Al crouched down low, his eyes widening in shock.
"A thief, you say? Well fear not! Whoever this guy is, he can't take us both on at once. We have the advantage in numbers." he said, pounding a fist into his palm.

Al himself was no stranger to borrowing without permission, but this was different, because it affected him or someone he liked. And that made it bad.
The swordsman slung his claymore over his back, and pat the lamia on the head. "Alright, lead us there. I promise the streets will be ripe with garbage to scavenge when we come back from our adventure."

Ramius Kastagir, Iron Forest

If his face had been whole the now rather horrendous smile the White Raven gave would have perhaps been to an extent warm - one you'd give to a comrade in arms or a friend you hadn't seen in years. "I admit I have not heard of you, sir Thorn - perhaps you fell after my time, perhaps before it, or then you go by a different name. I however still carry my name with pride." Ramius swept his black hair back with his skeletal hand and managed a surprisingly solemn expression. "I am as I once was, sir Ramius Kastagir, the White Raven. Formerly an infantry commander under Emperor Axis III." He actually rolled his eyes. "Now, I could go on and on about the exploits I still remember, or how those shambling bastards over there lead to my untimely death..." The tall Revenant nudged his head towards the motley collection of lesser Revenants and undead. "...That however I doubt you'd have the patience or - pardon me for saying - manners for listening."

"I serve no master than myself, but I am searching for someone. A man, a..." Ramius paused, as if he did not quite remember the word he was looking for. For a brief moment it seemed like he had fallen completely silent until he finally managed to continue. "...A Hero, if you will... He was known as Hero of the East... and Bane of Morven... If he still lives I have something..." The White Raven seemed to be at a loss for words, like there was something missing - a crucial part of a memory. The Revenant gritted his teeth and growled in annoyance. After a while he shook his head in disappointment. "Admittedly that is none of your concern... Apart from the... the... mage... I also seek the only man I ever had any semblance of true respect towards."

Ramius focused his gaze on Thorn, like he had just remembered that he had actually been asked a question. "I have heard a few rumors of a powerful wraith, but there always are rumors about those. Apart from that I cannot help you with proper answers." He sounded sincerely apologetic, that was rather odd coming from a Revenant. "Now, by my assessment if we were to come to blows neither one of us would come out of it unscathed - and since this conversation is going so nicely I think I might have a little proposition for you." The White Raven lifted his hands as if to quell an immediate refusal. "I'm not asking for your fealty, or offering myself to your service either. You see, this power struggle between the Wraiths and other so called 'stronger' Revenants is rather a dull affair. They bicker among each other, occasionally a Revenant or Wraith gets his or her deserved eternal rest and someone takes it's place. I do not care about being the strongest, I do not even care about... All of this!" He motioned around himself. "All I care of is that I will be remembered. I do not care if it's by us undead or the living." The Revenant paused, as if to calm himself and shook his head. "I wish to be remembered by everyone who's still standing after this whole thing. I do not care if I have to be a hero to do so! I do not care if I have to burn the whole world to do so." Ramius noticed that he was nearly raving, he hadn't gotten any closer of making his proposal to Thorn. Again the White Raven shook his head. "Terribly sorry, now that I got that out... As I said I am looking for two men. This... Bane of Morven and a second one. I know full well where the second one is, but..." He glanced at his small force and spat some black substance - maybe what little remained of his blood, maybe some bile - to the ground. "I doubt my shambling little group could get even near the man without help. Now, I am a man of my word and thus declare that if you help me with what I seek I will offer in exchange my aid to you in any way I can."

Location: Actium

Sarai listened to each of their own explanations. Luca's cause, she could easily understand. A steeped as the culture of their following was in death, it was only natural that tell of a powerful wraith gathering strength in the base of operations of who was easily the most infamous necromancer in history would spur them into action. Still, what truly made her wonder was Pyria. There was just something off about the small, seemingly frail girl that she couldn't put her finger on. That she said she was 'entrusted as a familiar' to an elite mage made Sarai all the more suspicious of her true nature; it could simply be the overactive imaginings of a child, but for Sarai felt that was not the case this time. All the same, she didn't think that they were bad company. Besides, Luca exuded an aura that linked him intricately with death - something that made Sarai itch with curiosity.

"I see. I left for much the same reason. That so many people were dying and there was nothing I could do . . . it felt like such a waste to simply remain at the monastery, not when I could be out there." The truth, though distorted, was still truth, thought Sarai. It was indeed a waste for her to just stay at the monastery, wilting away, and all because of narrow-minded fools who feared her understanding of something taboo. "So here I am. I planned to head straight for Camp Magnus today, but you're right about the storm. I hope you won't mind me accompanying you, at least until the Camp?" While waiting for an answer, she heard Pyria's words and sighed. Perhaps she ought to clear this up. It would be tiresome for her to have to deal with the little girls ire the entire step of the way, if she was to join them.

Clearing her throat in an effort to drown out more of Pyria's comments on her bust - as well as to ignore the fact that she did what she had just did - Sarai, stared up at Pyria with a friendly smile.

"Well Pyria, I see that you're quite taken with Luca. If that's the case, then I'll gladly step away from the him," she said placatingly. Sarai turned to Luca, and for a moment, a playful, mischievous light shone in her eyes, before disappearing.

"Though I must say I'm intrigued by your choice of romantic partners, Luca, and all the more so by your master-servant play."

