The sounds of footsteps coming up from his side made Kaze turn with one mighty fist cocked back. An aura of doom surrounded him when Vani observed him and the potential oncoming strike. But the elf spoke, which got a puff of vapor from the lizardmans nose. "Fine, try to keep up." He said, this wasn't a fun situation, this was a serious time so it required him to be very serious.

More footsteps, but the armored elf intervened, kicking the mace wielding soldier before stabbing him in the chest. Well that's what a longsword was designed for after all, thrusting through armor. A flick of Kaze's foot got the mace up into his palm before he launched it down the street, pelting some poor fool in the back with the chunk of metal and wood. But now the pair was off, Vani with his electrically charged shield, and Kaze lowering his shoulder, becoming a living battering ram.

Vani's charge seemed to explode on impact with someone, sending them flying. Kaze's own shoulder knocked aside a beefy half-orc in field plate armor. Sending the green-skin tumbling into rubble as they moved. As the moved he heard a softer pitter patter of feet behind, well that was where most of his armor was so he wasn't particularly worried.

They did come to a crossroads though, getting him to skid to a stop. Left, mercenaries out for blood. Right, Imperial soldiers out for blood. Center, a big ol' church that was a potential ambush. Behind, confused adventurer's possibly out for blood and a small martial arts girl judging by her build and clothes. Inhaling deeply he centered himself. "Iron Body. Tranquil Mind." He said, a glow engulfed him before his body gleamed with a rainbow of colors that were just barely visible on his white hide. His eyes had a strange purple sheen to them instead of that dull gray.

Iron Body had doubled his physical defenses, a basic ability that had done him wonders in the past. Tranquil Mind had made it so low level psionic spells wouldn't work, and higher leveled ones effects were shorter. He had chosen the center path, the church. With his small preparations set he plowed ahead into the gaping cavern that was the church's main entrance. He was fully expecting to be pepper with spells or arrows or something, which is why he went first.

“Two Imperials coming on the right!”

“Arte, deal with the archer please!”

“Oops, there’s a big wall coming up!”

“To the left! To the left!”

“Locke, update please~”

Cecilia rattled off instructions at the speed of a repeating crossbow as she continued her trip through the dense alleyways of the eastern ruins, her journey now assisted by two of her adventuring peers. Settling comfortably into her position as scout and vanguard, the Spellblade softened up any incoming problems, adapting quickly to the quirks of this particular group. She was primarily a solo adventurer, of course, one beholden only to the qualifications of her quest and her personal whims, but that just meant she was accustomed to working with other adventurers out of the blue. Just a matter of being thoughtful, really.

Thoughtful, while she forklifted all the annoying problems onto Locke and Arte’s laps.

With Locke’s eyes in the sky and Cecilia’s trailblazing, it was easy enough for the trio to keep away from any major battles. Zephyrus Aria proved to be a clincher of a spell in this situation; there was no need for them to murder any marauders or imperials when Cecilia simply knocked them off their feet and let Locke and Arte to fully incapacitate them afterwards. With such drive-by tactics, they continued through the back alleys and side streets, thankfully never encountering a particularly powerful enemy. Those confident in their strength, after all, largely congregated on more open roads in order to crush through opposition with sheer might and magic…which was quite convenient for the well-dressed trio.

After all, by the time they broke out of the eastern labyrinth and into the center of the ruins, they looked to be the first ones there.

Skidding to a stop, Cecilia twisted open her waterskin and glugged down half its contents, sweat glistening off her skin and exertion causing her complexion to flush warmly. Her runner’s high was still kicking in, and her movement-enhancing magic thrummed through her body like ripples of sound as she looked around, taking in the forsaken majesty of the ruinous palace. Glowing crystals dotted the landscape, congregating upon the tower. Was that the dim light she saw southwards, every night she travelled here? The lilac-haired lady took in a deep breath, her smile renewed. This far away, even the sounds of battle were diminished, dulled. Just a little more effort then.

