"...Tch. What great timing these bastards have..." Tiral grumbled, tailing the rest of the Knights as they filed into the crypt, swords drawn and ready. While he didn't care much for the Sult lookalike (or his entourage, for that matter), the trail of carnage and gore wasn't something he wanted to see so soon. At least Tyaethe's movement through the enemies wasn't anywhere as deranged. He could appreciate that.

With such cramped hallways to travel downwards in this crypt, covering the place with the innards of the enemies seemed less conducive to progress than anything else. Plodding through coagulating blood was just as disgusting as it was something that would impair their movement, and with his magical tendencies as they were...

Well, he was much happier just binding incapacitated enemies in a place like this.

Ducking under a blade thrust at his neck and bashing into the assailant with his shoulder, Tiral frowned as the man stumbled back before reading another blow.

"...Right, we're packed in close. In that case..."

Grabbing his dagger from its hiding place, Tiral quickly chanted an incantation before the ground down the path behind the guard froze over. With a swift kick to the man's midsection, the mage watched as the guard fell onto his back and slid down the way, bowling into a bunch of other guards on the way down before the ice path melted back into water. One spell later, and the pile of soldiers was bound together at varying points by ice. It would do for now.

"If we're going to be splitting up, Captain, I'll join with the group confronting the necromancer. Handling hordes of mindless enemies would probably be the best use of my abilities for the moment," he stated, glancing between the other knights and the pile of idiots jumbled up in a ball of ice and water.

The second guard was hardly prepared for the remarkably aggressive assault of a little girl with a very large sword. He fell, cut in half, as Tyaethe sprinted past her. Ahead was another burial chamber, coffins laid to rest in the walls, as guards took cover to avoid Marianne's fire. Others were unfortunate enough to be caught up in the coming assault, falling dead, cut apart or stabbed. It was difficult to be prepared for the Iron Rose Knights, after all.

Fanilly found herself under assault rather swiftly, one of the guards breaking through and bearing down with his axe. She stepped back, deflecting it with her sword, and was forced to step to the side to avoid another blow. But on his followup, she caught his weapon in her parrying dagger and forced it to the side, driving her sword deep into his chest, piercing his heart and letting him fall to the ground, dead. The remaining guards who had not been caught up in Tiral's icy immobilization or the initial attack were swiftly setting up defenses, raising shields and arraying themselves throughout the room.

Their were stairs leading even deeper. The Cal family mausoleum housed generations, after all.

When Marianne proposed her plan, Fanilly nodded.

"We'll split up, then!" she said, "Dame Marianne, take Vosahnn with you!"

The Nem girl was grabbing something from one of the dead guards, but it was difficult to see what, before she hurried to catch up to the others.

Alaric's attention was quickly brought to the guard that screamed inside the crypt. He looked up to to see a small knight swiftly deal with said guard before shouting "Iron roses! charge!", a command followed by the knight he'd passed outside beginning as assault on the guards responding to the alert.

'so these are the Iron Roses' he thought to himself as they began to make fairly short work of the guards. looking through their forces he noticed one particularly small one with a big sword. It wasn't the blade that got his attention, no, it was that she was an undead, he's seen more than enough of those kind to tell, corpses pretending they still walk the earth, the filth. He could hardly imagine an order stemming from the lover of the goddess he so revered resorting to such things just to bolster their ranks. He pushed aside his anger for now as, given the circumstances, it could wait.

It made things easier anyway, with the Iron roses fighting through the guards he was able to simply begin walking through the crypt past the conflict intent on heading straight for the necromancers. At least until he caught sight of the defenses being set up further on by the guards. While letting the Iron Roses take on the guards for him made his mission easier, he wasn't intent on waiting for them. So he hefted his hammer, flames igniting through the designs engraved on it's head as well as radiating from his eyes to make his appearance more intimidating, and with a vicious war cry he charged. The suddenness and speed of his advance left only the time for a single bolt from a crossbow to be loosed at him, being deflected of his shoulder plate.

He first smashed his hammer upon one of the set shields, a blast from the impact destroying it and sending shrapnel back toward the guards that had set it. He continued straight through where the shield had been to get at the rest of the defenders, his strikes blowing bodies and limbs apart. At one point he struck his hammer along the ground to send a small wave of flames at a guard out of his reach, incinerating them, before continuing his rampage.

