“Please excuse my colleague for his manners,” Saul rolled his eyes in annoyance. Why did these people insist on kissing up to these politicians? And of course everyone else followed suit, being all friendly to the big power in the room. Though he did admit that the personal gryphon pet of hers might have enforced some of her standing, which was something he did grudgingly respect.

He eyed James as the ranger took her hand and kissed and later on made a slight chuckle when she rebuffed him in such a cold manner. Maybe he would learn how lowly people like Janelle thought of commoners like James... like himself. These leaders and politicians simply saw them as street cleaners mopping up the mess they most likely made themselves, and spitting on the wretched cleaner just to reaffirm how shite they were. Though that wasn't much of a revelation for Saul, and when it had been all those years ago, it didn't really come as much of a shock. This is the way the world worked for people like him. Unless he could find a way to escape it.

Oh great, the corpse. And it looked pretty torn up, like some kind of animal had ravaged the poor lout...or perhaps a beastman of some sort. He didn't bother to take a closer look, there were others in his team that were proving to be better at the cadaver's inspection. So he just leaned against the wall and thought to himself for a moment. They needed to gather data, the little lycan brat who was a local was honestly a godsend for their team, he would prove invaluable to getting some talk out of the Lycan tribes that dwelled around the Port City. And that other brat... Laenaia he remembered wanted to have a chat with the Doctor. Hmmm, not a bad idea at all.

“Are lizardmen capable of such ferocity?” he heard Esyllt say as he rolled his eyes and stepped forward.

“Of course they are. They got big nasty claws just like our friend over there. Which makes our situation more problematic. The masses don't just have one scary minority they can ostracize, isolate and lynch. They can pick and choose. Which makes our job that much harder.”

He doesn't bother looking at the guard captain. At least not yet, he was thinking, formulating a plan behind that thickly haired head of his. He disliked people like Janelle. Hell, he had little to no love for his so called “Queen” he had been forced to swear loyalty to. But this was his new life, his new job and his new assignment. And he would make sure it was taken care of in a professional manner.

“It seems rather obvious that Lycan boy here should catch up with his old friends. And Laenaia has a good point, the Doctor will give us useful information. But I don't want either of you going alone.”

He was playing it safe, at least for them. This wasn't just some rabid dog going around mauling people. These were coordinated hits and no one would appreciate a foreign presence snooping around so it was better for his fellow comrades to play it safe. He eyed James and Esyllt.

“James, you should accompany Laenaia to the Doctor while Esyllt should travel with our loveable wolf.”

That would leave Saul by himself to deal with Varro, the nutty General. In this instance Saul felt safe going alone; if Varro was campaigning around the City it would be too public of a place for anyone to try to maim him. And if anyone tried something foolish, well then he would do the same thing he did to everyone else.

“Anything to add?” he asks the group, waiting for a response.

Search for Diana -Hector
As they made their at through the streets his eyes sting as the sand started to blow into them. As many of times as he visited here he still hated the sand. He was better suited for the seas. Just as it seemed the storm was going to be caught In the storm they reached the weaver's shop. At the entrance was a tall fellow, armed with a bastard sword who was ushering them inside. "COME ON, APPRENTICE OF TEILA! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" He notices the rest of the group following her and nods them inside. "YOU LOT TOO! MOVE!"

He looked at the man who had his face partially covered with a mask. The upper part he did see and it seemed that the man himself was caught in a few storms....and been through some rough battles.
"Charming fellow..." He said softly as they moved into the shop.

Inside he saw a wide assortment of clothing and a the he shop keeper was an elf, shaved bald, looking weary and pale with a pair of pale grey eyes greeted them as they walked in. He heard Nadira say “I suppose we should.. make ourselves acquainted.. we may be here for a while after all” Nadira left them to their own bidding while she made her way around the shop.

He sighed as he walked around the shop why couldn't they be stuck in a weapons shop instead? He asked himself as he picked up a hat. His chin jutted out as he inspected it. 10 years as a pirate he never found the perfect hat. He did for a while but lost it during a raid on one of the Liverian ships. Every hat he's tried just wasn't... Him. He grumbled as he tossed the hat back on the the rack. He glanced to his right his eyebrows raised as he noticed tall woman with a scar across the bridge of her nose wearing a mix of leather and chain mail armor. Women who knew their way in battle always had a strong personality. Which he couldn't resist one who could keep him on his toes.

He slowly made his way over as he looked around. He heard Nadira again "Hello there, as much as I appreciate the shelter from the storm, I don't suppose you know why I was sent here? Or are you simply the look out..”

"Perhaps we are here to witness a beginning of a joke with an elf, a dwarf and a human in the same building " he said with a smile. He then looked towards the elf." Perhaps you would be the one more suited to ask that question to.you are the keeper of the store after all."

Royal blood-Jason Drake

Crown-Prince Xavier leans back in his throne as each one finishes. "I see." He mutters. He then looks at Mikan. "The fact that they sent you tells me how grave this situation is, considering you once broke into this very castle and left a note on my father's bed whilst he slept just to prove that you could." As Mikan looks up at him and shrugs Jason's head nods once and with suppressed smile ' impressive...' He thought as he watched her rest her hands on her hips.
"I was trying to warn you that your security was weak." She stated matter of factly.

Crown-Prince Xavier finally stands and steps down from his throne, as he did he could see a tiny smile on his face as he looked at Mikan. He glances towards each member of the group and nods accordingly, motioning for those still kneeling to stand. As he spoke Jason stood up slowly, his cloak quickly covering his body as he did." You may rise. I am not as formal as my father was." He watched as his daughter moves to stand but with a single motion from Xavier she sits back down, remaining shrouded in darkness.

"Your quick arrival is appreciated." He whistles to the falcon, which quickly moves to his gloved hands. This motion set in turn a few other sounds of moving stone, as the falcon had been standing on a tiny glyph of magic, obscuring it from the great light at the centre of the room. The glyph lit up brightly, and after a few seconds, a large table and a set of chairs were quietly pushed over the glyph by large stone gargoyles. As the glyph is covered by the table and chairs, the gargoyles return to their positions.

Normally we have a large, ornate carpet covering it which we can burn or remove with ease to activate the gargoyles to do... Whatever task the royalty wills them to do... However, the carpet was stained with my father's blood, and thus... It seemed only appropriate that while a new one is being retrieved from Tulerian merchants, that we have something keeping the glyph under control." He runs a gloved finger over the beak of the falcon, and then dismisses it.

It was at this point that he finally motioned for his daughter, and she complied quickly and quietly. Jason noted this. The crown-prince liked the control and power he had, to a degree that he would control his daughters movements when it is not called for.. It is obvious that he will control his daughters words as well just by his pressence.

In the princesses hands was a large bag full of documents. She left it on the table and then sits, the Crown-Prince Xavier sits at the opposite end of his daughter, looking up for a moment at the darkened ceiling and nodding before looking back to the group,
At which Jason narrowed his eyes and while using the cowl of his cloak he hides the fact of looking up at the ceiling, re positioning himself just right to avoid the glare of the light. Perhaps it was guards with bows or cross bows with their weapons trained on them just in case. Despite what he would see up there he would calmly sit after Xavier would say. "Please, sit." He motions with his arms to sit at any of the available chairs. At which he sat at between Xavier and The Princess Penelope as they were directly a accrossed from each other he sat at a 90 degree angle from them so he could watch them both to see their reactions . "Sit, and ask... Any questions you need before proceeding with your investigation."

Mikan then asks "... Your daughter's name is?..." Jason already knew her name, having grown up in the capital and in the castle with his mentor, he was more exposed to the politics and learned names of royalty in other kingdoms as part of his training.