---

Location: Iron Forest

Thorn remained silent as this 'Ramius' spoke. He did not recognize him, but he was sure Thomas had fought alongside him at least once - they would have had to, so long as they both served under Emperor Axis III. While he did not say specifically when he fell, Thorn could guess easily the battle that led to his undeath. It wouldn't be very strange, if that was the case. Many of them fell and came back during the disaster that was the Emperors Folly.

Much to his surprise and delight, their meeting had not devolved into an effort to end each others misery, and they were even having a coherent conversation. As Thorn listened to him, memories from the past threatened to resurface and take over again. Thorn grit his teeth and forced them back down; he did not want to start a fight with Ramius, as he was sure Thomas would, should that man come to the surface of his consciousness. It was the mention of the word 'Hero of Morven' that triggered the sudden fit. Thorn knew of him, of course. He would have to be a fool not to, but more than that, he wondered why Ramius was in search of him. The more Ramius spoke, the more Thorn became certain that he was a man that would seek glory no matter the cost. It did not matter whether he was living or undead, it seemed that the core of a man shone through no matter the circumstance - so what did that say of the other Revenants that they walked among?

Thorn heard him mention a proposition of sorts, and much as Ramius suspected, was about to turn him down immediately. It was not in his nature to ever work alongside undead - even if he was one himself. But what he was proposing . . . it was not something that Thorn opposed. Yes, he would choose his methods and his targets carefully, but in the end, seeking a glorified ending was something he could scarce imagine rebuking Ramius for, even if he did choose to target the living. And ever since talking to Ramius, and idea had begun to form in Thorn's mind. An idea that was so outlandish and ludicrous, Thorn wondered why he had even considered it.

Yet, for the first time in his undeath, he felt a shiver of excitement down his spine. There was merit to his idea, and Ramius aid could prove invaluable to making it a reality.

"I see," he muttered, both to himself, and for Ramius to hear. "Yes, yes, I think that could work, Sir Ramius." For the first time since they had spoken, Thorn's voice had something of emotion in them, and the lights of his eyes behind the helmet he wore grew animated. "Very well. If you can tell me who this second one is, then I will consider offering my assistance. I will not ask you for anything in return yet, but better I know the details of what who you seek."

"Then let us sally forth," announced Serpica, patting Al on the back and pointing him in the direction he should go, "over yonder!"

The tiny Lamia felt like a real adventurer, now. A real adventurer on a real adventure, to get her trash back from that girl that took all the best spots. With Serpica's directions, they were able to make their way quickly through the city to the area Serpica had essentially been muscled out of. Her eyes narrowed, and she looked around a bit before spotting the girl along with a group. A group? That wasn't good.

"Her," Serpica hissed, leading Al towards Pyria. The two appeared as if ghosts from the gloom: a tall man with a sword as big as a person slung across his back, and a tiny Lamia in an over-sized long coat attached to his shoulder, leading a single dingy horse-driven cart along the roadway. As the two approached, Serpica attempted to dramatically fling the coat to the ground to reveal her identity to her rival. The coat was quite heavy, however, and Serpica was no longer clinging to Al. Thus, she fell to the side squeaking fearfully as the coat dropped to the floor, and she hung on Al's arm upside-down by the tail.

Quickly, Serpica's hands shot to the hem of her burlap dress to protect her modesty, and she shivered violently in the cold. Quickly, she used her powerful tail to right herself and she clung to Al's arm once again. Serpica smiled smugly, having revealed her full form. Her ratty burlap dress still had the word 'POTATOES' on it from when it was a sack for potatoes.

"You," she hissed, pointing at Pyria, "you stole all the good garbage! Well, I have a big brother now! You'd better apologize!"

Serpica's eyes darted between the orphan girl and the two new women she was surrounded by.

"N-no matter how many new big sisters you have! We're adventurers now, so we're the toughest in the whole town!"

"I need only light meals, my will to see this through will do the rest," Gripus remarked. "Now's your last chance to gather anything else you may need."

The western gate loomed above, a wooden parapet formed by sharpened timbers. A throng of Imperial legionnaires walked about aimlessly, offering Gripus an occasional glance. The mage saw mistrust in their eyes, and apprehension. No doubt the Imperator's contract had drawn characters of every shape, size, denomination and morality, and his soldiers were now faced with keeping the peace over a host of cut throats and holier-than-thou knights. Their patience with the situation was probably growing thin, and quickly.

"Off to save us, Hero?" one of the soldiers asked, mockingly as Gripus approached the gate. "And oi, what's that witch doing with ya?"

Gripus didn't appreciate the man's humour, "I doubt I can save you, and this 'witch' may be the only thing standing between your whoring shenanigans and an eternity in undeath, so be respectful."

The soldier shrugged, "if you wanna shack up with a witch, aint my business." He made to move out of the way, but then paused and smiled. Gripus recognized the expression as one of malice. "Unless, of course, she be a necromancer?"

The man's comrades perked up at the mention of the forsaken word, and soon Gripus found himself being slowly surrounded by half a dozen of legionaries. He felt himself instinctively leaning into the Staff of Morven, and the green gem pulsed slightly in response.

"A step closer with this foolishness, and your Lord will be short six men," Gripus hissed, holding up a gloved hand towards the nearest soldier. "Please, honour me with a reason, and I'll release you of your idiocy."

