---

High above the Continent, was a ship. It flew through the clouds with ease, as if it was just as much at home there in the sky as it may have been in the sea. It appeared to be a normal ship, with engines tacked on the sides and kept in the air with a hefty application of magic. Upon its deck, Cassandra stood, staring intently at a map.

“Useless waste of paper!” She screamed, as she threw the map off the ship with as much force as she could muster, “That map was completely wrong! We may not even be above the right continent, for all we know!”

“Uh, Cassandra?” A voice behind her asked.

Spinning on her heel, Cassandra was greeted by none other than Ben Alesman, the captain of the ship.

“Sorry, Ben, what is it?”

“We kinda got bigger problems right now, we’re almost out of-” Before he could finish his sentence, the ship’s engines sputtered and died.

“Fuel...” He finished, visibly drooping.

“Damn it,” Cassandra muttered, before taking charge, “Let’s get the mast up then, I’ll see if the lookout has spotted anything.”

Ben, although being the captain of the ship, often wasn’t that great at keeping things running when they weren’t in a combat situation. This often resulted in Cassandra stepping in to make sure they didn’t end up killing themselves.

Cassandra approached the lookout, who stood at the bow of the ship, peering through a telescope..

“Spot anything?”

“Towns? No. But uh, you may want to see this.” As he said this, he handed the telescope he was using to Cassandra.

Looking through the telescope herself, Cassandra was greeted by a large, pitch black, writhing tentacle, which brought her a sense of simple wrongness. It had no solid, discernable shape, and, worst of all...

It was rising towards the ship.

Before anybody could react, and taking advantage of the ship’s current immobility, the tentacle had matched heights with the ship and smashed with ease through the side of its hull, pulling out a large, glowing crystal, and darting back down towards the ground.

This crystal, however, was not one they were transporting as cargo.

This was the crystal that kept the ship afloat.

The ship began to drop like a rock, tipping rapidly to the right at the same time. Many crewmembers either held onto the railing for dear life, or ran into the lower part of the ship, seeking protection from the inevitable impact. Cassandra, however, had no time to do either, as she was knocked off the ship by the rush, falling like a ragdoll.

As she fell, she could only watch as the ship fell faster and faster, and tipped more and more until the point where it was completely upside down.

It was at this point, of course, that the ship had exploded.

What wonderful fireworks.

The ship had been hauling a significant amount of ammunition and gunpowder, and the sudden impact of the tentacle, as well as the listing and falling of the ship, had caused the explosion. Flaming chunks of wood from the ship flew past Cassandra as she fell, some passing close enough for her to feel the heat.

Suddenly, Cassandra had impacted something large, and brittle, which loudly snapped as she impacted it. This happened again,

And again,

And again,

And again,

Before Cassandra impacted something far less brittle, and much more solid.

The ground.

Cassandra remained concious only long enough to realize that it had been a tree’s branches which had slowed her fall.

Then she passed out.

---

Finally, all pieces present and accounted for.

Gerald, now detached from Saaria and on the ground beside her, went ahead to reassembling himself. "AH..." He said, "ALL ME BONES, BACK WOT IN THEH APPROPRIATE PLACES. WELL ABOUT TO BE, REALLY." He popped his left leg back into place, and grabbed his right.

"ONE OITEM OFF THE LIST THEN." He said, popping his other leg back into place. He stood up, nudging Saaria's shoulder. "MUCH OBLOIGED RICHARD, ROIGHT KOINDNESS YEH DONE FEH ME ON THIS NOIGHT A HORRAH."

She didn't respond. She just stared ahead at the dilapidated farmhouse.

"LOOKS ROIGHT SINISTAH, THAT." Gerald said, scanning the building. "AN' THAT LOOK UPON YE GOB TELLS ME YEH WANNA, EHHH... HAVE US A MORE IN-DEPTH EXAMINATION?"

He began walking forward, towards the farmhouse.

"OI WILL TAKE UPON MESELF THE POINT POSITION THEN!" He said, strutting. "YEH DONE ME WELL ENOUGH RICHARD, ALLOW ME TEH LEAD US INTAH THIS NEXT UNFAVORABLE PREDICAMENT."

