{ROUND}

He looked at her and said, "Forgive me, I don't think I ever asked you what your name was? I'm Tiberius Longshadow. The girl you are sitting next to is Zenovia."

The girl cocked her head and examined Tiberius. The man's back was straight as a plank, and he strode with the arrogance of someone who prided himself on looking honest. That armor only increased his self-righteousness to the level of paladin. She resisted the urge to scrunch up her nose when she stretched out her hand to shake. "Morefindiel Vanarys. Call me Fin. You the leader or something? You carry yourself like one." Which was a much nicer way of putting it than what she really wanted to say.
__________

@Hawlin
"Ya captain sounds like quite th'lady," Kaite drawled. She cursed as she struggled to pick up the rag, and Gorman got the impression she had more colorful curses to vomit when she began cleaning up the blood. He would too if he were in her place. The sheer number and size of the wounds looked like they could kill human men much larger and tougher than her; that this little female thing was still alive could only be considered a miracle.

"I gotta lotta these, Gorman..." Kaite groaned, as if reading his thoughts. Her face twitched in a failed attempt to look intimidating, and in the end, she gave up and simply said, "Water, if you would," and handed the rag back to him. Gorman picked it up with his fingernails and beheld it for a moment. "Sure..."

@ineffable@Darkmoon Angel He trudged over to the little elf girl and the knight making dinner. "Is there a bucket anywhere I can use?" He displayed the bloody rag and gave a sheepish grin.

---
With a taste of disappointment fresh on his palate from the flock of questions battered at him the Warlock looked down at the disembodied Spirit Walker. She was rather rude for a guest, not stating her name and instead just asking questions, not wrong of her of course but still it was a tick that bit a him a little. Taking a deep breath he drew one hand before him, holding what looked like the same mass as before when they fought. At its core dark and drawing in light, trying to hold on as if barely clinging to life, around it on the visible edges it got lighter till it became transparent.

“This is what I can control.”

With that said he crushed the object in his hands, a small scream could be barely heard as the object was broken into dust. Flowing into his maw like a snack followed by a new object being formed in his hand. At first glance it looked like a soul, acted and resonated just like a normal soul of a living creature, but it was missing something. Letting the orb fly from his hand it launched up only to come crashing back down into one of the empty husks below causing it to animate. Rising from its knee the creature took shape, becoming like it’s summoner in form but instead of more male, it became female.
The creature roared like it’s master holding the blade it held aloft to where the Warlock and Spirit Walker stood. Lowering its arm with the noise it made it remained vigilant as if awaiting orders.

“I can make them, order them, and they are loyal to a fault. The Gender I can not control, but this is what I can control without breaking the mind apart. I hope this answer’s your questions.”

With that he waved his hand in front of the creature, as soon as he did the creature disappeared from vision only to reappear behind the Warlock, a head shorter but still taller then most mortal creatures. Turning around the Beast started inspecting it, opening its mouth showing it was in fact its head not just some fancy armor, holding up its arm ensuring full range of motion. For everything that it was, the creature was in fact alive and in fit health.

“I offer you what I have, to aid me and in turn I will aid you in the only way befitting, as a teacher.”

Turning around heading back inside, the creature following behind him inline. Everything around them still just as dim but holding the glow of the sphere he had made earlier to summon the Spirit Walker. Taking a set in the damaged Throne, the creature taking a knee, the Warlock looked at her with with his hands folded before his maw.

“As I said, the offer is before you. Either under my teaching or of your own, a free body or the armor of their back before animation. The Orc’s who were before the entire race fell were versed in all subjects of study, even the darkest of subjects held little limits to them. Now make a choice, or take one of them and think about it. I will have the body moved to your damaged frame.”

@rush99999

Vert turned to look at the ring that was about to be given to her. She held out her hand as the ring was slipped on. It felt strange to her as if not meant for her hand. It fit perfectly but it was never meant to be put on her finger when it was created. "R-Right." Vert said nervously as she allowed pulled her hand away. "You should try to be more careful around me though, I don't want the others to think your conspiring with the enemy." Vert added.