Xavier responds with a softness that didn't seem characteristic to his otherwise uptight appearance. "Penelope... Princess Penelope. She was apparently in the room when it happened... She does not remember anything specific enough to be of aid." Despite his controlling personality it was clear he cared for her perhaps controlling her so he could protect her. She continues to stare at the table, almost entirely unresponsive towards the discussion involving her. At which he thought was strange but if she was there for the murder, for one sheltered as her it would very well be a traumatic time for her still.

Rayne spoke first. "Crown Prince. I must ask for your permission to speak with your daughter."

"...If you must." Xavier responds,

Nodding in silent thanks, Rayne quietly leaves his chair and walks to the other end of the table, sitting next the Penelope. "Hello, Penelope. My name is Rayne Walker," he said with soft words "I work for the Queen's Blades of Renalta. Your father has asked us to help find and bring justice to those that brought tragedy to your house." He would then finaly share some insite to his past which Jason had yet to hear.
"When I was younger, I was the only survivor of a bandit attack, and as the only witness to such horrors, I was forced to retell the events of my terrible experience over and over again. So I understand the weight of what I must request of you, but please understand the importance of it." It was a good plan relating to her to share some common ground. He too lost his father to murders.

"Penelope, I need you to tell me everything you remember of what happened before, during and after the assassinations, in as much detail as possible, take your time if you wish."

Before he could add in anything Ceann clears her throat, “First off, I would ask about the means of death. Was it a weapon? Poison? Magic? More physical means?…” She pauses before continuing, “As well, I would ask of any conflicts your kingdom might have, either foreign or internal.”

. “Xavier, perhaps we could talk with those who were first on the scene, aside from Penelope?” Rayvan asked as well. It would seem they were covering the basics well. He did not touch the documents as Ravyan did. He personally like to hear it from the source them selves. He finally added as each question and statement were answered by Xavier or Penelope, "I would add would anyone have a personal grudge against you? Who would target your family first? Also I would like to speak the men on duty, If you don't mind M'Lord, I noticed people will say more if not in the pressence of some one who is over them. And finally I would like permission to search this Area for clues that may have been missed and perhaps find out how the murders got in here."

“Can we at least play the dart and balloon game before we go first? I want a teddy bear,” -Tristan Whitemarch, Page 3.

---

Amazonia Imperiia

As Richelieu entered the princess' tent, he would find himself surrounded by various spices, his nose would immediately be assaulted by a mixture of pleasant scents. Being closer to the princess, and now in private, he felt the potential of her magical power. A mage who could subvert nature, perhaps more, and not in any way new to the art. Indeed, even the wolf in the tent seemed to be affected by her powers, not reacting at all to Richelieu's entrance. The interior of the tent was fairly barren of materials, there was a table, some tribal paints and brushes, a small chest and no chairs or cushions.

Princess Vyl had been examining a spear when he entered, a well crafted one likely more to indicate her status rather than her fighting potential... Not that he was any real judge. She looks him over with a similar smile she displayed to Queen Alexandria before replying to his question with a sultry tone, growing closer to him with a slight exaggeration to the sway of her hips. "Of course..."

For a moment, she hesitates as she looks into his eyes, likely to try and judge his initial response to her proposal.

"I know where you can get evidence that my mother is not who she says she is..." Slowly, her fingers run across his cheek. "North of here is a temple... Small... Frail... Old... Demonic rituals went on there recently... My real mother is trapped there. Her soul, anyway." She backs off a little, a look of remorse crossing her face. "Men dressed like Imperial Soldiers trapped her there. It took all the magic I had to bring her back. Her soul is trapped there, but you can communicate with her, you can see for yourself what... Extremes the Imperium is willing to take to reinstate their glorious empire." Remorse contorted to anger as she turned away for a moment, sighing, attempting to calm herself down. "It only happened recently, so trying to get my sisters to believe me and investigate has been... A difficult feat, as that whore who has taken my mother's place has ordered nobody to go there for fear of being influenced by demons whom have been roaming the area lately... How pathetically quaint an excuse."

Her explanation finished, she turns to face him again, her more seductive nature returning in tow. "I could guide you there, with your friends, with your Queen as well to keep her out of the demon's hands... It would be safer that way, to ensure none of my sisters may come to harm... I could, though, instead send one of my sisters with you to guide you, if you... Do not trust me..."

---

Kraith would find the experience a familiar one, leaving his body. His ethereal form immediately beelined for his target, a young boy, a servant, a maid really. With the guile found commonly in any goblin he slipped into the boy's mind without disturbing his train of thought whatsoever. Indeed, it was likely one of Kraith's finest possessions of all time. Just in time to receive the last of the boy's orders. "... And the Queen ordered you to polish her spear tip as well. The boar from last night put up quite a fight and she wasn't quite able to make it shine the way she normally likes it." The women were teasing the boy, belittling him, though his lacklustre muscles and lithe frame didn't precisely earn him any traditional points of masculinity. Kraith, however, would find the body to be appreciable much like his own. Familiar in nearly every way save for everything being two feet shorter.

The boy quickly entered the tent, Uphetus was his name, he was reading aloud the list of things to check and clean. The tent was surprisingly vacant of most personal belongings one might expect of a Queen. Perhaps this was merely a temporary abode, or perhaps the Amazons did not put as much emphasis on corporeal belongings as the Free Holds' obsession with it would otherwise would. There was a large chest, though, which Kraith managed to subconsciously influence the maid to look at as soon as he had finished cleaning the Queen's spear tip. An inquisitive touch quietly opened the chest, much to Uphetus' surprise as he scrambles back from it for a moment. The Q-Queen, leaving her ch-ch-chest unlocked? Sh-she has the only k-k-key! No way?! He thought to himself, and little did he know to Kraith. A brief glance into the chest revealed a few documents, a curious looking glowing gem, and some strange green pods akin to peas. Uphetus quickly pocketed the pods before closing the chest. I had no idea the Queen had a sweet tooth! He smiled smugly to himself as he left the tent the same way he entered, much to the confusion of the two guards standing watch.

It seemed that all the useful information that Kraith was going to learn from this boy had been learned as he was quietly returning to his own tent to devour his ill gotten prize...

---

Just prior to all of these events, a mage's circle aboard the ship which the party arrived on flashed to life, and in a flash of smoke Ethyssa Abhorsen appeared. Reinforcements, it seemed, had arrived. After a minute or so of near vomit-inducing dizziness she manages to come to her senses with the aid of another mage on the ship. Thus with a few moments of preparation she followed an Imperium scout into the camp. From there, Garren turned away from his tasks to briefly bring her up to speed: That Kraith and Traxilus had gone together towards the Queen's tent, the momentary debacle that he had created at the diplomatic table, and Richelieu's private invitation to the Princess' tent. After he was finished, he returned to Alexandria's side.

---

First Blow

As the three undead faltered and fell to the rapid bursts of water, the other two turned their attention to the party. Neither of them were armed, thankfully, though judging by their appearance they likely had a decent amount of strength with which to pin down opponents. This variety was likely the kind to try and attack an enemy en masse as opposed to being individually useful or intelligent, and this particular quality was easily identified as they mindlessly attempted to run towards the party. That at least answered the question of whether they could run as they both rushed for Maher.

Yet, still. One of the two that charged forth was smashed to the ground by Erasmus, the reassuring sound of bone being smashed against the face of the shield could only perhaps be bested by smoothness in which the blade cleaved cleanly through its victim. The undead's head rolls down towards the coastline, its companion quickly turning its attention on the now more imminent threat of Erasmus. It lashes out, though it's not too effective...