Oddly calm he seemed, given the circumstances.

@luclovers

---

---

Airships were no exemption from the Vigils' reach. The air above the Continent was no safer than its grounds.

They watched the vessel fall. And as it did, they branched out, combing the widespread area for survivors.

And one was found.

A Vigil stood above the incapacitated Cassandra, staring at her for but a moment before a tendril crept downward, and laid the accursed mark upon her chest, beneath and beside her neck. The tendril retracted, the Vigil stared for a moment more, and then it lumbered away.

@Civetta

Saaria Morgossa and Gerald Pithers

As Gerald walked forward, the fog seemed to tilt in his vision, revealing a strange looking building where the farmhouse stood moments ago. It was almost non Euclidian in that it had such a strange structure it looked as if it shouldn't physically stand. The bottom of it was exceptionally small, with just enough space for a 5x5 room to fit inside. It then got wider as it rose into the sky, shaping like a cut diamond. It was the color of charcoal, with strange violet lines etched into it. A violet light pulsed at the top every few seconds, sending out waves of telepathic energy which appeared to be pure force moving across the sky.
But all Saaria saw was a farmhouse.

"OHHH..." Gerald commented, turning his head upwards. "THAS' NOT THE LOCATION WOT WAS INTENDED..." He turned towards Saaria and said to her, "YEH SEE THIS, RICHARD?"

Saaria looked at Gerald with a confused face, contorting the dark tattoos on her face. A pulse went out from the tower, and Saaria's eyes pulsed violet. For a brief moment, she felt a sickening urge to run. And then she stepped forward, and the veil lifted, revealing the structure in its pure form. She took a few more steps forward. She felt a great evil within. "Let's go, Gerald." She said without looking back, walking towards the strange structure, which seemed to have no doors or windows.

"OI..." Gerald said, following behind. "THIS ALL GETS MORE AN' MORE MIXED UP ER'RY OTHAH MINUTE. OI MEAN..." He motioned towards the tower, arms outstretched, "HOW AH WE EVEN TO ENTAH THIS HOVEL A UNSPEAKABLE, EHHH... SINISTAH OCCURRENCES? OI SEE NOT AN ENTRANCE IN SOIGHT, RICHARD."

"I suppose we will see." She said, as another pulse waved through the air. As they approached the structure, it became clear that it was meant to be entered by way of air. Saaria looked at Gerald. "Well there's no doors, so I guess we go in from the top." She guessed.

"AH..." Gerald replied, sighing. "ROIGHT DEN. UP AN' AWAY."

Saaria grabbed onto Gerald, and slowly ascended into the sky, shaking a bit every time a pulse went out. Her eyes flashed violet every time it happened, and as she got closer to the top, she could feel something trying to enter her mind. She pushed against it until they got to the top, and quickly landed on the edge of the structure. It was flat on the top, with the pulsing light floating in the centre. There were periodic pulses, and every time one happened, vents opened in the flat surface, allowing entry if they were quick. If they weren't, they may get caught in the ventilation vents. It was a gamble.

Gerald approached one of the vents, opening and closing. "FEH..." He said, "SEEMS TRAVERSABLE. BUT WE SHOULD 'EAD IN ONE AT A TOIME. OI SHALL FORGE AHEAD RICHARD, YEH LOOKIN' TEH BE IN AN UNEASY STATE A YEHSELF. RELAX A WEE BIT. OL' GERALD CAN FILL THE ROLE OF A PROPER SCOUT WHEN THE NEED AROISES!"

