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Cassilda moved through the dark on careful feet. The moon peeked fitfully through the tree cover, occasionally catching steel or oiled leather in an unpleasant flash of reflected light. The nights animals seemed unenthusiastic about the interlopers, paying them little mind. All the while she whispered quietly to herself, reciting the words of her spell over and over. It wasn’t a powerful glamour, she couldn’t have kept it up for long if it were. There was power in subtlety tough. Just a whisper of power, enough to make the idly curious ignore a glint of armor or a snapped twig.

It was a great relief to reach the castle itself. She was glad Kayden had a way in, it had the look of a place that would chew up men in a siege, taking it would be far more costly than any value it could provide a besieger. That was the point of castles she supposed, to make a few men extremely expensive. Of course, defenders who forced their besiegers to take them by storm could expect no mercy.

The moon was shadowed on the granite stairway as they picked their way higher. She tried not to think about bowman waiting in the dark to spit them, when their only choice was death by arrow or by the long fall to the rocky floor. She remembered the grim satisfaction she had felt in a similar situation when she had been with the bowmen, raining arrows on some doomed unfortunates.

Kayden’s question shocked her from her reverie. The door seemed a formidable obstacle, but appearances could easily deceive.

“I have something,” she whispered, setting her shield down on the stone and stepping to the door itself. Reaching into a pouch she groped blindly in the dark, eventually feeling the smooth glass surface of a small bottle of oil. Drawing the vial out of her pack she carefully smeared the oil on the hinges of the gate. Some of the others were looking at her as though she were conducting some great work.

“Oil,” she explained, “so the hinges don’t squeal.” She doubted it would stop the squealing completely, certainly on the first turn, but it would help.

Now for the real work. She badly wished she could review the spell but she didn’t dare risk the light. Instead she placed a palm on the lockplate of the door and began a low soft chant. The arcane language sounded like a human approximation of ice cracking. Sweat began to gather on her brow and her palm began to pulse with heat. Veins in her pale hand began to blacken and reach up her arm. With a final hissed syllable she finished the spell. There was a surge and the blackness flowed out of her hand and into the lockplate. Rust bloomed out from her hand, like a film of frost on a window pain and she sagged backwards from the effort of the unfamiliar spell.

Breathing hard she drew a dagger from her belt. Taking a deep breath she drove the point into the rusted lockplate. It slid in with a crunching sound as the rusted metal gave way like old bark. The door gave a soft groan as she twisted the blade, shredding the hopelessly corrupted mechanism. The door fell with a slight bang and squealed for a second as it began to turn. Then the oil coated the hinges and it quieted, its weight slowly pushing it open.

The gunshot echoed across the valley. The mouse squeaked in fear, and then scuttled away back into the bushes from whence it had come. Suddenly all that was left was the fading echoes of the gunshot, the trees and brush, and the bridge full of insane gizmos. That is, until something in the trees moved. Something enormous. It stepped into sight, breaking down a small tree as it did so. An Ogre with a feircesome club. The monster gazed around, looking for whatever had made such a noise.

---

Kayden looked to Cassilda, impressed. He gave her a nod, and then motioned for the others to be quiet with a gesture to his lips. Signalling for Laila first, he drew his sword as quietly as he could and softly waded into the small tomb-like hallway that was before them. A flickering torchlight could be seen from within the first room, and Kayden peeked around the corner.
Two men sat at an oak table playing cards just under the torch that had been placed along the wall. Behind them were cells, 3 of them. The room was dark save the single source of light, and it illuminated the two men and their armaments. They were unremarkable looking fellows. The one of the left had a scar across the left side of his face. The cutthroats wore light armor of leather and had arming swords at their sides. They looked to be completely engrossed in their game to notice much anything...so far.

---

Zinvalur's bola suddenly whipped out of the treeline and wrapped about the front Gnoll's legs, his rusted scimitar leaving his grasp as it fell with a surprised yelp. A grey furred Gnoll next to it let out a roar, and leaped past its fallen comrade towards Zin's general vicinity, searching for whatever dared to attack. The back Gnoll with the twin Axes received a huge arrow at the center of its chest. The action was followed by Jex landing upon the ground and taking out his huge Axe, hissing a challenge at the others.

The ogre scanned the road for any signs of life. His eyes came to rest on the excessively booby trapped bridge. The ogre remembered passing this bridge a few times before while searching for food. And all the other times that he'd passed it, the ogre was certain that all those tripwires and sigils and plates of cheese hadn't been there before. The ogre stood there and stared at the bridge with a confused look on his face for a few seconds before a voice coming from the trees behind him caught his attention.
"Hey melon nose!" the voice called out mockingly "Look behind you!".
The ogre turned around, but could see nobody there.
"That's right, cheese brain!" the voice said from behind the trees "I'm talking to you!".
At 1st, the ogre was slightly confused. Was he being insulted by a tree? The ogre walked towards the trees where the voice originated from to investigate, but then the voice spoke again. And it was still coming from behind the ogre.
"Where are you going?!" the voice called "I'm this way, numbskull!".
The ogre turned to face the voice, only to be castigated by the voice that was now coming from his right. Once again the ogre turned to face the voice, only to hear it coming from a different direction yet again. This went on for some time before the ogre turned around and saw Hobnob standing before him with rifle in hand.
"Hello" Hobnob said in a friendly manner "I'm going to set fire to your face, beard, and upper chest now". With that said, Hobnob shot the Ogre in the face, causing the ogre's face, beard, and upper chest to burst into flames.

