sarah's Request - The Underdark

Andrea stared at the temple wit ha frown, so a precious object of power of her people was inside that thing, which wasn't made by her kind, so clearly some worthless fools had dared to steal it and thought it had been hidden away but now it had resurfaced once more. She snorted when the males started to speak, even if both the human and the other drow in the party, unfortunately a male, had some valid points to bring up, when the other member of their esteemed party of Queen's blades spoke up she just smirked. "Yes, yes, of course we shall rescue those Dwarves, it is our solemn duty as members of the Queen's Blade of her majesty Kouri of Renalta to lead by example and increase foreign relations." She said with a smile, glancing back at female human. Thinking to herself however that with any luck those foolish Dwarves had set off most of the traps that might be in their way to the true prize of this quest.

"While I agree with you that indeed saving the Dwarves, from their own folly, is important, we all should remember to be more interested in retrieving the artifact we seek, it is our main objective after all, without it this whole excursion to this place has been for nothing, despite the most excellent scenery we have witnessed along the way, such beauty you can hardly find on the surface world." She continued saying, still with a smile on her lips. "I do however have one suggestion... we have ourselves a archer... and I and this other fellow here." She gestured with a sleek hand to the other Drow, "Are also better suited at range than up close, I do notice that we have ourselves a fine fighter among us with a rather impressive sword, while you have done well guarding our backs in this treacherous domain on the journey here it might be best that once we enter the temple that you take the lead."

She chuckled and winked at the human woman, "You wouldn't want anything bad to happen to us in there, would you?" She said with a slow smile, she had seen how the woman had looked at her during their journey here, and at the other drow in their party, she had found it amusing, especially when they had passed through the Drow encampment on the way here, the way she was so on her guard all the time, so smart of her. She turned back to the temple and shivered, muttering something under her breath, caressing a holy symbol around her neck and feeling comforted with it.

Royal Blood

She was all nerves the moment they were inside the city, she preferred the open outdoors and not the confines of city life, the air was so thick here, so oppressive and she just couldn't read the people here, mostly because it seems that these people did not like to wander out of their homes, the few who did seemed to keep a hand on the handle of a knife or other weapon at all times and avoided looking at them all, as if some great fear had taken hold of this land and it's people.

The only bright spot might be the royal spymaster, Mikan, who seemed to do her best to keep them all at ease and showing almost no concern at all for anything, no fear, no unease, just a confidence in this mission, it lifted her spirits somewhat. As they approached the palace Ceann gulped, this was not the palace of someone who enjoyed life it seemed to her, there was no joy or apparent trace of grace from it's builders, it just was cold to look upon and she almost dreaded to get inside of that place, fearing she would be unable to breathe at all.

As they entered she shuddered and looked up at the ceiling of the place, not a single trace of the sky, she hoped that they would be out of the palace soon as she took deep calming breaths, hoping to at least appear somewhat calm and collected, she still did not know why she joined the Queen's Blades, only that her visions guided her to it and that it apparently was something she had to do, perhaps doing this would lead her to the path to recall her forgotten past. She shivered, then again maybe there was a good reason she had forgotten it as she recalled a figured dressed in black and gray with predatory eyes.

Hearing Mikan talk snapped her out of her reverie and they apparently had entered the throne room and were before the Crown-Prince who at that point turned to them and 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." As they started to introduce themselves she followed their lead.

Bowing awkwardly as if not used to such a gesture, "My name is simply Ceann, your grace. I came here because the wandering way I lead has brought me here and because a great injustice and tragedy has befallen you and this realm, if we can assist with that, we will." She said offering a weak smile and final curtsy.

Amazonia Imperiia; Kraith

---

The journey had been interesting to Kraith, he was not exactly a social butterly, he didn't even truly try to be. He was a spy, an assassin, a part-time necromancer and all too aware of his companions. While not attempting to be unsociable nonetheless he found himself retreating from conversation with his companions settling back to study them, work out the knots of their entanglements, personalities, quirks and... why they were even here.

The one called Count Richelieu was little more at first glance than some pretty-boy by his own race's standards. Personally, Kraith couldn't help but comparing him with the cougher slug. That sickly pink, the golden fuzz on his head. Worse was what he picked up on his magical senses. Kraith had always identified his magical senses as something of a series of scents, and he stunk of self-righteousness and perfumes. An observation that showed itself in how he treated with Queen Alexandria.

The "Lion" was different, he had no scent of deep abiding magical talent. And yet he smelled ancient. Musty and stale as a freshly opened tomb. Every breath too close to him felt like inhaling from such a tomb, and it didn't help Kraith's opinion of the man that he seemed to be stiff-backed, stiff-necked and entirely certain of himself. Did the man live up to his own opinion of himself? Or was he just a leader out of time as well? Kraith suspected the man would be handy in a fight. But probably too stiff-necked to be relied upon to stand up for a sneaky goblin spy who'd gotten caught. Kraith decided he wouldn't rely on him either, he and the holy mage would be best at the negotiating table anyway plying their fancy words.

Traxilus was more interesting. While he also stunk of old tombs to Kraith, he didn't seem as stuffy as the general. But even so it didn't take long to figure out that, like the Lion and the Count, Traxilus also lacked any real talent for spying. He was another one who talked a lot, but maybe one who could be spared to stick around with Kraith and swing a sword to protect him if he needed to.

The Queen was also interesting. Far more interesting. Even if she did stink of wet dog. But even so Kraith had not wasted words on her. With a self-righteous mage who seemed to want to talk her out of her breeches and a pair of old fellows who smelled like professional coffin warmers, all willing to talk her ears off, Kraith figured that the best gift he could give the poor woman was simple peace and quiet, though always politely answering any correspondence she had with him.

And now here in the Amazon Camp Kraith found himself slightly dismayed. This was not an environment best suited to his skills, but he could make it work. He had, on sighting the camp, adopted the stance that should have hidden him in plain sight. Finally he spoke up to the Queen. "Now may not be the best time to tell you, but it's time I got to work." He shrugged. "If you hear the mating call of an Aasimov worm I could REALLY use some help, sooner than later. I could probably use Traxilus as a shadow in case I get myself into trouble I can't get myself out of."

Without waiting for confirmation his whole stance changed. Where once a relatively quiet, reserved goblins stood. Now stood a man who looked, busy, harried, put upon,... someone who looked like they belonged there, and would best not be bothered. A busy functionary moving about his masters business. A better disguise than skulking about like some sort of idiot tip-toeing. Most people never did realise that just screamed 'idiot sneaking around' the key to moving unseen was simply to look like you belonged and had a purpose, one that it would be best not to interrupt.

And so Kraith backed off and began his search, eyes open to study everything he saw. He had purpose, locating the Amazon Queen, and Princesses tents. Finding out who came and went from them. Who belonged, who didn't, sense to see if he was in any immediate magical danger, or if there was someone whose magical defences were low enough for him to overwhelm and possess, put him closer to the queen or princess. And, maybe later, he'd do a quick toss of their tents looking for anything incriminating. But not yet. For now he would just get his bearings as the talks began. If push came to shove and their suspicions proved possibly true, maybe he could just open up the guilty womans throat one night.

Cease Fire

---

Draza had heard about such places, the towns on the edge, that were split between loyalties and lives. It was likely a town that had been pressured in more than a few ways to join either side. It was times like this that she was glad her hometown was further away from the border, else these troubles would have hit her family. Yet, her heart still went out to the people of the region in their entirety.

It was almost providence, if a little bothersome for crisscrossing some mountains, that she would be returning to her native lands, to help solve a dispute between two parties, both of which she had been privy to the life and times of. She’d worked with the Templars for some years when she was far younger, and spent the last eight or so years with the Republic. Both sides have good intentions, as far as she was concerned, and both wanted what was best for the people. They just didn’t agree on what it was.

“Name's Renaldo Ysattara,” spoke the slightly strange man, his posture a bit rigid, “I'll be your Cleric, but not your babysitter, for the duration of this mission.” Draza did a very admirable job of not giggling at what he said, but leaned over Gahrul’s shoulder to give a comforting smile towards the guards, and a coy little wave. Their companion and charge was doing his duty well, and got them through.

As the group walked in through the gates, she waved from atop Gahrul’s shoulders with a chipper smile. With each of Gahrul’s steps, she’d have to adjust her balance. He wasn’t the smoothest walker, but she couldn’t complain, he was a great guy. It was weird, though, she knew in her head that this is probably not the best out of the missions possible for Gahrul to be on. This was a peace mission, and Gahrul was a smasher! Given the state of the town, though… it’s likely they’d need someone to smash things for them anyway.

At the steps of the church, she began to shimmy on down, making sure her checkered outfit didn’t ride up on her as she finally plopped on the ground and began to get any dust off herself. Turning to Gahrul, when before she could say but a word to her friend and guardian, the cleric spoke up instead. “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 spoke out to the others, herself included. “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?”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. With a bit of a grin, she knew exactly who would be the best at keeping the man safe. Gahrul had a knack for detecting and then destroying trouble. She turned up to her confidant and spoke, “Gahrul, we’re going to have split up. I know, I know,” she patted his leg, “Not your favourite thing, but it will be okay. I’ll stay in your line of sight, and stay safe. What we need, though, is for you to keep our friend here safe too,” with a smile, she hugged his leg, “I’ll be back before you know it. The ogre frowned and opened his mouth to say something but merely closed it again, grinding his teeth against each other. Gahrul didn't like this place. There was tension and anxiety in the air. His senses were tingling. Slowly, his brain reasoned that was probably why Draza asked him to guard the old man. He did look awfully frail, Gahrul thought, scratching his chin. He nodded in agreement.

With Gahrul in the know about the plan, Draza turned towards the other companions, letting her large protector do as he may for the good of the mission. She spoke up with a clear voice, "Okay, so, this place looks a bit... disheveled." She made a bit of a sweeping gesture with her arms towards the apparent overcrowding of persons, makeshift homes on the sides of the street, and then some, "People here have been having a rough time, and those guards back at front were more than a little skittish, poor guys." She let out a small sigh, "So, the priestly man is right, we need to get information about what's going on here. Stuff that wasn't covered in those bor-- er, well thought out mission briefings. I suggest we talk to some of the kids. No one is more candid than a child!" She swung her pack around to her front and pulled out a toy, "Plus, I've got gifts."