And with that, he turned, waited for an opening, and then jumped into the vent as it rose up, with reckless abandon and a hearty "HUGGANAH!". He fell forward, feeling hot air pulse out onto his bones as he dropped further into the building. He landed with a thud inside a room. Looking about, it appeared to be a dimly lit engine room of sorts, with archaic cranks pumping hot air out of the place and into the air outside. Saaria focused on the vent as it opened the next time, and held it open using the heat from the air. The vent shook and broke, stopping in place. She squeezed through, and dropped onto the floor next to Gerald. One last pulse rang through her, different than the last time. It seemed to be almost a maintenance command. She felt no more pulses afterward, and her eyes faded to normal once more. Moments later, after Saaria had looked around a bit, a strange shuffling sound came from the other side of the room. Saaria grabbed Gerald and pulled him back into the shadows behind a pump. An angry looking dark skinned man wearing raggedy clothes shuffled into view. His eyes were violet, and he moved lethargically, as of strings alone were holding him up. He moved to fix the vent Saaria had broken, mumbling nonsense under his breath. Saaria motioned for Gerald to be quiet and moved down the room to where the man came from. There was a small hidden staircase in the corner which they quickly descended, finding themselves in a wide room with portraits lining the walls. A family was in the pictures, but whenever Saaria or Gerald tried to look at their faces, they became extremely blurry, and no features could be made out. The room was empty, and they quickly snuck down another set of stairs. They were now in a room that looked like a prison. Cells lined the walls, many filled with unmoving hunched over features.
"Hello?" A voice called from behind one of the bars. Saaria moved closer slowly.
"Who's there?" Saaria asked. A small face appeared in between the bars. It was Nerissa, the girl from the town.
"OI, FAIR SNOW HAIRED MAIDEN!" Gerald exclaimed. Saaria quickly shushed him, looking around to make sure nobody had heard. All the figures were still. Saaria held the bars on Nerissa's cage, melting them with pure heat. She stepped out gingerly.
"Thank you so much..." She began. "My brother, he's here! They took me to his cell, it's down further!" She explained. Saaria and Gerald looked at eachother uneasily. It could only get worse.

@SepticGentleman

Jordan drew his machete just as the Vigil rushed at him. Rolling to the side he barely managed to avoid the blow. The thing was faster then Jordan thought it could be and it was give the trio a weird feeling. Jasmine and Blake took up a defensive stance but didn't dare try to attack it out of fear. Jordan started to back up. It seemed to be after him so all he had to do was defend himself until he could kill it or hide from it. What Jordan forgot was that his backpack was right behind him.

---

Missing its first swipe, the Vigil paused a moment before approaching Jordan again. In a sudden act of furor, rather uncommon in the behavior of Vigils, it lowered its head and charged at Jordan, butting him straight on with its armored shell and knocking him to the ground.

As Jordan lay there, dazed, the Vigil stood over him, grabbed his left arm, and swiftly ran a tendril across the exposed skin. The accursed mark manifested, and the deed was done.

It dropped Jordan's arm and turned its attention towards his two companions. The both of them were a nonissue, but they were definitely looking to retaliate. So with its charge seen to, the Vigil turned away and rushed into the thick of the jungle, quickly becoming obscured by bark and brush.

And the charge was left to his beleaguered fate.

@Trevor1001

---

"ITS SO CUTE." Ben just about shouted as Potato hugged his neck. Never before had he experienced this kind of thing. Hell, he couldn't remember if he'd EVERY had an emotion like this one before. It was really strange, but at the same time... he kind of liked it. Theresa laughed in response, and shook her head at her friend's antics.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just try not to alert anything else of our presence here."

The path they had walked down had led them down into the marketing district. It led them to a chilling scene. Unlike the areas they had previously been in, the marketing district was almost entirely monster. The place was littered with their bodies. The only human corpses around donned the armor of those they had seen before. Farming outfits, metal armor, pastors robes... Ben's relatively happy demeanor went to stone cold once again. Potato moved down his arm and jumped to Theresa's shoulder in response, not wanting to accidentally receive the brunt of Benedict's bad attitude. Ben knelt down next to a certain monster which had a stature that was very similar to Theresa's. It could've passed off as a human too if it wasn't for the huge skeletal wings that sprouted from it's back, the horns on it's head and the thin tail extending from it's pelvis. It's body was long gone, and it left only it's skeleton and clothes. Upon closer inspection the clothes gave away that the creature had been female. The name tag on the chest of her clothing confirmed this.

Her name had been Nessa. She worked at a place called The Pale Horse. Her ribcage had been destroyed by artillery.