---

The short discussion of books was sidetracked by the sudden groping of the court mage's rather bountiful bosom by one of the knight, who was then run out of the room by the appearance of some guy through the window who offered pancakes and stories after leering at just about every female in the room.

Ian just shrugged at the whole thing and, with the princess occupied by calming down the embarrassed mage and hearing the pancakeman's stories, made his was over to Gillian and took a seat beside him asking "hey, um, would you mind if I borrowed that copy of yours sometime if your not using it? I would like to finish my read of it"

Watching the darkness outside the window for any sign of movement, Christina spared an occasional glance to the events inside the room. She felt bad for the court mage, after the way she had treated her and now her new humiliation. She had no personal reason to hate the woman, but the tension of the night had forced her old anger to the surface, and the mage was the first person who had offered an opportunity to relieve that. It wasn't fair, and she decided she would apologize to her once this mess was done with.

For now, she kept her distance, keeping one ear out for any signs of danger and the other open to the conversation in the room. The old man apparently had 'stories' to tell, and Christina was interested in spite of herself. She hadn't missed seeing his gaze linger on her and the other women, but that sort of thing didn't bother her. What interested her was that this man was obviously skilled, and listening to him might be important.

Sir Garrett followed the charge into the cramped quarters. Unslinging his mace he slid the boarding axe down through a pair of straps on his back. In the larger spaces beneath the Mausoleum it would be better but for now the mace was the easiest to use. Reaching down he plucked a huntsman’s blade from his left boot. It was a long knife about eight inches in length, it would be perfect for turning blades in close to give him the room to use the mace. As the Knights conferred he listened absently as he moved around them. Marianne was going after the captives; as was Sult and the nem. Tyaetha was already long gone and then there were the rest of them.

You are going to get them all killed

Dismissing the haunting feeling of being underground with a necromancer and a largely unknown enemy Sir Garrett shivered as he followed Fanilly’s group. WIth Tyaetha gone it felt best for him to hang close to the small captain. Resting the mace on his right shoulder he picked his way around the corpses. The damn paladin was a magic user too; thank heavens Fanilly wasn’t at least as far as he could tell. Picking his way over the trail of the corpses Garrett frowned. They would need to kill the necromancer or else risk fighting their way through a hallway of walking corpses. There would be no mercy from the Hill Knight today. Looking up at the Captain’s back as she told the other three to split off he sighed.

They had lost all of their back up in the west quarter within minutes. It was the highest concentration of the risen ancestors and they had been ripped apart. Now all that was left was vengence. Swift and deadly. With fire and sword the siblings had brought it against the awakened and it had worked...for a time

Sir Garrett shook his head clearing the memories as he waited for the captain to make her next move.

Marianne Delacroix

Marianne nodded with a smile, pleased that her dear Captain agreed with her line of thinking and approved.
"Aye, Captain!"
She shouted over the din to Fanily.
Turning, Marianne took note of something a little odd.
Having caught sight of the assassin picking something off of one of the dead guards.
"I must keep an eye on her."
Marianne thought to herself, suspicious of the action.
Nevertheless, she had to get a move on.
"Iron Roses, those of us who wish to pursue our secondary target, follow me!"

She again shouted, keeping her words vague so as to not clue the guards to their ulterior motives but detailed enough so that her comrades clearly knew what she planned. Doing a few quick scans of the environment, Marianne located a second path and made for it. On the move, she collapsed her bow and slung it as she drew her side sword. As she carved a direct path through the unrelenting guards, she was pleased to see Dame Sult and...D-...Dame Sult?! Following closely after her. When were there two of them? Had she not been paying attention or was she going mad? Perhaps the other double was a close relative. Perhaps her sister. Either way, Marianne turned her focus back to the oncoming guards as she and her group split off from the main effort.

She never fully approved of allied forces splitting from one another, but it was a necessary evil. After all most of their 'heavy-hitters' remained with the main effort. In her mind, she had hoped that they would create a big enough diversion and draw most if not all of the attention of the conspirators and guards. If so, then that would make their job that much easier to locate the captive or captives and rescue them. She could only hope that would be true, but had faith in the Goddesses. Though, something in the back of her mind nagged at her. "What if they discarded their plans and killed the captives before we arrive?"... No. She couldn't think like that. Always have faith. Always have hope. Looking to the assassin, she called out to her.