She didn't want the Story Teller to be mistrusted as well due to his relations with her. She rarely ever cared for a person like this. She had an idea of why this was but didn't want to admit it for fear of being seen as weak. After all to Vert, people who needed others to take care of them were the weakest kind there was.

@Cuccoruler
The ring continued to grow smaller on her finger, and only stopped when it had become too small to remove. The Storyteller had not caused it to do that.

@Cuccoruler

"Don't worry about me" The Storyteller said in response to Vert's warning "If such a sentiment begins to spread among our companions, I'm fairly certain I could allay such concerns". With that said, The Storyteller looked back at Laina. She had help with the cooking now, so The Storyteller supposed he'd just slow them down if he tried to help now. After all, too many cooks spoil the broth. "So tell me, Vert" The Storyteller said as he looked back at Vert "Would you be opposed to listening to a story or 2 while we wait for...our...". The Storyteller trailed off when he noticed that the ring he had placed on Vert's hand had shrunken to the point where removal would be impossible. "Jaeper's hat bells" The Storyteller said "That wasn't supposed to happen. Don't fret though. What magic can cause, magic can fix". With that said, The Storyteller took Vert's hand and attempted to make the ring big enough to remove again.

@Thinslayer@Darkmoon Angel
Laina startled when she saw his form in front of her. She stood up from her crouch so she could see him without craning her neck upwards. Her shoes dug into the soil and she sifted it around, slowly. She was a bit shy when she was in front of someone who she didn't know, who could do any harm to her. Her arms crossed across her chest almost protectively before she responded with a gentle air about her tone. She was scared of him, sure but that didn't prevent her from being nice.
"Do you want me to wash it for you? I...I don't think I can find a bucket right now."
She pushed a strand of silvery hair behind her graceful pointed ears before fixing her eyes on his with a clear silver gaze.

@ineffable@Cuccoruler@Thinslayer@rush99999

Kaite pressed the damp cold rag to her face, covering an eye as the other watched the newcomer who had so simply been allowed into the camp by Tiberius's pathetic knightly honor. Though her thoughts had aught speak for themselves as she soaked in the tattered rags laden with her own blood. Poor as the roster was, it was set, and accepting newcomers as degenerate as the slag who introduced herself as 'Morefindiel Vanarys' was worthy of a scoff which the black knight withheld.

Business within the group was a silent sport, and good leaders knew when to strike enemies as well as those that presented themselves as friends. With that notion, Kaite wiped the damp cloth across her face before placing it over their other eye. To her other side, the beast among ranks, 'They-who-I-know' tentatively tried on the ring they were given.
A thought at first accented with raised eyebrows curiously detailed an expression as the otherwise large ring for the old elf's fat fingers shrunk to constrict around Vert's. It was likely better that way, having a shackle on a beast. Kaite only hoped that the undead Eru possessed enough judgment to know what was held in their infernal trap.

As if the incentive of betrayal from their life-companion wasn't enough, the sight of the ring claiming 'They-who-I-know's finger tured Kaite's eyes to her discarded gauntlet. Somehow having worked its way over the plating in the process, the ring sat snugly against the metal of the right ring-finger. More than a simple branding iron, Kaite had now seen the rings to be a catalyst for which this spirit could invade the prime material plane.
Kaite knew her next wish, though had no motivation to reach out to the gauntlet. In some dark recesses, she hoped the soul of Eru was tasked with dealing with the deus ex machina that the name of its host held.

- - -

"Don'y worry, here. I'd gut ya cold bu'fore y'could stop us" Kaite chirped, accompanied with a shallow chuckle, echoing with The Storyteller. A palpable moment passed where she narrowed her eyes at 'They-who-I-know' before frowning in a dismissive manner on one side of her face as if to express disappointment. True, though mostly because Kaite's paranoia was unrequited by both those who she was forced to be comrades with as well as this creature whom she was expressly encouraged not to trust. It didn't sit well with the 'Knight-in-name' Kaite, who slew beasts wearing men's skin for a living.