Ben stood up from his crouched position to look around and... there it was, off to his left. The Pale Horse. It looked like it had been a tavern, or a bar of some kind.

She had been killed as soon as she left the building.

Morbid curiosity took over his being as to what was inside, and he left the corpse to investigate.

"Ben?" Theresa questioned, drawing her sword and following her friend inside. When she entered the building it was a sad sight before her. Ben had stopped and was standing in the center of the room, reviewing what was around them. Bodies were everywhere- the remains left behind in various positioned. One- a tall skeleton that was humanoid- had it's fingers caught in a door and was slumped on the ground. A huge mushroom man was dead in the corner, his corpse having spread out into a... no longer sentient fungus. In the rafters, a massive husk of what seemed to be a moth-man lay limp. It's exoskeleton still almost perfectly preserved. There were humans too, but in uniforms and other gear that was unlike what the corpses outside wore. They had 'I's and 'II's on their chests and seemed to have been interacting with the monsters. Playing cards or drinking when they died.

Ben's breath was labored now.

"Ben? You okay?"

"Never change, Theresa. Never change."

---

They left The Pale Horse about as soon as they entered it. The whole city was in the same shape, but... something about this scene in particular... it hit just a bit harder.

Potato was still clung to Theresa's shoulder. Seemed to sense Ben wanted a little space at the moment. The trio headed further through the market district, passing looks to the absurd number of bodies strewn about.

What was the story behind this place? Who destroyed it, and why? The more time the duo spent here, the more they became focused on learning the history behind Voldoa rather than on finding an obscure key.

Sadly, whatever thoughts were going through their heads were suddenly interrupted by gunfire.

"LOOK OUT!"

A hail of bullets rang from high and ahead of them. Theresa took cover behind the body of a flesh golem, Ben ducking behind the corner of a building.

"What the hell!?" Theresa called out, Potato burying its face in her hair out of fear.

Ben didn't respond, he just slowly peaked his head out until he could just see ahead - and another barrage came soaring at him from the top of a relatively low clocktower, hanging over the market. Ben quickly ducked back behind the building, passing Theresa a worried look.

Certainly not a fun situation, but there was a question abound.

Who, or what, was shooting at them?

Library of Violetly Toasted Books

Suddenly, Piper understood. The beautiful violet fire who was the best librarian ever was named Mali. Mali was the keeper of the library, responsible for ensuring the fires stayed lit and the books sorted. She liked visitors, and would like to aid Piper in finding what she was looking for.

Suddenly, Piper realized that she was thinking to herself, and that she had just asked herself a question which she hadn’t asked. What?

Oh. Mali communicated through telepathy. That was it. Mind magic was confusing, it could be hard to tell which thoughts were your own. Well, it was certainly good that there was a librarian here, this way it would be much easier to find information on the history of the Blanklands, and more importantly, the curse that created it.

Piper suddenly became aware that she wasn’t where she had thought she was. She was now sitting on a comfortable chair, in a cozy, firelit room walled by bookcases, rather than a hallway. Before her, on a table, sat a stack of ancient-looking books. Somehow not startled by her sudden repositioning, she decided to inspect the books.

The books, somehow, were exactly what she was looking for. She didn’t dive into them yet, but they all had titles such as The Mysterious History of the Continent, A Land of Myths and Legends, The Great Geographical Mystery, and Thee Inner Workings of the Uncharted Mismakinges. They all looked to contain information on the Blanklands and the way it worked. With luck, she could piece together enough information to locate the focus of the curse, and understand it.

Piper smiled, and grabbed one off of the stack, and began reading.

Yaxato Woodlands

Enrique nodded in what he hoped was a reassuring fashion. Good to hear, this was the easier route. He could be more direct.

Enrique noticed a downed log nearby, and went to sit on it, gesturing for his illegal friend to follow. When they were both seated, he spoke.

“I have no doubt there are rumors of how no explorers ever come back from this land, outside of its shores. It’s certainly a notable phenomenon. The reason nobody ever leaves here is not because they are eaten by vicious monsters, or die at all, it is because of the creatures you have been, ah, acquainted with,” he said. Good, lead up to it slowly. Ask a few other less meaningful questions to disguise it.