"Yes, that is a good idea," said Alvaharyis. "In fact, I think we should split up further. Lotharr, go with Renaldo, I think you two will work well together. I'll go with Draza. Gahrul..." Alhvaharyis looked at the ogre. Gahrul shrugged and looked around, scratching his head. He saw nothing that particularly interested him and turned his deepset eyes back to Draza. He didn't like being split up from the sprite, but that was the plan and he had agreed to it.

"Yes, guard Sisera," the ogre said, his voice deep and rumbling, like rocks grating against each other. He nodded and wandered over to his new charge, looking down at the old man, who returned the ogre's gaze with a warm smile. "Protect you," Gahrul said.

"Danke, Gahrul. We should be quick about this, Sisera doesn't want us dawdling for too long." Alhvaharyis looked at the sprite. "Lead the way."

Walking through the town, the duo notices a few things. First off, Draza manages to find a small group of refugees in a area of tents, poorly erected shacks and so forth. A few small children can be seen playing with toys that appear either of very poorly make or outright salvaged. The parents seem particularly nervous, keeping an eye upon them and yelling if they go too far from them. Alhvaharyis, however, will spy atop the church a small group of Templar and Republic guard keeping an eye out from the ballistrad with bows in hand. Some of them even appear to be talking amongst each other, though one seems particularly wary, searching out over the rest of the rooftops.

Alhvaharyis grabbed Draza's arm and moved his head in the direction of the group he had spied, looking up. Draza is very much so unable to keep moving at the grabbed arm, given the obvious reasons, and turns to Alhvaharyis and gives him a look, "What's up?"

"The church," Alhvaharyis muttered, straightening up and brushing his sleeves. "Look up at the balustrade. Carefully. Do you see the soldiers?"

Draza, ever the master of subtlety, turns up towards the soldiers a bit confused, "Those ones?" Unfortunately, she gestured to them... and they were indeed not the right ones at all. "What about them?"

Alhvaharyis frowned. "The ones atop the church I mean. The one where we're going to be negotiating a peace in very soon. The one where we have potential enemies inside. There are a bunch of guards with bows trained at the exits. I don't like it. They could be guarding gainst potential enemies, but I still don't like it."

In the past, Draza could stifle a laugh at some of the things, but this time a giggle made it through, "You, what? Oh come now Alhvy, Gahrul would have them smashed in an..." she stopped and thought, "Well a very short amount of time if they were up to no good. Gahrul strong, he will not cry like little girl in face of trouble." She spoke with a bit of a silly accent marking her poor grammar as well. "Don't worry about it."

Alhvaharyis flared red to his ears. "Gott verdammt, Draza," he hissed. "He may be strong, but his skin is not bolt-proof. Okey dann. Let's keep moving."

Draza nodded in return, her cheeky little smile coming back. She made a little gesture to get her arm back to herself and a wave back to Gahrul to let him know she was fine from the contact, "Yes, let's." Gahrul waved back, his attention now split between Sisera and the sprite until she disappeared out of sight. With that, Draza began to take confident strides towards the apparent refugee camp within the city, stopping at the entrance to the gathering with a little skip and hop. Alhvaharyis trailed behind, still somewhat fuming.

As the sprite approaches, a pair of children bickering over a ragged stuffed animal stop and stare with wide eyes. "Mama, Mama, schau! Eine Fee! Können wir mit ihm spielen?!" The apparent mother looks up, and upon spying Alhvaharyis, quickly rushes to her kids, "Nein, Sie sollten sich nicht die Mühe einen Priester." She mutters a few last words, sending them back to the camp before straightening up and looking at the sprite cautiously, "What do you want?"

Draza bowed respectfully towards the woman, "Es tut mir leid, gnädige Frau. Ich meine nicht irgendwelche Schwierigkeiten noch Schaden. Ich habe Geschenke, Spielwaren in der Tat, für die Kinder. Es bricht mir das Herz, die Kinder im Streit um Spielzeuge zu sehen." As she spoke, she took her pack and began to remove a few toys. They were little stuffed animals, in good condition. Muttering to himself, Alhvaharyis slunk to the side, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Retaining her respectful demeanour, Draza offered the toys to the woman, and said, "Ich würde es vorziehen, um sie selbst zu liefern. Wenn ich nicht, sie sind dir zu geben, wie Sie es wünschen." She paused, and with a breath, added, "Ich möchte auch, um mit ihnen zu sprechen. Ich werde Sie nicht anlügen und führen Sie fühlen sich betrogen. Ich habe hier für die ich gearbeitet habe und Reisen gewesen. Ich möchte wissen, warum es so viele Leute hier, und warum sie so Angst haben. Ich fühle mich ein Kind wird mir ehrlich gesagt mehr als die meisten sagen. Ich möchte helfen, gnädige Frau. Bitte lassen Sie mich. Wenn Sie irgendetwas mit mir als auch teilen können, haben Sie meine ewige Dankbarkeit."

She looks terrified for a moment, pushing the toys away and barring the way to the children, "Nein, nur meine Kinder in Ruhe lassen, nehmen sie nicht weg und sie in goblins, Fee! Sie sind unschuldig, sie hat nie etwas falsch. Werde ich mit dir reden, nur halten Sie Ihre Fee Charme für sich." Her eyes dart back before she tries to straighten herself out and reorient her thoughts.

Lurking by the fence, Alhvaharyis rolled his eyes and rubbed his forehead. There are few words that could describe the level of hurt apparent on Draza's face. Doing her best to keep a stiff upper lip, she reminded herself that this woman had been through a lot, and that it wasn't her fault that she was afraid. Alhvaharyis, picking Draza's thoughts up, did his best to communicate the magnitude of his discontent to her. Draza gave a pitiful look to Alhvaharyis, and a small shrug, before turning to the woman again. The lady might have thought she was a monster, but that doesn't mean she had to act like she is one. She would do little to bother this woman after this, and she would not press too hard on her. She had been through enough, obviously.

"Es ist dieser Krieg ..." She nervously looks in Alhvaharyis' direction, distrust in her eyes at his uniform, "Das Papsttum und die verdammten Templer. Wir laufen, um das Schlimmste des Krieges zu entkommen, sie nicht für uns interessieren. Nicht wie die Republik funktioniert," she spits the names of the Papacy and Templar Order venomously, it was quite clear there was bad experiences there. "Die Republik, vielleicht können sie die Templer zu ändern, aber bisher diese Soldaten sind nichts als Pech, bringen Tod und Zerstörung überall sie gehen. Je früher sie weg sind, und Ihr kleines "Friedenspartei" zu, desto besser. Gerade lassen Sie die Kinder raus."

She takes a few steps back, obvious that she wanted to be done now. However, she trips over one of the children, who runs forward giddily to the sprite and her toys. "Haben Sie wirklich bringen diese für uns?"

Draza slowly shook her head, "Es tut mir leid, aber ich kann dir nichts geben. Ich möchte nicht zu Schwierigkeiten für Ihre Mutter führen. Sie liebt dich sehr, und will, was das Beste für Sie. Ich kann das respektieren, und wird nicht gegen ihren Willen zu gehen." She began to put the toys back into her pack, and let out but a whisper for the child to hear but not the mother, "Aber mein Paket ist für mit Löchern bekannt, wenn etwas herausfallen und auf dem Boden gelassen werden, würde ich nichts dagegen, wenn es geschafft ein Kind oder zwei sehr glücklich."

She shrugged, and closed the pack around the toys, stepping away from the child.

Alhvaharyis stepped out from behind the fence and motioned to Draza.

"We should go," he said, quietly. "There is nothing more we can do here."

The child seems about to pout, taking a few steps back before beaming ear to ear. Probably for the best that he backed away from the sprite, as the mother was beginning to go into a fit... As he gets ready to go back, he gives an absolutely baffled look to Alhvaharyis, "Sie sehen nicht aus wie die anderen Männer, die in die Stadt kam ... Ich weiß nicht, warum Mama ist so Angst."

Alhvaharyis looked at the child for a moment. His eyes looked far off. Then he said, gently, "Angst ist mächtig, Kleiner. Es wohnt tief in den Herzen der Menschen. Wenn du erwachsen bist, ich hoffe, Sie werden nicht von ihr geplagt werden." Then he turned away.

With that, the child runs off to talk to his sister, obviously conspiring to watch the sprite as she left and be on the lookout for lost toys

Draza, turned to Alhvaharyis and began to make her way back to the church. As she did, she made sure as soon as she was out of sight, she began to mess with her pack again, choosing a toy not displayed to the mother, and with a smile up to her companion, she gave it a little toss into an alley. "Oops."

Carnival of Chaos – Tristan Whitemarch

---

“Come on, move!” Tristan hissed at his siblings as they crept inside the fabled ‘Spooky Manor’ of their town. The moon was the only light guiding them; which was just as well because if any of the guards saw them they would be hauled back to their mansion and scolded till their ears bled. Tristan’s grin spread from ear to ear as they approached the entrance despite the manor’s fiendish appearance, then the rotted wood doors swallowed the children as they snuck inside.

Tristan smiled at the memory. The Whitemarch kids had spent a night there joking and laughing in the manor. It turned out that the manor wasn’t nearly as ‘spooky’ as the others had claimed it to be. The village of Arian however was a notch bleaker than an abandoned manor. Bad omens plagued them at every turn, and the oppressiveness of the invisible eyes increased as they went near the village. Any doubt about the report that a ranger had gone mad here had vanished in Tristan’s mind. He felt half mad himself. Through the entire trip General Wolfblood was deep in thought and disinclined to chatter, and Aneura was the same. Tristan was a social at heart, and having no one to share his anxieties with just increased his tension. No one in his party was social however, and his brother…

He had been avoiding his brother the entire trip, though to not much success. Every time they needed to get supplies from a new town he would volunteer, and he would also volunteer to scout the road ahead. He supposed to had no one to blame for the social isolation but himself, but spending hours on end just walking and watching the crows stare accusingly at Tristan was fraying his nerves. Firing at crows with his slingshot did nothing to discourage them, which disquieted Tristan more. The recurring dream about the witch of his childhood who had prophesied his fate threatened even the restfulness of his sleep.

“A murderer of brothers once, to be twicefold”

He could still hear her voice; a papery and withered sound that he soon forgot in his youth but resurfaced in his dreams in the recent days. He wondered if the gods were punishing him for his actions, but then he remembered that there were none left.