"Vosahnn! Stay close to me! If you know the way, then lead! The faster we get there, the higher chance your sister will be alive and well! Do not take our kindness for weakness, for I will not hesitate to cut you down if you try anything suspicious!" At that last sentence, Marianne narrowed her eyes at the little girl.

Gillian boggled as Sult well…assaulted the court mage. Something told him the iron knights weren’t likely to be invited to any future Royal Balls anytime in the future. He sighs, watches as the embarrassed knight retreats out the door. “I…apologize about her. She normally asks permission first.” He says, figuring it was probably better not to lie.

Gillian glared daggers at the man who entered with the stacks of pancakes, not trusting him. Wasn’t he one of that glorified mirror from the balls second rate knights? He didn’t like the way his gaze lingered hungrily on people, it felt too much like a snake staring down a rat to him (forgetting that earlier this evening, he wasn’t behaving much better). Still, forcing him back out the way he came seemed like it’d be more trouble than it’d be worth, and he’d secured his position with them by offering to regale the princess with stories. “You can tell stories from the other side of the room.” He says, bluntly, hand resting on his hilt.

He sits in silence for a moment, eyes darting between the intruding rogue and the windows and occasionally watching for the shimmer of Christna’s work. He hoped the rest of the knights were doing well in dealing with the conspirators, though he’d not have any way of knowing. It took a moment before the hundi’s request registered. “oh, uh…Yes, sure. Feel free to stop by my room later.” He says, barely looking at his fellow knight. “You’re welcome to keep it, if you’d like.”

Tyaethe's headlong charge didn't slow even as the sounds of carnage started up behind, ducking low under one enterprising swing as she came up to the next staircase and jumped down again. Unlike last time, with its bone-shaking collision with the wall, she attempted a fancier manoeuvre; the paladin thrust her sword into the ground at the last second and used the entire edifice as a pivot to continue the plunge down the second half of the stairs.

The sight down here was more welcoming than the first floor but far from perfect. Though most of the guards had already headed upstairs and were doing a fine job of slowing the knights simply by providing bodies, a few stragglers were here and looked shaken by the sounds from above. Their fear wasn't enough to prevent an attack on an unarmoured and seemingly hopelessly outmatched child, however.

Still, Tyaethe wasn't in the mood to engage and hopped briefly onto a man's spear before using the flat to smash him into the one obstacle between her and a clear run. Then she was off towards the bottom of the mausoleum and the presumed undead once again. The path was getting clearer as more and more of the gathered dust remained undisturbed and the path of the conspirators revealed itself.

If those fighting above wanted to have a hope of catching up before her fight had finished, for better or worse... well, they'd have to pick up the pace.

Even with everything at stake, Martina couldn't help but grin the moment they were discovered. No more of this silly "stealth" nonsense, now was the time for some good old fashioned violence. With hammer in hand, she charged forth, a gutteral dwarven battlecry bursting from her lips as... Everyone else charged faster than her. Curse those short half-dwarven legs.

It didn't take long for her to catch up with the others, however, and as though trying to make up for lost time she slammed her hammer relentlessly into the shields of the enemy, the white-hot weapon melting their defences to molten slag. Horrified, most of the guards surrended on the spot, but those who didn't had their skulls meet the same fate as their shields.

"And that's why you don't mess with a dwarf on the warpath!" she snarled, before rushing after Marianne. As a dwarf, she just had to witness the head of this despicable operation face justice with her own eyes.

Dante was at the back of the group to enter the mausoleum, being new did have its draw backs. The only person there that she even remotely knew was the captain, and even then only by reputation. Everyone else she only had met briefly on the way here, if at all.

Still there was a battle to be fought, and a ne romanced to kill. Dante would help however she could. Dante had her Battle Gauntlet strapped on and ready, she could feel the cold steel on the piece tugging against her arm. The weight of the gauntlet was comforting and steady. Her kite shield was also at her side. She still had her family's crest on it, she needed to get it re-painted soon. Unlike others Dante's shield was sharp, and not strapped across her arm so that the 'point' was down, she instead had it strapped down her arm so that the 'point followed where her hand was pointing. She was also wearing her own armor, which had modifications to free up movement for the Batlle gauntlet.