Still. The undead would not get a second chance as the lined up shots from Alexander roar to life. The first shot misses its mark, landing square in front of the undead gecko several feet away from its target the undead gecko seems to jump in fear and then flee, like a living or intelligent creature would as opposed to these mindless undead. Thailen at this point makes her swing, a solid hit, not quite managing to truly decapitate the undead. It stumbles backward with a gaping cut across its neck almost in surprise as the second shot from Alexander goes off, blowing a solid quarter of the undead's skull apart. It immediately falls to the ground, no longer a threat to either Erasmus or Thailen.

As the three fallen undead started to get up, a loud scream pierces through the surrounding fog. It came from the top of the hill they were standing upon. It wasn't a scream of pain, though, more of frustration perhaps, or a war cry. The shrill tone indicated its owner to be a woman, it could feasible have been Wren Vesper's scream. The three remaining undead hesitate for a moment before lying back down, almost content to simply not move. Thailen, now closer to the undead, could now see the badly damaged insignias on their clothing: Liveria's crest. That answered perhaps why they were so weak... These were likely the witch hunters who came before they did, raised in this form as a mockery to the country and their sacrifice.

They could surmount the hill very quickly now if they chose. Nothing was stopping them at this point.

---

Royal Blood

Penelope looked at Rayne Walker, the dull look in her eyes quietly fading with each passing word as he easily mesmerized her with his near-perfect acting in regaling the tale of his fake parents, fake loss, and fake empathy. Without warning her lip began to quiver as he finished, her eyes watering up as she fights back her own tears. The Crown-Prince sits in awe for a moment at how suave this man had been. A momentary glance between Rayne and Xavier would quietly tell Rayne that he hadn't managed to get away from the skepticism of everyone in the room. No, the Crown-Prince saw straight through him, but didn't know who or what he truly was. At this point that was all Rayne had going for him, thus, the more he acted in front of the Crown-Prince, the more he would give away over time. Troubling, considering that was his unique talent after all. Still... "I... I'm not sure..." Penelope whispers, seemingly trying to remember what happened.

Xavier then turns to the two women as they bombard questions of all kinds, trying to hit every base at the same time it seemed. He takes a deep breath, and then attempts to summarize each answer as best as he can, though a look of mild irritation was on his face. "Cause of death was two arrows though the bodies were severely charred from fire. Foreign or internal enemies?... More than could possible be counted though most prominently your kingdom." He grimaces. "Most likely it was an assassin for hire. Easier to cover one's tracks that way and we don't exactly lack those around here." He considers her last question for a moment. "Aside from the guards whom have no further knowledge of the situation and don't have the proper education to reach any sort of proper deduction... There was a merchant of death. An Ex-King's Ranger, if I recall correctly, who showed up to help determine if the arrows were poisoned or empowered with magic to burst their victims into flames... He found nothing." He looks through the scrolls which were neatly piled, quickly finding the one on the merchant of death. "Has a shop a few streets away named The Rat Skull Charmé. You could try asking him questions, maybe he will be more cooperative with others working for Renalta instead of my own guards."

It was, at this point, that Jason Drake opened his mouth. What was likely intended as a simply honest series of remarks were not taken well by the recently inducted Crown-Prince. Xavier glares at him icily. "Watch your words. The guards have all sworn oaths of loyalty to Liveria. They would die in a heart beat for Liveria. You will not question their honesty to their king again, as any who would hide information pertinent to this case would be hung in the gallows." He straightens himself out, going back to his rather standoffish and distrusting manner that he was known for. "As for you searching the area, I believe my guards, and the merchant of death, were competent at finding clues. Besides, we know all the entrances, and all the hiding places that you wouldn't know to check... We built them."

It was at this point that Penelope looked between Ceann and Rayne. It seemed she finally remembered something after Rayne warmed her up. "The assassin was a woman... I remember that. Her tone, she said something about...Ghosts... Fulfilling a contract." Her face pales. "...Something about visiting another royal family... The only one anywhere near here would be..." Mikan's eyes open widely as she finishes the thought. "... Renalta." She looks at the rest of the party. "... This just became personal."

---

The Hunt for Diana

Nadira's question did not go totally unanswered as the dwarf echoed her sentiments. Stodgy and with a large, braided, brown beard, he fit the stereotype pretty much dead on. "Well? Answer the human's question!" He roars as the woman in chain mail and leather shakes her head in dismay and irritation. Still. The one to speak was the shopkeeper. "Ah, greetings... You are the master's apprentice. I am also an... Apprentice, of sorts." The elf states with a near emotionless tone. "The sandstorm has interrupted our plans." He motions to the basement door. "Inside is a path to a large group of underground chasms. Many passages... The answers await you there." The dwarf didn't seem particularly satisfied with that answer, but he shrugged and sighed, looking to the party members. "Name's Stotgar. I trade in steel."

The man in orange doesn't seem to answer, or even speak. He merely walks to the shop keeper, who hands him a few torches. "We also heard of a killer prowling the streets lately, one that has even put the Crescent Sisters on high alert..." The shop keeper states. "Just remember one thing about those caverns... Some mind flayers have recently arrived there. They don't affect vampires so that's why Diana hides there... Diana wishes to see if you have what it takes to reach her."

Sarah's Request

Eins leaned on the door hard trying to open the apparent stone with force before, suddenly, it gave way. Swinging open quickly Eins manages to recover her footing just before Kasim got to have his wish about saving someone from a bottomless pit. The sound of the stone door falling was also unexpected, it looked as if someone had just braced it where it had been removed before, now on the other side of the door the four could see what was invisible from the other side. It seemed that the Dwarves had used a little force themselves and the hinges had been ripped from their housing.

And so now the stone door was sailing down into the deep pit and Eins, Kasim, Naream and Andrea were faced with a bridge without so much as a safety rail. The wooden boards were half-rotten, the damp in the air could almost be tasted and the scent of tallow burning were all symptoms of what they saw next. In the centre of the 'pit room' was a standing column, upon it were many candles burning from the skulls that served as their sconces and closer to them than away were a pair of dwarves in fine chainmail with dwarven war axes in hand and...



Vacant expressions. Pallid skin. One had brown hair and beard while the other had a dark red hair, beard... and eyepatch. Carrying Tower Shields and War Axes they seemed vacant for a moment until they suddenly seemed to notice the door spinning into the Dark. Suddenly they take up defensive postures and their eyes sharpen... slightly, they still seem as if they are not quite all there. And they both speak simultaneously, Andrea can sense something else behind them, some depth into the temple. She could almost point to the source of it as it forced the dwarves to speak, unlike Naream who sensed nothing at all. "Turn around. Leave." The twin Dwarven voices demand.

Across the bridge Kasim can see, reflected in the light, another doorway of interlocking iron, and a pair of levers on this side of it, and ominously nestled between them he could see shackles attached to the floor. Empty... for now.

---

Carnival of Chaos

As Christoff heads for the inn he attempts to sense for the mage that must be the source of all this, and yet he could sense only an overwhelming aura and stink of magic, where he had expected to find a spark of light, a source of the matter, all he felt was an omnipresent almost sweltering or drowning amount of magic. Hanus meanwhile looks to Tristan. "Be prepared for anything, this is nothing like I was expecting, but whoever is responsible for this has a sick sense of theatricality, the absurd and is 'playing a game with us.' Don't attempt to predict whatever the mind capable of this is thinking, it is a fools errand. Whatever it is however, expect the flamboyant." Aneura meanwhile, and sensibly, was simply preparing for anything.

Christoff's experiment panned out better, and worse, than expected. He sensed nothing as he brushed up against the performers, theatrical illusions, but at the second attempt a crow screamed for his face and only a quick dodge preventing him from getting a nasty scratch for his efforts, while at the least the performers seemed more pretend than real, the crows at least were very capable of real harm, what else might be?