Since he had been scanning for the bandits with the thermal vision on his goggles, Hobnob had spotted the ogre's heat signature some time before it had arrived. In light of the approaching ogre, Hobnob and his crew had enacted a 3 step ambush. Step 1 was to hide and distract the ogre until Hobnob could load an enchanted fire bullet into his rifle. Step 2 had Hobnob shoot the ogre in the face with aforementioned enchanted fire bullet to set the ogre on fire. And step 3 was to shoot the ogre until it stopped living. With the 1st 2 steps out of the way, Hobnob and the rest of his crew used every gun they had on them at the time to eagerly complete the 3rd and final step.

Stepping lightly just behind his captain to make his own glance round the corner, the Dark Skayleigh considered his options. As a part-elf, he was certainly capable of a reasonable degree of quietude. Not enough to sneak up on a pair of armed guards, even unawares, but enough to remain hidden around a corner at least when needed. He could, however, move shockingly fast on his comparatively long legs, as many a dwarf and goblin had discovered to their cost... and if he bumrushed the two bandits quickly enough, he imagined that perhaps he could slay them both in one fell swoop, before they made a ruckus and drew the other thieves in the fort to their location.

Leather armour was no match for Nuva Doer's maul. Precious little was. Silently, he drew the weapon from its leather holder and hefted it in his left hand, beginning to breath just an ounce more rapidly, more heavily, in preparation for the coming exertion... then, with little warning, he charged round the corner, raising the maul at an angle next to his head as he approached. The last words of the bandits were, respectively, "What the-?" and "Oh-!", before the weapon was swung round at them, powered by a burst of khala. Their skulls were obliterated entirely in that single strike, spraying much of the area to Nuva's left with a burst of assorted gibs and destroyed leather helms. Noise was made, and it certainly wasn't what one would call quiet if any patrolling guards happened to be within earshot- shattering bone and splattering blood rarely is- but nothing like the sound that a scream for help would have produced if allowed.

And it was only after this unprompted attack, when the two corpses had fallen and Nuva was breathing just that bit more heavily, that he realised he hadn't even considered making sure the cells weren't occupied with prisoners, who might themselves scream in fear of the seven-foot being that just murdered two guards in cold blood, one arm wielding a mace and the other a massive barbed spike, and now quite covered the arterial blood from the stumps of the bandit's heads. He wondered if he even could have, given the circumstances, but even so...

"Fuck. That was stupid," Nuva muttered to himself, slightly incognisant of his surroundings for a brief moment of adrenaline and red vision (mostly from the blood). As quickly as possible, he returned the maul to its sheath, removed his mask (and placed it on one shoulder momentarily), and wiped the blood out of his eyes before returning the disguise to his face, hoping that nobody had seen the purplish skin beneath it for the short moment it was off him.

@Sleater@POOHEAD189@Austronaut@dragonmancer@Fubsy@Free Faller@frapet

With a precision, Zin’s bola wrapped around the front gnoll’s left shin and then the right. It happened so fast that the Gnoll had no time to react before its forward momentum sent it crashing to the ground with a dirt clouded thud. It made a garbled cry of surprise and then a grunt of pain as its snout was bloodied by the impact.

The Gnoll that stood beside his fallen comrade reacted far quicker than Zin had expected. It bull rushed forward with an intimidating roar. It left Zin with only enough time draw one kukri before it located him. With both hands, the Gnoll brought its scimitar down with the intention of slicing Zin in two. With an Elvish curse, Zin jumped back. Zin landed, his left foot back, in a lunge position. The Scimitar came so close that Zin could practically taste its rust. However, the Gnoll didn’t miss a beat and advanced again.

This time, Zin was ready. Staying low, Zin brought his left foot forward and lifted his kukri up to eye level, blade out. He took another step to his right and with ease, he ducked under the Gnoll’s uplifted arm. The Gnoll growled in pain as Zin sliced it right below the armpit and then gave it a swift shove with his free hand.

With a steadied flourish, Zin returned to his semi-lunge position. He unsheathed his second Kukri just as the Gnoll spun on its heels and swung the Scimitar in a downward arc. In a split second, Zin recognized his opening. Zin grunted in excursion as he deflected the swing with the blade of his left kukri, slicing the tendon the Gnoll’s wrist. In the same breath, Zen sliced the Gnoll’s exposed belly.

The kukri is a small weapon, but a formidable one. In the hands of a capable hunter, it's intent is to slice through thick hide in a single slice. The Gnoll’s warm blood sprayed outward, covering Zin, and Its viscera spilled out onto the ground. In a state of shock the Gnoll attempted to put it all back inside, stumbled, and fell forward.

Zin stood horrified. His face and blades were slick with the red blood of the Gnoll. He had never killed an opponent in such a manner. He had cut open countless creatures for food, but only after putting them out of their misery first. In his attempt to fight honorably, he had done far worse than stabbing it in the back. As an act of guilt, Zin crouched down beside it.

“Forgive me?” Zin cried in Elvish. He then put the Gnoll out its misery.

In those moments, Zin was lost in his thoughts. He did not hear it as another massive Gnoll snuck up behind him. The Gnoll's intent was on separating Zin’s head from his shoulders.

The hiss of annoyance that squeezed its way through Arassel's pursed lips was somewhat similar, but undeniably different, from the brief but unmistakable fluttering of a feathered shaft speeding from a not-quite-fully stretched bowstring. This was soon replaced by the distinctive thud of an arrowhead slipping through fur and flesh, a half-roar making the impressively stealthy Gnolls position very well known, the bipedal canine twisting about as his muzzled face warped into a look of pure anger. Neither the sound nor the look of anger lasted long, two further arrows piercing jelly and brain as shards of bone broke from the arrowheads and the inside of the beasts skull both.