When all chaos broke loose Dante had rushed forward to enter the fight, only to be left at the back. She only managed to take out a few guards, mostly with the sharpened point of her shield since there was less room for her gauntlet. Whenever one of her sister's in arms (Was her name Marianne) called for assistance she followed.

Dante ended up right next to a small woman with a humongous hammer. Along with two women who looked... Exactly the same. She was slightly perplexed by this, but she didn't let it bother her. She had to focus on the mission. @Rin@harinezumikouken

Marianne Delacroix

Just as with the bandits from her very first mission, these guards were hardly a challenge for Marianne. In truth, they were all merely hindrances. Obstacles that really only served to eat up their time. Time that they didn't have to waste when lives were at stake. Each attack or attempt at harming her missed by wide margins as the guards all clearly telegraphed their movements and intentions. Marianne as per usual gracefully 'dancing' just ever so safely outside of the range of their weapons. The actions that were more prudent to deflect she did so, parrying and knocking away weapons to swiftly end their lives by following up with a riposte. Her own counters and killing blows being only what was quick and necessary to humanely bring about the guards' exit from the living plane. All in all, it was merely another fight for Marianne. She briefly wondered when she and the Iron Roses would truly be challenged in the field of battle, but wasn't sure if she would be content with the higher risk to life and limb. For now, this would have to do.

A loud roar from behind shook her from her thoughts. When it was safe to do so, Marianne looked behind to see a very familiar little girl decimating some of the guards on her own. She was awed by the girl's hammer, penetrating and melting through the guards' shields, armor, and....sickeningly, their heads. What magic did she use? Marianne perhaps thought that the girl's hammer was enchanted and thought that it may be a good idea in the future to have the same done with her own blade. She frowned, trying to piece together the puzzle pieces until the picture they made was obvious. Infuriatingly curious as to whom this diminutive girl was who fought alongside them for whatever reason. She wasn't simply just some random girl Captain Fanily knew, that couldn't be it. The fact that she knew how to conduct herself in combat told of her apparent age, if not her perceived age. So then she was a woman? A woman who knew Captain Fanily well and knew how to fight. It was then that it clicked that if not an ally to the Iron Roses, the woman was an Iron Rose herself. Just how large was their organization? How many of them exactly were there? Even still, she didn't know the woman's name. Either having not heard it or forgotten. How forgotten, she couldn't tell. She wondered how old the woman actually was. If she was actually much older than herself, then Marianne would figure herself a little envious of how she may appear so young.

Her attention returning to the engagement with the guards as they advanced further down their own path of the crypt, she knocked away a vertical sword swing with the buckler on her left forearm and stuck her blade through the guard's throat. Kicking his body off towards a few other guards which caused them to stumble and fall to the ground, allowing the 'hammer-woman' to do as she may with them. She thought that now was as good a time as any.

"Excuse me, miss!"
She called out to the hammer-wielder.
"But I do not think we have had the pleasure of introducing ourselves to one another!"
She back-stepped outside the range of a horizontal sword slash, 'skipping' forward towards the guard to slice open the man's throat and dropping him.
"Je vous presente. Je m'appelle Marianne Delacroix. Comment vous appelez-vous?"
Why Marianne used her native tongue, she did not know.
Another guard lunged at her.
Marianne side-stepped the easily avoidable attack and swept his legs out from under him.
As he landed, Marianne's sword found its temporary home in the back of the guard's neck.
He wouldn't stand again.

@Rin

"AAAH! WAIT TINY BUZZSAW LADY. SO UNCOOL!" The bloody knight of the daneaxes whimpered, as she kept hacking through things like a beaver munches through trees, spinning, jumping, and overall making limbs, wounded people and corpses fly. Unable to keep up, she rested atop of a statue, her eyes gleaming like her twin ax blades.

She was quite the imagery, as almost her entire face was splattered with blood, on top of the horrible combination of Black armor and pink frills. It wasn't surprising that even though the severe beating these guards were receiving from the Iron Roses, THIS vision of hell completely shattered the morale of some who had not been still taken down or trapped in ice, who dropped their blades almost instantly as their knees failed to support them.

"Oh? Don't be shy! Play with Mariah! So Lame!" She added, with a creepy giggle, as both Bobds flanked her, reaching her among the sea of corpses.