The man who had started the whole confrontation merely spat at the floor, "bah, you Magi are all the same. How about I take that staff and shove it up your arse? And then I'll shove something else in that pretty necromancer - I assume she's pretty, anyway?" He looked at Ellasapet and licked his lips. "How about you take them robes off for me, love? Let me have a proper look at ya."

Gripus focused into his out stretched palm. A purple sphere materialized, and pulsed with electricity. The soldier's eyes widened, and he started to back away.

"Last chance. I will not hesitate to put down all of you, for the rabid dogs you are," Gripus said, his features twisting in outrage. "There's a reason they called me the Hero of the East. I saved an entire frontier by felling a being that surpasses you all tenfold, and you mean to waylay me with this nonsense?"

"Just joking with ya, sire," the soldier said with a nervous chuckle, holding his hands open in surrender. "Me and the boys, we get bored, you know how it is."

Gripus walked forwards, the sphere of arcane energy still pulsating in his palm. The soldiers broke apart, though that their hands were on their weapons gave the mage no impression that they were sorry for their actions. They'd gambled on him being much less than he really was, they were monsters in uniform, looking to cause misery on the weak.

"I should end you all," Gripus said, refusing to stop. "But instead, I will simply command you to offer your apologies to my companion."

There was no hesitation, "Sorry miss," "just having a laugh, love," "didn't mean no offense by it." The arcane sphere in Gripus' palm dissipated, and the soldiers eased a little.

Gripus looked at Ellasapet, "Come, let us leave these scoundrels to their pitiful lives. Perhaps in time I'll remind myself of what it is I'm saving exactly."

The mage's horse, a black courser, was led to him by a toothless stable boy with a mop of blonde greasy hair. Gripus took the reigns, and gave him a couple of gold coins. The horse was laden with satchels and packs, all full of foodd, water and basic medical supplies. In one experienced and fluid movement, he hopped up onto the stirrups and threw himself over the saddle.

"Get your horse, my lady, if you have one; we'll await Liliana before we head off, though I wish not to delay a second longer." Gripus said, before looking westwards.

A great sprawl of greying and dead vegetation awaited them, seemingly mirroring the gathering storm above.

Ramius Kastagir, the Iron Forest

For a moment Ramius seemed amazed that Thorn was actually - at least partially - willing to even hear his proposal. He was so amazed that he actually had to go over the conversation again in his head. After a brief while the tall Revenant actually laughed - though it was a hollow laugh there still was sincere amusement in it. "Finally! Finally someone who is willing to at least consider! Splendid! If I had a hat to tip I'd gladly tip it to you." The White Raven let out a little wheezing sound as some air escaped from his damaged, decaying lungs. "Now, I assure you that I have suggested the same to many - they just have not seen my way. They always demanded fealty or offered themselves under my command. With the ones that demanded fealty I dealt with the only way I know." He tapped the hilt of his longsword and shook his head slightly. "Those who on the other hand offered themselves to my command I usually sent away - not because I'd fear they'd try to backstab me, which they no doubt would. Simply because if they cannot be a threat to me how can they be a threat to those I intend to face?"

Ramius shook his head again, it seemed to help him concentrate on the matter at hand much better. "Now, you wished to hear who is this other man I seek? This by my own words 'the only man I ever truly respected'?" The undamaged side of the Revenant's face widened in to a cunning smile as he took a single step towards Thorn and spread his arms in a rather dramatic manner. "I seek ofcourse the Emperor! My Emperor! The man on who's side I fought so many times! Emperor Axis III."

"Good, good, you understand! Luca is mine!" Pyria beamed as she clasped her hands in front of her chest, a smile sprawled across her face. "I like your attitude, girl!" The kid said, puffing up in a bossy manner, further encouraged by Sarai's play-along antics. "I heard big boobed chambermaids are a thing in these parts! You can be servant number two!" She added.

It was then when a new challenger appeared. Or well, that other pathetic little rat who was always complaining Pyria didn't leave enough scraps. Snakegirl. Didn't she understand the pecking order? She narrowed her eyes at the other little squirt, trying to appear bossy because she just had a meaty man with a slab of metal to back her up.

"H-hey! Luca's a guy." Pyria said in a strangled, contorted reply, as her golden eyes pierced the other duo. "Just the noodly, girly type, but a guy."

Sword. Dangerous.

She thought to herself, while gripping Luca's reins harder. She bit her lip. Suuure, she could send her servants to battle. But they were, er... cutesy servants. To pamper her. If they were missing eyes or limbs after having a clash with the burly man, they'd not be just as cute. Her gaze went back and forth between Snakegirl, Meatguy, Boobmaid, Luca, and herself. A conclusion was reached.

"Toughest in town, you say? FINE. I'll face you. HEAD ON. Stay away, servants! I shall take of this myself!" Pyria said, the barest hint of nervousness in her voice as she tossed the reins of the horse and jumped in a dramatic fashion.

Only to be caught in a stirrup and falling flat in the floor. Again.

"Noo..not again.!" Pyria said, tears welling in her eyes. It looked like she was going to throw another tantrum.

But she didn't. She had to be STRONK! Dragon's didn't cry!

She eyed her opponents. And then something snapped inside the tiny cogs of her mind. Snakegirl was a loser, but the guy did look dangerous. Pyria went perfectly still and limp, as if she was a golem that had run out of power, her gaze still on the tiles. She clenched her fist, and slowly, her gaze rose up to meet the swordman and lamia duo, magic gathering around her.