What had began as a rather mediocre journey, drinking rather poor ale and listening to a human who called himself a 'Captain', had become a lot more exciting with the introduction of the Hyena-man hybrids presently assailing them - or at least that's what the slender Elf thought as she slipped from the branch and landed on the ground in a rolling ball, coming up next to Zin in a half-crouch and giving a small tut; he was certainly and Elf, but unlike any she'd ever seen before.

Aware that there were yet more Gnolls to be slain, she slipped the bow over her shoulder and drew the leaf-shaped blade from the belt beneath her cloak, a hand-axe appearing in the other hand, both held ready and poised.

The Ogre roared in surprise and pain, his face and hair burning and his body being riddled with bullets. Despite the fierce attack, his club swung wide and was set loose out his hand, spinning end over end. It was as heavy as a log, flying into a tree, that just so happened to be the Gnome's tree. One Gnome had just enough time to attempt to scramble out of the way. Unfortunately, one of the crew was hit with tremendous force on his leg, his little leg being shattered just as the Ogre began to stagger away, until it fell upon its knees and fell over, bleeding from over a dozen different bullet holes, its head still smoking. After the club had hit the tree, it had bounced off and hit the edge of the bridge, activating one of the traps. Nothing happened at first...
Now the Gnomes had one dead member, a few members hanging for their lives off a tree branch, and a dead Ogre body that stuck out like a sore thumb next to the bridge. Not that the glyphs and cheese and traps did not stick out as well.
The dog suspended in the trees yipped, and suddenly the poison darts shot out from the side, slicing through the air harmlessly and embedding on a nearby Oak. The other traps were still set however.

---

The two men's corpses flailed and fell over as dead weight, blood now smeared upon the table they were playing upon. Nuva's prediction of noise was not an inaccurate one, for as he was wiping his face, another bandit walked into the room. He had a beard, framed by grey eyes filled with surprise, and then anger. Whether he was simply brave, foolish, or experience enough to have seen a Skayleigh before, he did not hesitate. He drew his long knife and took 3 running steps towards Nuva's back. That is, until Kayden's arming sword ran him through from the side. The Prince's brown eyes were inches from the grey eyes of the dying man as the light began to leave his eyes. There goes another's hopes and dreams, Kayden though with a sick twist in his stomach. The torchlight flickered upon the two corpses, soon joined by a third as the other bandit slid to the ground, now leaving this world in a pool of his own blood. In the cells, they only saw one person. It was a female Elf of shoulder length blonde hair clad in form fitting, functional leather armor. Her hands were shackled behind her back, and her feet were tied by Ropes. "Took you long enough." she said aloud. Kayden wiped the blade of his sword on the dead man's jerkin. "We were caught up."

---

The Gnoll's furred hide wasn't as easily torn as a doe's. But the Kukri did its business, slicing it open with help from Zin's muscled arm. Its yelps died as he finished it off. Another Gnoll holding a scimitar with a blade like a jagged mountain range saw an opportunity to take advantage of, grinning and making ready to charge and hack Zin to pieces. It's hopes were extinguished as 3 arrows ended its life. The Gnolls were now 3 against 3. Two Sword wielding ones, and the leader with the wicked Halberd. Leonard seemed to have gone around to flank them.
With a hissing snarl, the leader leaped forward and sliced its sharp polearm across the small clearing, surely hitting something with its feral and quick attack. The two Elves were in the leader's range, but perhaps they survived as the leaves and dismembered weed stalks fluttered to the ground. A scimitar wielding monster hacked at Jex, the Drabarian blocking the blade with the haft of his two handed battle Axe. He hissed and thrusted his weapon forward, knocking the Gnoll in the chest by the blunt end and sending it skidding back a bit, a shallow wound on its pectorals. The Third Gnoll saw an opportunity to run at Arassel and Zin once the polearm passed, but an unexpected cry from the bushes was heard by all.
"FER' THE QUEEN!" Regeland cried, his rapier slicing out of the brush like a whip, granting him a shallow stab along the Gnoll's forarm. The creature yelped, then snarled at the man, slicing at him with all the feral speed it had. Amazingly, the man seemed an impressive duelist, his blade whipping two and fro, poking the Gnoll and keeping it at bay, but scoring no large hits as of yet. The flamboyant Vrettonian let out a "HA! HEH-HU HA HA!" as he dueled the creature.
@Jbcool@Fuzzybootz@BCTheEntity@rush99999@Austronaut@frapet@Fubsy

a


Cassilda licked her lips, the familiar taste of blood and the stink of dying men filled the room like an oily fume. She cocked a slender eyebrow at the elf before transferring her gaze to Kayden.

“Something you forgot to mention to us before we started captain?” she asked acidly. Like most mercenaries she didn’t like surprises, they tended to go hand in hand with sudden and violent death.

Further discussion was forestalled by a noise from the top of the stone steps. Silently, she slid her blade from its sheath and climbed the steps. The stairs opened onto a large room, perhaps a guardhouse in former times but an indistinguishable space heaped with refuge and cobwebs now. A half dozen men were coming into the room from another set of stairs. Light streamed down from above, suggesting the surface was not far away.

With a sharp intake of breath she shoved herself back into the shadows created by one of the structural pillars, its granite bulk sheltering her from sight.

“Better hurry s,” she whispered urgently, hoping her companions at the bottom could still hear her.

“Corbin!” one of the bandits called, his tone guileless. He sounded bored and irritated.

“Corbin quit screwing around, Graf wants you up top,” he called again. The men seemed to tense, the lack of response worrying them.