"Mariah, please, keep your feisty side in check..." One of the two pleaded.

---

Meanwhile, Rinaldo stroke his moustache in an inquisitive manner, as he set several servings of the pancakes. Quite the bunch, really. Some of them were paying him heed, some of them were treating him like a poisonous snake... well not far from the mark really, but he wasn't biting anymore. He had a mission to somehow salvage the mess after Sult amusingly had to be bold with the Court Mage.

Well, they were really lovely bosoms.

"Hmm, let's see...did you know that a blunder of mine actually helped you to be born, Princess?" Rinaldo ventured to say. "I once had a task to ahem, take care of a certain royalty member, which happened to be your father. Of course, I was rather young, hotheaded, and inexperienced. I literally failed by tripping on a jester's juggling ball. And cue the massive escape, guards everywhere." He continued his tale.

"Of course I had to exit the castle somehow, so I gathered a few blankets, and sticks and tried to make myself some kind of kite wings or whatever." He said. "I took flight."

"It never panned out, really, I broke both my legs on the landing. I thought i'd be captured that time." He added as he took a bit of the serving he had just given to himself. "Delicious, really. Who made this jam?" He coughed for a moment, as he kept talking.

"So here I was, soaked to the bone, and with two broken legs. And guess what happened next? I found some barrels to hide...What I failed to know was they were full of wine... I literally ended up being a failed assassin, with both broken legs, and pickled in wine when I finally reached the safety of my guild!" He said with a cheer.

"But i must admit, given the lovely results, that I'm proud of that particular blunder, princess." The old man finished, as he took another bite.

---

Sult kept her grip tightly as she waded, parried and ocassionally smashed some guard's face in with her hilt. She cut, she danced, but it was still insufficient, as she felt the distance between Marianne and her increasing. There was no way she could match her elegant and fluid movement with her level of skill. She was beginning to paint, in an strenous effort to pick up the pace.

Nero didn't showed to be slowed in the slightlest, being able to keep up the pace with the Delacroix knight almost as if they were a dancing couple, even though his movements were rather furious, rough and undefined. He wasn't really merciful nor clean when cutting others, and he savagely dived within blade's reach in his eagerness to strike first.

"What's the matter, Sult, getting behind?" He taunted with a sneer.

"Shut up! I don't see you faring as well as Sparky, either" She added, as she broke another guard's knee with a kick, sending him yowling in pain.

"I can use Delacroix style...but it makes me girly." Nero shrugged, his smile patent.

Fortunately for Sult's own ego, a brief respite happened, as she eyed two newcomers. After a sneak peek she concluded they were roses, and she could swear to Reon she had seen the small one elsewhere.

"Hey, I know you! You are that tinier warrior than the mini captain!" Sult said, "Martinelle or Martini or umm..." She ventured to say. "I don't know you, but I'm Sult. And this cheeky effeminate asshole here is my twin sibling Nero." She added, eyeing up the new meat. So cute and tiny and the other's so pretty. Okay, Sult, focus! She had to mentally remember herself.

It was then when Nero, had, unbeknownst to the others, had taken the lead into venturing forth. "Nero, Knight-Captain of the Ravens. Nice to meet-!" he added, as he cut someone's neck and blood sprayed. "-you, now let's keep up, shall we?"

Where's the tiny assasin? He added with a thought.

The guards' hastily-assembled defensive wall crumbled under the attack from Martina and the strange paladin. Shields splintered and men died, or fell to their knees in surrender. Soon enough, the entire room had been cleared of active opponents. They were either dead, or had given up entirely on fighting.

"Collect their weapons," Fanilly said, quickly, as she came to a halt near the surrendering guards. "And bind their hands. We'll take them to the guard when we're done here."

So far, they had yet to encounter any undead. It was likely, if the necromancer still had any risen corpses waiting, they were deeper in the tomb. It was strange, though.. on one hand, the sanctity of the dead being undisturbed was hardly anything to complain about. But on the other... what was the necromancer doing? There didn't appear to be any undead, despite the number of coffins lining the walls. At once Fanilly was thankful, but wary.