"If you so much draw that blade, you might get into more than what you can chew." Pyria growled, all infantile tones of her voice washing away from her voice, and her tone plumetting into a much deeper registry.

Gold eyes pierced the two. Gold eyes whose pupils were now...slits.

---

Rude. Tsabal said, clenching her fist, resisting the urge to melt that human's face off with her magic. Hero of a fruitless campaign, in a collapsing empire. Is that really something you can boast about? You'll drag others along your fall. The drow thought to herself as she shook her head, and the halfbreed chided both for being childishly.

You couldn't possibly understand. Much like the flask, this was a test. Drow are always probing the defenses of anyone else. And he failed. Unlike the loathsome high Elf. If he can't keep his temper with charades like this, how he's supposed to fare in a forest full of undead with no civilization on sight.

She pondered. "Couldn't hurt getting dressed. If only because to point out what he's missing with that sharp tongue of his." She added, as she zipped through the assorted tents to where Bane of Gardeners was, and her possesions were. Deftly picking up her gear and putting up a dark half plate, she still kept a cloak with hood alongside her. The final touch, Spinerender, rested on her back. Reigning her donkey, she came across the last of a discussion between the so called Hero of the East and fellow soldiers. Leaning against a post, she smiled under her hood.

"Now, whom had said that about not alienating your folk? Some preacher Hero you are, failing to follow the very example you've set." She leant against the post. "And because of that, you're going to venture into the wilds with less people than you initially thought. Because of your childish, holier than you tantrum. Hero, or should I say, Empire-hired bounty hunter, and Elven Kingslayer? It's all a matter of perspective."

She contemplated the craftwork of her armor gauntlet. "But I'm going to offer you a second chance, because I'm in a good mood today. Swallow your pride, and apologize for your rudeness. I might deem then suitable to assist you. Fail to do so, and I'll simply remain here, waiting for the wind to carry your deathly screams."

"Romantic...? No, no! Nothing like that! She was hurt and hungry and I helped her..." Luca was definitely in over his head now. The insistent little girl was being pushy and rude, and Sarai was actually listening to her. He couldn't quite pick up on the pact that she was messing with him, and he was mortified. The approach of two more motley townsfolk didn't look like it was going to make anything better.

"Sisters...?" At least Pyria had one thing right, and was willing to defend his actual gender. Some part of him wanted to just level the whole square with a conjured blizzard. In fact, one of the newcomers at least looked like he might pose some threat. The lamia beggar could be dangerous in the wrong situation, but the sword was more threatening. Luca was about to step forward with his staff when the beggar girl behind him made her move, ending up on the ground again.

Luca was about to go to her aid once more when Pyria spoke up in an unearthly voice. Eyes wide, he instinctively stepped back and called for his magic. Is it possible? Could she really be a dragon? I've heard of magic that hides a creature's true form, but a dragon hiding as a little girl? How, and more importantly, why? Never mind, this is getting ridiculous. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, he took a firmer grip on his staff and stepped forward. Coming up alongside the little girl who was now radiating powerful magic, he slammed the stave down hard enough that the magic of the weapon covered a small area in frost and cracked a paving stone.

"I think we should all just calm down a moment, before someone does something they'll regret. Why fight over garbage when we can all have a hot meal in the inn? I'm sure they have stew or roast duck enough for all of us, and fresh bread. Then tonight we can all sleep in a warm bed and forget this silliness." Even as he spoke, Luca reevaluated how much coin he had. The temple had supplied him well, but what was a great deal for one would vanish quickly supporting five. Even so he would share what he had, especially if it would help them avoid a conflict.

---

The soldiers Gripus confronted were just leaving when Liliana sighted the group, and every one of them took the time to look her over. "Leaving, Lili?" one of them mentioned, making her wish she had never heard the shortened version of her name. "We'll all miss the Fallen Star, but don't worry. I'm sure every man here will remember you in their dreams!" The group broke out into raucous laughter, having already forgotten their scolding. She let them pass with nothing more than a long glare, shaking the encounter off before joining the others.

Bal seemed to have some choice words for Gripus, and Liliana found her to be rather judgmental but not entirely wrong. For her part, she considered that the Drow likely had it at least as rough as she did when interacting with humans, even hiding her race. She resolved that since she had nothing polite or worthwhile to say, she would hold her tongue. Taking up a position a few feet away, she waited to see if the man's pride would cost them an ally. While she wouldn't exactly be hurt if the Crone abandoned them, four were stronger than three and the road was far from safe.

Al stood still for several moments at the threat. Anyone well-versed in reading ki would see that Pyria's body was full of some ancient, draconic energy, and that she was readying to unleash a terrible power upon the pair.
Al could not read ki at all. Or situations. The swordsman drew his claymore and plunged it into the ground, leaning on it.

"Hey," he chastised her like the child she very clearly was. "Have you been taking my friend's things? I really don't appreciate that and you should give them back to her."
To emphasize, he held out an empty palm, and waved his fingers.

'His will? What nonsense. It takes more than a force of strength to live. You must be willing to destroy your enemies, and bathe in your successes to truly survive in this world.' El considered as she followed the man to the the Western Gate, sharpened wood making a palisade to ward off enemies.