Cristoff had stopped talking to Tristan. Sometimes Tristan wondered whether that meant his brother had decided that he was guilty of killing Devan. That thought terrified Tristan more than any of the terrors that had befallen their party. He didn’t want to have to face Cristoff if he ever found out what had happened. The brothers’ relationship had fallen out a long way from when they were children exploring the forbidden parts of their estate. If it came to an argument… no. He would have to avoid any confrontations with Cristoff. He would not kill Cristoff, no matter what old woman had said. He was Tristan’s only brother left, and he would rather go to where the gods had than allow Cristoff to come to harm. If that meant severing his relationship with Cristoff, so be it.

After Aneura suggested that they search the closest establishment, Tristan nodded in agreement. If there was any clue as to what had befallen the village, it was best they find it first before going all the way into the town center where there could be a hundred enemies surrounding them. At least now they could still retreat should there be any signs of trouble. They should have bought horses, Tristan thought, but at this point it was too late to go back and acquire any. They would have to make do with their wits. Tristan drew his slingshot from his belt and loaded it with a lead ball from his belt pouch. It was made of hard oak, though pieces of iron had been attached to the two ends to hold the elastic in place. Tristan had spare elastic in his backpack which also kept enough provisions for the trip back to the nearest town. He decided to not use his rifle which he kept slung around his shoulder due to the close quarters of the town. He would not get enough time to stow it away before he could unsheathe his sword and equip his buckler should anyone decide to charge him. The final piece of equipment he had on him was a small dirk he hid in his right boot; as an emergency weapon.

The slingshot pointed to the ground as Tristan followed the group. He stayed in the back; always making sure to keep an eye on General Wolfblood. It was one of the primary objectives of this mission to ensure his wellbeing and although he was pretty sure Wolfblood could handle his own, the trap had been seemingly made to ensnare the general. Tristan also needed to ensure that he himself didn’t get the brunt of the attack; he was best at range and not fighting in the front lines, and the boiled leather armor he opted for this mission gave him more mobility than plate, but couldn’t withstand as much. As Aneura knocked the door, Tristan gave his surroundings a scan to make sure that they weren’t being flanked by anyone… or anything.

Royal Blood
Jason Drake

"The City of Liveria..." Jason thought to himself as they rode into the city's gates. The place was so quiet and barren of life. There was a gloom that seemed to blanket the city, with the murder and all the witches that seemed to plague this region it would make sense why it would be. His horse snorted and shook her head with obvious dislike, as if she was saying "I don't like it here." Seemed to ring in his head. No he wasn't telepathic nor his horse but the bond between them over the years made it easy for Jason to read her.
He patted her neck and said softly, " Easy there Shay... Stop being a scairdy cat."
Shay let out a whine and looked back at him, her eyes seemed to say." How dare you call me that."
He smiled as he patted her neck again.

As they approached the palace, they stopped and dismounted, everyone tying off their horses save for him. He never worried about someone stealing Shay... They would have a hard time with her if they tried.

They walked up the stairs and made it to the top were they were faced with 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. He glanced over at Mikan someone he did not fancy on the ride over. Always so loud and obnoxious... Yet he respected her... You don't get on the Queens blade for no reason. Even if styles conflict.
She then spoke up. "Hiya! Name's Mikan, meee-kan, me-kan, got it? Okay! We're the blades sent to help your king! Courtesy of our queens." He wanted to face palm himself when she did this but he held his stance, as silent and ridged like the guards that stood before him. His work depended on being still, so much it was just second nature now. 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. As they moved towards the throne room his eyes constantly scanned the halls and rooms they passed. Looking for an escape plan... Just in case. He did no different when they entered the throne room. Trying to spy out any guards hiding in the dark corners. But with the light situatied as it was, he had no luck for the moment. He looked forward and saw the crown prince sitting in his thrown. Beside him sat his daughter, a teenage woman, also obscured by darkness. Obviously intentional, the rangers used their cowl for the same reason. To create a sense of mystery, fear, intimidation... Make them larger than life. No doubt in this case. The bird was a nice touch though. As if the bird symbolized the distance between the crown prince and all others. As most monarchy do to make themselves "divine"

Mikan bows her head, then gets down onto one knee. "I am Mikan, and these are my compatriots..." At which he followed. His cowl now covering his entire face. The crown prince then 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." Jason noted that the crown princes's eyes seem to hesitate on Rayvon for a moment, before moving between the rest. He remained silent as the others spoke. First Rayne Walker whom he didn't like off the get go. Perhaps it was the way he talked and carried himself. But he didn't show it. Then Ceann, he didn't get much out of the she elf during the journey... Nor did he talk much as of yet to anyone in the party.
It was obvious it was his turn and he looked up at the crown prince and his daughter. So farthe explanations were to bring the two country's closer together or because he asked. He said in a calm voice, " I am Jason Drake, Kings Ranger. We seek for Justice everywhere... Including your kingdom M'lord even if you do not like us, my duty is to bring those responsible to justice. You have asked the queens for help and I am here at your disposal. We will find out who is responsible for the murders."

The Hunt for Diana

During the voyage Hector spent time helping with the crew of the ship with normal duties. Despite being a Captian of his own vessel the Phoenix he didn't see it lower than him to work the ship. Even on his ship, one of the reasons his men loved him.
He really wished he was with his ship and crew for the voyage but Southblood was known for its assassins and knowledge of celebrity's. He and his ship would be easily recognized and the bounty on their head would have easily hindered the mission.
As they disembarked he talked with the Captian of the ship offering a cup of rum the next time they will meet and swap some more stories of their adventures on the sea. He gave a slap on the shoulder before walking off the ship.

When he reached the dock he heard Nadira, one of his companions who was not very talkative on the ship say, "I know my way around here, I can take us too the inn if you like”
He knew his way to the inn as well. He's docked here once or twice... Not the wisest choice but he did. But before he could say anything she spoke again after looking at a piece of paper she pulled out of her pocket.

“Hold on, I'm not sure what this means but..” She showed her companions the note which he read quickly saying to go into the weavers shop on the eastern quarters. Nadira 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. .

He then heard Trom say, “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.

He followed and said " I can't split the group up by heading to the inn. It'll be better if we stuck together for now. Besides all that's there probably is drunken sailors, fighting and women... Doesn't sound all that bad actually but that's beside the point."

He began to look around for people following them... A habit which formed after he became a famous pirate. He wouldn't want to run into some men he knew lived here... He had some ... Jobs that screwed over some other pirates here...

His hand rested gently on his twin saber as he pulled his Hat down to cover his eyes with its shadows.

Amazonia Imperii

---

If pressed for an answer Traxilus would describe his voyage from the Capital to the Amazons as peaceful, or even enjoyable. It was perhaps the first time in a long time that he had felt so at ease. The recent flux in Blades recruit had put him in a slight sense of nausea, and he hadn't been able to relax much because of it. However as fate would see fit to make their boat ride here a calm one, the gentle rocking of the ship had him lulled into a more relaxed state of mind.

This in turn proved to be an extremely positive thing as they entered the camp, amd Trax saw him again. Of course he had known that Florence was still an acting General in the Empress' Legion, but the sight of him brought to boil the memories of 10'000 years of civil war and the countless defeats he'd suffered because of it. There was little else he could think of doing than ending the man's life, and his hand now rested more firmly on the handle of his sword. Of course he kept his composure as best as he could. This was afterall a missiom that might serve to benefit Renalta, and the Imperium by extension.

He tried his best to focus on the words of the queen, but his mind still wandered to back when these woods were well and truly Imperium lands, he was almost certain he'd been here before in fact. He shook his head as Alex finished speaking and walked off to make pleasantries with other diplomats. That was when the Count decided to make his departure from their party as well.

The man was lithe. Almost womanly in his features and mannerisms, but had something about him that Trax couldn't place. If there was one to thing to be said of Richelieu, it was that he screamed nobility. He reeked of it. In essense the Count was everything that Trax wanted to escape by joining the Military. Not that there was anything wrong with being nobility. In fact it most assuredly had its benefits in the following events and Traxilus was willing to watch the man's back if no one else would. However that was not a life he wanted for himself.

As Garren stepped forward to volunteer his hand in the negotiations, a familiar queasiness overcame him. Of course he still remembered this General as well. There were some that came out of those caverns who had gone in very different men, and Traxilus had high hopes Garren was one of them. He could still vividly remember the conquering Legion returning from the Mage's guild slick with blood, and shortly there after the distance he kept from Florence. So long as the man stayed true to the mission though, Traxilus could put such things behind him.

The final member of their posse was the goblin Kraithe. The only previous exposure Traxilus had of the goblin was the ship ride and brief introduction in the capital. He seemed capable in his abilities and he seemed perhaps best suited to handle the cloak and dagger of this assignment. When asked to act as his shadow he was relieved to hear he'd have anything at all to do. Wordlessly he followed slowly behind Kraithe, focusing on nothing in particular, but taking in details that may be used later in the event of a fight or that might be used against them: where the armories were, proximity of tents to fire and each other, how protected the members of the negotiations were, and whether the guards and soldiers seemed well trained to list a few. All things his mentor would have wanted him to note, but still he never let himself be drawn too far away from Kraithe's path.

First Blow-Alexander Lyre

Alexander Lyre stared sightlessly off the port bow, the glint of a cold gold coin flashing of the back of his left knuckles. His right hand performed an equally meaningless, but impressive, manipulation of the short player’s deck. Neither act achieved his intended purpose, as he was still bored. Not even this casual display of money had enticed any of the sailors to gamble with him. No games of cards, no games of dice, not even chess with the sailing master, quartermaster, or captain had happened. Aside from occasionally being lambasted by the bosun for occasionally pitching in with an inexpert effort, nothing had happened.

Even the impending mission had done nothing to clear away of the impatient tedium of the whole affair, the hell of an unending anticipation to get the whole thing started. If he had been a horse, he would have been chomping at the bit. Even drinking was off limits before his first group adventure. That was the part that niggled at the back of his brain in the stillness of the day, or the quiet dead of the night. It wasn’t the danger, but the group part that made him nervous. It was his first team in living memory, from the start of his break from the Free Holds, and old habits for survival died hard. The only problem is that what was beneficial on your own wasn’t normally the play when covering someone else. The color of the blood sea stared back at him, the gentle lapping of the red liquid against the hull of the ship. If he stared at it for long enough, even the natural noises of the ship became ominous. The creaking of the woods were shrill spectral screams, or the groaning of the ropes the waling of the damned. The mindless worry tingled in his hindbrain, and became just another insufficient distraction to ignore.