“Probably just drunk,” one of his companions muttered, “like we bloody well should be.”

The bandits were more cautious now, crossing the room to the top of the stairs with nervous glances. Cassilda wished she could sheathe her sword and draw a knife but she dared not move, even to get a better weapon. They came through the archway, close enough to touch. She held her breath but they expected danger from below, not from the side.

The last man stepped through the arch and turned his head slightly, catching her in his peripheral vision, his muscles tensed. Cassilda lunged, driving her sword point into his belly. The boy screamed like a gelded hog and a great gout of blood fountained from his lips. His companions started to turn but rather than try and recover the sword she threw herself at the dying man, knocking him from his feet and sending him careening down the stairway into his cursing companions. Several of them were swept from their feet, but an older warrior in rusted chainmail managed to sidestep the mess.

Cassilda snatched for a knife but the man gave her no time to use it. A heavy boot connected with her knee, sweeping her legs out from under her. She landed hard on her back, the breath exploding from her lungs in a huff. Her assailant lunged at her with a knife of his own but she twisted aside, the steel ringing on the flag stones. Men were shouting now, screaming and cursing. So much for the element of surprise. She snatched her own knife from her belt and drove it at the mans throat. He blocked the slash with his mailed forearm and steel clanging uselessly against steel. He made a clumsy thrust at her but the tight quarters meant he couldn’t get enough force to punch through her leather breastplate. A meaty hand grabbed her throat, thick fingers trying to close her windpipe. She drove her own knife into his exposed wrist, her attacker let go with a curse. He was on top of her, too heavy for her to overpower with brute force. With an inarticulate shriek she twisted her body hard, kicking off the wall with all her strength. Suddenly they were tumbling down the stairs, each cobblestone smashing into her like a hammer.

The gnomes cheered as the ogre fell to the ground. It wasn't every day that a group of gnomes could bring down such a beast so easily. "Well done, lads!" Hobnob said as the other gnomes "Let it be known that today we have scored a flawless-". Hobnob was abruptly interrupted by the small white dog he had up in the trees yipping and the hallucinogenic darts firing off and embedding themselves harmlessly into trees. "A somewhat flawless-" Hobnob said before the gnome with a crushed leg cleared his throat. "Alright it was just an ordinary victory" Hobnob said "But it was a victory nonetheless and we should be proud of that!". The other gnomes cheered in response.

"Alright alright, simmer down!" Hobnob said "We have work to do. Our comrades will be here any minute now and that will mean that the lord and the bandits won't be far behind, so by then we'll need to be prepared! Shortstack, go grab Tiny and take him back to the camp. Doctor Diminutive, you go with them and fix Tiny's leg. Titch, help me reset the Dizzy Dart traps. The rest of you back in the hide. Hop to it!". When Hobnob finished speaking his crew sprung into action. Shortstack and Doctor Diminutive picked up Tiny and carried him off to the camp. Tiny couldn't feel pain, so he wasn't complaining that much. Meanwhile the other gnomes hid back in the hide as Titch and Hobnob plucked the hallucinogenic darts out of the trees and put them back in the launchers they had been fired out of. Once the traps had been reset, Hobnob and Titch joined the rest of the crew in the hide. "And now we wait" Hobnob said as he switched on his thermal vision and scanned for the bandits and any other approaching threats.

Kayden and Morek glanced up at Cassilda as they heard a noise from above. The Prince's eyes widened as the woman ran up the stairs. "Wha-" he began, then swiftly changed tactics and waved for everyone that was already in the room to back up and get as close to the wall as they could, signalling for those heading from the doorway to stay back and quiet. He thought for sure that she would be dead and they would be charged at by bandits. He heard a scream and thought it was hers for a moment. The Prince was impressed but no less vexed when he saw her tumbling down the stairs, grappling with a cutthroat. He peered up the stairs swiftly, seeing a few men skidding across the stone steps behind. One body lay slumped and bleeding. Perhaps dead. "Shit." he spat.

He dropped his sword without hesitation, ripping out his dagger and driving it into the man's back atop Cassilda. "Halbark!" he called. "Aye!" was heard from within the back hallway. "Got anything with flames?" All that could be heard was a chuckle, before the tattooed Dwarf stepped out of the shadows and tossed a clay object with a small flame alight at its top. The makeshift bomb sailed up the stairs and exploded, engulfing half of the stairs as well as the roguish thugs in a firestorm. They screamed and cried out in utter agony as the liquid fire melted the flesh from their bones. Kayden admitted he was uncomfortable with the Dwarf having thrown it a bit close to him, but he got the job done. Now onto his job.

He grabbed Cassilda by her shoulders and hauled her up, inspecting her for injuries with a quick look over. "I don't know what you were thinking, but if you want to survive or stay in this company, we stick together and don't go running in. You wait on my call." As he said his last two words, his eyes fell on Nuva as well. He gave them both a leveling stare, then sighed. "But hell of a job from both of you, either way. I'm glad Secret picked people with skills."

"Ahem," was heard from the Cells. Kayden waved dismissively. "Morek, let her out." The Dwarf shrugged and hefted his Axe. "Won't he need a key?" Jeremiah asked as the rest of the company filled the room. His statement was blocked out by the sound of the Dwarf smashing his great Axe onto the lock once, twice, thrice, and it was shattered to ruin. Morek opened the door and the Elven maiden sauntered out. "Everyone, meet the girl who did her research on each and every one of you. She's an informant and under my employ for now, and I didn't tell you we'd find her here because I didn't know myself."