"Yeh neh...welcome to tha family" She continued with a pained chuckle and a dismissive wave, her free hand scratching at her fingers like an addict, feeling naked without the gauntlets she loathed to don. "Beast er not...hrrnnff!-" Kaite growled as she fought to lift herself to an elbow. "-I saw wacha did...an I'm sure y'got room for th'plenty we're ta'face" they continued with a forced smirk that seemed almost discontent, though accepting none the less. It would, after all, be hypocrisy for a monster welcome to the champions to reject another monster.

A soft inhale brought the sickly sweet scent of game blood and renewed coals to Kaite's senses. Tilting her head back to sight the source, the knight's heart sank as she saw the small elf from before. She seemed to be handling the carcass of a deer, and good for her, somehow managing to fell a swift beast and retrieve it in record time.
"Such are the knife-ears..." Kaite quietly sighed with a commical edge as she fought her way into a kneeling position, figuring that laying prone encouraged sloth. Watching them for a while, the knight wondered what kind of stomach the seemingly innocent elf had for actually gutting the beast. Viscera was no stranger to the knight, and every inch of Kaite cried out to offer assistance, though she would just as readily stand by and wait for a moment of falter before offering her hand.

"Y'got that, Lilly?" Kaite shamelessly called to the elf, having completely forgotten her name. "I got y'set-a hands, roit. Though y'wilds wo'need em, though~" the deceptively old knight chuckled in a teasing manner, cracking her knuckles as she warred with her stamina to remain composed after the blood loss.
Darkly, she growled to Gorman out the side of her otherwise friendly grin, "Help m'stand. Make et'convincin'."

"Morefindiel Vanarys. Call me Fin. You the leader or something? You carry yourself like one." Which was a much nicer way of putting it than what she really wanted to say.

Tiberius stretched out his own hand and grasped the elf's hand gently, but not without giving a proper handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Morefindiel Vanarys." He paused taken aback when he uttered her last name. He had almost forgotten about his mysterious elven figure, Druth Vanarys and now here was his name. He let his hand fall away slowly as he felt his heart skip a beat in mix of excitement and curiosity. This day was just getting stranger and stranger by the minute. He had so many questions for this woman now but a quick glance made him realize he must look like a fool, having completely dropped the conversation.

He attempted to save himself from her stares as he fumbled over his words, "Moref- I mean Fin, I... I would say I'm the leader. No! I mean I'm not really in charge, that would be Xen but I uh. Posture. Yes, I'm a knight so its something I do. That was very vague, what I really meant to say was that I was raised to have perfect posture anything less would have been a disgrace. So, umm, how are you?"

Tiberius felt flustered, why exactly was he so nervous? Here was a elf that could help him tie the gap between Druth and the Warlock but why was he so hesitant to actually say anything. His first impression upon her probably sealed the deal that he was an idiot. He tried to avoid her gaze for the moment, looking over at his companions, then the fire, then back to his companions. Gorman and Kaite had joined them at the fire, while the Storyteller and Vert looked like they were having a moment. The deer was still being prepared and Zenovia was still sleeping.

Everyone still looked slightly dazed, maybe even shocked about what had just happened to them and the revelations that they had uncovered. Hopefully by the morning, they would be better, but for now, food and Fin had his attention.

---

The shaman merely watched as the Warlock demonstrated some of his power and control over this realm. She couldn't help be feel disturbed by the mass the beast held in his hand. It was a pitiful existence for sure. The scream she heard was faint, but it seemed.. somewhat human. The orb that now rested in the Warlocks hand seemed like a soul, she saw an emptiness within it. When orb crashed into the empty husk, she had an idea of what was going on. This is possibly why he wanted 'Humanity', but she wasn't sure, since he failed to answer her question.

