Two days before the gathering: Ray Conover sat back in his chair. The mercenary's home was comfortable. It damned well better be after the blood he'd shed to buy it. He looked outside at the waxing moon rising just above the line of shingles and chimneys. Professor Whitlock had hired him to help with an expedition into the depths. Hopefully it wouldn't wind up like the last one. That aging fool was going to get what's coming to him if he didn't lay off on the adventures. Ray grinned at the thought. He couldn't deny the fact that the man had energy. Thud! Thud ! Thud! It was the door. The day had already died, whoever it is, is probably trouble. Ray grabbed his repeater crossbow, scratched his chin stubble with one wrist, and stretched his neck. Preparations complete he stomped down his stairs to the door. The thick glass made identifying the dressed figure outside impossible so he hefted the crossbow with one arm and opened the door. "What'ja want?" On the other side was a man dressed in fine black attire with a sharp black top hat and a black cane with a silver-bulbed handle. Barely affected by the deadly crossbow pointed at him, he adjusted his circular orange sunglasses and spoke with a practiced tone. "Well, sir. I came by in hopes of finding someone to help me with a job a month from now." "Why didn'ja just say so?" Ray stammered. "I've got a job soon. Should be done by then. What did'ja have in mind?" "I can explain. May I come in?" The man asked. "Well first things first. You already seem to know me. What's ya name?" The bespectacled man replied in a proud tone. "My name is Aran Vernus." Ray gave him a good once-over with his eyes. Aran was pretty pale and thin under his coat. Maybe it was just the light. "Well Aran Vernus. Sure. Come on in." His face shaped into a predatory grin. "Gladly." He lowered the spectacles revealing eyes the color of the deepest pit. Day of the gathering: Avrion surveyed the group. Two women, two men, a masked personage and himself. That made six. It would have to do. They were situated around a rented private room in a library. Though they hadn't all come in at the same time. The mercenary Ray Conover was of course a little late. He usually was. Avrion had hired the man before and he was just as sloppy looking as usual. The very reason Avrion trusted this man so much was set in his ability. He was not cursed or supernatural in any way. He simply was as some people would say, a badass. He was talented and despite his disheveled appearance was incredibly wary. "So uh, what's the spiel?" Ray piped in. There was a certain tension in the room waiting to be stilled by the professor. The merc peered around at the group, staring at Oswalt for a little too long. "Eh, sorry." He apologized, glancing away. "Yes of course. Let's get this underway. I'd let you bunch introduce yourselves to one another but we'll have plenty of time to do that over the course of our venture." He sighed and took a deep breath. In that moment the gravity weighing on his mind was visible in a brief and sad expression. "I have learned that creatures are appearing in the city at increasingly alarming rates. The guard are having difficulty keeping track of it all and I know precisely why. Someone is organizing them and increasing their numbers. If this continues the city will be overwhelmed and collapse. It could be any day now which is why we need to start moving as soon as possible." Avrion stares at the window for a good long moment. It was currently noon so the sun was still bright in the sky. It's obvious by his expression that though he knows this must be done he was having doubts as to what to do and says. "The guard won't help us down there. Our lord won't risk it. We're on our own for now until we get some more incentive. My suggestion is to enter the depths and find this incentive to stoke the guard. Any other thoughts?" He opened the discussion.

"I have no objections to that plan," Red spoke. She neither smiled nor frowned. Red... you could murder them all. A voice in Red's head spoke. You could strangle them or stab them. I could teach you how. "I DONT WANT TO KILL THEM!" Red shouted. She hadn't meant to voice her thought. But she had accidentally let it slip through her mouth. Red. Your newfound companions are cursed as well. You aren't alone anymore.... Oh wait, you've never really been alone. As soon as human company fled we had already settled in. Another voice chimed in. It was sarcastic in tone and overall rude. "You don't count as company," Red snarled. It was aimed at the voices.