But finally they made their way to the Inn, and its door opened for them. Within it looked like any other Inn you might expect. Except for several things. For one, most Inns don't have a half dozen people standing on boxes floating in the air with nooses around their necks. At a second glance the whole team realised that they were not just people, they were children, and Hanus gasped as he recognised one of Alexandria's nieces amongst them. "Welcome to the show." A voice remarked.



The voice was clearly male and yet the flamboyant pink clothes and flowers in the headdress made him look like one of the performers of this sick carnival. The image moved instantly several times. Whoever it was puppeting the illusion had to be close, but couldn't be sensed by any of them. "Welcome to my Carnival. Now before any of you are so foolish as to try and attack, these six lovely children are standing on boxes of hard illusion, bear in mind that the nooses around their necks are not. If you approach them I will drop the boxes and they'll have a very real hanging."

Three of the illusory speakers now stood on the 2nd floor railing. "This carnival is special. Within it there are several big surprises waiting to annihilate the town, but I am not without a sense of fair play. For each I have created a main attraction. IF you can defeat the attraction, you can reach the surprise and put an end to it. But there are rules!" He pointed dramatically. "One person to each attraction, attempt to work them as a team and i'll set off the surprises early and if you survive you'll have to be the ones to explain to Queen Alexandria how you got her family annihilated so thoroughly. There are four attractions. One each."

Small illusion signs appeared near the team.

"Gauntlet De Pendules. Galerie des Glaces. The Circ De Cauchemar, and the La Galerie Tournage." He remarked. "Each has its own dangers. If you fail, you will die. If you succeed, well, your prizes will be waiting here for you." The tone of voice screamed that he was smiling beneath that mask. "Choose champions of the thrice damned Renalta. And choose well. For each of you have a single task to perform, and to fail is unacceptable isn't it now."

The Hunt for Diana - Mathew

---

"COME ON, APPRENTICE OF TEILA! WE DON'T HAVE ALL DAY!" the tall man boomed as the winds began to throw whips of sand through the air. Muttering a thank you to the man who ushered them in, and took to browsing the shop for a few minutes. The clothes weren’t of poor quality, nor were they of exceptional workmanship. If they lingered long in Southblood, Mathew might do well to come back and acquire a few more nondescript pieces of clothing.

While admiring a particularly fine sand-silk tunic near the scarred woman, he heard the mage speak up, “Hello there, as much as I appreciate the shelter from the storm, I don't suppose you know why I was sent here? Or are you simply the look out..?”

The pirate made his retort, focusing the question unto the shopkeeper. The dwarf hollered in agreement, demanding answers -- was the stodgy dwarf on their side, then? The shopkeeper told of what they might find in the tunnel, ”Mindflayers? Well, there’s always something, isn’t there?” Mathew asked rhetorically, casting out his mental net to glean some unsaid information from the four strangers in the shop if possible. The elf’s mind was curiously silent, as still as a mountain pond. The woman was ambivalent, obviously not a part of their sojourn into the caverns. Stotgar seemed excited to go delving, even moreso at the mention of mindflayers.

When trying to read the door-guard, however, Mathew only received a reply. He heard a Nice try echo from the orange man’s mind. Mathew glanced at him and gave an innocuous smile, replying, Can’t blame a man for trying, can you?

His light probings finished, “Well, I suppose it’s down into the underground we go. I hope no one is claustrophobic.”

Amazonia Imperiia

Ethyssa

In a flash of smoke and magic Ethyssa found herself deep in the jungles of the Amazon, and after taking a moment to collect herself from her nausea of teleportation, she was led by another mage to the negotiation table where Garren expediently caught her up to speed with the current affairs. By that time the negotiations between the two parties were underway.

Garren had explained his misstep, and the mockery and belittlement brought unto him by the princess, and Ethyssa could feel the embarrassment in his voice. It was not a good sign that the start to the negotiations had begun so roughly. Ethyssa listened to the two queens talk for a moment, both spoke of the greater good for the Amazon but they each had a different opinion on what exactly was the greater good, and so the negotiations were going nowhere. Ethyssa stepped away from the negotiations to look at the entirety of the Amazon camp.

Aside from the negotiations it was quiet in the Amazon camp. In the distance the mighty trees of the Amazon jungle towered and the canopy grew so thick everything below was cast into darkness, and from the distance the forest looked like a wall of shadows which encircled them. Out there in the wilderness was the true Amazon, beyond the safety of campfires and tents, brutal and foreboding in it's primal nature. Ethyssa admired the Amazons who called such a place their home. She admired their strength and way of life. There seemed to be little false pretense among the amazons for they did as they pleased when they pleased, and if such a thing meant one was uncivilized then the Amazonians were better for it.

In a very odd sense, Ethyssa felt at home. She too had been born into a culture of war and survival, but the Amazons faced another variable which she did not understand: The jungle itself. Because of this parallel Ethyssa felt drawn to the Amazonians and made her way deeper into the camp. All around her ferns and plants grew greener than she had ever seen elsewhere. The mighty trees grew so thick it would take a group of men to encircle one completely, and they grew so tall they matched the heights of any manmade structures she had seen before. Here where the canopy was less thick vibrant starlight would flood through and illuminate everything in a beautiful harmony of blues and greens; The jungle was intoxicating.

She found her way to a wooden rack which hosted a small collection of wooden bucklers and bow staffs, likely used by the Amazonians to train on the spear and shield. A smile cracked across Ethyssa's face. There was no weapon she knew better than a spear. She set her own spear aside and picked up one of the training staffs. It was noticeably larger than her own, to account for the Amazons greater height and stature, but not unmanageably so.

She twirled the staff about in her hands for a moment, accustoming herself to it's weight and center of mass. Not far from her two Amazonian women were looking her way, and in the dim light of the campfire Ehtyssa thought she saw a smile. Ever since Ethyssa had stepped off the boat she had felt the foreigner, not only because the Jungle was new to her, but because the Amazonian's themselves seemed more guarded with Imperial soldiers about. Ethyssa didn't have to be an expert on their culture to sense tension in the air, and some uneasiness among soldiers from both parties. If there was any true mutual ground between Ethyssa and the Amazons, it was the love the spear and of the exhilaration that comes with striking an opponent, and perhaps on this ground she could break the ice.

"Care to spar?" Ethyssa asked the two Amazonians, talking to neither directly. "I would be remiss if I leave here without sparring an Amazonian."

"But you can't cheat," Ethyssa said with a sly smile. "So that mean's you have to put those guns away," she said as she flexed her arm, hoping the bad joke would warrant a smile but unsure if the Arizonians understood the concept of it.

Amazonia Imperiia; Kraith

Kraith disentangled himself from the boys mind and came to with a smile. "Well isn't that interesting." He got up. "C'mon, and validate everything I say." Kraith asked of his comrade. "It's vital, trust me."

Heading back towards the Queens Tent he boldly approached the guards, he still looked busy, but now he looked as if his business was with the Amazons guarding the tent. They were probably amused by his small stature, if they paid him any attention at all beyond their duties as guards. "Excuse me, I am just a humble visitor, a representative of the Queens Blades of Renalta here to help resolve the dispute, but as much as I try and avoid involving myself with the affairs of others I am, at heart, an honest Goblin and thought you should know."

He scuffed his feet in the dirt as if embarrassed. "I saw the 'maid' you have for the queens tent, Uphetus I think he said his name was, when he came out of it he offered me some strange green pods that he said he'd picked up while 'cleaning' the Queens tent. I think he might have stolen them, there was also something about a gem. He didn't seem too bright, but I thought you should know, if the boy is simply a liar or really did steal from the Queens tent, while during your watch, I would hate to see something happen to exotic beauties such as yourselves being punished for allowing that little thief or liar to get away with it." He hung his head.