"You thought I'd be dead?" The Elven rogue asked. "When you didn't report back, yes." the Prince said back. She sniffed at that. "Ye of little faith I see." He gave an exasperated sigh. "Why would they keep you alive? Information? Did you give them any?" "Of course not, but I teased them with some false info to keep myself breathing in the meanwhile." Kayden picked up his sword and sheathed it for the time being. "Did you at least get the layout of the Keep?"

It turns out the wiley Elf had, and she relayed that up the stairs was a wide hall that led into the courtyard out of two large wooden doors. To the right was the gatehouse and the wall filled with patrols, and to the left was the barracks and dining hall. To the opposite side of the courtyard was the Great hall, above and below the wall top. Above them was a guard tower that lead to another watch tower that reached over the canyon.

"Virgil." Kayden called. The old Knight strode over, nodding to the handiwork of what had transpired. "Yes, Captain?" he asked through his impressive mustache. "Take Jeremiah, Haukford, Halbark, and Fafnir through the barracks and dining hall. Lalia and Secret? Take out the men above us. Nuva, Cassilda, Morek and I will go left. We'll meet on the other side and take the men we can hostage to be beglamored by Cassilda, understand?"

---

As the minutes slipped by, Hobnob would see lesser heat signatures emerging from the tree line. They were bigger than he, but not man sized. Anyone who had spent time in the borderlands knew of the large coyote population. They merely approached and picked at the dead Ogre carcass, not setting off any traps so far.
@BCTheEntity@rush99999@Austronaut@Fubsy

There was a word for this. This emptiness in the air, laced with a bitter dread. Something to call the unease that derived from the hollowness of what once possibly teemed with life. What was it? Was there even a word for it? Words tumbled through Silias' mind as he traversed through the remnants of man. Words of his tongue and not. Bending and twisting, over and over. Nothing sparked of familiarity.

Two soldiers, side to side, led the path. Their swords were drawn and their eyes wary as they scanned for danger. Runes, strings, plates--traps that, perhaps in a far off ruin, would litter the ground and walls. But not here. Here, past the arch, the corridors were cold and empty. Stone after stone, crumbled and worn. At his side was Val'rasar, her eyes ever sharp and her body tense for readiness. Then there was Silias. Ever calm, ever confident. The darkness permeated the other three, digging into their hearts with daggers black with fear. But for Silias, it was a challenge. He didn't just feel the fear and the choking cloth of dread--he relished it. Danger always had a reward.

"Sire," Val murmured, eyes darting about, "I mean no disrespect, but is this a truly wise choice?"

The lord did not respond. Not out of ignorance, but of contemplation. His face was unreadable. His body, save for the tap tap tapping of his fingers and the shift of his eyes, remained still.

"Perhaps," he said after a moment, long fingers brushing against the wall, "we are fools of our own making, walking closer to our death." He pulled his hands away. A fine layer of dirt marred the soft tips. "Or perhaps we are wisemen, fetching gifts of rare treasure from where cowards dare not walk."

Nothing was said after that.

The party continued in silence, stopping only when they came upon a set of double doors. They were tall and oak, ornate carvings on their edges worn smooth over time. Though the black hinges were tinged red with the faintest of rust, they were thick and strong, somehow able to withstand the tests of time. At a simple flick of the hand from Silias, the soldiers rushed forward and, with a hefty shove, threw open the gates. As they did so, the temperature of the room seemed to drop. The prickling at the back of their heads grew heavier, and the smell of must and mold and something bitter seemed to worsen. There, before the four, was a set of stairs that fell into a veil of darkness. Wordlessly, Silias nodded in a simple command: move forward.

Dark. That was the only way to describe it. Deep and dark and...and that word. That missing word. Around them, choking them, twisting the daggers in their hearts as silent whispers prodded their mind. A lantern was lit by one of the guards. Low and dim, it was enough to keep everyone from tripping, but weaker than the darkness around them. The amber glow illuminated the sides of the stairwell, giving way to eerie carvings in the stone. Ancient battles of man and demon, the grotesque creatures twisted beneath their killer's stone swords as they thrashed in an eternal battle. Alongside were maidens, marble faces awash with stone tears. Weeping in the dark, but for what? A fallen lover? A lost home? Freedom from this infernal plain? Silent cries in an endless night.

They soon reached the bottom, but at that point, the air had grown heavier. The ominous feeling that whispered to them above ground had grown stronger until stomachs were twisted and fingers trembled. Even Silias, for a brief moment, felt a flash of doubt cloud his mind.

Go back, it whispered. Leave.

Never, he said in defiant reply.

There before them was a door. Similar to the previous one, it was hearty and strong, able to stand against the wear of years gone past. The soldier's stared, hesitance clear on their faces.

"Open it," Silias commanded, arms crossed. "Do it, and I promise whatever lies inside, if good, shall fall to you."

The paise continued. A heartbeat passed. Nervous looks were shared. Then, slowly, the door opened.

What lay inside, no one could quite comprehend so readily. There was gold. Gold, and silver, and rubies, and material devices of the heart's desire. Glimmering brightly as a stray beam of sunlight snuck through a crack in the ceiling. A dragon's horde of treasure, all for them. Silias stared, a small grin breaking his somber expression. A small laugh fell from his lips as he marveled the treasures. All for them. "Go!" He slapped the back of the nearest guard, his demeanor merry, "I made you a promise, did I not? Now go! Bathe in the riches, and buy yourself a wife or two!" The guard blinked, stunned, before glancing at his companion. A nervous smile broke across their faces, and they hurried forward to the pile before them.