The throng of legionnaires standing near greeted the two with glares and mockery. First calling out the pride of the man, insulting his title, then turning to her, and asking such crude things. She had half a mind to break them, and leave them begging for death behind her. Focusing on her magic, she was about to release some kind of attack, when the man continued by threatening them, even going so far as to create a sphere of energy pulsing with electricity and colored purple.

Watching the men back off, El thought 'I am unsure whether to be grateful or insulted by his assistance.'

Walking through the men as they "apologized" left her wishing she had acted. But this once she could refrain, she didn't desire a fight with the Hero and his pride.

"I suppose I should thank you for handling that Hero. And what you are saving is the women and children and innocents. While I differ from you and the High Elf, for joining this journey for the money alone, I am still not heartless, I just see that as an additional bonus instead."

Following him to the stable right outside the gate, and watched a nasty, filthy piece of garbage bring the man's horse to him. Listening to him ask her to get her horse made El want to laugh.

"I am good with my two legs, I am just as fast on foot as I am on horseback...." she would have continued but the Drow and High Elf had rejoined them.

Hearing the Drow call out and demand an apology, made El want to laugh. 'Oh how these tables have turned, eh Hero?' And like the High Elf she waited to see what Gripus said. Would he offend the Drow to save his pride, or ask for pardon for her steel?

Location: Actium

Life was a funny thing, mused Sarai. It took so many shapes and forms, and even then could be changed depending on the situation. Take Pyria for example: at one moment, a little girl, the next, a veritable beacon of power that she had no comparison for. The same held true to a lesser extent for Luca: so unassuming, a little naive even - great fun to tease, certainly - and with the delicate and pretty looks of a woman, but as she looked down to where he had planted his staff on the ground, she watched the ice spread and knew that he was more than what he seemed. Then there were the newcomers. The Lamia and the swordsman, as different as night and day, yet, as thick as thieves otherwise.

The smile on Sarai's face made apparent the gentle amusement she took in watching the scene before her unfold. Her mind wandered to what kind of lives these people had led, and wandered further still to the day they all died. How would their deaths come about? What shape would they take, in the end? Perhaps even a mighty dragon might suffer the same ignoble death of a slave - how chaotic yet bright life was, and in turn, how simple, yet murky death would be in turn.

Taking a few steps away from the ruckus, Sarai took in the scene as a whole. It was all the more perfect when she was not involved, and yet . . .

With a light hop, Sarai returned to her place beside Luca, a soft and placating smile on her face. "Listen everyone, Luca is right. We should all calm down - there's plenty enough for everyone to enjoy a nice, hot meal!" she said placing a hand on Luca's shoulder. "In fact, why not help yourselves to double servings? What better way to celebrate Little Pyria's new-found freedom with a small feast?"

Of course, Sarai was fully aware of the kind of toll that would take on his funds, but suggested in nonetheless. Oh, she fully intended to reimburse him with her own funds afterwards, but seeing his reaction to her jest about his relationship with Pyria . . . that raw, undisguised horror at the implication that he was having a sexual relationship with a child made her realizing something:

That for all that he was a member of one of the most notorious religions of death, Luca was so, incredibly, amazingly, impossibly sheltered!

And Sarai, for her part, found that to be just adorable. Too adorable to pass up on.

Is this what they call . . . teasing? Yes, I quite think that it is, and I think I like it.

Location: Iron Forest

There were very few times in life - and death - that Thorn was honestly, genuinely surprised; the surprise that could send electricity down your spine and leave you paralyzed, unable to think, unable to move. The amount of times that he had experienced this exact feeling could be counted on a single hand. Thomas was a person who expected the worse outcome, but never despaired that it could not get better. It was a mindset that came useful in his life as a soldier. When he died, Thorn inherited this way of thinking, albeit more subdued and gloom in nature. Now, the words that came from Ramius's mouth caused an addition to those rare moments.

As soon as he revealed the identity of the man he was pursuing, Thorn's mind was flooded of images. Images of the past, filled with noble battles and glorious conquests, and of a time when Thorn did not exist. A hand crawled its way towards his face, running through his hair as he shook with the weight of a lifetime of memories crashing upon him. And for a single moment, he was silent.

KILL THE UNDEAD!

"Grk!" With titanic effort, Thorn willed himself back to the present and drowned out the roaring voice of Thomas. Lifting a raised fist, he quickly brought it up to his face, the force from the blow shaking his head and clearing his mind.

"Apologies . . . simply a lapse in judgement," his tone made it apparent that he wouldn't be explaining the reasons for his actions. Shaking his head, he stared straight into the eyes of Ramius. "That was unexpected. Of all people who I thought you'd be targeting, I did not expect him."

Certainly, many undead had a reason to be bitter and resentful of him, but those that could still feel emotion and think with a sliver of rationality had more things on their mind than revenge against a withered husk of the dead Emperor Axis. Thorn himself did not feel any resentment for the man; in the end, he became just as much a victim as they were, perhaps even worse of, as he would have to carry the burden of his shame for years to come.

And yet, at the thought, with the help of Ramius, that he could face this man again, a feeling rose up. It was an emotion he was familiar with, and yet, had also long forgotten. No, it was not even the emotion of it that he recalled, but the ghost of it. It was a feeling that brought him close to laughter; an action he had not experienced in decades. It did not bring him there, but it was close, very close.