Avrak, it would seem, in that mere span of fifteen minutes they had been in that room, had developed a penchant for igniting little slimy paper balls - a concoction of bird saliva and viciously shredded pieces of paper, all thanks to the generosity of the library. Except that they were blissfully ignorant of the... minute destruction the bird had caused to some of their hopefully unimportant texts. Phoenix had been watching her Spirit with mild interest and amusement, her eyes regularly flickering across the room in an effort to appear intrigued by the several oddities that had gathered there. Not that she wasn’t intrigued, but she had already been in that state and over it approximately five minutes ago. No reason to spoil the atmosphere, she mused, noticing Ray’s enthralled expression as he stared a little too long at Oswalt, before blurting out an apology. In fact, Phoenix herself had been freely staring at the amphibian with morbid fascination just moments ago, but saw no reason to apologize. So she hadn’t. The masked figure, Doctor Caldwell, held the record for holding Phoenix’s attention. For a full six minutes, she had unashamedly dissected him with her gaze. Funny, because that’s exactly what Doctor Caldwell did: dissect people, and quite literally so, she thought, spending the next minute mulling over that slice of mild humor, while her fingers twitched at the thought of waltzing right over to snatch the doctor's mask off. She grinned slightly. Across from her, Red was twitching as though a thousand conversations littered her mind. Upon her little outbursts, Phoenix cocked her head, raising a brow. She pondered over the red-haired girl’s seemingly instable and volatile emotional state. A snarky comment almost crossed her lips, but she managed – barely – to halt the words. Then, she decided that she had waited and seen enough. "Two questions, if I may.” Phoenix directed her inquiries to none other than Avrion. “Firstly, I’d like to know about the full terms of contract of this job.” A mischievous smile lit her face. “A lifetime supply of breakfast, perhaps? Of course, rewards are not mandatory, but I do work better with extrinsic motivational factors. If you get what I mean.” She winked. “Secondly, is The Inquisition going to be involved in this? Because I do find them greatly distasteful.” Phoenix’s expression darkened with those words.

One day before the gathering: A little bell mounted above the door of the Caldwell clinic rang for the third time this day. This time in specific, it signaled the departure of a guest who brought unexpected but decisive news. Denise Autumn, the assistant of doctor Caldwell, anxiously waited for the man to depart, throwing nervous glances at his intimidating appearance before getting up from the waiting room chair and slowly walking into the back of the clinic. The doctor was sitting behin a rustic wooden desk, staring at the young woman from behind the glasses of a familiar but no less troubling mask, staring right through her into blank space. It was not unusual for the doctor to do this, absentmindedly flexing the fingers of their right hand, but it never ceased to send shivers down Denise's spine. She silently stood in the doorframe, clutching a clipboard with both hands, waiting for the doctor to finish whatever train of thought they currently pursued. "I'll be gone for a few days.", the voice eventually proclaimed monotonously. The assistant immediately knew it was important, since the doctor never left the clinic closed without a good reason. "I think I could probably..." the girl started, but Caldwell cut her words off. "Take the rest of the week off. You've earned a break." Not failing to notice the melancholic look of their assistant, the doctor added "I don't doubt your ability to get it done, don't get the wrong idea. I'd just hate to have last weeks incident repeat without being around.". The 'incident' was still quite vivid in memory for the both of them. It involved a rather irritating client, his disregard for Denise's personal space and the attempt to bite her. The doctor had to step in, sedate and remove the individual from their establishment unceremoniously. The doctor's goodwill ended right at attempted harassment. That bastard could rot in a back alley for all Caldwell cared. Denise nodded, reliving the scene in memory with an expression of awe on her face. "Any preparations I can help you