Silias took a step forward to join them, but an iron grip latched onto his wrist. He whirled around, fierce anger in his eyes until he saw the look on Val's face. She stared at the pile. No, not the pile. Something beyond it. Silias followed her gaze until he saw the source of her troubles. There, nearby, was a hole in the wall. It held no treasure. No light. No hope. In this hole was darkness. Pure, unadulterated darkness. And from it, the suddenly noticeable taste of dread.

Nuva hadn't been quite quiet about his own attack, it was true, and in fairness, he'd likely be at least injured if the Captain had not intervened against the bandit charging him. However, the way Cassilda handled her own fight was... not exactly brilliant. He supposed it was likely that his actions had drawn in the group of six bandits, but if the screams from the one she killed didn't draw the rest to their position, it'd be a miracle. Still, he hid himself along with the rest of the party as the bandits showed up, and remained in place as first one, then the rest, died to multiple stab wounds and some horrible molten substance thrown by the dwarf Halbark respectively.

Only then came the lambasting from Kayden. Mostly directed at Cassilda, but the pointed glance over in Nuva's direction was enough to have him bowing his head shamefully. No orders had been given, technically, but Nuva figured he should still know better after years of being ordered around under much stricter commanders; under the dark elves, he'd probably have been viciously tortured for such a reckless maneuver. Though the end result after all had been said and done was nearly half of the bandits in the fortress deceased, so that was hardly a poor outcome.

Then, of course, there was the prisoner. One of the Captain's agents, no less... who had apparently done research on everyone now in his employ. He wondered exactly how much she knew of his origins, his race. Had she told Kayden of these, or anyone else in his closer counsel for that matter? Did those who knew think less of him for what he was, what he'd done under their command? He dared not ask, at least not in such public company. Regardless, it seemed stealth was no longer on anyone's minds, granted how Secret was freed from her cell, and by his own count, there were as many mercenaries as bandits left in the fort anyway; the Captain ordered people into groups, and Nuva nodded and strolled toward him, slowing to a halt briefly as he passed... Halbark, was it? Though he'd been informed time and again by his prior masters of how distasteful dwarves were, his time out of their influence had shown no particular evidence to prove this was true. Or at least, they acted with no more virulent hatred than any other race did upon discovering his own.

That in mind, Nuva placed his hand on Halbark's shoulder briefly, simply stating 'Well done on the bomb,' before removing himself from the dwarf's personal space and moving the rest of the distance to Kayden's side. All things considered, the dwarf had in one stroke killed more of these bandits than any other individual in the room so far; if nothing else, he deserved some recognition for the sort of mind needed to create such weapons.

@Sleater@POOHEAD189@Austronaut@Fubsy@frapet

While they waited for the others to arrive, Hobnob's crew were discussing improvements and amendments of The Obstacle Flattener Mark 4 over the blueprint of the machine in question. "I still think we should increase the size of the flattening implement" Titch insisted "At its current size, it can only flatten obstacles that don't measure beyond a 5 on the size scale and a 6 on the sternness of stuff scale".
"It's a rare occurrence for us to come up against an obstacle higher than a size 4 and a stern 5" Hobnob replied as scanned the forest for heat.
"But we still do, boss" Titch said.
"Need I remind you that explosion proofing is our priority?" Hobnob stated "A bigger flattening implement won't stop The Mark 4 from...Look lively boys, we've got company".

Multiple heat signatures were approaching the bridge. While they certainly weren't big enough to be bandits, Hobnob thought it smart to be prepared. The gnomes pulled out their guns in preparation for the potential threat. When the coyotes emerged, the gnomes watched them carefully. While they only wanted the ogre's corpse, there was no telling if it would be necessary to attack the coyotes to protect the traps.

Zin snapped out of his guilt a moment the moment another Gnoll lifted his saber high to deliver a death blow. However, just as he realized his mistake, three excellently placed arrows pierced the beast. Each arrow hit a vital organ with a thud, thud, and thud. The Gnoll crumpled to the ground as Zin looked up at his ally.

Whether she realized it or not, Zin now owed her a life debt. It was an ancient tradition that had been lost or abandoned by many of Zin’s cousins. Only The Great Clans still adhered to the practice, and even then it was a rare occurrence. It wasn’t simply that she had saved his life. It was that she had no lasting ties to him. She gained nothing by saving him. This quest would not suffer from his death alone. The tradition called for the debt to repaid three fold. His life was now hers to command until the debt was repaid, she take his life, or death take her.

The lithe elf landed beside Zin a moment later. She made a sound of disapproval as she pulled a leaf-shaped blade and ax from seemingly nowhere. Zin said nothing. Instead, he took in a deep breath to steady his mind. There would be time later perform the proper ceremony. That is of course only if they survived.

Both Stood poised and ready for the next attack as the largest of the last three Gnolls swung its polearm. Zin dodged the swing a tumble to the side. He was now flanking the beast with Arassel on the other side. This Gnoll would not go down as easily as the last two did. However, if He and Arassel worked in unison they would be able to take it down.

“Get in close.” He spoke in Elvish. Hopefully, she would realize the pole arm was useless in close combat melee.

@Jbcool

“Get in close.”

Arassel raised one perfect eyebrow at this, even as she moved to circle around the opposite flank of the enraged Gnoll, both Zin and herself having narrowly avoided being cloven in twain by a swing from its vicious polearm not moments before.

She heard his words, spoken in a rough dialect of Elvish that was nevertheless quite close to her own, and would act accordingly but knew that simply rushing in would get her killed – this Gnoll was full of adrenaline, its hair bristling in tufts from its body, a look of crazed anger in its eyes. Nor could she simply shoot it, even her reflexes not fast enough to grasp her bow once more and fire an arrow before being charged.