"Now that I know who your quarry is Sir Ramius, what else can there be done but to accept?"

Serpica's eyes narrowed. An awful lot was going on around her, and she didn't understand half of it. She didn't understand that the supposed... man, called Luca, was threatening her with ice magic, because she didn't know anything about magic. She didn't understand that the other beggar, apparently called Pyria, was threatening her with a fiery, dragony death, because she didn't know a thing about dragons. She'd only ever been threatened with blades before, so she had no idea what these two were capable of. Thus, she continued just as she had planned from the beginning.

"That's a neat trick you can do with your eyes and your voice," stated a confused Serpica, taking an arm from Al's shoulder and putting it on her hip, "but I'll have you know I can chew an awful lot! I've never bitten off more than I can chew, because I can do this!"

Serpica unhinged her jaw and opened her mouth up remarkably wide, before closing it and putting it back like normal again.

"Cool, huh? I bet you can't do that," she stated smugly, "and in case you had any doubts, I could eat infinity meat pies if I wanted. That's probably more than even you can chew, so ha!"

Serpica had no idea whether she could actually eat infinity meat pies or not, but she knew she could eat a lot of them, so it was probably close. Having so thoroughly taken apart one opponent, she turned to the other two. They had no idea what was happening here, so how could they understand? Serpica would have to explain to them how mean Pyria was.

"A-although your offer is tempting," she said, drooling slightly, thinking about a hot meal and a warm bed for the first time in her life, "this is about more than that! This is about survival. I've been scavenging garbage on this side of town for ten years now, and your friend comes around here a couple of weeks ago and takes all the good stuff for herself! That's not fair! I want an apology, and I want this side of town back, and I want any good toys she's found! If our adventuring doesn't work out, we need a nice pile of trash to come back to or else we'll die. So I want all of those things, and after that, you can buy us hot food and a warm bed! That's the deal. It's only fair after what she's put me through."

Gripus stared at the Drow in a half daze, his mouth agape. Who was this subterranean cretin to lecture him on the conduct of character? For a mere instant he felt certain he could unleash his powers on the woman, smite her with an almighty tide of arcane energy. His mission was pressing, and its importance outweighed his own sense of being. Were he young, as young as he was when he cast down Morven, or faced Magnor Dragonblade, no doubt the Drow's attempt to humble him would have ended in bloodshed. But a 91 years was a long time for a human, even one such as he, and he felt the years weighing down his temper.

The mage considered the Drow, his eyes pulsing with their customary eeriness. There was an awesome power there, beneath the robes and the venomous tongue; hidden behind the bravado and pride. With her at his side, their party would become four, and the dead would tremble before their advance. Still, she needed muzzling. Gripus probably did a great job of hiding it, with his eyes as obstructed as they were by their glow, but her attack had struck a raw nerve and made him wince.

"Empire-hired bounty hunter, and Elven Kingslayer"

Then his gaze moved to Ellasapet, and the words that she spoke only moments earlier echoed in his mind. "And what you are saving is the women and children and innocents." Suddenly, the Hero of the East wasn't so certain that he was the patriarch of the group, and neither was he certain this his comparatively short life had much wisdom to it. A crack started to emerge across his impervious guise.

It was Liliana's curious glance that broke the camel's back though. Gripus read her look, it was one of sympathy, and not for him but the Drow. He sensed she was waiting to see just how rabid the years might have made him. Was he just a bitter old fool, made vile by the trials of fire, on a last-shot path to final glory? Had he forgotten that all have a story, that all are made by the lives they were forced into?

No he wasn't rabid, and no he hadn't forgotten. It was time to throw his cards on the table, no holds barred and all that.

"Balls to it," Gripus remarked, his neutral tone breaking rough. "I've been alive too pissing long to keep waving this staff around like it's a representation of my pintel," he stopped, laughing so hard that his robes rippled. "As if I'd be so lucky, eh?"

For a moment, the glow in Gripus' eyes dissipated, and his youthful flesh aged rapidly until it was akin to rumpled parchment. His lips were cracked yet gleamed with spittle, spider veins covered his nose and cheeks in a hideous quilt. Two dim brown eyes stared out at his would-be-companions, and he let free a grinding rasp, not unlike the final breath taken by a dying man. And then in an instant, his youthful visage returned, and his eyes continued to glow once more.

"I'm old. My knees ache, I'm fairly certain I cracked my hip a few weeks ago, and I need to piss every half an hour. To make matters worse, I'm constantly haunted by an abundance of sins that only a mortal with his short life could possibly hope to rack up. Chief among such sins," he paused to nod in the direction of the west, "is that bastard Necromancer in his bastard tower," and then he switched his focus to the Drow, "second among such sins is Morven; that pointy eared wanker chases me through my every sleeping hour - his body broken and torn, just the way I left it in that blasted desert. He taunts me, calls me a coward, tells me thousands curse my name. He shows me things, suffering, of his kin struggling against hardships that I alone created." A smile formed on the mage's lips, and he shrugged. "I'm no saint, though I'm certainly a sinner, but like Liliana's mithril, my persona as an upstanding Mage and people's champion is an impeccable armour that helps to ward off the many enemies I have accumulated over 91 years of breathing." Gripus sighed, shaking his head merrily. "That is all you're getting in the way of an apology, my mysterious and apparently gifted Drow friend, whose presence on the surface warrants more questions than I can be arsed with. Come with me, don't come with me, at this point in my wretched existence I couldn't care less. That goes for all of you. The only certainty in my life now is that between here and Dragonblade Tower, I'm going to die... and I don't believe I need many friends to help me too much with that."