She took a half step back as the creature appeared behind the Warlock. She was curious about it, yet unwilling to delve into the physiology of the summoned beast. It reminded her of Vert. Perhaps it was just the maw.. She followed the Warlock back inside, taking this time to think about her decision, she opened her mouth to speak after he had finished. It had only just occurred to her that she hadn't given the Warlock her name.. Perhaps it was due to their previous encounter leaving behind some hostilities.

"Excuse my rudeness." She began, bowing toward the Warlock. "My name is Zenovia Almire, a Spirit Walker from the House of Almire. I will accept your offer, however I would like to keep my own body. As my previous mentor once taught me; 'A spirit walker's potential lies within the bond between their spiritual and physical form.' Perhaps she generalised that statement as I was a child when she told me." Zenovia continued, her tone of voice had become more respectful as she spoke.

"I humbly ask you to be my teacher. However I cannot assist you, should you ask me to harm my comrades. If it is only Humanity that you seek, I will endeavour to obtain it in tangible form. Should we meet outside this realm, I must act as your enemy. Is this acceptable?"

@ineffable@Thinslayer@Rekaigan
Ivan stopped carving the animal when the orc, Gorman, came up to him and Laina asking for some water on a rag. "I'll just continue with this... Don't mind me..." He dragged the carcass over by the fire so he could get a better light on it. He got back to carving the meat of the animal, all the while still worrying about Zenovia. He couldn't help but think that she had been affected by that creature, maybe he should check on her after he was done with the animal carcass.

{ROUND}

@Thinslayer@Darkmoon Angel
Laina startled when she saw his form in front of her. She stood up from her crouch so she could see him without craning her neck upwards. Her shoes dug into the soil and she sifted it around, slowly. She was a bit shy when she was in front of someone who she didn't know, who could do any harm to her. Her arms crossed across her chest almost protectively before she responded with a gentle air about her tone. She was scared of him, sure but that didn't prevent her from being nice.
"Do you want me to wash it for you? I...I don't think I can find a bucket right now."
She pushed a strand of silvery hair behind her graceful pointed ears before fixing her eyes on his with a clear silver gaze.

When Gorman looked into her face, he stopped short and gaped. The elf girl's moonlit hair flowed over her shoulders, a rippling silver stream that gave her an air of unnatural immortality. Her innocent, ashen eyes looked up at him with restraint tempered by kindness, giving him the impression that, while she feared him, she still wished to do him good. Everything about her seemed familiar to him. What she said next, he found both unsurprising and uncanny.

"Do you want me to wash it for you? I- I don't think I can find a bucket right now."

There. It was her generosity that cemented the resemblance. Gorman couldn't quite help himself from confusing her with a certain other person. "Thank you Cap- uh, elf girl. What is your name, miss?" Gorman handed her the rag, and scratched his neck with a weak chuckle.

"Morefindiel Vanarys. Call me Fin. You the leader or something? You carry yourself like one." Which was a much nicer way of putting it than what she really wanted to say.

Tiberius stretched out his own hand and grasped the elf's hand gently, but not without giving a proper handshake. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Morefindiel Vanarys." He paused taken aback when he uttered her last name. He had almost forgotten about his mysterious elven figure, Druth Vanarys and now here was his name. He let his hand fall away slowly as he felt his heart skip a beat in mix of excitement and curiosity. This day was just getting stranger and stranger by the minute. He had so many questions for this woman now but a quick glance made him realize he must look like a fool, having completely dropped the conversation.

He attempted to save himself from her stares as he fumbled over his words, "Moref- I mean Fin, I... I would say I'm the leader. No! I mean I'm not really in charge, that would be Xen but I uh. Posture. Yes, I'm a knight so its something I do. That was very vague, what I really meant to say was that I was raised to have perfect posture anything less would have been a disgrace. So, umm, how are you?"