with, at least?" She had the decency not to ask about the occasion, but probably didn't want to know either. The girl had seen her fair share of otherworldly horrors in these four walls. "You can." The beaked mask nodded over to the less obvious door in doctor Caldwells office, leading to the laboratory rooms filled with alchemical and medical instruments. The masked figure slowly rose, producing a keyring to close the clinic entrance. It was implication enough for the girl to know they would be preparing potions and concoctions from a curious book about alchemy, the only book in the doctors library that didn't look like it was around for twenty or more years. Day of the gathering: The doctor had arrived and settled down as ordered by this unusual man. While the beaked mask limited the wearers field of view, it also concealed decently where they were looking at, making it relatively easy for its user to take a closer look at Grimsley specifically. He was a sight to behold anyway, but from a medical point of view even more so. The scientist in Caldwell itched to take samples of skin and saliva to conduct alchemical experiments on, but the human being Caldwell wanted to learn what happened to the man, and develop a treatment for whatever he was suffering from. The concept of curses was not new to the doctor and delving into the inexplicable darker branches of chemistry desensitized them from the supernatural even more than the occasional 'freak' client at the clinic, yet the victim of a curse was not much different from a patient in several ways. The other obvious 'anomaly' in the room - Phoenix' bird - underwent only a brief inspection. It was of little interest to the doctor, because... to put it bluntly, and to humorously mirror Phoenix' train of thought regarding the doctor, there was nothing to disect. Nothing to cut or scrape off that wouldn't end up being ash seconds later. The 'Monger' kept the doctors attention up until Conover arrived and the briefing began. Flexing their right hand mechanically, Caldwell nodded in agreement upon the mention of the creatures numbers increasing - the frequency of freakishly wounded and outright monstrous patients increased noticeably over the last weeks. Red's little outbreak didn't phase the doc as much as it would have two or three years ago. With the increasing number of 'incidents', an impressive amount of people with more or less frightful mental issues sought out the Caldwell clinic. While it was certainly unsettling, coming from a fourteen year old girl was not quite as threatening as it could have been. By speaking up, Phenix momentarily caught Caldwells interest again, reigniting the train of thought that earlier came to wonder what was wrong with her, but then was abruptly put aside upon Grimsley's arrival. There was a definite pattern in the people gathered here, the doctor thought. The twitchy girl who probably suffering from hallucinations and schizophrenia, the fish-man, that obviously unnatural bird tied to the young woman in some way... the only thing to be worked out were the effect of that binding and Conover. Possibly Avrion as well but the darkness surrounding him was so palpable, it was mysterious and obvious at the same time. While the doctor didn't quite care about a compensation for the job, they had their own 'payment' in mind. Going down there would inevitably get them into arms reach of worthwhile samples and insights. Easily enough for Caldwell to comply. That, and most likely saving the city they live in from certain doom, of course. The question concerning the Inquisition was a good one, and let the gaze of the beaked mask switch focus to Avrion. Making an educated guess, Caldwell would expect the Inquisition to stay far away from that place. The curse-ridden nature of this little party here furthermore implied that they would not seek out help of them. It was probably suicide to be seen with either of the people present, but the doctors relative anonymity felt reassuring. "Who would have an incentive to organize monsters? Who would benefit from the irreversible fall of Sutton?" The voice sounding from below the mask was dampened more than one would expect. Beyond that, it was of ambiguous tone, not obviously distinguishable as either gender. Furthermore, while the question was posed generally for everyone to ponder, Caldwell had a hunch that their host already had an idea about that.