Pyria's eyes darted around. First on the stranger and his hand. Laughable. Why would she need to hand anything over? Plus whatever food she had pilfered from the meager pickings of the town had been digested long ago. Then there was Luca's panicked attempt to make amends by sharing his loot. And by extension, HER loot. Since he was, well, his servant. And boobmaid was further encouraging him.


Note to self, kick out boobmaid. With fire.

Pyria thought as she grinded her teeth. Where was she? Ah right. Tiny squeaky Lamia who did a really gross with her mouth and spoke about infinity pies. She took a little pity on the fellow orphan. After all, she must've been severly starving to be that dimwitted.


Burn. Burn them all. The fool. The idiot. The harlot. And Luca the coward. And then the inn. And the town. And the undead. And the entire Iron Coast. Leave none intact in your wake. For you're a child of the flame.

Her heartbeat accelerated, until she was about to do it.

NO! Think long term, Pyria. Burning everything in the long term will do far more harm than good. She added, reigning herself in. "Ngh." She let out in a whimper, her anger somewhat receding. "It hurts." She winced, clutching her temple.

"Your. Idiocy. Hurts so much." She spelt out loud and clear. Gears began to click in her mind. "A pile of fucking garbage. And toys. You're... just wasting breath and threatening me for that." She turned her back on the duo. "Why I did get this riled up for it... I don't even..."

"LUCA, PROVIDE ME WITH AMENABLE EDIBLE CONFECTIONS, WITH HASTE!" She grumbled, beginning to walk her way to the inn. "And you, boobmaid, we need to talk about being so clingy to my Luca."

Al's hand shot out, pointing a chastising finger at the dragon.
"No, he's gonna provide US with amen bean eating confiddles! You owe us food, so he's gotta give us a meal before you." he declared, not entirely sure what those were, but he assumed they were still talking about food. What he was sure was that staff guy had a really complicated looking belt-skirt, so he was probably loaded.

Continuing, he leaned on his planted sword, and spoke, "In fact, I think that meal from the inn is a good apology, after we get those scraps. We want interest now! After the meals, take us to the toy store! And then an arms vendor!"

He gave a flashy grin, running his fingers through his hair. "And then, we can, uh..."
His face drooped, and he leaned over to the snake coiled around him.
"Is there anything you wanna add?" he whispered.

It was obvious to him now. Every single one of them, with Sarai's exception barely possible, was insane. The lamia and her warrior companion were arguing over trash when he had just offered him something most people were lucky to have on a daily basis. Pyria was either an actual dragon, or her time with the mage had left her addled beyond reason. Maybe both. Sarai he hadn't even gotten a chance to begin to understand. Overall, Luca sorely wished that he had skipped over Actium and simply headed to the camp up north. For the first time, he was tempted to use his magic against someone who had offered him no harm or threat. There was a part of him that wanted to lay waste to the surrounding area and call his trip a failure.

Knuckles whitening from his grip on Raven's Regret, Luca considered his options carefully. Pyria was walking toward the inn, while the warrior appeared to be done making demands for the moment and was conferring with the snake-girl. For her part, Sarai had actually tried to help him and at least wasn't pressuring him or trying to treat him like a slave. Something occurred to him abruptly, a truth he had seen once before in a very different situation: He could just leave. There was really nothing to keep him here, and though he would likely receive a very different send-off from the temple, he doubted anyone here would attack him for exiting a fight that was not his. Of course, he couldn't simply leave. There was still that fact that most of those present were in need of a good meal and sturdy shelter for the night.

Reaching into his robe, Luca extracted a pair of objects. The first was the manacle he had only just acquired from Pyria. The second was a small cloth pouch, containing the denarii he had set aside for supplies. It was a little more than four-fifths of his total coin, since he had used some of his other funds. Sent by a light toss, both objects landed on the ground between Luca and the man with the sword. The manacle bounced, and before it hit the ground again the Raven Queen's attendant had already started to walk away. He placed a hand on Sarai's shoulder for a moment, a silent offer and request, and then continued on. Snow followed, and their quick steps led them in the direction opposite the inn.

"Nuh uh," blurted Serpica, "I'm the smartest-"

But the other orphan was already walking away, after having made fun of her trash and called her stupid. Serpica frowned, and muttered, "maybe it's just garbage to you."

But at least Al knew how to handle things. He was pretty much the best negotiator Serpica had ever seen. She would never have thought about demanding to go to the toy store, but it would be nice to have a non-broken toy. Even a really cheap one, as long as it didn't smell like pee or mold or both.

"Well," Serpica replied to Al, looking in Pyria's direction, "what I want most is just an apology. That girl has been awfully mean, and I think it would make everyone feel better. Maybe we could even get along, if she doesn't call me bad names."

But that would have to wait. The girly man tossed a cloth pouch to the ground along with a really pretty bracelet, and the pouch made a jingly noise that made Serpica's eyes go wide. Like a starving hound without an ounce of pride, Serpica jumped off of Al and onto the freezing cobblestone. She immediately grabbed up the coin and the bracelet, her heart pounding wildly, and showed them to Al.