Tiberius felt flustered, why exactly was he so nervous? Here was a elf that could help him tie the gap between Druth and the Warlock but why was he so hesitant to actually say anything. His first impression upon her probably sealed the deal that he was an idiot. He tried to avoid her gaze for the moment, looking over at his companions, then the fire, then back to his companions. Gorman and Kaite had joined them at the fire, while the Storyteller and Vert looked like they were having a moment. The deer was still being prepared and Zenovia was still sleeping.

Everyone still looked slightly dazed, maybe even shocked about what had just happened to them and the revelations that they had uncovered. Hopefully by the morning, they would be better, but for now, food and Fin had his attention.

Fin placed a hand on her mouth and laughed at him. Her eyes twinkled as they locked with his. The human was amusing, cute even. Perhaps she could tolerate him. Her initial impression was not necessarily inaccurate, she supposed, but it didn't tell the whole story. Tiberius' knightly armor could be penetrated, and beneath it was a weak little soul easily flustered by a pretty face. Plus, he was handsome to boot, so allying with him was a pleasant prospect.

She brushed back her hair, dipped her head, and looked up at him. "So, you're in charge, huh? I like a guy who's in charge. You're pretty cool. I bet you've got a lady waiting for you, because there's no way knights like you stay alone."

@Rush99999

Vert felt the ring tighten on her hand. Her eyes grew big, as it did. Then she closed her eyes thinking that maybe this was the Storytellers doing to make sure it fit. But then he said that he hadn't caused this. So this isn't his fault? Then why was it doing this. Thoughts rushed through her head. For the moment the worse she had to fear was her finger getting chopped off which Vert could recover from easily enough. "I'm not so sure if this is a good thing. Please tell me this is a good thing? Or..." Vert looked down at her finger again. Her mouth twitched a bit revealing sharp teeth. She was prepared to chew her own finger off if it meant this thing wasn't going to hurt her.

@Cuccoruler

The Storyteller was fairly certain the ring becoming too small to remove was not a good thing. But he was wasn't so sure that was something he should tell Vert. Their 1st encounter had shown that Vert was willing and able to chew off her own fingers in the name of self-preservation, and the brief flash of sharp teeth were more than enough to convince him that she was still willing to do so. "Don't worry yourself" The Storyteller told Vert "I'll have the ring back to a removable size faster than you can say supercalifragilisticexpialidocious". However, The Storyteller soon realised that his spell wasn't working. He tried applying more power to the spell, but still the ring refused to grow. "Jaeper's hat bells" The Storyteller muttered before looking at Vert "This may take longer than I previously thought. But I can still assure you I can get it off". With that said, The Storyteller looked to his own ring. "I shrunk Vert's ring before she put it on" The Storyteller said "I'm guessing you didn't notice this, since you shrunk the ring even more when Vert put it on. She can't get it off now".

As he awaited a response, The Storyteller began to wonder if this wasn't an accident. He recalled a story he once heard of a method of torture that was very popular among the sadistic dark elves. The method involved using something similar to a heart ring on the victim. The ring would 1st be made big enough to fit around the victim's arm, before being shrunk down until it couldn't be taken off. A pain spell would then be channelled through the ring, causing the victim great suffering that would eventually lead to the victim to cut off their own arm with a conveniently provided knife in a desperate attempt to make the pain stop. However, all that did was leave the victim short an arm and in even more pain. The Storyteller couldn't help but wonder if a more well meaning version of that story was about to play out.

She laughed at him. Why was she laughing? Already Tiberius was flustered, but now he was just embarrassed as his face became slightly red. He had always liked to think that it took a lot to embarrass him, but here was Fin making him so nervous he was doing it to himself. In little time to boot. He hadn't been like this since... No, that didn't matter right now. What did matter was regaining a sense of composure. He looked at the elf again and realized she hadn't been laughing at him because he was an idiot, but more so because he was being foolish.