“They are called the Vigils, as far as I understand. They no doubt have another name for themselves, but that is what we men use to call them,” he continued, “When a newcomer to the island makes it beyond the beach, they attack him, and strike him with a sort of venomous tentacle,”

“The venom, as I will call it, infects itself into the skin of the man it touches. It is impossible to remove. It won’t kill you, on its own at least. There are some things that, in combination, it will, though,” he warned. Nearly there...

“Firstly, if you were to ever directly expose the wound to seawater or enough sea air, it will eat away at your heart and announce to the fishes that you are there to be eaten. You cannot leave by swimming, or even by boat,” he said. That much was true, at least.

“Second, your own lifespan will henceforth be determined by whether or not you’ve been deflowered. Virgins tend to live longer, the jungle beasts are less attracted to them,” he continued. There, that ‘question’ was out of the way. Hopefully he could determine from the man’s reaction whether or not he was, in fact, still in possession of his virginity. It didn’t actually have anything to do with the Vigil’s curse, but Aldrich didn’t have to know that. Nobody did. The Vigils didn’t care.

“Third, there exist some... Less than morally upstanding individuals within the land’s shores. If you ever meet a man who smells strongly of rotting fish, despite looking impeccably noble and clean, or a group of primitive-looking men with large knives, flee as soon as you can. Do not let him know you are not a native, under any circumstances. They will hunt you and kill you with powers even I know not,” he warned, “I frequently travel the coast, and I have lost foreigner companions to both. Multiple times to the fish man,”

Enrique sighed. He hoped he could stick around with this man, that he wouldn’t be lost to the various horrors of the world as others had. He had gotten rather tired of not having anyone to talk to.

He continued to sit, waiting for the man’s reaction. He needed to be alert for just how he took the information.

@Horrid

Aldrich sat with Enrique, and listened to the yarn he spun of the Continent and its Vigils. About the tales he had heard of none returning from this land he found himself in, and how he was doomed to the same fate. His virginity was brought into question, as was his ability to care for himself in the presence of... fish-smelling bandits and blade-toting neanderthals?

For a while, Aldrich sat in silence as the words and the gravity they possessed sank in good and proper.

And then he threw his head back and laughed.

Aldrich chuckled and chortled as he stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of the log Enrique had sat on.

"You're telling me that because some drowned fool tried to cop a feel, I'm forever doomed to slog it up and down this island? So first I get a mark on my backside because these 'Vigils' have a problem with sharing their land, then I've got to be stuck to the same land like SOME BLOODY DOG AND..." he exclaimed as his tone began raising from amusement into anger, "JUST BECAUSE I'VE LAID WITH A FEW LASSES THAT I-"

The Captain cut himself off with a short huff. He was losing his cool and he hated to lose his cool, especially when it is over something that he can't change. He stood at Enrique's feet with his hands on his hips, back facing his newfound companion as he tried to take a few deep breaths.

He turned back with a forced smile on his face.

"Well. I'll just have to make ribbons out of the Vigils AND these hunters to make up all this now, won't I?" His hand strayed from his side to rest on the handle of his blade. His hand flipped over to grip it tightly for a second before relaxing.

"Say, now that we're acquainted and you know I've got a big brown spot on my arse that can't be washed away, how about we exchange monikers?"

He offered his hand to the sitting man, still feeling slightly annoyed.

"Captain Aldrich Osvulk. Call me Ashwyrm. Half the sea does already, so we might as well get the other half started."

@Empour

---

"Shit's pretty fucked!" Ben shouted to Theresa, not daring to peek his head out to look at her.

"Can you see where it's coming from?"

"I... I think it's from that clocktower!"

"Any ideas?"

"I could try climbing but I'd be shot more than once. Not gonna risk it!"

"...I have an idea!"

"What?"

"Meet me inside!"

"Theresa I'm around the corner!"

"Ben you're about ten feet tall, just go through the wall!"