The gathering mist slowly crept across the waves and enveloped the ship in a suffocating white embrace. The chilled, foul stuff seemed to cling onto everything, swirling around the living with a hungry, jealous desire. The strange surrealism of the impossible fog over the blood sea slowly percolated through his torpid brain. The realization seemed to delay his response, as if the chill air was sapping his energy with an unholy need. It shocked him, and he sat up abruptly. While the coins and most of the deck vanished into one of the many pockets, a single lacquered card fell to the deck.

Alex flexed his fingers instinctively to check their flexibility, while bending over to pick up the last card. The slim, stiff square was facedown, and Alex uneasily flipped it over. The gloved fingers revealed one of the jokers with a snap, and he grimaced. A players deck had a few holdovers from the full deck, the one fortune tellers used to tell portents and omens. While the gambler had neither the talent, nor the inclination to learn to prophesize the future, the white clown and black jester were two signs of change. While nothing was certain without other cards to provide context, the black jester rarely meant anything good was looming in the future. The painted figure grinned maliciously behind the painted mask, balancing a knife on a finger, gripping a heavy rod for smiting in the other hand. In the dim diffuse light of the mist, he could almost see the black ink shift. He could almost see it move on the card. A frission of horror ran down his spine, and Alex failed to repress a shudder.
_______________________________

Alex stared at the white eyes of the card as the crew slowly paddled the rowboat to shore. It stared back, smirking at him. Keeping secrets from beyond the grave… Unlike the rest of the mages who occasionally huddled next to Erasmus for a break from the unending, permeating horror of this place, the aura just grated against Alex’s nerves. Perhaps it was a personality quirk, or trick of the blood, but the magic simply kindled a matching raging sea of sullen anger, and it roiled in his gut. In his mind, the pounding of his heart was a war cry. The paddling oars drumbeats of an approaching army.

The row boat slid onto the shore with a bare crunch. The crew handed Maher Adonai a flare gun, and Alex tracked the crucial item with his eyes. For him, fighting his way out of this place was nothing but a bad beat, and he didn’t want to lose his escape key. Alex picked up the wide-brimmed hat with his left hand. The joker vanished into a pocket to join its companions, and Alex slowly stood up. Falling now would just be embarrassing, and possibly dangerous if he hit the water. Droplets of condensation flew off his hat as he tapped it against his thigh, and planted it on his head. His fingers ran across the brim, clearing the leftover dew, and flicked it clear. A pair of throwing knives appeared in his hands as if by magic, before vanishing again. He rolled his neck and stepped onto the shore.

His foot was swallowed by white, and he felt rather than saw the crunch of the river gravel beneath his boots. Gloved hands eased his coat back to loosen the pistols in his holsters, and check the twin swords in his hip drawing rig. His blue eyes surveyed the land slowly. Undead roots writhed in a twisted parody of nature. An occasional wail could be heard, echoing from some undead thing. The fog swirled into shapes, almost faces to whisper dark secrets and damnation. He felt something bounce off his boot, and looked down to see an undead gecko, missing skin and organs. The damned thing hissed at him before scampering off. Necromantic energy and corruption oozed from the very air and it set his teeth on edge. The presence wanted to kill everything living, and it felt like it hated him especially. “I hate this place already,” Alexander whispered to himself. Erasmus bent down to play with a root, no doubt curious about how to kill the place just like he was. Still, something niggled at him, just beyond the tip of his tongue. The answering flare from their contact erased any thought at the pulse of light and magic.

The anti-mage was the first to speak, advocating to move fast and stick together. Alex didn’t even have to eye the ghastly mists to agree that the latter was a necessity. Meanwhile the attractive red head murmured a prayer, and Alex shrugged minutely at the behavior. "Let's go. We can't risk missing her." He popped a throwing dagger into his left hand, and a single curved sword from his right hand in the other. The bark of a pistol might draw unwanted attention, especially given that everything here would hate him especially. The blood tingled in his veins as his heart began to pound just a little harder. Alex nodded, “Agreed.”

Carnival of Chaos

Cristoff Whitemarch

---

Surely it was a change for the better?

So Cristoff had thought. Fighting for the Queen’s Blades could not, by any means, be considered a pleasant job. When he had accepted the invitation, he had known this fully well.

The alternative though was to remain in the collapsing Whitemarch estate, where his father – angry, grieved and drunk – maintained feeble control over the guards and servants, who looted rampantly and had nearly driven his sisters mad with their antics. His two older sisters had been hastily married off – for there was little that remained in the Whitemarch estate for a woman – and he had personally arranged for his youngest sister to be sent away to a distant relative, where she should, he believed, spend a happier life away from the wreckage of her youth.

He himself would have wasted away into mediocrity, unable to utilize the talents that he had honed over so many years.

And of course, he knew he would be reunited with Tristan in the Queen’s Blades, a thought that aided him in his decision to join.

So surely it was a change for the better?

The sight of the mutilated corpse – a bloody mess, pecked apart by so many crows – nearly shook that belief. Could being forced to live among such horrors truly be better than dying in obscurity?

---

The journey had begun rather eventfully, with General Wolfblood having received a message – delivered by one of the very crows that watched them all throughout their journey to Arian – that seemed to predict his arrival. It did nothing to ease Cristoff’s nerves, but what made him more uneasy was the General’s obvious anxiety. He had met the General before, and he had seemed to him a man not easily given to worry. As such, his silence only served to add the foreboding atmosphere of their quest.

Cristoff had, at first, wondered why they weren’t taking horses; but it soon became clear that ordinary horses would simply have become frightened and run off under the circumstances they faced. Even two days out from the village, the group seemed to be watched, constantly, by a ‘murder of crows’, as the General so eloquently put.

Despite the ominous nature of the scenery, Cristoff could not help but notice his brother’s erratic behavior. Tristan seemed disinclined to speak to him at all; and, if his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, it seemed to him that Tristan was actively avoiding him, going so far as to volunteer to fetch supplies or scout ahead in order to maintain his distance.

For a fleeting second, Lord Whitemarch’s accusations reverberated in Cristoff’s mind. He stared at his little brother for a fraction of a second, and wondered whether he was indeed guilty of murder.

No. He would not jump to conclusions; there was no reason for him to believe his father had even considered the matter, grieved and slightly unhinged as he had been. Of course Tristan was acting odd; he had, for all intents and purposes, been banished from his family home only a month ago – under accusations of fratricide, no less – and it was only natural that he would harbor a resentment for anything and anyone related to the Whitemarch estate.

It was the discovery of the diminutive corpse that brought these thoughts to a halt in Cristoff’s mind. From that point onwards, what little conversation that had passed within the party was stilted, and weapons were at the ready.

It was almost exactly a day afterwards that they arrived at Arian village, and the sight that met them could hardly be more desolate. Crows everywhere, and no signs of life; a shudder ran down Cristoff’s spine at the thought of just how many more corpses they would find here. The sight of lights at the houses eased his worries just slightly; the fact that they hadn’t gone out must mean that people were yet alive.

Aneura Shivan was the first to speak. "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 said, pointing at the nearest dwelling. "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.

Cristoff fervently agreed, and they walked up to the door. Tristan hung back slightly, slingshot at the ready, keeping a lookout on the streets in case of an unexpected attack. Cristoff allowed the General to get between himself and Aneura, and positioned himself with his back to a wall at such an angle that he simultaneously kept line of sight to the door and down the street that Tristan watched. He fingered the hilt of his sword, but he knew his primary defense would be the spell that he thought of in his mind; he was prepared to begin casting at a moment’s notice, to Bind or Cripple an enemy before he – or it – could strike.

The Hunt for Diana

---

Mathew’s gut had been twisted in a nervous knot the entire voyage over the Blood Sea. He felt naked being around so few people; he enjoyed the omnipresent tug the presence of other consciousnesses provided. Being around only one ship’s worth of people had unnerved him, and the churning, bloody waters had done nothing to help him. He couldn’t blame his anxiety solely on that, however. A small kernel of stress has been building in him since he had heard where they would be headed.

The Free Holds, he had thought to himself, why couldn’t they just stay away? He had not lived so for east as Southblood before he had joined the Queen’s Guard, but that brought him no peace of mind. He had spent his entire life in the Free Holds as a slave, and had only recently began learning how to be “free”; now he was heading back, where he had been felt like little more than cattle. Mathew had tried convincing and reasoning with himself that his worrying was pointless, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety.

As the ship pulled in to port, the familiar sounds, smells and sights flooded his senses, bringing back memories both bad and good. Mathew forced himself to adopt his façade as the sailors worked on the moorings; the whore’s mask came easily to him as he felt the faint pinpricks of foreign consciousness on the surface of his mind. The comfort the city’s denizen’s presence brought him enough resolve to go on without complaint.

Leaving the ship and traversing the city’s docks and winding streets, Mathew noticed his surroundings; ale and whore houses peaked between seaside merchants’ stalls. He spied a vulgarly garbed girl leading a drunken sailor down an alley, leading him either to her room or to some armed friends. I guess I’m home, he thought, forcing his stress down into his subconscious.

“I know my way around, I can take us to the inn if you life”, Nadira said, leading them down the winding streets. Mathew simply nodded. Off to his side, he heard Trom, “Sure, that seems best. Lead on, oh beauteous guide.” Mathew took stock of the three companions; all had nearly a decade’s experience on him. The mage, the con, and the pirate. And the whore. Mathew smiled. We’re a curious group if ever there were one.

Just then, the blood mage produced a note of some sort from a pocket. Mathew couldn’t think of who the note was from - would this be a trap? Both the con and the pirate spoke their intentions to follow Nadira. Unless he was willing to go off on his own (he wasn’t), he had no choice. “To the weaver’s shop, then! The clothes they provided are a size too large on me, in any case.” he said, forcing gaiety into his tone, moving in behind them as they went east towards this mysterious weaver.

Royal Blood

---

As she enters the city, the first time in years, a shudder runs through the aasimar woman and she cannot help but draw her cloak around herself tighter, obscuring her hand moving instinctively to the grip of her greatsword. For a moment, she feels the hum of magical energy tingle forth as the connection is made, her natural magical affinity reinvigorating the holy enhancements upon her blade and armour in preparation for any trouble at her returned presence to these lands. The downside, however, is that her natural glow seems to only increase, from her skin, eyes and armour alike. The dark cloak was doing little to stifle it... So in this city of stifling gloom, even in her darker garb native to the lands, she sticks out as a source of light.