Monger's large and unreadable eyes twitched back and forth between the assembly of miscreants, their shaded pupils focusing on each member in turn. Wiping a dripping string of saliva from his jagged maw, the amphibious man turned his head to look at Red as he noticed his stare. The mercenary apologised and turned away when eye contact was made, Monger could only laugh at this, always revelling in how his appearance frightened "normies". In an effort to reassure Red, he merely swung an apathetic arm at him, dismissing his apology. "Ain't no worry" he uttered in a voice thick like bubbling mud, his jowls shaking with every movement of his drawn lips. Wiping moisture from his nose, Monger reclined further in his chair, unable to find proper comfort in the wood and cushion.

Avrion glanced Red's way as she argued with herself. He wasn't very surprised by her behavior. There was a very good reason she was here even if no one else realized it yet. Ray had told her she was one of the most creative fighters around even if she was a sprite of a person and so very young. Came with the curse. Having multiple personalities gave her an advantage over someone who was expecting certain behaviors. She was unpredictable and often genius. The professor turned to address Phoenix. "I'll answer your second question first. No. I have not even told the Inquisition of our venture to the depths. It would be best if their bias toward a group like this were aimed elsewhere." Lifting a hand to his chin, a thinking gesture, he replies to the first. "There is certainly a payment." He starts to grin, knowing this part would catch the attention of some of them. "First is a monetary sum. I am not a noble but I am neither without some wealth. That aside I think the gleanings to be had in our adventure will be more than satisfactory. I for one look forward to learning the secrets Sutton has thoroughly buried." Leaving that subject aside he continued to main topic. "Doctor, those are very good questions." He muses for a moment. "I cannot answer either of them at this time. The only idea I have is that this person is incredibly dangerous and clever. Even kings cannot unite a kingdom without their servants. For them it takes support of subjects and power. Extension of responsibilities and so on. He's either very influential and brilliant. Less likely is that he is awfully powerful, enough so to intimidate the rest of the depths. Time is going to tell us." Avrion pulls a time piece out of a vest pocket and continues. "Though I would love to continue guesswork and discussion, time is ticking and I have a schedule set." Avrion backs to the corner of his room where a shoulder pack waits for him. "Come. While day shines. We go to the Lightless District." Ray Conover follows closely behind him, repeater crossbow still in hand. Even in a public library he didn't see the need to stow it. Two Hours Later: There is little else as alien as the Lightless District in broad daylight. Gone are the chronic night owls who prowl the streets. Most commonly are street urchins who run amok no doubt in search of their next big score. Ray in particular seems to be keeping his eye on one group of dirty children in an alley to his right as the group walks by. "Don't stare." Avrion cautioned. "You'll give them more of a reason to frisk your pockets." "I don't have anything in my pockets." Ray pouted. The professor pointed his thumb at Ray's chest and hushed his voice. "You have a bandoleer of custom bolts. It's not always about your pockets." Avrion rolled his eyes. Avrion slowed his pace and gestured to a large brown and rundown looking house. In its prime it would have been a magnificent mansion. It must have been one of the oldest buildings in the city. Now it looked like it would collapse if you gave it a hard enough push. "We're almost there. Watch the holes. And the ceiling."

Red followed along, looking at the scenery around. Well not really scenery. More like a really old building. Not really that interesting. I bet if you hit one of the walls it would collapse and kill you all. Hey, if this building collapsed we would all die. You and I included. "Even though your death sound FANTASTIC I'm not killing myself or these others by DEMOLISHING a building," Red voiced. Her red eyes flitted around the room, eyeing everything she could see with scared eyed, as if afraid that any object could become sentient and attack her.

It was two hours past noon, and Phoenix had already surged past her forties. Her bones felt heavier, her skin looser, and her clothes tighter. In another few more hours, she anticipated, her shrinking body would give her more room to breathe. Ah, the burden of old age. As they approached the seemingly dilapidated building, Phoenix questioned the structural integrity of the ramshackle, dirty thing. It wouldn't come as much of a surprise for her if the only thing that was keeping it aloof were the huge mass of clinging ivy dominating practically a whole front section of the mansion. Briskly, Phoenix skipped ahead of the others. Avrak was, at the moment, nowhere to be seen. The large double doors of the mansion loomed before her. She was now standing upon the front verandah, regarding with interest the musky odor which had wafted out the moment she had taken a step forward. One of the doors, she noticed, had been left slightly ajar. Ever so slightly ajar. With a tentative hand, she nudged it open and peered into the gloom. Uncertain, she looked back at Avrion and waited for his signal to go-ahead. Meanwhile, she summoned Avrak, who swiftly landed on her outstretched arm with a grumpy squawk. He had been lounging around on the roof of the mansion prior to the group's physical arrival. "We could use a little light," Phoenix grinned. Moments later, Avrak's crimson-red feathers started to glow, first casting light into the shadows as a muted flame, before building up into a bright, eerie brilliance. To those who didn't know better, the most accurate description of him would be that resembled a living, breathing furnace - with wings. Phoenix supposed that she could send him in there first to light the way for the group, but Avrak was her most precious weapon. So she waited.