If both of the Amazons went to beat the truth, and purloined goods, out of the boys hide then so be it, he'd move into the tent, straight to the chest and take the glowing jewel carefully fortifying his mind. If only one of them went he'd think of something, perhaps his friend could distract her long enough for him to do the same. If they wanted him to go with them, to prove the validity of his accusations that'd be a wrinkle. But since the boy had the stolen goods and the queens chest was suddenly missing them surely his word would be taken over that of a boy they thought little of. Either way the boy's fate was beneath his concern.

First Blow - - Thailen Vicarris

---

Thailen grimaced as Alex's shot finished off the undead she had partially beheaded. Bits of skin and blood splattered across her face, which she quickly wiped away. Planting her foot on the undead's torso, she wrenched her sword free and looked towards the remaining three foes. To her surprise, they simply laid back down. Perhaps the lich controlling them had been distracted elsewhere, or perhaps it was an attempt to lure her and her companions in. Noticing the Liveria crest upon their uniforms, she gave a silent curse and turned towards the hilltop.

Thailen didn't know how many men Vesper had brought with her, but five was a sizable amount to lose in any case. It was clear that things were not going well for the fellow Liverian. She looked back towards her companions, resting her sword on her shoulder. "Don't bother with those ones," she said, motioning towards the prone undead. "They're too slow to be dangerous unless you get close." She absently looked towards the remnants of the dead soldier at her feet. "So don't get close, and let's keep moving."

With that, she turned back towards the hill and began to jog up the slope. She didn't know how many more undead hid within the fog around them, but she did know that it would be better to face them alongside whatever remained of the Liveria witchhunters. The dead weren't the only ones who could find strength in numbers, and definitely weren't the strongest when doing so. And from the hill, they would have the height advantage, with Maher and Alex able to harrass any undead who attempt to climb the slope.

First Blow - Erasmus

---

When he smashed his shield into the ghoul’s face he heard the satisfactory sound of metal crunching bone and flesh, it made for a disturbingly squishy noise with the state of decay but it was nonetheless the sound of achievement. When the beast fell back, a large clump of blood followed it, some hanging grimly off the front face of his shield, something he’d have to clean later. The fallen ghoul was dispatched with a brutal cut that ended the feral movements of the fallen soldier. The decapitated head rolled off, the face caught in a feral snarl that could almost be seen as hypnotizing; the ferocity of the undead existed if when they were killed … again.

He spun to face the remaining zombies in time to see one of Alexander’s shot thud into the damaged head of Thalien’s opponent sending blood, brain and bone is a gruesome arc. He smirked slightly as he noticed the fact it’d covered Thailen who proceeded to wipe it off with a disgusted look upon her face. The other three undead lay down as a shriek cut through the air; this was a worrying sight as undead never backed down unless they were ordered to. It made no sense for the lich to want to try and lead them into a trap; the only question was whether they’d find an alive Wren or an undead one. Looking down he saw his own gore-covered blade and grimaced; he turned back to the corpse tried wiping the mess onto the uniform of his slain opponent without much success.

What had once belonged to the zombie had no intention of returning; they clung desperately to his blade like a parasite clings to its host. After a few wipe that acheieved naught more than smearing it further up the blade he gave up with an exasperated click of his tongue and turned to face the rest of his group. He’d now have to carry his blade until he got it clean again; if he sheathed it all the body matter would wipe off inside the sheath and rust the blade out. He’d learned this the hard way in his first year as a crusader; having your blade snapped in half during combat was not a desirable thing.

After he finished wiping his blade he noticed the Liverian crest adorning the tattered uniform of the undead he’d slain, when he looked across the other four corpses revealed a similar story. The state of the decay was what concerned Erasmus, they seemed to have decayed too much for how soon their deaths had been, unless Wren’s troop had been in this blasted land for longer than Erasmus had been lead to believe. Thalien spoke about leaving the undead and moving on to reach Wren, they had to try and reach her before she was overwhelmed by the undead yet Erasmus loathed to leave a creature behind him, capable of surrounding them when they reached Wren. The thought that another blade would lend a great asset to their group overwhelmed the need for a reliable escape path; they could always cut their way through.

“Aye, we can’t afford to tarry much longer without risking the life of Wren and whoever she has left alive; her blade and knowledge of the area will be crucial to slaying this lich. Whoever takes rearguard keep a close eye on these though, we don’t need to be ambushed while we’re not ready. Also if anyone sees that damn gecko around, can you kill the bloody thing it’s been around far too much for my liking” Erasmus commented grimly; his nerves now on edge over the whole theatrical appearance of their mission so far. There had been far too much knife-in-the-dark and hidden plans for his liking; this lich appeared to be both powerful and cunning, a mix most foul when facing a master of the necromantic arts.

He set off after Thalien, being very careful to keep a modicum of distance between himself and the undead, catching up to her with a few powerful strides before settling into a rhythmic pace. He found himself sending an idle prayer to his mysterious deity; some being that had existed within the Wells of power and had reached out to him during his ‘experience’. His fingers ran over the smooth, silver well engraved into the pommel of his sword; it gleamed unnaturally bright in the land although this was due to the highly polished nature of the metal, not any magical property. He readied his sword and lifted his shield as they got close to the crest of the hill, ready for a battle on the other side.

The Hunt For Diana

Nadira looked toward the shop-keeper who had responded to her, then gave the dwarf a glance. “I'm Nadira, although it seems everyone here seems to know that already” troubling thought that.

”Mindflayers? Well, there’s always something, isn’t there?” she heard her companion say followed by “Well, I suppose it’s down into the underground we go. I hope no one is claustrophobic.”

“Not claustrophobic, just not a fan of the underground” Nadira shuddered. <Turns out I have to go underground, I do hope your enjoying the dessert brother> she had not heard a lot more from her brother, she hoped he was ok, at this distance she couldn't feel his pain so really had no way to know.

Nadira sighed and motioned for anyone but herself to lead. “I suppose we better be going then, anyone feel free to lead on.. I'd rather bring up the rear”

As she waited for someone to make she shuddered once more, perhaps coming home wasn't such a good idea after all. Hopefully Diana wasn't hiding too deep in these chasms and they would not have to deal with mindflayers.. wishful thinking but a girl could hope.

Sarah's Request

Eins Nimgrud

---

"By the clocks of..."

Eins, in her efforts to push open the door, which she had thought to still be intact and raher hard to move, had almost slipped into the abyss awaiting into the other side. Having just regained her balance at the edge, she took a step backwards and collapsed on her rear. The mere thought of herself falling into the abyss and sailing through nothing made her feel sick.

"Well at least the doo..."

Past the rotting bridge and on some sort of column marked with several candles on skulls, was two dwarves, armed with those axes and those tower shields, square things meant to fend off a lot of blows. She brightened up for a moment, before the dwarves spoke in those... eerily monotone voices. Sword drawn quickly, she stepped forth to give some cover for those behind, though still she remained wary should a dagger suddenly fly towards her spine. Questions raced through her mind, with no answers to still them. The dwarves telling them to go away, why they were still here, and the unnerving feeling that they had been caught like a fly. Even the thing inside her head was squirming, sensing something was amiss.

Two dwarves on a bridge, where it was only wide enough for two men to stand abreast. It would be foolish to do so however, for a sudden movement from one could unbalance the other, or worse, fall off the bridge.