Her eyes, they twinkled when they locked gazes with each other. So caught up with earlier events, he hadn't really noticed that she was very pretty. Small, delicate was her frame, and her hair was just they way he fancied it. Her skin was smooth and unblemished, such as all elves he thought. He looked away suddenly and didn't really know what to do. It was impolite to stare at someone for as long as he had been doing, without at least saying a word.

When she spoke again, her tone was different, almost playful in nature. Once again, he looked at her and a soft smile came to his lips. His mother once told him, 'Smile at a girl not because she's pretty, Ti, but because its the right thing to do.'

"So, you're in charge, huh? I like a guy who's in charge. You're pretty cool. I bet you've got a lady waiting for you, because there's no way knights like you stay alone."

His voice was bitter when he spoke next, as a deep sadness filled his heart, "No. There is no one waiting for me at home, Ms. Vanarys. Not anymore."

He didn't like to think about his past but it would have been inevitable at one point, someone would ask a question that would trigger the bad memories. The ones which he tried so hard to bury. For the sake of her memory, his families memory, he had always tried to do the right thing in the face of evil so that it would never have to happen again. No one god damn person deserves having everyone they held dear, ripped away in an instant by people with the power to do so.

Tiberius turned his gaze at the fire and watched it flicker. It was funny, how something so small, had the potential to burn everything.

@Rekaigan

With a nod the beast acknowledged her request and held his hand up making a rather strange gesture with his hand, a sign of his word not to harm her friends at least when he could help it. Standing up once more he motioned for the Spirit Walker to follow him from the room. His hands behind his back walking with the posture of a king rather than some evil creature he was painted as.
Down the stairs, down the main hall of the castle, passed rooms filled with weapons, armor, food, and treasures of gold and coin alike. As he walked her through the castle he explained what everything was with but a handful of words to give her the basic lay of the land. Coming to a stop before two large iron doors which had a rather heavy runic lock on them. From the way the runes were inscribed she might of guessed this was indeed a lock of magic then a simple key.

“Anoigma os tis entoles vasilia.”

Simple where the words, but with them came the same presences as when he spoke his spells before, strange but baring the weight of power behind them. Once the hall became quiet once more the runic locks could be heard coming apart one by one will the count of thirteen clicked apart. With one hand he pushed open the door allowing her to see what was so heavily guarded.

“This is where you will study when you do not need rest or wish to speak with me.”

For her to behold, a library filled to the brim with knowledge lost to the ages, anything she could possibly imagine could be found here. From one's own life to the ways of the past. Even the most basic understanding to the most currently understood advanced forms of magic. Spector in heavy hooded ropes wondered the library picking up books, putting them away. Constantly marking things or taking notes. They looked like the figures of the Reaper himself but seemed, weaker by looks.

“The people in this place, they catalog the events that happen in all realms connected to ours. This Library has no real end, nor does it have a beginning, it just keeps going.”

Walking, and hinting for her to follow, he made his way to one of the figures who stood behind a desk but a short walk from the door. The figure looked at the three that came to its desk. At this point the spirit walker to see no soul in these things, they were hollow figures who kept records of the events so when the Reaper came to collect, his judgement was true. With a bow of its head it held out its hand. Reaching to his side the Warlock produced a old silver coin which he offered to the Librarian as payment. Once that was done the creature left their sight via slow movement around the shelves to its left.

With a low tone he spoke. “You will only be allowed in here when you need books, other wise this place is off limits. When you come here, do not speak, the Librarians wish this place to remain as quiet as possible, they know what you want just give them the payment, wait for your book, bow respectfully and leave.”

Just as he finished speaking the Librarian came back holding three books. Taking them and bowing his head in a sign of respect the Warlock left from the door he came.

Once they were outside and the door closed he looked down at the Spirit Walker.

“Your old Master was not wrong when he spoke of the connect between body and soul. It is common law of magic that the body and soul are needed to produce the energy required cast spells. As you should of felt, right now without your body you have no magic to use. Only able to guide your soul as you seem fit. It would be unwise to move your body to this realm for too long lest it become dependent on it’s energy to survive.”