The resulting crash of splintering wood and stone told Theresa that it was her turn to move. The Pale Horse was right behind her, and she could... hopefully make a mad dash for the bar before the sniper could get a good shot. She turned, clutching Potato to her chest protectively, and dashed in a serpentine pattern towards the bar. Another shot rang out, and the bullet grazed off of her arm, cutting and burning her exposed upper arm in a straight line. She'd never had a scar like this before. She busted through the door, and Benedict was standing in the middle of the room a little panicked, a lot concerned, and entirely useless as of that moment.

"Are you okay?" Was his first question. Potato wriggled out of her grasp and ran up to the much larger draconic man seeking some form of comfort.

"I'm fine. I have a plan."

"What?" Ben said, picking up their latest and smallest companion, who clung to his cloak and shivered- utterly terrified. "What's the plan?"

"I need a sugary median... like caramel, saltpeter, and a stockpot."

"Saltpeter?"

"Sea salt, Ben."

"...You find that. Potato and I will find... everything else." Ben said. Theresa nodded and moved off, moving to the cabinets to search for the sea salt. Ben on the other hand set Potato dont on the ground and got as low as he could comfortably to instruct the cybernetic organism.

"Okay, Potato," Ben began. "I need you to find me a large metal... cylinder with handles and.... a lid." he instructed. Potato made a whirring sound and made some motion with his arms before running off into the back kitchen, hopefully to find an item similar to what Ben requested. The sound of crashing metal suggested that Potato was already at work finding such an object. Now it was Ben's turn- to find a... sugary median.

He looked up at the faded chalk menu and read it over. His eyes naturally led him to the drinks, and he noticed something he'd never seen before. Jack and Coke. Specifically, something referred to as Cola. Invented by... Nessa. That woman's corpse he had found earlier outside. He turned to the kitchen and followed directly after Potato, who had not only completed his task with perfect accuracy despite his generic description, but had exposed a few steel vats of brown liquid in the process.

"Good job, Potato." Ben said, grabbing the handle of the stockpot and pulled it up, lifting Potato with it and setting his small friend on his shoulder. Ben approached the vats and craned his neck over them to try an identify the liquid. He took a deep whiff, and was immediately hit with the smell that was not alcohol, but of sugar. Lots and LOTS of sugar.

"Theresa!" Ben called, summoning the red haired woman into the kitchen. She was all mussed up, but was clutching a whole bag of sea salt to her body with both arms- obviously struggling to carry it without spilling any. Ben's look must've been incredulous, because Theresa simply shrugged and set it down next to Ben.

"Says Tier I collected," she said, looking over to the brown vat of liquid Ben found and then up at him. "What'd you find?"

"I... have no idea. Smells really strongly of sugar." Ben said, using his strength to pull the large vat out of it's storage, and placing it on the floor.

"Boil it."

"What? Why? How?"

"We used to get sweet tea where I'm from. If you put too much sugar in it, we'd boil the water to get it all out. It's why rain tastes pure- water leaves everything behind as a gas." Theresa explained. She looked Ben up and down and took a deep breath in, puffing up her chest and letting it out. Ben glared at her mocking, but got the message.

"Stand back." Ben stated, taking a huge breath and releasing another stream of supa hot fiya directly at the bottom of the vat. Immediately the vat began bubbling and hissing loudly.

It didn't smell... all the way right, but it seemed to be working. Theresa and Potato cheered Ben on as he spewed fire onto the barrel for as long as he could without hurting himself. The result was... disgusting.

"It looks like semi-liquid poop." Theresa commented, peering over the lip of the vat to see the steaming and molten concentrate. Most of the water had evaporated out, and now it just looked like shit brown syrup.

Ben was haunched over, breathing in and out heavily, but otherwise okay. He gasped a few times before he finally had the breath to speak.

"Will... it work?"

"I think so." Theresa commented. She was already dumping all the salt she had into the vat, and she quickly ran out of the room dragging another bag, as well as a large wooden paddle. As Ben recovered she dumped and mixed away at the substance- being careful not to burn herself on the still incredibly hot metal exterior.