Edging cautiously towards the bridge, and stopping just short of actually standing on the rotted wood, she called out to the dwarves, "We.. We mean you no harm. We have come to rescue you." There was no need to mention they had come for an artifact, these dwarves seemed like they have seen a lot. They look rather pale and ... tired, perhaps? It was as if they haven't slept in days.

Sarah's Request

Her nostrils flared and eyes widened as the door was opened and she stared ahead, her skin crawling as she felt a wave of unease come over her as she sensed disturbing energies from ahead. The warrior among them nearly fell into a pit but she ignored it, staring at the Dwarves. Or more to the point their vacant expressions and the monotone of their voices when they warned them to go back. Gritting her teeth as she recalled seeing something similar on several occasions in her past. She spoke up after the warrior woman told the small folk that they were here to rescue them and she let out a dry and humorless chuckle in response.

"Don't bother." She murmured to the party, "I sense a... kind of magic emanating from them... psionics..." She growled and gritted her teeth, her eyes narrowing as she put a hand on her blade strapped to her waist. "Seeing as we are in the Underdark... might be Ilithids, your kind calls them mind flayers, those Dwarves are being controlled... weak minded idiots, wandering into places they shouldn't." She muttered. "Either we obey whatever their masters tell them to... or we need to take them out." She looked at Eins and smiled sweetly, "Doing our best to knock them out or otherwise restrain of course... because in this state they will have no difficulty whatsoever trying to kill us, if that is the wish of whatever or whoever is controlling them."

She snorts, "Can try and see if I can seduce my way to their minds, assuming these Dwarves know how to appreciate Drow beauty such as myself." She traces a lock of hair back from her face, not really looking forward to seduce a bunch of Dwarves of all things, mind controlled ones at that. "We either go back, try to break the hold of whatever is controlling them... kill them... or try and knock them out." She shrugged, "I'm willing to try and see if my words and appearance might snap them out of it, unless one of you or bookworm over there has a better idea."

Here Cometh the Wolves

---

James, in his investigations upon the corpse notices nothing at all out of the ordinary. As far as he could tell, the doctor's analysis was indeed correct that it was some sort of beast that had attacked. Meanwhile, the captain begins to answer Esyllt despite Saul's comments. “Truthfully, the lizardfolk are barbaric compared to others of the kingdom. Many hold to their primitive heritage even to this day, and it brings conflict. I have no doubt in my mind that they are capable of such savagery,” he grunts.

As he speaks, his two deputies tense and hiss out venomously, glaring at Saul and Esyllt. The first of the half-breeds speak up, “The lizard tribesss are proud folk and conduct themselvesss with honor! We have had thissss conversssation before. Do not inssssult our kind.”

The captain casts back an irritated glare at the duo, “Which is why they look upon you as illegitimate, unworthy and impure, simply because you are not completely of their kind.” The two clam up quietly and cast wary glares at each other, the second shaking their head when the other seemed tense enough to spring into action.

Jellial, in his transformation, would be regarded by the half-breed guards with awe. The one who initially claimed insult, lets out a soft cooing noise in their impressed feeling, “A magnificent warrior if I ever ssssaw one, in your beastly form, right Shria sisssster?” The one known as Shria nods affirmative, “Yesss Bassstian. Very...” The captain simply regards the action with morbid interest before shrugging, moving on to the next question.

“As far as I know, all victims have been human or at least close enough to it. Some half-breeds, there was even a known or two with chunks bit out of it...” He shakes his head, “The one thing I find awful suspect is that none of the victims have had any ties to the lycans or the lizard tribes. Not a single one had such blood in them. You would think, with some of Varro's people being targeted, if it was a political action, that there would be some of his closest men, particularly, mostly lizard-kind, in the numbers.” He leans back against the table, “There's been racial tension brewing here. Two main instigators. You have the scaley tribes then this idiots that parade around calling themselves 'the Dragoon Knights.' They like to fancy themselves as saving the world from the lizardy-menace or some such.” He waves his hand, “Either way, if its not the lizards or moon beasts themselves holding some sort of vendetta against two of the triad, then my coin would be on them.” Saul, while the captain is speaking, feels as if something were not right in what was being said, as if there was something vital omitted.

As Jellial carefully carves with his claws, despite the awkward appearance to the fresh cuts in dead flesh not matching precisely with those on a living victim, he will begin to notice a pattern. The lines were all too even and the spacing too different from how a lycan would be leaving marks. At least, a lycan not of his size. It would seem whatever left the marks was precise and smaller in comparison. The smells, though, that Esyllt mentions... As he breathes in deeply, he would slowly begin to notice a lack of... any real identifying smell. It was as if the man had been washed clean of any smell that could make it clear who did it... Or at least, he was smothered with so many different ones that it would be impossible to tell the difference. One scent lingered stronger than the rest, though Jellial could not possibly begin to place it.

That all established, the Captain sighs and rubs his eyes, "Regardless, if you want a word with the good doctor, Shria here can escort you. Bastian can guide you to the lycan den, since it moves about. I can get you to Varro, if you need the guide, Saul." Tipping back his helmet and mussing up his sweat-soaked hair he grunts, "Name's Rexel, by the way."

---

Cease Fire

---

As the temple goes up into a vast panic, men and women alike bolting to their feet and readying their weaponry, a fierce cry echoes out through the chapel as doors smash open. A bugle goes off outside and a small chorus of alarmed screams rise to meet it. Outside on the archer's nest, blood would flow like rain as a slaughter begins. Alida looks around, eyes hardened and waiting for the next attacker as Taigyn swings a warhammer into one hand, tired gaze sharp and looking for trouble.

Sisera lets out a soft curse and moves out of the direct line of fire, his magic would be useless with so many Templar in the room. Meanwhile, feet drum upstairs as four bowmen appear, one of which must have made his way from the archer's nest. The men draw and begin to aim down upon their enemy.... The peace meeting below.

Taigyn steps forward, pointing with his hammer and shouting out a word of power, light erupting in a burst before the eyes of two of the archers, “Shields up!” he commands. The arrows that are released by the panicked archers fly wide, though Draza would notice one whiz past, obviously intended for her petite form. Alida lets out a cry and begins to direct an assault on the attackers upstairs... Before two of her own turn about, blocking off one of the staircase side-by-side, weapons raised against their allies. Her eyes widen in realization that Davian had been right about traitors in their midsts.

At the front entrance, two loud thuds ring out as the guards fall flat to their death and a squad of five, their leader at the forefront steps over the dead, letting out a bellow of challenge. It would seem the Papacy had truly arrived to crash the party now. Attention drawn to the entrance, Renaldo would not even react as two arrows fly loose, striking him in the back. He begins to raise his arms to cast a spell, lips curled up and crying out, “This is for Renegade...” before he looks down at the sensation of warm wetness spreading over his chest... and both arrows protruding through him. His legs collapse out from beneath him, and as his face hits the floor, he lets out a very delayed, “Ow...”

Upstairs, the two mercenaries of the Papacy seem to snap out of it at Lothar's command, faces twisted in fury. “No pay in surrender, bastard,” one informs the Wolff heir simply, loosing an arrow at him. While Lothar fails to dodge, his armor stops the arrow from even reaching his skin. The other mercenary draws out his dagger and lunges at Alhvaharyis, eyes wide with terror and a damp spot obvious upon his leggings.... And the weapon bites into the mage's flesh, drawing a long, shallow cut across his face, sending blood obscuring his vision.

Sarah's Request

---

Kasim was rather amused when he saw the door shoved forward despite his own prediction. He was even further amused by the pit beyond, and others in the group might have heard him whisper "I knew it" as the door sailed into the blackness below. Eins didn't follow it, which was all well and good, but then mage fellow didn't fall and that was somewhat unfortunate. When he saw that the room beyond was one large pit with some some bridges spanning it, Kasim retained hope that maybe he'd get his chance for heroism in the future. For a brief moment he considered bumping Naream off a bridge and then saving him, but he decided that wouldn't work as being both the cause and solution to a life-threatening problem wasn't very heroic at all.