They needed a distraction...

As gently as she could, half-canine hybrids often sensitive to 'unnatural' acts, she let her mind drift upward and connect with that of her companion; help arriving on near-silent wings, armed with talons that gouged and wings that flapped furiously.

Thrathnere provided the distraction that was needed, the Gnoll lashing out savagely but ultimately in vain at the mass of feathers and sharpened limbs, the Wood Elf taking this opportunity to yell a quick “now!” To her partner-in-combat, gathering what Khala she could as she moved her weapons aside and simply tackled the larger creature around the midriff, planting her shoulder straight into its midriff and beneath the flailing swings of its weapon.

Though she had not quite taken it to the ground, the Gnoll was certainly overbalanced, the huge Raven and Arassel both providing all the disarray that Zin might require to finish what had been started.

@Fuzzybootz

Secret grasped Kayden's arm before they could all split up and go about their business of exterminating the rest of the bandits. He turned on her, his dark hair swaying ever so lightly. "What?" he asked her curtly.
"I don't know." She said in all honesty. "That's the problem."
Kayden narrowed his brow, looking at her incredulously. "You're going to need to be more specific."
"I didn't make it to the otherside of the castle before they caught me. And they seemed to be up to something in there."
"Up to-?"
The Elf's next words were full of warning. "I know black magic when I smell it, Kayden. Just tread lightly." she said, then pushed him forward. The Captain seemed a bit perturbed by her ominous words, but within a moment, her and the other rogue were gone out the door.
"Let's go." Kayden said, leading Morek, Nuva, and Cassilda into the chamber where Cassilda had fought with the men, turning left as the rest went right down the stone halls. They made their way towards the gate, various ruined paintings, some with arrows and knives sticking out of them, lined the walls. Every now and then they would see a torch lit, but it wasn't long until the hallway turned right, leading them toward the gatehouse. Their footfalls were barely audible, but audible still. So they slowed down before they made it to a small and stout wooden door. Kayden placed a finger to his lips to keep them from speaking loudly, and waved his hand down so none would be seen through the small slit at the door that was eye level to the average man. Within, they could hear muttering voices that spoke words that were indecipherable at the moment.
@Austronaut@BCTheEntity

---

The two Knights that had accompanied Silias were rummaging through the jewelry and gold. The trinkets were clanking and bashing as they moved them aside, looking for even greater treasures. The ruckus they caused wouldn't be too loud in a tavern, or a street out in the open. But down here in the depths, their noises and mutterings pierced through the silence, hitting Silias' ears like a hammer would hit a gong.

They hadn't seemed to have noticed the huge, gaping hole. For such men weren't used to piles and piles of precious items and trinkets that would make them lords almost as wealthy as Silias himself. "Hahaha, Frederick, after this mission we shall live out our days upon the coast of Praelior, I think!" one Knight said. The other would have heartily agreed, if he was still alive to do so. For the next noise that was made was his corpse hitting the pile of treasures, a black shafted arrow in the back of his neck.

It was a lucky shot. That arrow, if it had hit his armor, wouldn't have killed him, and would have perhaps bounced off, for they were clad in iron plate armor. It seems fate this day was as dark as the underground they were in. The remaining Knight gasped, then drew his long sword and hefted his shield. Screeches and scuttles were heard within the impenetrable darkness of the hole, and they were drawing nearer...
@Fubsy

Arassel’s assault on the Gnoll came as a surprise to Zin. After her animal companion’s attack left the beast flustered and agitated, she grappled the Gnoll with an amazing feat of strength. Not only was he surprised by the sheer strength it would take to hold the Gnoll, but also that he was left in a precarious situation. When he had said to get in close, he did not intend for her to get that close.

The Gnoll struggled as it tried to fend off the massive bird and the elf. It cursed in barely recognizable speech and swung wildly in the hopes of hitting anything. The Gnoll nearly clipped the raven once as the bird retreated to regain altitude.

Quickly Zin did the only thing he could think of. He took in a deep breath, aimed, and hurled his kukri at the Gnoll. It embedded into the beast’s right shoulder, making the beast’s entire arm go limp. It dropped the massive pole arm, as it no longer had the ability to hold onto it. The gnoll shifted, as best it could, to face Zin and that’s when the second Kukri hit its mark. The Gnoll froze as the blade’s tip impaled it right through the eye. The impact caused the Gnoll to lose consciousness.

The massive creature tumbled backward and landed on the ground with Arassel still attached. Swiftly Zin rushed towards the fallen creature’s weapon. He attempted to pick it up as it was but realized not even he had the strength to wield it. Thinking quickly he lifted it up at an angle and snapped the shaft in half. Within moments Zin stood over the fallen Gnoll and before it could regain consciousness, coup de graced it through the throat with its own weapon.

After making sure the Gnoll was absolutely dead Zin looked over to Arassel. He extended out his hand to help her to her feet.

@Jbcool

Cassilda pushed forward beside Kayden. The throbbing pain in her back told her that she had avoided a falls worth of broken bones by trading it for bruises and strains. It didn’t matter if she didn’t survive of course, and she wouldn’t survive unless they did something fast.

“It’s the Invocation of Kazi-Nercht,” she hissed urgently, “You said these were simple bandits!”

She could tell by the blank look that the name meant nothing to Kayden but the elf’s face drained of color. Cassilda made a gesture with her sword. They had to kill them now before… well maybe not think about that.

“Get the door open,” she told him dragging a small bronze amulet from her pouch and wrapping it around the pommel of the weapon.