"We'll be going after the conspirators," she said, turning to address the knights, "With the guards dealt with, we'll be able to focus on them and any undead the necromancer may have risen, so-"

Something whistled past her cheek. Fanilly swiftly turned on her heel, and saw... It looked like a man, standing on the stairs, but his identity was concealed behind a hood and black leather armor. In one hand he held a crossbow, and in the other a shortsword.

"You're looking for me and my fellows, then, are you?" he asked, leaning against the wall as he spoke. When had he gotten there? And why hadn't he dropped in earlier? He was now between the two groups of knights... "I'll be sure to tell them that. I saw the little nem girl with those others. Tch tch tch."

He waved his finger. "That'll cost her one whole sister."

Fanilly took a step forward, raising her sword, only to immediately be met by... another attacker?! wielding a heavy axe, she was forced to step back, her own sword barely deflecting the blow. He was tall, muscled man in steel armor...

Two out of six conspirators were here.

---

As Tyaethe charged, the ground in front of her suddenly blazed brightly, a magic circle igniting bright blue on the ground where there had been none before.

She'd have to act quickly to avoid stepping into it and triggering whatever effect had been planted there!

---

Tili simply nodded to Marianne's words. She understood this was not out of kindness. However, she did not know the way. They had never let her beyond the first floor of the mausoleum. And so, she was left with the others, in silence, hearing them speak amongst themselves. And yet, there was another tone she could hear... she could hear breathing. Her sister's breathing. It was a technique they had used to detect one another, a Nem hunting technique repurposed. That meant, certainly her sister was still alive!

If she could just listen for where the other Nem was, then...!

... As the last guard fell, another sound came from below. It was a rattling noise, almost like dried branches, but deeper.

The bleached white frames of skeletons, carrying swords and shields, proceeded from the depths. Among them was a tall man in black, wielding a longsword in one hand.

"Blast it, the Iron Roses, eh?" he said, as skeletons filtered in around him, "And Neldrin was so sure you'd never find out... well, his skeletons should be useful, regardless."

He shrugged.

Tili's eyes locked on him. He hadn't seen her.

As skeletons filtered into the room, Tili drew the dagger she'd taken from the dead guard. Her eyes were still on that man.

Provided no-one looked directly at her, it would be easy to lose track of her in the upcoming battle...

---

The Princess stared blankly at the man who had arrived. So... that was... quite a story. He'd... tried to kill father? But now he hadn't... and... the girl shook her head. She wasn't exactly in the best mental state, and quite a lot of things hand happened very rapidly. She took a deep breath as she tried to discern what kind of response was appropriate to such an unusual tale. Especially given exactly what it entailed... a situation that could have been the death of her father.

Finally, she spoke.

"I... see," she said, flatly. It was all she could manage in the wake of such a strange story.

Meanwhile, Bethany seemed rather overwhelmed, still embarrassed by Sult's treatment of her. Quaking slightly, the court mage quietly shuffled behind the Princess. While she wasn't particularly much taller then the blonde girl, the sight of her attempting to hide behind Eliabelle was rather absurd.

@VitaVitaAR
Dante watched the man in black as well as the undead around him. She had faced the undead before in an incident where a lower tier necromancer had tried to destroy a farm. But that had only been a few. This was a few dozen. Even though the situation made her nervous, Dante shook it off, and charged, loosing a battle cry as she did.

She sprinted with her kite shield in front of her, sharp end pointing up, and her Battle gauntlet trailing behind her. The first skeleton she came to she planted her left foot in the ground and used her momentum to swing the gauntlet with as much force as possible. The blow struck the skeleton directly at the top of the sternum, the force of the punch combined with the brittleness of the bones made the undead soldier shatter from the shoulders up. Dante then pulled the gauntlet hard to the right and up, smashing the skeleton directly next the other one's head against the damp stone wall, causing it to splinter into pieces.

The skeleton that had been to her left at the beginning chose that moment to try and lob her head off. She raised her kite shield just in time to block the blow. She raised her shield slightly higher and the sword slid along the curve of the shield, she then pinned the sword under her shield and then used her gauntlet to break it in two. Dante the flung her gauntlet up in a backhand blow directly to the undead creature's chin, ripping its head off. Dante then realized that her entire chest was open to attack, and brought her shield in to guard her just as a bolt struck her shield and richoched into the wall.
She muttered to herself,
"Too close."