The dwarves out on the bridge finally caught Kasim's attention when they spoke with their eerily synchronized voices, telling them to turn back and leave. This was to be expected, of course. Just as bottomless pits were only natural in ancient temples, ominous warnings to turn back were also natural. Whatever malign force lurked in this place would prefer not to deal with interlopers at all, if possible, so scaring them away made sense. As the warrior and spider lady each had their say, Kasim noticed the door and levers on the other side of the pit, which was clearly their only way forward. Forward was the only obvious, of course, since the entrance had sealed shut. Odd then that they would be told to turn back, since they couldn't actually leave; did the force controlling these fellows on the bridge think they would just wander the halls until they had their minds stolen as well? How would...

"Oh." Kasim glanced at the spider lady with a slightly smug smirk. "Darkhammer said if we slept on the black stone our minds would be stolen from us. The Dwarven group came in here two days ago, probably unaware of the danger of sleeping here. It could be mind flayers anyway, but whatever is doing this is in control of the temple structure itself, if it can take control of anyone sleeping within. I hope it's only a few of them though, and that whoever was left on watch realized what was happening and hasn't slept yet, if they still live."

Kasim pulled off his gloves and then readied his bow, with an arrow nocked but held relaxed for the moment. "I figure the only way to free these dwarves of this control is to get them out of here or kill whatever is causing it. We should avoid killing them if possible, but we must get past them if we wish to retrieve the artifact. If we can keep one alive, I can do some digging and try to get some information." He purposely avoids mentioning his telepathic power, though anyone aware of the phenomenon would likely understand his meaning anyway. "So unless those dwarven fellows have somehow been broken of their mental chains by listening to us talk, I think the time has come to actually deal with them." Kasim draws back on his bow with his full strength, aiming for the dwarf on the right with the intent to try to hit him in his weapon arm to incapacitate but not kill him with one powerful blow, but he waits to fire until the dwarves show some sign of aggression or one of his companions moves to attack first.

"Hmm?" Naream said, somewhat distracted as he looked up from his tome, somewhat annoyed at the interruption, raising his eyebrows when he looked past the others up ahead at the door and what lay beyond, so they had it opened? Good for them. He stood up and walked forwards, missing whatever the Dwarves were saying, neither did he notice anything out of the ordinary so he looked at the others somewhat oddly as they spoke but decided not to show it, merely nodding along and looking neutral. When the human ranger mentioned the bit about the warning of Sarah Darkhammer he resisted the urge to chuckle at Andrea's expense, mostly because laughing at a Drow female usually meant a swift end of one's life, granted they were both Queens Blades but he felt that she was more Drow than a Queensblade, he didn't question that, he had his own goals and reasons to act like a happy Queens Blade, several others in the same service were similar he suspected.

"We can't kill the stunty folk, correct? Well we can but it isn't preferred, such a shame, their bones are quite strong, they would make excellent wights, bit short perhaps but still quite deadly." He pondered for a moment and then saw the range aim a arrow, figuring they would attack, since the whole seducing attempt, while amusing to imagine the effectiveness of that against mind controlled targets, was probably doomed to fail... and maybe have her end up being slashed to bits by the axes of those Dwarves, he opened his tome and opened his mouth. "Miulk'ars Usstan lar pholor dos, doer fotus!" He shouted and a aura of gree energies outlined his form and tome and four orbs flew forth from the magical volume in his hands, landing upon the bridge, materializing into four skeletal wights, Naream staggered but shook his head.

"Kev dosst saroless." He said and in response the wights let go of their weapons, falling on top of the bridge or in the pit below. "Ply'uss l'Harglukkin, dro." After that command the wights started to march forwards, their glowing eyes on the Dwarves in front of them. "My wights... will try and subdue them... relatively unharmed." He said through gritted teeth as he wept the sweat from his brow, it had been a long time since he had called upon any magic. He took a few steps just in case however, not reason for him to be on the front lines, turning around so he could keep both a eye on the bridge and towards the way back, never let your way of retreat be unguarded after all, wouldn't want anything to sneak up behind them while they were distracted by the Dwarves.

Royal Blood- Rayne

"The assassin was a woman... I remember that. Her tone, she said something about...Ghosts... Fulfilling a contract." Penelope's face paled. "...Something about visiting another royal family... The only one anywhere near here would be..."

Mikan's eyes opened widely as she finished the thought. "... Renalta." She looked at the rest of the party. "... This just became personal."

Rayne was not an emotionless person, but rarely were his true feelings visible to others. A weakness of his, however, was the feeling of being toyed with. And the fact that they expected him to believe the lies was downright insulting. Personal indeed. One did not need to be observant to see the true anger on Rayne's face, and he was completely fine with this. Finally, after so many days of showing none of himself to his companions, the persona and the true man inside agreed on something: this assassin wasn't fooling anyone, and would pay dearly for attempting to do so.

But perhaps the others did not see what he did. Lying convincingly, Rayne had learned over the years, was much easier than getting someone to believe the truth they did not understand. This conversation had to be moved in the right direction for the group to properly do their job, and who better to steer it than him?

Realizing that this would require Rayne to 'discover' the truth with the rest of the group, he allowed them to believe that his anger was a reaction to the news that his queen was being targeted and moved on with a perfectly reasonable question, one to bring the right later questions forward despite the answer being meaningless. "Wait, Penelope... How did you hear the assassin speak of this other planned attack? Who was she talking to?"

"I don't know..." She said. "If there was someone else in the room, I... I didn't see..."

Allowing a moment for that to sink in with the rest of the group, he continued with another question, slipping a bit of Confused Farmboy into his expression while asking "Penelope, where were you during the attack? Did the assassin see you? Why would she say these things in your presence?"

"I was... I was in the middle of the room. I'm not sure why I wasn't killed... The assassin must have seen me. I'm not sure why... This is all too much..."

"I'm sorry if this is upsetting you," Rayne lied. He then looked to his fellow Blades. "From what I can gather, this means that the assassin was aware of Penelope's presence, likely knew exactly who she was, and fed her the information she has told us of a contract, ghosts and our Queen being in danger." Of course, anyone could have already come to this conclusion on their own, but bringing Rayne along on a journey of played out discovery allowed for even the slowest of companions to keep up. "We must warn the queen of impending attack despite the fact that she is likely not truly a target of this assassin. I suggest we stay in the city and investigate further, find out how the assassin was so able to walk through these halls unseen, and question the former ranger on what he knows."

Turning to the Crown-Prince, he continued. "You and your daughter are the likely targets of this assassin, who I assume is still in town, waiting for your bolstered defenses to return to normal in the wake of the forged discovery of her intention kill Queen Kouri. If you can manage to somehow put even more defenses between your family and harm, do so as soon as you can. Keep watch over your daughter." A raised eyebrow over the last statement, adding other meaning than spoken, hopefully told the observant Xavier that he should not trust Penelope. Looking then to Mikan and the other party members, he concluded "I intend to go to the Rat Skull Charmé shop. If you've nothing to add to all to this, we should send that message to Kouri and go there immediately."

Alhvaharyis -- Cease Fire

Alhvaharyis was bleeding. He registered this, but only in a very distant fashion. He was bleeding. In all his years, his plans of vengeance, his desire for justice, this was the first time he had bled... and he was going to die. Oddly, he felt no fear. It was as if this were happening to another individual, and he were but a spectator of his own demise. He heard his master's words again, but, curiously, of all the lessons and words of wisdom he'd been imparted, the memory that surfaced was one of a damp summer afternoon. It was incredibly humid, and they were in the garden, sitting cross-legged on the grass. Alhvaharyis was watching a preying mantis devour a butterfly under the shadow of a bush.