“There will be seven of them at least. That's just for the ritual, I can't speak to how many guards.” Standing up she tried the door tentatively. It was locked of course. She held up three fingers, bringing one down with each second untill she had a closed fist. Then she leaned back and drove her foot against the door with all her might. The door and the fitting were solid but the masonry that the bolts were anchored in were ancient. Even so it took two kicks to dislodge the thing.

Hoping that others would follow she rushed into the room. A dozen men stood facing a thirteenth man in the center of the room. The chamber itself had been hastily swept clear, ancient junk and debris was still piled in the corners. One soldier leveled a crossbow and pulled the lever. Cassilda twisted sideways as the lethal bolt cut through the air she had just occupied.

Raising her sword she began muttering a counterspell.

Frankly, Nuva couldn't say he was particularly aware of what "the Invocation of Kazi-Nercht" was. One might describe his upbringing as "sheltered", after all... if one were being polite. In franker terms, he had practically no personal knowledge of magical invocations beyond what effects he'd observed from the gnome mage who had hired him on as a bodyguard of sorts for several years, never mind dark magic of any sort, and this in spite of having lived in a place where it ought to be somewhat common. Whatever was happening in there may as well be meaningless jargon to him.

He did, however, understand the intricacies of urgency in a person's voice. Preparing both his weapons to be bloodied again, he found himself almost annoyed with the second kick the human enchantress- Cassilda, if he'd heard correctly- took to remove the door from its hinges, but did not have time for additional thought on the topic. Charging into the room and past Cassilda, he found himself aiming to sweep a gory path round the circle of men, mace swinging to try and crush bones and bludgeon bodies aside, and the spiked arm ready to block any blades or bolts coming toward him - seven men for the ritual itself, twelve along the outside of the circle, and one cultist at the center, so the chances that his first kill would be one of those actually enacting the ritual were half and half, getting much better with every consecutive kill, and he reckoned once one cultist fell, the whole ritual could well come undone entirely. Projectiles weren't necessarily too much of a threat, either: contrary to popular belief, chainmail made with fine enough links is a very sturdy defense when layered over leather, and though in his case a lucky bolt may well have had a chance to penetrate through the holes in the links, he reckoned the speed he was moving at made that somewhat unlikely. Even so, he found himself instinctively glancing round as he moved, always checking his surroundings, as he'd been taught to do to make sure he was not blind-sided, and so ready to avoid or block otherwise-lethal attacks. He'd failed at that once already, and nearly gotten a sword to the back for it; he certainly didn't want a similar failure in awareness to kill him now.

Cassilda and Nuva ran in, the men in the guardroom set to man the gate were caught completely unawares. Three of the cutthroats had been eating a late lunch, talking among themselves and chewing freshly cooked chicken. They wore arming swords at their sides and leather over roughly forged chainmail hauberks. Two crossbowmen were across the room, standing idly, and two men with axes and sword breakers stood next to the wheel that would open the gate. One of the crossbowmen leveled their weapon, firing at Cassilda but missing by a hair's breadth, the bolt glancing off Morek's plate armor as he charged in after the two. Kayden swore, drawing his own arming sword and wading into the room.

Nuva's blow sheared one of the wheelman's sides clean off with his great maul, blood and gore spattering the stone wall. The other wheel man had an opportunity and made a glancing blow with the back end of his axe on Nuva's shoulder, making him stagger but doing no real damage other than a bruise. He raised his axe for another strike however, and a crossbowman leveled his weapon Nuva's way, trying to aim past his fellow bandit.

One of the swordsmen looked at Cassilda, taken aback not only by being attacked, but by one of the attackers being a woman. He quickly gained his senses when he saw one of his friends ripped apart, and met her blade to blade. Another burly swordsman with a cauliflower ear jumped into the fray, smiling at Cassilda wickedly as if he already had plans for her. The third one that was about to walk in swung at Cassilda, but found his blade was blocked by Kayden, the Company leader pushing the man away and slashing him across the side, before turning around and thrusting at the larger, leering man that had engaged Cassilda.

Morek pushed the bigger man out of the way, knocking him to the side a bit before making his way toward the crossbowmen. "I'll take care of the quarrelers." he said.
@Austronaut@BCTheEntity

---

Jex chopped downwards with his Axe, carving through his opponent's collarbone, even cleaving to the heart. He let out a satisfied hiss as the Gnoll toppled forward, dead before it hit the ground. The last Gnoll decided it had enough, knowing that it having trouble with Regeland was enough of a reason to flee, much less the enemies now at his back, with nothing but dead comrades at his flank. It slashed at the Vrettonian, then leaped past him into the brushing, whining like a whipped dog as it fled into the forest. The duelist sputtered, Gnoll hair flying everywhere and some had gone into his mouth. "Ptooey, ptooey!"

The Drabarian knelt down and opened up his dead opponent's ribcage, reaching in and tearing the heart out, before devouring it before his allies' eyes. Blood seeped down his terrible jaws. "Let us continue forward. We are almost there." he said in a low growl, wiping the blood off his axe across the Gnoll's unbloodied leggings before heading eastward. Arassel and Zin, along with Regeland in tow. "Strange I called to the Queen." the Vrettonian said to the Elves. "It's that bitch that wants my head!"

They had not gone 20 feet before they found Leonard the Darkslayer. Dead. He had a spear through his gullet, his dead eyes staring up into the tree canopy as blood even still slowly seeped into the ground. The Gnoll that had fled had gotten the jump on him, it seemed. They continued onwards, before almost literally tripping on Hobnob and his crew who were hidden in the bushes.
@Jbcool@Fuzzybootz@rush99999