One of the downsides of running at a full sprint was the difficulty in stopping or making abrupt changes of direction without careening into whatever you wanted to avoid in the first place. Rarely was this more apparent to Tyaethe than with unexpected magic: almost everything else could just be ploughed through or rebounded off. Instead of jumping, which would have been the simple solution, she hurriedly jammed her sword forwards.

The blade found purchase between two of the stones in the floor and worked as a functional pivot to successfully cross the trap, barely not skimming the circle as Tyaethe pulled it free again for the last part of the leap. The tip was now thoroughly ruined for cleanly piercing anything, but the flex needed for such a massive blade to avoid breaking meant that it was still otherwise functional.

And the paladin was still rushing headlong down, leaving the trap for someone else to deal with.

Christina turned her head to stare at the rest of the room. For people who were nearly present at the murder of a monarch, this group was being awfully flippant.

"You there. Old man. Your eyes are likely better than mine. Keep watch." She moved away from the glass doors, going to stand near the princess. For a moment later she was silent, but eventually her feelings of guilt forced her to speak.

"Mage." She said, her words lacking the earlier hostility. "I have been... unpleasant with you. I apologize for my earlier tone."

With the jumble of assailants out of the way and a decent portion of the group having split off to go rescue the captive, Tiral felt as if a few too many of them had decided to charge in headlong. While that was all well and good, there was also the possibility that they could easily walk straight into a trap.
...
Or, well, leave the Captain behind. At the very least, there were a few knights that weren't as aggressively altruistic (if it could be even called that), which... Well, it meant that he was one of the ones left to handle some of the enemies that had slipped through their wide sweep. Somehow.

Fun.

"Captain, leave the archer to me," the mage stated, pointing his dagger at the man's throat. "I haven't as much of a need to close the distance, after all."

Chanting rapidly under his breath, Tiral glared at the enemy at the stairs before letting his magic fly loose. It appeared as a beast of some sort formed from ice, bounding at the enemy and closing the distance with each passing moment. While it hadn't a mind of its own, all Tiral needed it to do was track the enemy. The small patches of ice the construct made would at least give a path to track the man if he decided to flee. If he didn't, well... Encasing a body part in ice usually did a good enough job on its own.

As the magic chased his target, though, Tiral began to create a barrier, this time to deflect any arrows aimed at himself or the Captain. It was built around the notes he had retrieved from the Court Mage's records earlier, but it was far from perfect. All he could manage right now was nothing more than a small screen of ice that would attempt to disperse a blow cast at one or the other, but not both. For the sake of protection, it was near the Captain, but... At best, it'd only stop a single arrow, and at worst he would be the target instead.

Goddesses help him if that ended up the case.

Alaric's swinging barely stopped when the last of the guards had been felled or surrendered, he'd even cut down two surrendering guards without realizing. He wasn't exactly merciful to begin with but he wasn't going to continue executing them merely because they weren't worth wasting time on.

By the time he came down he realized the tiny captain of the Iron Roses was under attack by a pair of people that actually looked important. Closer to the one in steel armor, he made that one his first target. He held his hammer just under the head and braced with one arm to charge, a short murmuring brought flames to his hand that spread rapidly across him to envelope him in a cloak of fire. With that he charged, bringing his shoulder down to ram into the steel-clad man, the flaming cloak wearing off just after the impact to see him following up with an upward strike with his hammer.

---

Ian's ears perked up "ah, thank you, I'll be sure to come by later when this is over" He sat back in his chair and relaxed, seeing how Gillian was intent on watching the pancake guy. He noticed that the princess was still a bit on-edge from the attempt on her life earlier...and that absolutely nothing happening in this room was helping, well almost nothing, the pancakes did probably help a little.

Since stories of her father's near death weren't likely to help her mood Ian stood up and walked over to her, reaching up to put a hand on her shoulder and gesture toward a chair "say, Eliabelle, earlier you said you wanted to meet some of the Rose knights right? I'm guessing you've meet some of the others but I don't think we've spoken yet. My name is Ian, your highness" hopefully he could get her mind off of her death...or her family's

The situation thickened for the moment, as the dry sounds of the undead echoed through the tomb. Sult bit her lip and tightened her grip, as she eyed the remains of the people, probably innocent people, who had been turned and desecrated against their will. Blast Nero, he had been right about the undead in the tomb. But what was infuriating is that she, who had onced mocked the teachings of the High Priestesses, would be forced to use them to actually push through the conspirators and the undead order.