"The strong prey on the weak, and the weak succumb," his master had said. "The weak, however, are doubly weak when they lose the will to fight. Remember this, Alhvaharyis. Never lose the will to fight."

At the time Alhvaharyis had simply nodded, confident in the fact his passion, unquestionably just, could never falter. But now...

A flame stirred within Alhvaharyis. Like a roaring inferno, it consumed everything inside him with voracious hunger. Was this how he was going to die? Like a sheep, too terrorized to do anything but await his slaughter?

No.

An inhuman snarl rising from his throat, Alhvaharyis curved his hand. Within the guard he implanted a powerful desire to simply stop living, equal to his own newfound desire to keep on living.

At the same time, Lothar grunted from the blunt impact of the arrow. There was no sharp, cutting pain, which was a good sign. Still, that arrow would probably leave a nice bruise. Regardless, Lothar counted his blessing as the arrow could have made his day quite miserable. He looked at Alhvaharyis because of the fact that some primal noise was coming from him, but then remembered that they were in the midst of a fight. Lothar returned his attention to the guard who shot him. He drew his sword with his dominant, right hand and quickly charged at the bowman, hoping to engage the bastard in close combat.

With such a magical compulsion assaulting the enemy with the bowman, he had little chance of resisting as the knife inches closer to the archer's own throat before slitting it. Alhvaharyis sags with exhaustion as a great deal of his innate magic well is drained with the single spell. Much more and he would be drawing far too deep and potentially risking his life. He chuckled, a twisted smile on his face, staring into nothingness. Meanwhile, Lothar, charging the Papacy Mercenary with the bow, he slips inside his defense and strikes fast and true, managing to sever the archer's hand as his sword slices through the bow he uselessly tried to block with. The archer reels back with a terrified scream, clutching at his hand as he goes into shock. Whether Lothar decided to end it for him immediately or let the bleeding take its toll, it mattered not. He would meet his fate regardless.

Lothar stepped forward, following the guard. He reached with his hand and forecefully grabbed the archer's non-injured arm in an attempt to once again dig through his mind to see if he could find out anything that the mercenary would know.

As Lothar attempts to rummage through the mind of the mercenary, searing pain assaults his thoughts accompanied with flashes of terror and an image of himself, blood smattered on his armour. Lothar recoils back suddenly, gaining nothing from him. There was nothing on his mind but fear for his life.

Alhvaharyis stepped forward and tried to slit the guard's throat with his dagger.

Alhvaharyis misses with the dagger as the guard stumbles back, clutching his wrist, screaming and pleading for mercy.

Snarling, Alhvaharyis bent down and tried to stab the guard in the chest repeatedly. "Will you at least die properly, you Papacy scum?!" he exclaimed. The man continues to scream and attempt to break away, still managing to scream away. As he manages to slip out of Alhvaharyis' grip, he promptly expires with a solid thump to the ground. Alhvaharyis kicked the corpse.

"We should go. I hear more fighting."

As Alhavharyis was dealing with the dying guard, Lothar returned his attention to the window where the third man had tried to jump out the window to safety. Apparently, he had been able to find his grip, and pull himself to safety as Lothar could see him scurrying away to the archer's nest. Lothar muttered "Damn it."

Even as he spoke, Lothar would witness a Templar lunge forward to attack the mercenary. The Mercenary raises a shield to block the attack, only managing to catch the weapon and leave the two grappling for control of the fight. The two continue to struggle, but apparently the Templar was unaware of the ledge behind them. With a crack, the wood splinters behind the mercenary and they both go tumbling to their death. With the two large warriors out of his line of sight, he would be able to spy the archer's nest now clear of any living soul, the dead of both Templar and Rheinfeld Republic soldiers scattered over the nest.

"Lothar," Alhvaharyis repeated. "We must go help our allies."

Lothar nodded and said "Let us regroup with the rest." as he began to walk towards the exit with his sword ready in his hand.

Alhvaharyis followed behind carefully, knife ready, mustering his energy in the event of another spell being required.

Royal Blood

She idly traced over her side nervously, looking around the confines of the palace, she would love to get out and be in the streets where there were still buildings on all sides but at least a sky in the air and some sense of openness and not suffocating tightness that cut her off from the air. She looked at the princess again, sensing the faint aura of magic around her still. Listening to it all, frowning that a assassin was so careless as to slip what the next target would be, unless that was just a ruse to get the hounds off the scent. She cocked her head, thinking for a moment after it was mentioned of going to the Rat Skull Charmé shop, she shook her head. "I will not follow, too many people appearing at the shop would just be unproductive." She paused for a moment, thinking and then rubbed her cheek as she again looked at the walls.

"I think I will wander around the city for a bit, this assassin, either observed the palace for quite some time or knew exactly what the layout was to get to the targets without being seen." She idly traces over her gauntlets, or more to the point the mechanism hidden in them that would spring out hidden blades at a certain movement of her wrist. She was no stranger with the occasional death for hire that earned her these wrist blades, though it had been years since she had killed anyone for gold. She shook her head out of her thoughts and spoke up softly again to the others, "Perhaps I can find where the assassin must have observed the palace... if the assassin did so, and find any clues on those spots. I have found answers will come to me when I wander, perhaps this time it won't be any different." She looked at Rayvon, "You knew this place, did you not? Perhaps you can join me on this and we can work together?" She asked with a smile before it faltered when she recalled they were here to investigate a murder.

Moving through the camp had proven far easier than he had originally feared it might be, the tents were arranged with the military precision of the Imperium, and even after being separated from their mother nation for so long the Amazonians seemed to have kept with them at least this discipline. He hoped that in time the two nations would find a way to come together as allies and work together to show might among other nations, and maybe relieve some of the aggression that they both ensured from the freeholds.

It was of course a lot to hope for. The Amazonians seemed like, and truthfully were an entirely different breed at this point. He let out a brief sigh of annoyance, and paused for a moment observing nothing in particular simply watching the bustle of the camp before him took him to the caverns. In reality most everything brought him thoughts of that wretched illusion, and it was almost as if he had never truly left. By chance he was able to make note of a small opening in the Queen's tent, and made note to relay that information to Kraith as soon as possible.

Before he had the chance however the goblin instructed him to stand guard over his soon to be limp corpse, which Trax did wordlessly. He still knew very little of the goblin and this seemed a starnge time for a nap, but he was in no position to call shots and so he sat there with the slumbering Kraith anxious for anyone to approach, but looking calm to any who might pass by. Time passed very slowly while Kraith did whatever he was doing. Trax must have counted the armor and weapon racks a hundred times respectively before his partner made a sound, amd all he could discern from his counting was that the blades were well and truly outmatched if things got too tense here.

Eventually Kraith did wake, and he moved with purpose to the Queen's tent, asking Trax to backup everything asled of him or said by him. Which of course would be no issue. When they reached the guards he let Kraithe take control. Spouting whatever story he had manufactured, sensing it draw to a close he picked up the reins. "Aye, it's true, and I'd say the problem is more wide spread than you might think. We've not been here an hour and I've received offers of small jewelry from other servants aswell." he paused briefly before adding "As a man of the Imperium I could assure you that an oversight in security like this would not give them much confidence in a treaty with your queen." With that he finished the statement with a disinterested sideways glance amd a shrug of his shoulders. If the guards weren't interested in a chase, perhaps a fight might suit them.