Her eyes dart about the architecture, the gargoyles seeming to glower down like outraged demons still. She cringes back and tries to make herself look smaller, only succeeding in distracting herself enough to step into a puddle, making her leggings damp. Rayvon winces and tries to shake off as much of the water as she can manage before ascending the stairs. It was there they meet Mikan. As the woman trills out in an overtly cheery manner, she fails to hold back her obvious look of contempt at such a display. Such an apparent overtly exaggerated display to lull people into a false sense of security that she might be some absent-minded ditz. The aasimar snorts and looks away. If the woman was an assassin and ambassador of Renalta, she should be acting as such.

Going down the dark stone halls, she finds herself stiffening, looking for danger around every corner. About each bend, Rayvon expects a group of Witch Hunters to appear, recognize her and shout out their alarm and chase her out of town once more. Yet, in the same instance, she wonders at the back of her mind which way she might go in order to to discover the dungeons and free her mother, if she was even still alive. She chews her lip before moving closer to the group, Ceann in particular. The silence of the woman was comforting when the others seemed... Just a bit unsettling to her. No body, she knew no one, yet in the same instance...

Arriving in the throne room, the oppressing dark almost felt alive, trying to bat away any light. It almost even seems to complement the mood of the people in grief and fear. She hesitates entering the room, before proudly brushing her cloak back, her luminescence a declaration of its own against the darkness. She strides forward, stopping just behind Mikan as she kneels. Looking down at the assassin, and the others who follow, she has to fight back a barking laughter at most of their explanations. They seemed so contrived... Yet, as it comes to her turn, she kneels down, bowing her head. “My liege, I am Rayvon Krayvitch, daughter of Delaine and Bellatrix, as I am sure you are aware.” She chances a look up, focusing upon the obscured shape of the Crown-Prince. “I owe allegiance to the throne of Liveria, as it is my birthplace. So, to that end, I will service the kingdom, as my mother and ancestors past all have.” She fights back a bitter comment when talking of her mother and her service. After all, loyal through all those years... and what had it gotten the matron? Her shoulders itch at the moment and she struggles not to fidget as a spasm of phantom pains burst forth at the missing extensions. She quickly looks back down in submission, hood spilling forward and obscuring her face.

First Blow
Maher Adonai

---

Maher had spent much of the voyage in quiet contemplation below decks when he wasn't speaking with his sister, verbally at least. Questions and comments seemed to pass between them on a near hourly basis through their link at times occasionally just a comment of what the other saw or a trivial detail about one thing or another that crossed one of their minds. since discovering that the both of them had joined the Queens Blades those little micro-conversations had increased in frequency compared to the years they had been apart, it was almost like it was when they had been travelling together again. She still scoffed at his faith of course but then he couldn't say he was entirely comfortable with her practise of blood magic either, the first few times she had used it after the two of them had found their separate ways to Renalta had been disconcerting, while she had been learning the craft in southblood he had felt nothing as the distance had been too great between them. With their close proximity in the Blades he felt it every time she opened her veins. It had been a shock the first few times it happened to say the least.

After they had departed again on separate ships Maher had assisted the crew with the vessel a few times to keep himself busy, while he had never been a sailor one did not grow up in teluria without learning at least some of the basics, it helped that his father had taken the twins out in a sloop occasionally to practise water magic on the ocean. He had watched the gambler occasionally though he had turned down his offers to gamble. the woman had interested him a little, though she was a little ostentatious with her faith for Mahers taste, almost flaunting it as she did. Mahers own faith in Merlin was firm, but he was more than aware of the dislike the gods fostered in Renalta and other parts of the world and so he had kept a little more quiet about his beliefs over the years, why antagonise people that did not want to hear it after all.

As the fog thickened and the 4 of them were rowed to shore Maher couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive, and being in such close proximity to Erasmus, the antimage as Maher had heard him called... that was only part of the cause of his apprehension. He had been to the edge of the blighted lands before it had never that he'd seen been like this while there had been a few undead here and there the black roots in abundance had been absent and from all reports there was an abundance of undead near to this cathedral as well. And the liche of course.

Checking the straps on his shield Maher tracked the conversation of the others, he didn't particular want to skick close to Erasmus, but he sumised that losing one another in this unnatural fog would be paramount to suicide. So he kept close despite how it made him feel, he could always use his blade and he suspected the anti-magic techniques the Templars had taught him would still work if it came down to it. "Then lets not waste anymore time talking about it shall we." he said after the others proposed and agreed that getting to their contact quickly was the best option. "I do suggest an air of caution however, we start running blindly through this fog and there..." He trailed off as a thought occurred to him. Fog was moisture, water in a gaseous form, even if this fag was magically created it should still bend to his will if he could work his magic, he hoped. He walked ahead of the group for a moment and feeling Erasmus's unnatural effect lessen and finally drop off entirely a few meters from the man. summoning his power Maher used his magic in an attempt to clear a path through the fog by 'moving' it to either side of their way.

"I can count the number of women I've disappointed on one hand, and I'd like to keep it that way." -Kasim, Page 1.

---

Amazonia Imperiia

Whether or not Count Richelieu intended it, there was a bit of a pause amongst the entire group the moment he spoke. The air, once tense, broke with an erupting fountain of laughter from the princess. She doubles over, her arms wrapping around her gut as the Queen looks somewhat confused. "... We have not as yet, started the discussions?"

Then, Garren has his turn speaking to each of the important leaders. Rather, all of them, at the same time.

It was at this point that the princess quite literally falls onto her back, still laughing, but not quite as hard as before. "This... Is your top... Royal entourage?" She says, each pause being laughter and gasping for air. It was now that General Florence raises an eyebrow inquisitively, looking to Alexandria. "Do you allow all of your men such... Liberal interpretations of social order?" He glances at Garren once, recognizing the man from many ages ago. Both eyebrows now raise in slight surprise. "...A curious choice."

Alexandria sighs and glances around. There was just two here. Thankfully then two had managed to receive her instructions. She stands up slowly, attempting her best to emulate Kouri's good graces despite her inner beast wanting nothing to do with such things, and walks over to her wayward men, resting her hands on both of their shoulders. "Now, look... I know you wish to help here, it is quite admirable, but at the present time my role is to facilitate the negotiation process. Yours is--" Alexandria is interrupted by the princess, who was still laying on her back, arms crossed behind her head. "Entertaining me!"

The princess at that point takes a deep breath and in one, smooth movement, moves to her feet. The jungle around her seems quite willing to help her as vines push her back and help her to her feet, her hands outstretched. It was at this point readily apparent that she was a mage of some talent. She walks over to the table and leans down over it, resting her chin on her hands. It became noticeable at this point that she was tall for a woman, 6'2", even taller than Alexandria. "You two interest me a great deal, speaking out of turn, speaking above your station..." The campfire behind her didn't illuminate her facial features beyond what had already been seen. Alexandria at this point chuckled to herself, remembering the first time she met Kouri. Stories still told of how she had hit Kouri to try to convince her of her importance.

"What's say you two help me prove a point, mm?" She whispers, her tone sultry but her eyes darting to Alexandria for a moment, whom glares back. "I need help proving my mother isn't who she says she is. Look at her. So distant, so callous towards her own daughter..." Alexandria rolls her eyes. "Back off." The princess puts on a pout, though Garren sees through it as being fake, and takes a step back from the table. "Anyway... I could use help. If you wouldn't mind speaking to me... In private. In my tent, preferable." Florence looks at Garren and shakes his head. He didn't trust the princess, but then, if claims were true, he was likely corrupted by the queen.

The princess walks away towards her tent. There was nothing left, it seemed, but to either follow her immediately, or ask those remaining a few questions...

---

Meanwhile, Kraith & Traxilus would find that the princess' tent had no guards. The Queen's tent, however, did, and there seemed to be at least half a dozen others wandering around the area at any one time. Slipping into either tent would be difficult... Though the princess' tent was positioned in just such a way that its back was facing the thickest portions of the jungle, so one could potentially slip in through the back if they were willing to cut the tent open. Still. Within seconds of reaching the area, laughter erupted from the direction of the negotiation area, and this caused mixed reactions. Some of the Amazons went into the jungle to look for trouble, others went towards the meeting area to figure out what was going on. Either way, only a couple of Amazons and the Queen's guards remained.

As for the tents themselves, they were fairly large, and a cursory glance over the Queen's tent by Traxilus revealed a weak point small enough for Kraith to slip through, though, another opportunity presented itself in the form of a man, a little on the short side and looking fairly boyish in his appearance, walking to the entrance of the tent. It seemed he was there to clean the tent from what little bits of conversation the pair could pick up on. So one could potentially get in that way, though spending too much time inside the tent would likely arouse suspicion.

No other options appeared to present themselves as the princess arrived in the area, quickly darting into her tent. Whilst all the Amazons seemed quite aggressive and forward with their movements, her seemed especially so, maybe because of agitation, maybe because of excitement, perhaps another quality all of its own. Maybe this was just how their society worked. In any regard, this left only the queen's tent left as an immediate target for infiltration.

---

First Blow

Thailen Vicarris seemed to take the lead in moving forward through the thick fog. There didn't appear to be much left to really see or overhear, though the gecko from earlier returned on occasion, almost as though it were intentionally trying to find them to see where they were going. Alex seems to agree, though Maher's plan to clear the way with his magic was overly successful. Seeing as how fog was much thinner than water generally speaking, and that it was magically created, he managed to make clear a couple hundred feet ahead, and thinned out the fog overall. More of the landscape became visible around the group... As did the second signal flare, this one red.

Still. That was not the biggest problem.

The biggest problem was the row of about five undead between them and what appeared to be the upward slope of a hill. However, these undead seemed rather disinterested in the light, and instead just wandered about aimlessly. It was very likely that whatever would usually control them was either out of range or preoccupied. Almost as an added bonus, they all seemed to only be a few feet from one another, moving together as opposed to separately. They also appeared to be slow moving and poorly animated, giving the edge of dexterity in this case to the living... Then again, suspiciously, they all appeared to be wearing the same grey-black uniform, though tattered and shredded

If they all attacked together and hit separate targets at the same time they could likely make a clean sweep before moving up the hill towards the flare. However, doing that would take precious time, and there was always the option of attempting to either go around or move quickly through the mindless undead, which would likely get them to the flare location quickly, but would leave enemies, mindless as they are, behind...