The doctor had traveled the lightless district before, and not just once. If one wanted to acquire alchemic ingredients, there simply was no alternative than to enter here. While no stranger to its oddities and horrors, possibly even somewhat known if one was to ask at the right places, it never ceased to cause a certain feeling of unease. Restlessness seemed to make the flexing of Caldwells right hand more frequent, until the doctor eventually adjusted their right glove. There wasn't much to steal from the doctor, but more importantly the kids mostly kept their distance to the masked figure. For the more superstitious folks, the outfit of a plague doctor wasn't exactly an omen of good health. Furthermore, half of the things one could acquire from the doctors pockets was potentially toxic, acidic or otherwise harmful to the fingers of your everyday thief. Caldwell followed silently until they reached the run-down building of unapparent importance. The unspoken question about the past and present owners of the mansion spooked through their head as the doctor produced two flasks from the alchemical bag. The liquids within them were of a metallic grey and transparent respectively, though as soon as united and mixed, the result began shining in an almost phosphoric white. After adding a pinch of pitch black powder produced from one of the countless semi-obvious pouches in the plague doctor garments, the white shine turned into a murky orchid purple with black shapes twirling against the glass. The doctor corked up the round bottle, holding it in their right hand like some kind of abstract weapon, which it indeed was. The little concoction Caldwell just mixed up was mostly resembling viscous gasoline in its features, with a little extra. Once in contact with oxygen and fabric, the liquid would eat into whatever surface, slightly damaging it but primarily sticking to it like tar. This process would then produce a gas with blinding properties, effectively disabling primary means of perception for the potential victim covered in it. Finally, it was highly flammable, causing the unlucky target to light up like a christmas tree if anyone was to add fire to the equation. Doctor Caldwell nodded towards Avrion, signalling him readyness.

Phoenix and Doctor Caldwell had made their own preparations to enter. Avrion looked to both of them, giving each a confirming nod. The professor wanted to personally take the front. He moved up to the busted door and drew the multi-barreled flintlock he'd brought with him for the venture. "I don't expect anything in the house but the tunnels below are another story. Move in single file line. These floorboards are old. We might as well walk on parchment. Deep below is a cellar so watch your step." With that he pushed the busted door open and walked slowly, choosing each step carefully. The floorboards creaked consistently with each step.

Ray Conover drew close behind Avrion, crossbow leveled and scanning the corners. Avrion spoke with a subtler voice. "We're meeting someone at the end of that tunnel. I will go first as she is quite uncomfortable with strangers and has her own process of doing things." The front hall here was wide and was connected to several of the major rooms in the mansion.

There was a creaking sound from the boards overhead. "That's not right. There shouldn't be any furniture above us." Unsettled dust drifted from the ceiling eerily.

"Uh -" Is all Ray manages before the boards beneath his feet splinter apart, cascading the hall from the hellish amount of disturbed dust. Ray was gone. Swift footfalls hammer the floor above and creaking comes from the side rooms. From the stairs up and some of the rooms around charge brigands with hoods and masks hiding their faces. They brandish their blades and rush forward.

Coughing, Avrion shouts as he reaches the door down to the cellar. "Move!" Taking aim at the bandit on the staircase he fires, planting deadly lead in his rib cage.

Caldwell watched Avrion and Conover take the lead, and followed right after the latter. The dim shine of sunlight, creeping through the leaky walls here and there was hardly enough to illuminate the interior of the building, and served as a blinding dagger to ones eyes instead, if looked at directly. The air was dusty and thick, but somehow not old enough to fit the image of an abandonned complex. The doctor might have noticed, if it wasn't for their mask isolating all sense of smell and feeling from the exterior world. But they didn't notice. Neither of them did, until it was too late.

Suddenly Conover was gone, a gaping hole in the floor where he was, seconds ago. His presence replaced by a number of brigands charging the group. This was one of the situations Caldwell was not properly prepared to deal with. A singular foe didn't pose as much of a problem, but the doctor couldn't possibly carry enough flasks for every single one of them. Within the matter of a second, they had the scalpel-like knife in their free left hand, gesturing with the dangerously glimmering flask in their right to try and intimidate the attackers, keeping them out of close proximity. It seemed to keep the nearest brute at bay for now, though the horrifing sound of a crossbow bolt colliding with the wood at Caldwells feet urged them to act quickly. 'They're aiming for our legs', the doctor thought in the heat of the moment. 'They don't just want to kill us...' There were worse fates than a quick death, and Caldwell didn't plan to suffer either of them, not today.

Taking a deep breath, the doctor covered the distance to Conovers former position in two long running steps, before jumping over the hole and just barely reaching the other side, accompanied by a low grunting sound. A piece of plank broke off to rain down into the unknown depths and rob the doctor of balance, but they managed to regain it quick enough to not follow the mercenary downwards. Jumping the gap effectively cut most of the bandits off unless they intended to follow. While hurrying towards the open doorframe Avrion stood in, Caldwell perceived the sound of a dying man tumbling down the stairs on this side of the abyss, after a lethal shot probably pierced his lungs.