She looked at her surroundings. The nem girl seemed to be raring for a fight against the sword-wielding man, and the pretty newcomer was smashing skeletons already. Marianne wasn't jumping into the fray yet, and Sult knew it was possibly because her combination of thrusting weapons and sorcery was ill fitting for this kind of foe.

The disturbing part was that Nero was smiling open wide."Sult, why don't you put to use some magic of yours, hmm? I'll cover for you." He purred. He deftly flicked his hand, as he threw a knife at the man, as soon as he noticed he was trying to talk them down. "Wrong. I'm a Raven." He added, as he directly jumped into the fray with a frontal charge, which was a dangerous, but ballsy and fierce move. He tackled one of the creatures with the shoulder, who, being devoid of most of the weight of a body, was sent flying backwards, as his sword began describing brutal cleaving arcs, smashing the old bones with sickening crunches.

"AND THE DEAD ARE MY SUSTENANCE! DON'T YOU HAVE SOMETHING BETTER? I CRAVE FOR BARROW WIGHTS!SKELETONS ARE BRITTLE!" He added, seemingly out of it. It was as if something had triggered upon him, a past event maybe. Or the fact he had been called a Rose. He threw a second knife at the man's face.

Sult eyed the frenzy of her brother warily, as he kept attacking. Truly a suicidal tactic, but it seemed that his strength was bottomless and he wasn't afraid of anything. She bit her finger. What had she been doing all this time. Procrastinating, and indulging. And the lack of training and discipline was biting her back. She could lose people in this tomb crawl.

"O, holy Reon, mother of the Sun." She began to pray, as she held her finger drawing a symbol in the middle of the air,mana swirling around her."In this woeful hour, we prayeth. In thy name, I beseech to thine burning passion. Let this haven be a dwelling of thy power. Let Thy LIGHT SHINE THROUGH THE DARKEST PIT! LET OUR FOES, KNOW THE MIGHT OF THY NAME! LET THEM KNOW OF THINE SEARING WRATH, AND NEVER LAY A HAND UPON THINE SERVANTS!" She finished, as her eyes rolled back in her sockets, a pseudotrance sustaining the knight.

"WARD OF REON!" She finished in a commanding tone, as the symbol of the Reonite cult glowed in front of her, exploding in burning light. A glow seemed to envelop the surroundings of the group, and the nearby mindless skeletons who wandered upon the light suddenly burst into flames.

---

Meanwhile, Mariah stood atop the statue, as she eyed herself. Letting a big pout across the face, she actually tossed away her weapons. "I'm bored. So lame." She crossed her arms as she oversaw the situation. Bobd and Bõbd looked at eachother, letting a relieved sigh as this meant probably her sister would actually stop acting so wild.

Of course the sudden appearance of two conspirators in the main room was no good for that, as Mariah's face lit up almost immediately. Failing to understand the situation somewhat, she eyed the crossbowman, as she smashed her fist against her palm. "OOOH I GET IT, LIKE. IT'S PLAYING CATCH NOW! SCANDAL!" She squealed giddily as she dropped down.

And chucked a good 200kg of stone statue towards the crossbow man, because it was his time to catch a projectile after he had failed.

“No problem Ian…..just knock before coming in.” Gillian says, suddenly remembering yesterday’s discomfort. By Reon’s love he’d be happy when that was a far forgotten memory. Still, he’d work to do, so embarrassment could be stowed for a later date. He kept his gaze locked on the elder rogue, debating whether or not to detain him now.

“….Probably best not to talk about such stories for the moment.” He says, evenly. He’d have to talk to the captain about this later. The man just admitted to attempted high treason, and assassination no less, in front of the proposed victims daughter. There was not a statutes of limitations liberal enough in their legal system to help him…insanity plea might still be a pass though.

“…And I think a less personal story might be in order.” He adds, debating whether or not to tell one from his own past or let the old man. The princess already seemed to have her lap (er, hands) full of with the hundi’s attempt at socializing. “How about a game hunting story? I’ve got some if you don’t. 've had my fair share of run ins with white stags and packs of black dogs in my time. Had to deal with a griffin at one point. Mean bastards them."