---

Royal Blood

Crown-Prince Xavier looks over the group as each introduces themselves, one by one. He seemed to react in particular to two of them. Rayne Walker's smooth as ice transition from one personality to another intrigued him as he leaned forward in his throne, in the very dim light the red hue of his tunic became visible, and the second, Rayvon, her barely held back hostility telling him that she was perhaps angered by something in the past? Something out of his control, likely. He leans back in his throne as each one finishes. "I see." He mutters. He then looks at Mikan. "The fact that they sent you tells me how grave this situation is, considering you once broke into this very castle and left a note on my father's bed whilst he slept just to prove that you could." Mikan looks up at him and shrugs as she ceases with formality altogether, resting her hands on her hips. "I was trying to warn you that your security was weak."

Crown-Prince Xavier finally stands and steps down from his throne with a tiny upward curve on the edges of his lips on his quickly revealed face at the sight of Mikan. It seemed the two knew each other by reputation, though this didn't stop his somewhat aged and uptight appearance from being shown. He glances towards each member of the group and nods accordingly, motioning for those still kneeling to stand. "You may rise. I am not as formal as my father was." His daughter moves to stand but with a single motion from Xavier she sits back down, remaining shrouded in darkness. Either out of protectiveness, or distrust... Maybe both.

"Your quick arrival is appreciated." He whistles to the falcon, which quickly moves to his gloved hands. This motion set in turn a few other sounds of moving stone, as the falcon had been standing on a tiny glyph of magic, obscuring it from the great light at the centre of the room. The glyph lit up brightly, and after a few seconds, a large table and a set of chairs were quietly pushed over the glyph by large stone gargoyles. As the glyph is covered by the table and chairs, the gargoyles return to their positions. "Normally we have a large, ornate carpet covering it which we can burn or remove with ease to activate the gargoyles to do... Whatever task the royalty wills them to do... However, the carpet was stained with my father's blood, and thus... It seemed only appropriate that while a new one is being retrieved from Tulerian merchants, that we have something keeping the glyph under control." He runs a gloved finger over the beak of the falcon, and then dismisses it.

It was at this point that he finally motioned for his daughter, and she complied quickly and quietly. In her hands was a large bag full of documents. She leaves it on the table and then sits, quietly. Within the documents were details about the murder, names of potential witnesses and suspects... It was a book keeper's dream come true. Crown-Prince Xavier sits at the opposite end of his daughter, looking up for a moment at the darkened ceiling and nodding before looking back to the group, and a highly astonished Mikan. "Please, sit." He motions with his arms to sit at any of the available chairs. Even with all of them seated there would likely be several empty seats. "Sit, and ask... Any questions you need before proceeding with your investigation."

Mikan glances at the daughter for a moment with a frown. Her eyes seemed filled with doubt as she stared down at the table. She then takes her seat next to the Crown-Prince, crossing her legs and leaning back into the chair. "... Your daughter's name is?..." Xavier responds with a softness that didn't seem characteristic to his otherwise uptight appearance. "Penelope... Princess Penelope. She was apparently in the room when it happened... She does not remember anything specific enough to be of aid." She continues to stare at the table, almost entirely unresponsive towards the discussion involving her.

Thus, it seemed the group had several choices. They could all focus on one particular piece of evidence or line of questioning, or they could all split their efforts... What would they do?

---

The Hunt For Diana

And so, without any hesitation, the group weaved through the tightly packed streets towards the Weaver's Shop. The Crescent Sisters were of course the infamous trio turned duet who accompanied Kouri on her journey to banish the gods, and thus, their name was plastered everywhere. They were borderline folktale heroes, and many slavers dreamed of employing them, one way or another... Of course, all their dreams were crushed, they never worked with slavers, but dream they did.

The oppressive sun didn't let up, however. Dust and dirt and sand swirled around their feet as the wind slowly began to pick up in conjunction with the sun, irritating skin and eyes of the uninitiated to the Free Holds... That, or it was a sign that a sand storm was starting to gain some steam, and by the looks of several merchants starting to close up shop, it seemed that theory was holding up. Only the insane and the suicidal stayed out for the sand storms... So it looked as if their choice to go to the Weaver's shop was final.

Just as it seemed as though they would be caught in the horrifying, skin-sheering sand-coated winds of the storm, they reached the weaver's shop. At the entrance was a tall fellow, armed with a bastard sword who was ushering them inside. "COME ON, APPRENTICE OF TEILA! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" He notices the rest of the group following her and nods them inside. "YOU LOT TOO! MOVE!"

Inside they would find a wide assortment of clothing and a few changing booths, as well as a staircase to a second floor with a locked door and a basement door, also locked. The shop keeper was an elf, shaved bald, looking weary and pale but without the silver eyes that would mark his vampiric descent. Instead a pair of pale grey eyes would greet any who would enter the shop. Grey eyes that, strangely, would be full of life. There were a couple others as well, a dwarf and tall woman with a scar across the bridge of her nose wearing a mix of leather and chain mail armour. Aside from that, the shop was auspiciously vacant.

As for the one who watched over them, it seemed she had vanished... Much likely to preserve its own life. Or, maybe, it hid itself better.

Either way, it seemed that unless the group wanted to brave the storm, they had little choice but to enter and start asking questions... Or simply investigating the shop. Ultimately, it was up to them.

Sarah's Request

The drow advanced ahead of Eins and Kasim with their torchlight behind them so as not to blind the drow to threats that they might spot ahead of time. A wise move as Andrea notices a stone on the floor that looked out of place, and moments later, the holes in the walls that'd probably launch a hail of darts or arrows.



Moving deeper into the temple one would notice that the large black stone changed into more recognisable stone, though the floor was still paved in the suspicious material. Stone Archways reminiscent of a mausoleum were regularly spaced as they all descended a small stone staircase. This hall was of stone and the mausoleum door like places capped with metal doors disturbingly warm to the touch, and yet torches burned as water poured through the ceiling through a grate in the floor. At the end of the corridor it ended in a steel door and two passageways heading off to either side of it, each leading to a similar corridor, also ending in steel doors. The signs of passage were visible on the left hand corridor, and scrapes and scratches suggested that the Dwarven party had attempted to force the steel door at the end of the corridor. The only evidence was a blunt chisel near the door.

It was then that a rumbling noise could be heard and solid stone closed over the exit.

---

Carnival of Chaos

As Aneura knocked on the thick solid oak door the world rippled around them and changed. The door in front of Aneura changed into striped coloured fabric and suddenly the world was a riot of sound. The sounds of a circus or carnival. Cristoff and Tristan were subject to the same sensory assault. Where once the town had lay was suddenly a sprawl of carnival tents. Hanus drew his blade as there suddenly seemed to be people amongst the streets made between the tents. The riot of sound and noise. There a juggler was juggling shortswords, further on a clown was breathing fire. Their facepaint fit to chill the soul.



"This... is unexpected..." Hanus remarked. The one thing that still seemed to be present was the crows, that and the inn at the centre of town, its structure entirely incongruous amongst the tents, cavorting clowns and things half-seen out of the corner of their eye. Was the town before an illusion to draw them in? The smells of cooking meats from stalls filled the air. And yet everything seemed to be somehow off-kilter. And the faces of all those who moved amongst the carnival were enslaved in a rictus of hate, fear and despair.

One of the clowns cavorted past. "Welcome to the Carnival of Chaos, go to the inn and speak to he who commands obedience to learn your place in his pattern."

---

Special Note: Image for Sarah's Request was made by me in the NWN2 Toolset.

Cease Fire, Lothar Wolff

One of the first glimpses that Lothar would have of his ancestral homeland was definitely not as pleasant as he imagined it to would be. The town was ravaged and scorched by signs of past battles as the fields were burned and the people in the town were hardened. The townspeople were obviously familiar with war. In fact, the so called army was obviously suffering from attrition as they were poorly equipped and low in numbers. Still, they had probably seen more conflict than most. As the group traveled through the town, Lothar’s observations were only continuously confirmed with the presence of refugees were scattered throughout the town. Even the church, practically a symbol of Rheinfeld, was in poor condition. When the group arrived at the destination, the group effectively split up. Renaldo, a standoffish priest who likely knew a little of the Wolff’s history, suggested that the group split up to find some information before they leap straight into action. Draza, an interesting, friendly pixie, convinced her companion, Gahrul, to protect the old mage. She and Alvaharyis then walked off together to see if they can gather information.

Now, Lothar was left with Renaldo. There were a lot of places in the town that they could look. Lothar took it upon himself to talk with Renaldo so that they could figure out where they should go.

“Renaldo, feel free to suggest something else, but I think we should go and see if there is a pub in the town. We could get the thoughts of the common folk, and on top of that alcohol makes people have loose lips.”

Renaldo agreed with Lothar’s suggestion and they walked off in search of a pub. They would see that most of the establishments were closed as they went about their business. Some that they asked for directions to the pub would, in fact, as if frightful of something, turn and abruptly hurry off. After nearly five minutes have passed, they realize that they could not be sure of which building was the pub. Of course, they could tell that it must be open as they spy a woman in ill-fitting armour, a sash about her arm marking her as a woman of the Rheinfeld Republic stumbling about, trying to use various objects to support herself as she hiccups and looks around confused. It was apparent she was looking for something, yet was totally lost.

Lothar saw this woman and was a bit concerned. Who knows how much she had to drink, but it was obvious that she was distressed. His empathy and consciousness would not allow him to ignore this woman. So, he simply went ahead and began to speak to this woman.

“Excuse me, mam. Are you fine? You seem to be disturbed by something.”

She rubs her eyes, brushing her hair back for a moment, still looking around.

"Yeeeaaah, perfecdly fine! Why w... wouldn't I," she is interrupted by a hiccup, "wouldn't I be?" She chuckles and cranes her head, looking at something far off, for what he can't be sure.
"I was jush lookin for ah, the uhm..." she stops and looks at Lothar, her confusion instantly melting. "Think I wush lookin for youu, hello handshome,"

She all but purrs with a slur, attempting to straighten her appearance out some.
Lothar was a bit… bothered by the behavior of the woman. He was under the impression that the women of Rheinfeld were supposed to be prideful, self-respecting, or at the very least pious. Then again they are humans who are fallible. Perhaps, he was being too idealistic? Regardless, Lothar was here on a mission, and needed to remain focused. He addressed the woman

“Are you sure you are fine, then? Very well. May I ask you what you think about the situation that is going on right now? I hear that there’s some big meeting that’s going on soon at the church where some agreement is trying to be formed.”