Turning he looked at her bringing his maw to her face looking at her not as noble would a lesser person, but teacher to a student.

“You will need a host body while you are here. Thus why I offered you one of they many I have here. These books you may take with you but let no one other then you open them lest you wish to feel the hunt of the Reaper himself. No go, clam a body for this land and when we meet again in this realm I will show you how to bring me what I require as payment. After that we will truly start your studies.”

With that said he handed Zenovia the books and walked back to the great hall where he summoned her, giving her time to explore and claim a room before she wished to return home. His mind turning else where, to another woman, the only one who claimed him true.

@Thinslayer
Laina looked up at the him with wonder as she took the rag from his calloused fingers. He was truly a sight to behold of. She found herself suddenly blushing and turned away, turning the rag around her pale fingers.
"Thank you Cap- uh, elf girl. What is your name, miss?" He says and Laina gives herself time to drag her gaze upwards to meet his, hoping that she wouldn't turn away and look like a total fool.
She wonders what he meant by Cap. Was it a person? Why did he confuse her with "Cap"? Did it mean something like Captain or something else? She kept her curiosity at bay though and gave him a smile.
"My name's Laina. Laina Silverstide. I'm the healer here. What is your name?" Laina asks, the words tumbling out of her mouth. She might go and wash the bloody rag in the stream somewhere near, there must be one but she was curious of this Orc figure so she stayed, watching him with careful eyes and offering a weak smile every now and then.
For an orc she thought he looked handsome and what's to say that Laina never liked handsome men? Even though she never had a romantic love herself she was still allowed to gape all she want couldn't she?

Part 1







"Long strides ran over the parched earth, each step making the warrior clang, as metal touched metal. All around there was the sign of decay, death had touched the land too quickly, before it was ready and a mockery of life could only be seen of what remained. The warrior looked at the sword in hand, glowing softly. It was long, sharp, deadly and upon their helmet, a grim visage could be seen."

"With quick precision the warrior swung their long sword in the direction of three lowly clad demons, catching them by surprise and decapitating two, while cutting into the neck of the third. With a loud gurgle of black blood, the lowly demon was executed outright, by a quick twist of the warrior as they used their momentum to get behind it. The warrior then continued on, the sounds of battle more evident now then ever before. It was like a drum beating in the very heart of those that could hear it, calling on them to fight or be destroyed. Demonic bodies littered the ground as the warrior began to run up the hill that would show the way forward."

"The warrior crested the hill to see the chaos for their self. Hoards of demons and other foul creatures swarmed over the armies of the light, only wanting to fill themselves up on agony and pain. Yet, light seldom gives into dark without wrestling for control and so those brave soldiers displayed no fear in the face of certain doom. They fought for freedom, survival and above all else, a world free from the dominion of evil. And so, with a heart inspired by what she saw, The Lady of the Blade tore down the hillside and made battle with her foes. Well that was until he arrived, but that is another tale for another night."

The little boy sitting at the edge of anticipation gleamed with large eyes up at his mother. "But what happens next? Who arrives mother? What's going to happen to lady Yarielle?"

She smiled and the boy knew his attempts were in vain. "Now now, you know the rules. One story a night, you'll just have to wait till tomorrow, my love." She bent over, kissing him on the forehead and then tucked him under the covers of the bed.

"Ughh, yes mother."

"Now goodnight Ti, I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight mama." His door was then shut and the darkness of the room swept over him. It did not take long for his heavy eyelids to close and he drifted off to sleep, dreaming of the adventures of Lady Yarielle and what would happen next.

What would come next, would only haunt him forever...

Kaite rested on a log by the fire in a bit of a dazed slump of a sit. Offers and comments falling on deaf ears had made it difficult to stay too invested in much else other than staring into the fire. She lifted an eyebrow, however, to cautiously pay attention to Tiberius's attempt to awkwardly fall into the woman's hands. The ex-bandit had seen her type, and it was hard to be impressed by someone with no marketable skills other than swaying their hips. Glorified prostitutes like her never lasted long in the companies Kaite ran, though on some level she didn't mind since Tiberius at least seemed to be enjoying himself.
The black knight made a mental note to toss the wench some gold later and send her off with a warning, lest she became a distraction for the sake of protecting by the knight in her crosshairs.