"M-money, Al! W-w-we have money! What should we do with all of this?!" she sputtered excitedly, putting her new bracelet on, "food? Warm beds? Toys? Swords? All of those things? Al, we could buy the whole town with this much probably!"

Curiously, Al opened up the pouch, and his jaw dropped down.

Most day to day transactions for the common man were done with small copper coins. Merchants often did their trade with silver pieces; even a single silver coin was worth a fair amount, and they were often Al's reward for exterminating a particularly nasty monster.
This pouch contained a fistful of golden denarii, more than enough to buy whatever they needed.

"This, t-this is more money than I've even seen." he told Serpica, his hands starting to shake.The twelve or so coins started to produce a pleasant jingle inside the bag.

"Serpica, we have to go spend this right now."

"So that's how it is." Tsabal scoffed upon hearing the mage going on a large tirade. An old man, full of regrets and failure. One could easily see where all his self rightneousness came from. The same source as probably hers. The fear of failure. Had he bothered to do this in first place, perhaps some back and forth could be avoided. Those who survive are strong, as an old drow adage said. And humans outliving that tiny life expectancy they had by decades was a solid marker of the man's willpower and determination.

"An impressive story you have there. For a human, certainly worthy of awe and praise. For most, even worth of sympathy and a free pass to act tactlessly with everyone." She pondered. "But twice you've failed today to move me. Not only that, but you keep prying using words to warrant attention on what I am really."

She looked at the soldiers, who were hesitantly grabbing their weapons, and whispering. She sighed. "The donations to the guard are going to be hefty today." More like bribes. Ah well, that Gaius is still just a decadent old fool. Some vigor potions to perform well in bed for free should settle it.

"In the end, you still cling to your pride. You think you've got a say to lecture me. So be it." Tsabal frowned. "But I will indulge and play for a bit, after all, you've got such esteemed companions which made me reluctant of letting you go." She then let a small, forced chuckle.

"Such impressive story as human must not be unrewarded. A mask for a mask. A trick for a trick." The crone smiled, as she bared her face so that Gripus could see. Lilac eyes pierced him. "My actual name is Tsabal, the Pretender of Mushamak. Fifty years ago I commanded an expedition in the surface, which was thick with undead. None others live from such expedition." The priestess then readjusted her hood and facial coverings.

"And now, the trick, aye?" She grabbed one of her arrows, as she took out one of her gauntlets, and punctured her finger. And just like that, in a swift motion, a couple of drops splashed on Gripus's body. She concentrated, and recited a couple of verses, somewhat with difficulty. And then it happened. The illusion became the reality. The body of the old man was turning back years. Even decades. Decrepit bones and sinews became youthful flesh.

"I can do this little vigor siphoning without even a sacrifice and in open sunlight." Tsabal chuckled. "However, it has a downside." She added while keeping her hand extended towards Gripus. "It'll only last as long as I can focus on it."

And just like that, she ended the spell, without even letting him taste youth again for long. "Farewell. This is what your pride made you miss." Tsabal added, as she then turned her back to the group. "Unless you got a really good offer, don't even bother coming back." She finished, as she approached the guards, pouch in hand, and her donkey's reins in the other.

Watching the Drow attack the man with her words, and finally with what he could have had. At least for some time the joy of his youth and health. She was sure the only thing that saved his life was her vindictiveness, what better curse for a man who is looking for death?

And that thought is what pushed El to anger.

"Listen to me young man you have not lived long enough to understand old age, you are barely more than a child to me. But even one such as you can understand that seeking death is a fool's errand. There is no turning back from that fateful encounter. Have you not thought of those who would mourn your passing?" The words were ground out between jaws tightened in anger.

"What do you know of death?" Jerking the cowl off of her face, she revealed her appearance. "Look at me and see, my very blood kills me. I must devour the flesh of animals and men to breathe the next day. I hide in shadows, and under the blessing of a Goddess whose dedicates would scorn and kill me. I fear the very thing that gives you life, for it brings me nothing but pain and death. You are a fool and coward." Her righteous anger drew her words tight with emotions she barely concealed on any given day.

"And you speak of sins. I watched your people drag life and civilization out of the bones of the iron coast, I watched the rise and luxuries of your people as they paraded my forests. I did not strike your people down, hoping that one day you could learn from your own mistakes. Now I regret not slaughtering the men from that time. Look where it has brought us? And when the necromancer rose, I wished him luck. For his was a just campaign, revenge on the people who betrayed and killed his family. And then when he sought peace, it was again your people who betrayed him. Now instead of looking for death, climb off of your high horse, and stand tall, clean your slate. Wrap your falsehood of a persona around you and act like a man. You are more than your wishes and desires, you are a servant of the empire and it needs you to fix this, not throw your life away. If your age is such a problem, ask one such as I or the Drow to change it. If your sins are such a heavy burden, remember you are here seeking forgiveness. The gods favor those who act, not those who rush to their own death. For you are close to losing two companions this day, the way you are now? You might as well draw the High Elve's blade and slice your throat, for me to feast on your corpse. For you are worth no more than the cattle led to slaughter at this time." Her scorn and fury left her breathless, she barely noticed the flush riding on her face, or the weakness the sun brought her.

"Now will you lose your pride and live? Fight for the survival of all, and not die as a fool unprepared, due to sins that are only half deserved?"