The woman furrows her brow, stifling a hiccup as if trying to remember something for a moment. "I'm not... shure whatchyur talkin about, the only sitchu... situway... problem thad I shee is how I've talked to every young... young man here," she sniffles and hiccups, blubbering a bit, "and no one will show me a good time!" She wipes her eyes and nearly falls over when she takes her hand off the table she had been using for support. Her eyes dart to Renaldo for a moment and her lip quivers, "Not even gonna bother tryin thad one, all the udder ones dressed like him were shnobs!"

Lothar sighed at almost pitiful scene. Still, he walked up to the woman and offered his hand so that he could stabilize her (while also using the few seconds he would have contact with her to use his ability and see if she truly knew nothing). He said to the woman

“Come on. Let’s get you a seat on that table. You might fall. Don’t be so sad. I’m sure you’ll find someone who is worth more than a fun night at some point. Can I inquire about your name, mam?”

She sniffles and takes his hand, using him for support to move onto the table. The first few flashes of thought seem far too lewd to come from a respectable Rheinfeld woman, however, the images fade to the image of the church and memories of a meeting, followed by a series of men in uniform of neither the Republic or Templar walking through the town and a brief exchange between themselves and the woman... Resulting in them rejecting her as they were "Far too busy for a drunken harlot."

As the woman gets situated on the table, her cheeks are flushed and she looks at Lothar, obviously taking the kind gesture as more, "Yer shudch a gentleman.... Ah, my name, its... Freja. Freja Halten," she smiles and perks up a little, "Hauptmann Freja Halten, of the Republic." She announces, hoping to impress Lothar.

Lothar nodded and replied “Freja, it has been interesting to meet you. My name is Lothar. I have to admit that I am busy right now, but I will be in town for a while. When you sober up, then feel free to look around for me, and I promise you that I will make some time to talk to you. I am someone who prefers to talk to people and learn more about who they really are. For now, are you able to get home safely?” as he spoke, he also telepathically told Renaldo and Alhvaharyis about the unknown, uniformed men who were walking in the town that Freyja had seen.

Freja appears puzzled, "To Veldhausen?... Its... a bit of a trip." She fidgets a little before it seems to dawn on her. "The meeting! I'm supposed to be there for the treaty!" She jumps up off the table, looking around franticly for the church, "Oh, by the Mother and Father, I hope I have not missed anything important..."
Lothar was surprised. It was a bit unexpected, but apparently right before him was a woman who was going to be a figure in the diplomatic meeting that was to occur. Perhaps this was a stroke of luck. Still, he was a bit concerned about the woman. She was far from sober. Lothar said “Freja, I can help you get to the meeting if you want. I’m still worried about you. You can barely walk as is.” as he offered his arm to her. Besides it was about time for Lothar and Renaldo to return to the church after all.

She giggles and stumbles, slipping her arm within Lothar's, "Thank you, maybe the udders will excushe my latenesh for findin sudch a cadtch." She leans on Lothar for support, finally spying the church and points towards it, "Thaddaway."

Lothar nods as he begins walking to the church, but as he walks he reaches to his belt for his water canteen. He takes it and offers it to Freja and says
“Here, you might want to drink some water. It should help at least a little.”

She nods thankfully and takes the water, sipping from it. "Hope the Templar don't take offenshe... We need this alliance."

Lothar thought to himself “Don’t we all…” as he continued to walk towards the church with Freja by his arm.

Sarah's Request

Naream had his eyes closed and was trying to shut out the nagging voice of the other Drow in their party who was berating him for not seeing the trap well ahead of anyone else and that if it hadn't been for her he'd probably resemble a pincushion right now and that she couldn't have been bothered to heal him because obviously he was such a waste of space and effort to have along if he couldn't spot a simple trap on the floor of this temple. Thoughts of possible experimentation on what kind of necromantic death magic might be sufficient to kill the yapping llolth-bitch, that or summoning a golem to see what kind of paste she could be turned into on the floor, though he was resisting to make those thoughts reality because she might have some use, besides the images of her screaming were particularly pleasing to him.

Luckily some other distraction came along in the form of a steel door in their way and two side passages also with steel doors, the left passage showing signs of recent travel and what looked like a chisel near the doorway that the Dwarves must have used and left behind... and yet the door was still closed and it seems that the Dwarves had made no dent into it. When the sound of stone colliding with the floor behind him he wasn't that much surprised that the way behind them was closed off, that usually happens in situations like this... almost as if there is some standard plan or guide in how to work ancient temples, tombs or other dungeon type areas of this kind. "Well... now we are locked in." He muttered, he gestured to the left, "Do we first go and look for the small folk, apparently they managed to get that door open somehow, since there's no sign of them and this is the only passage that seems to have seen some travel." He cocked his head to the side. "Yet they didn't force the door open? So they must have found a switch or something? That or something else." He shrugged and looked at the others before stepping back and getting out a tome.

"I am not much of a locksmith, so if any of you have such capabilities please go ahead." He said as he looked through the pages of his tome for something in particular. He heard Andrea mutter that she was of no use in this, unless the door was a person, in that case she apparently could have easily convinced it to open and allow them through. He rolled his eyes at that, great she was one of those people. Well at least she hadn't tried to whip anyone or feed anyone to spiders, yet, but that was something at least. "If a switch can't be found." He said, to nobody in the group in particular. "Let me know and I might have something that could... smash through, maybe." He said as he reached the section of his tome that roughly translated to 'Golems Arcana'.

Cease Fire

---

And so it went, that the party scattered, leaving Gahrul with Sisera. They traveled to the church, Gahrul lumbering behind. Approaching the front door, they would be able to see two individuals sitting on a bench chatting back and forth before jumping in surprise as they spy Gahrul. “Mein Gott!” one exclaims as they both reach for their weapons. “Ogre! Bereit für die Schlacht!“

Sisera rolls his eyes and raises his hands in annoyed protest. It was difficult dealing with people who were constantly on edge.

“No no no. He's one of my Bodyguard's. I'm Sisera of Renalta. I'm here to advise over peace negotiations between the Templars and the Republic. Oh for the Gods sakes, put those weapons down!”

They hesitate for a moment, looking between each other, weapons halting half-way out. “Wird er die Wahrheit sagt, denken Sie?“ The other one looks back towards Sisera, dropping his voice, “Möchten Sie das eine zu sagen, 'Tiny' nicht sein?“ The first hesitates, casting the ogre and mage doubtful looks. “Nun, was sollen wir sagen? Er wird nicht durch die Tür passen...“ The second shakes his head and steps forward to address Sisera, “I'm sorry, but your friend, he is too big! He won't fit through the doors,“ as if to demonstrate, he jerks a thumb over his shoulder, directing at the double doors. “Too tall,“ the other nods slowly.

Sisera raised his eyebrow and made a very exaggerated “pondering” face. Mumbling to himself, first he looked at the door then at Gahrul and narrowed his eyes slightly before pointing at the door.

“Well I guess we'll have to make it bigger now won't we. Gahrul, renovate the door will you? Just try not to tear the whole building down.”

The first one to talk lets out a strained yelp of surprise and gibbers towards his companion to just open the doors, “No, don't! Just crouch!“ They struggle to open both of the doors up fully, offering a wide area for which the ogre could pass... As long as he got down first. “Might have to stoop,“ the second grunts, pushing the door the rest of the way open, “Careful of the hangings.“ Of course, it was then that the original finds it necessary to shout out warning, “Groß, dunkel und hässlich kommen durch! Keine Sorge, er ist auf unserer Seite!“ He drops down to a low mutter at his friend, “Ich hoffe...“

Sisera smiled warmly as the guards went out of their to accommodate for the Ogre's size. How absolutely thoughtful of them he mused as he waltz into the cathedral. Taking notice of the Guard's low pitched murmurs. Something scared these soldiers. Something was up. He just didn't know where it was coming from. Though the “who” part of that analogy could be easily figured with some common sense.

He looks at the table before him. This was such an ominous place for a meeting; a dark run down cathedral with the stones practically falling apart. It had to be a pretty barren building when the best compliment he could give the place was the nice sturdy table the diplomats had set up. Which brought him to Taigyn.

“It's been too long old friend” he said warmly to the old Templar.

Sitting at the table had been only four people. Taigyn, leader of the Templar, his second (Davian), the leader of the Rheinfeld Republic (Alida), and her second (Hanz). The general atmosphere of the group was strained, only demonstrated by the obvious division. Not only were the leaders sitting on the fair sides of the round table from each other, even Davian being a little distance from Taigyn, the Guard of each group was keeping clear lines between each other, sitting in pews moved to either side of the room as if to keep conference. The only clear lack of tension could have been seen between Taigyn and Alida, the former of which was trying to strike up pleasant conversation, only to be interrupted by Sisera.

The Templar leader sits up, cocking a brow at the elder man before letting out a booming laugh, “Aha! In Renaltan fashion, always making a startling entrance! We were not sure what to expect, hearing an ogre was trying to come in.“ He scratches his unkempt beard, a new addition since he had last seen Sisera before standing and going over, drawing the mage into a warm embrace as best he could with his bulky armor. “How are things in Renalta? Is Mikan alright? What of the controversial queens, hmm?“

Sisera let out a hearty laugh as he embraced the Templar, noting the rather striking beard as he gave out a toothy grin.

“Mikan is up to her usual shenanigans. Though this time their more..“official” in a sense. And My Sister has never been happier with Alex. Though the Nobles did look a little pale at the wedding ceremony. Can't say I blame them really. Stuffy nobles confronted with two women kissing. I think one of them died before cake was served!”

He chuckles lightly as he turns his head towards his Alida. And with a jovial skip that a man as old as he should not have been capable of doing. approaches the young lady, takes her hand and kisses it politely. Before stepping back and giving a bow.

“Ah and you must be Alida of the Republic. My apologies madam. Lord Taigyn and I are old friends. I am Sisera of Renalta, Elder Brother to Queen Kouri of Renalta. It is such an honor to meet you finally madam.”

He releases himself from his bow. His burn marks either hidden completely from the lack of light or seen even more so when light flowed on his face from a crack in the wall.

“ My Sister has heard much about you. And she is very impressed and intrigued as am I.”