"Alright Ben, help me carry this." She said, pulling the paddle out of the mix and throwing it off to the side. Ben groaned, but did as he was told and heaved the cauldron sized vat onto his shoulder. Theresa led him and Potato to the entrance of The Pale Horse and had Ben set the vat down just in front of the door.

"Alright Ben. I need one more fireball from you. Think you can do it?"

Ben groaned and coughed up smoke. He hit his chest a few times and weak red built up in his throat- which resulted in him coughing up a weak napalm like fireball, which fall into the cauldron. Immediately the mixture began to fizz and smoke.

"Push it outside! As far as you can!" Theresa yelled, her voice so panicked that Ben threw open the door and just about shoved the vat outside. He ducked away from the wall, expecting there to be an explosion of some kind, but all that resulted was a continuous loud hiss.

Several shots rang out before it fell silent once again (besides the continuous, and strange hiss). Theresa ran to Ben and grabbed his hand, pulling him.

"We gotta go! We gotta go NOW."

Ben followed running outside despite his desire not to be shot and found that most of the road had been shrouded in a foul smelling smoke that was still spewing from the vat.

So that was Theresa's plan.

That cheeky bitch.

---

They ran through the smoke as quickly as possible. The clocktower gunner was still taking potshots at them, but was missing widely. Ben's size was still a problem - if he poked his head too far out of the cloud he'd make for an easier target. He kept low, moving through the buildings with Theresa beside him.

They made it to the clocktower's base, and the gunfire stopped shortly thereafter. Theresa barged in through the wooden door leading inside, before turning back to Ben. "You can't fit inside!" She called out, "Can you still climb the tower like you said?"

"Yeah, I'll try. We'll take him by surprise."

A nod, and Theresa turned back into the building. There were crates and spare gears littering the interior, and a winding staircase leading upward. Sword drawn, she began her ascent. The wood creaked, but it held her weight. She could hear Ben's slamming his claws against the side of the tower, making his way up towards the gunner's nest.

As Theresa ran, her foot came upon a tripwire halfway up the staircase. She halted her ascent, looking around, and then upward, as a large metal gear fell from on high. She jumped backwards as the gear slammed into the staircase, obliterating it and several more on the way down. The stability of the structure was no longer sound - so Theresa had to hurry.

She clung to the railing and bypassed the ruined stairs, quickly stepping but paying mind to anymore tripwires that may show up. Before long, she reached the top, with only a door barring her from the gunner. She kicked it open, and then immediately took cover behind it as several bullets flew out of the room. Seemed that gatling gun wasn't all this adversary was equipped with.

Theresa turned and grabbed a broken piece of wood from the railing, tossing it into the room. The gunner immediately opened fire at the incoming debris, until his pistol wasn't doing anything but clicking. Theresa immediately ran in and charged at the gunner - he was wearing one of those metal coats that they'd seen on some bodies beforehand. And a cylindrical, heavy-looking helmet, all articles worn and weathered.

The gunner drew an old sword from one of his belts. It was in horrible condition, wouldn't last long. Theresa brought her own sword down on the gunner's attempted guard, and the blade snapped right then and there. He backed away, only to have Theresa bash his helmet with her shield.

Knocked onto the floor, the gunner threw up his arms as Theresa swung down at him. Evidently there were more plates under the coat, as the sword simply bounced off. The gunner swiped his leg at Theresa's, flipping her on her side. He immediately leapt at her, pinning her to the wooden floor and attempting to bash her head in with his armored fists. It took all of her strength to hold his fists away from her.

But as she was losing the struggle, Ben arrived.

The gunner turned his head as over by the shattered clock surface, where his stationary gatling turret was, the saurian reached in and grabbed the turret by its many barrels, pulling it out of the clocktower and letting it fall to the ground below.

Theresa finally managed to push the gunner off of her, getting back up and joining Ben's side as he climbed into the room. The gunner reared back, now at the disadvantage.

He turned his head, and ran towards a box in the corner of the room, with a push lever on top of it.

"NO!"

He slammed his hand on the lever.

Below them, at the base of the clocktower, the crates Theresa had seen all detonated in unison, blasting every inch of the immediate area to pieces.

And as the explosion sounded, the clocktower began to fall.