With a shake of her head and nearly inaudible scoff, Kaite looked back to the fire and took a long swig from her wineskin. In the process, she paused at the comical situation of Storyteller and 'they-who-I-know' over the ring that refused to come off. As terribly as the knight wanted to cheekily suggest lifting her hand over her head for a minute before using oil, it was no ordinary ring. From what little she knew about 'Eru', the ring had a mind of its own and would not so simply be trifled with by a man who tells stories. Regardless, his vernacular was notable and she chuckled lightly at 'jape's hat bells' being an exclamation.

Lastly, there came the realization that she had simply been left alone at the fire. Kaite looked around to find Gorman and 'Lilly' fraternizing over the rag. Swiftly face-palming, Kaite heave-ho'd herself to a standing positing. After grappling with the head rush that threatened her consciousness, Kaite resisted the urge to walk over since the two appeared to be introducing each other. With a dismissive sniff, Kaite plopped back down onto her seat with a soft groan and once more turned back to the fire which she tossed a small log into.
The rag was a benign tool, likely torn from an article of clothing. For all she cared, Kaite would have just as soon tossed it into the fire since she needed a bath more than anything at this point.
As tempting as a swim in the river sounded, Kaite figured that drowning at night was a pretty ungraceful way to go. Shrugging with a sigh, she resolved herself to simply sit by and wait...the world had a funny way of finding itself, if one has the patience for it to do so.

---

Zenovia was grateful that the Warlock had agreed to her terms. She was quite surprised by it. Again, she followed him quietly, her eyes wandering around the rooms they passed. The castle seemed grand, but also not. The shaman made sure to keep the layout of the castle in mind, as she felt that she would be coming back here more than once. The words of magic he spoke held immense weight as she had witnessed this whole time, however she was getting used to it already.

As the guarded runic door opened, her eyes sparkled like a child at a festival. She could hardly contain her excitement upon seeing all these books. This library literally brimming with knowledge. She carefully stayed out of the way of the Reapers that moved around the library, for she did not know what they were capable of. However they seemed quite unaware of her presence and it seemed that they had no soul.. How curious..
She nodded in acknowledgement and continued to follow the Warlock through the library, resisting the urge to go pick up a book and read it. Zenovia took note of the exchange and what the Warlock had said. It was like borrowing books from a normal library. The Spirit Walker bowed as the Warlock did, before following close behind.

The Warlock's maw brought no fear to the shaman, as she knew the expression he gave. It made her remember her old Master, which was a fond memory. She gingerly took the books from the Warlock, waiting to make sure he had nothing more to say. "Thank you for this opportunity, Master." She responded in a respectful tone. Zenovia felt like she had seen a different side to the Warlock. He didn't seem as bad as people made him out to be.

The shaman suddenly remembered that her companions were still out in the physical realm. Perhaps they were worried about her. She quickly went to the bodies that the beast had offered. Her spirit entering the husk, giving it life. She flexed the body a little as she returned to the throne room. It felt odd, but it was just something she would have to get used to. She explored the rooms in the castle, trying to find a nice small one to claim for her own. She found one that had a small wooden desk and a chair. A convenient study of sorts.

She closed her eyes as she sat in the chair, sending her using her mind to send her spirit back to the physical realm. An arduous process due to her lack of magical energy, but it was possible.

---

Zenovia's took inhaled sharply as she sat up, as if she was having a bad dream. She looked around, her companions were sitting around or cleaning a carcass.. The books she had received from the Warlock seemingly fell out the sky onto her lap. She quickly collected them, shoving them into her satchel, hoping that nobody noticed them. The shaman had a plethora of excuses ready if someone did notice.