Davian lets out a scoff, “Elder brother, yet you do not seat the throne even in the face of such a debacle as two women wed?“ He narrows his eyes, looking away and crossing his arms, a few of the Republic shift nervously at that outburst. Alida, however, regards Sisera patiently before nodding her head, “A pleasure, though, I think we all would have prefered meeting under different circumstances.“ Her eyes shift, obviously lacking trust towards the Templar leaders. “I hope the trust of your queen was not misplaced, we are all more than ready to cease the fighting between our factions, we have lost too many already.“

Taigyn nods solemnly, crossing his arms, “It is senseless, truly. We wish the same things as the Republic, so why are we so busy protecting ourselves from each other when we have a far greater common enemy?“ Davian lets out a snort, “Certainly, we all would love to see the Papacy fall, but what of now? You have resources we direly need!“ Hanz lets out a snarl of irritation, baring more of his tusks and leans over the table, “Perhaps if you Templar would offer support in turn. Or truly cease in your time-honored tradition of bloodshed and persecution.“

Taigyn casts a worried glance at the half-orc man and steps closer to the table, “Now, now, Hanz. That was an Order before now. We do not seek to uphold the campaign we once did, we are reborn, not to harm the people but to serve and protect. That is why we are here today, to set aside old greivances and move forward, to a stronger, unified Rheinfeld.“ He looks to Sisera for support.

Sisera nods but also grimaces to Taigyn and he paces back and forth, constantly thinking. He was a different man than before. Not nearly as energetic or... strangely enough... happy.

“I trust the Morales and leadership capabilities of Taigyn, and I would take his word for things. However, centuries of Templars serving as the Papacy's personal butcher can strain things. Especially since this has only stopped for a decade. People are not going to trust the Templars good intentions when a generation go, Rheinfeld Generals were killing “heretics” left and right.”

Sisera eyed the half-orc and sighed. Why does someone always bring the short-tempered one to the diplomacy party.?And looking at Davian, why did anyone bring the Jerk for that matter?

“The Templars, despite their new leadership changes, is still and always will be a military order and a military state. Warfare is the name of the game. Fortunately for us, there’s a big fat pig to the west that can be slaughtered. The Papacy; guarded by Mercenaries that it has to import from the Freeholds. An action that is proving to be a massive financial drain. They are at their weakest now!”

Sisera sat on the table and looked at both of them with a look that told it all. Despite his outward appearance of friendliness and burn marks. This was a cunning and dangerous man, one that shouldn't be trifled with.

“This is a great opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. Weaken the Papacy and restore the Templar's reputation as an honorable organization. One that the Renaltan Government can be more close with on an “official” level. If the Republic gives you the resources needed to wage war against the Papacy, you must be able to give something in return Taigyn. And I think I have just the idea.

He turns to Davian and gives him a wry grin, knowing full well he would absolutely hate this idea.

“Supply them with top notch military training. Officers from the Templar order can go in and train whatever the Republic calls an army. In return, I'm sure the delightful Alida here will be happy to supply you with the Lumber needed to start a nice big fire... that you can roast a pope over.”

Taigyn gets ready to speak again when more of the Queens' Blades begin to arrive, the first of which being Renaldo, Lothar and... He narrows his one eye as he notices the uniform of the woman slumped drunkenly against Lothar. “Alida, it seems you were missing someone before we started here...” Alida looks at the trio and her nostrils flare for the briefest of moments. “Freja! Straighten up and take your seat, what do you have to report?” Freja giggles and pats Lothar on the cheek, “Just thad I found thish dashing man. All clear, ma'am!” Alida leers at the pair, doubting them and the Blades' professionalism on a whole. Davian, however, just chuckles lowly, “Ah, such a wonderful start to this meeting. I trust not all of your ranked officials are so pathetic? We'd just be making our own ranks susceptible to such... ineptitude, if we were to bolster your numbers.”

Alida casts him a glare as Hanz leaps to his feet, “Templar scum. This whole meeting is a sham. They're just going to double cross us! Let's get the hell out of here.”

It was now that Alhvaharyis and Draza return... Alhvaharyis gets stopped at the door, however, as the Templar mistake his garments for something of the Papacy, doubting his part here. Luckily, Draza, due to her diminutive size manages to slip on by. As she stumbles upon the scene, everyone looked ready to draw weapons, yet her presence seems to relax everyone at least a few degrees. Davian and Hanz both look at the pixie with dropped jaws of confusion, the former commenting, “Ogres and peasants and faeries, oh my... What a lark this is...” Taigyn and Alida both appear with a spark of recognition. “Draza, is that you?” Alida inquires. Taigyn smiles and gestures to the table, “Please, join us. Tt has been some time, small one.” The two look at each other then Sisera. Finally, the Republic leader inquires, “Is she with you all?”

“Yes, she is part of a band of merry misfits” He looks at Taigyn and a warm smile comes from the memories of their own little band, oh so long ago. He then looks at Hanz and Davian and sighs rubbing his scalp with his hands.

“You know it truly amazing. Right when everything is about to fall apart and the two hot-heads decide to go at it and kill each other. All it takes are some strangers to wander in with a drunk- oh that reminds me!

He suddenly turns around and gives a sardonic thumbs up to Lothar

“Good job, representing your Queen, what with the Drunk all but married to you!”

He lets out and annoyed grunt and turns to face the group of diplomats once again.

“As I was saying, all it takes is drunk, some misfits and a fairy to calm everyone down. Which is absolutely wonderful because with all the confusion I was under the impression that we would all be enemies and start killing each other in the cathedral for some poetic irony!”

The sarcasm cut like a knife through the room. Oh yes, Sisera had picked up a few tricks this past decade.

“But thank God Miss Draza here has reminded me who the real enemy is for all three of us. It's the Papacy, who may or may not have hired some sellswords to aim a crossbow at the back of my skull. Who knows, it may be happening right now. Or maybe to Madam Alida or Lord Taigyn.”

He planted his palms down on the table. He was tired of the games, the fighting. Renalta may have been the powerhouse. But it still needed allies and it needed them fast.

“So can we stop treating each other as Enemies and focus on the actual enemy? It's insulting to all of us that that abomination of a Government is still allowed to exist.”

Those new to the scene would notice many things about the church, aside from the positioning of the two parties. First off, one of the guard for the republic was coming down some stairs and moves to one of the other commanders, giving a report of what they had seen so far. To Draza, it would be clear that that would be the way up to the balustrade from which some of the archers were positioned. Renaldo would take note how the Templar were divided, though, some sitting more behind Davian and others behind Taigyn. Perhaps, though, that was all just simple chance.

Of course, everyone could clearly see the wide berth everyone was giving Gahrul. The few people who had stayed in their spots when the ogre came in were slowly beginning to move further away as politely as they could manage. They obviously did not want to be the one to upset the goliath.

---

Here Cometh the Wolves

---

Janelle's lips were pursed into a thin line after Saul's introduction. It seemed she was not overly impressed with the large man, but as Esyllt steps forward a small smile plays over her lips and it seems all is forgiven. She does, however, take note of the woman's laboured breathing. “Captain, please, give this woman some cool water. I fear our climate is not comfortable to most, but at least we are near the coast. Further inland and I'm afraid the vampires amongst you would be hard pressed to find anything of shade.” The captain lets out a gruff grunt and moves to pour a jug of water. Esyllt would notice he has a number of dark bruises over his arms along with fresh scratch marks as his sleeves shift in the midst of pouring.

He offers the water to Esyllt, gesturing to the others where the water was if they so wished just as James takes Janelle's hand. For a moment, the Archmagi's eyes seem to glaze over, as if she were not entirely there. When she seems to return to the present, her eyes focus upon the cloak which James was wearing, her lips in an obvious look of disgust, “I wonder... which you identify as more... Petty thief, Ranger, or a Blade... Whatever it be, I request you keep from mysteriously acquiring anything while within my domain... And be more careful.” She draws her hand away, “Whoever is the cause of these deaths of recent, we cannot be sure of what means they employ exactly to bring the death of my compatriots. They were indeed skilled mages and soldiers amidst the victims, not just regular civilians.” She raises a hand, “A handshake, could prove to have dire consequences, child.”

She moves away as Jellial makes his introduction to the group, earning him a small smile from his mistress. “I am sorry I could not provide you more information, but perhaps you might visit the lycan pack while you are here. Your blood brother as well. After all, both factions could lead you to the truth in this task of yours...” And finally, with Laenaia, Janelle frowns and draws her shawl about herself closer, gathering a great many thoughts as if deciding what to think. The griffin nearby preens himself, trying to sort out his feathers before Janelle shakes her head. “I would ask you try not to give Fraust here any more reason to be full of himself than he already is. His ego is far too vast already.” With that, she dismisses the vampire, moving on to a table covered with a cloth with something underneath.

Turning her face away, she draws the shroud away, revealing the corpse beneath, her face twists in something of pain. An echo of the expression appears across Fraust's face as he stares at the dead man. “This... This was a dear friend, Erlfried. I knew him for some time and he did much to deal with matters here in Port Luclin.” The group can see a great deal of vicious rending upon the body from this distance. From where they stood, it did certainly look like an animal of some sort ripped into them. The Archmagi's lip quivers for a moment, “He is, just one of the many victims, but many of them look much the same as this... Jazrael, a local doctor, has been handling all the diagnostics and reports for the victims. This whole affair, we have tried to keep quiet... I expect you all to do much the same. Unfortunately, rumours of a serial killer does little to keep the populace calm. The fact that it could be an individual of two groups openly despised by some... Well, it could spark a great hostility towards both factions that could only spread...”

She frowns and steps away from the table, closer to Fraust and lightly places a hand upon his back. “I will not lie, Tuleria is not too far from a civil war. There has always been a conflict between the lizardfolk tribes and another faction here in the country. Furthermore, one of the Triad, Varro, he has not been right lately. Yet, I cannot act against him.” She looks over all of the group, “If you have a chance, Varro has been campaigning within the city, talk to him. He has been investigating this matter himself. He may be able to provide more insight to you, especially since he was once a member of the tribe here.” She seems to hesitate, looking them all over before taking a deep breath, “He is touched in the mind. I fear madness at best, foul play at the worst. If you could, while talking to him, pry deeper... Perhaps find the cause... It would be a great service to this kingdom and I would be indebted to you all. Please, do not mention this to him. I fear he is a mite troubled and to hear of any interference of my own might... Cause repercussions.”

With that she nudges the griffin who rustles his wings for a moment before beginning to walk out of the building. “I will be taking my leave, now, but any further questions you may have... The captain and his subordinates here can help you with anything you need.” She takes after Fraust, with one last mental thought towards Jellial, 'Be careful, young one, I have lost greatly already and I fear my own actions if you were to perish as well...'

As soon as the Archmagi leaves, the captain seems to find his tongue, clasping his hands together. “Would anyone like a closer look at the stiff, or can I put this poor sod away? Yes? No? Anyone?”