She turned to the others, hands on her hips. “Alright, I’ll go check out the tower. Got any magic ya wanna toss at me before I figure this climb out?”

Cecilia commanded, and Artemisia followed. It was not an arrangement that they had exactly planned, but at the moment it seemed to work, and that was what mattered. Galloping after the speeding spearwoman, her horse somehow managed to keep the pace, likely spurred on by the urgency and chaos around them to her incessant cracking of the reigns. Her spells flew out at the designated targets, smacking against any adventurer, soldier, or miscreant that threatened to slow their advance. When they’d needed it, she shot out the occasional healing spell or buff, making sure everybody was in tip-top shape to continue their push. Despite their unfamiliarity with each other, in the heat of the battle, they seemed like a well-oiled machine, the trademark of a set of well-seasoned adventurers.

Artemisia cracked an offending man’s helmet open with a lightning strike, sending the man sprawling permanently on the ground. She stuck mostly to the trademark spells of a common wizard; although she had a couple more interesting spells up her sleeve, she wasn’t sure how well accepted they would be between Cecilia and Locke. Regardless, their reckless dash towards the center meant quick, simple spells were more efficient, anyway.

Thankfully, the need for more powerful or complex magic was obviated by the path Cecilia had chosen; except for the odd adventurer or squad of soldiers, the resistance they encountered was few and far between. When they did encounter resistance, however, it was quite annoying; perhaps, their attire and belongings stood out just a little bit too much.

With their route, they somehow made it to the center of the ruins, and even better, it appeared that they might have beaten everyone to it. Trotting to a stop on her horse, she gave it a well-deserved rest before breaking out her own hydration, breathing out deeply after she’d had her fill. Looking at the landscape of the interior ruins along with her fellow noble adventurers, Artemisia could see the ruins of a once great castle. More curiously, it seemed to be dominated by glowing crystals that littered the ancient stonework, possessing an energy that was no doubt of the magical variety.

“It would be better if we stuck together. I’ll continue to follow, at least as much as I can on horseback,” she replied, still unwilling to leave her steed unattended. “Now, these magic crystals don’t natively grow here. I wonder if it’s an affect of our little heavens rock?”

To Locke, he was at least thankful for Cecelia being a scout. Avoiding trouble was as valid a strategy as heading onwards with strength. Comparing his method of transportation with the noble's spells and other-noble's horse, Locke was considerably less impressive. He was raised in the mountains. While he was a scholar first and foremost, the harsh environment of his homeland gave him a considerable endurance. Even though he was less dexterous than a deft swordsman, he could at least haul his ass over the ruins a horse couldn't. Through a mixture of alleyways that cut corners and ruins that were impassable for a horse, he managed to stay somewhat close to his horseback companion.

The obstacles in the way were insignificant. The magic that both he and Artemisia used was simple in nature, but ever so efficient. If someone charged at the duo, Locke simply bound their legs in the dark rope. If someone was about to shout for help, a quick blast of dark magic stopped that. Though, they attracted a disproportionate amount of banditry. Obviously because they were the only ones there who actually seemed to groom themselves and wear nice things.

Crumbled roads and alleys turned to a destroyed palace as they reached the center. Where they were at, at least, had no other people. Were they alone? Perhaps. Maybe there was another, but separated by another side. The small crystals that littered the center's streets were odd. A faint light. For the time, they had interested Locke more than the prospective treasure where the crystals had presumably led. Cecilia could handle following where they led, Locke thought.

The mountain man had his limits after all. Exhausted from actually running the entire way, spent the first few moments of rest and relaxation huffing and trying not to vomit. He didn't have a horse to ride on nor a spell to make the trip faster. He put in way too much effort getting to the center. Perhaps teaming up with the two nobles wasn't the best idea. Then again, if not them, then who? Thoughts for another time.

Cecilia told of her plans to climb all the way up. Probably for the best if she was the one that went. Let the two terrestrial mages stay down. Probably for the best. With a huff and puff, he replied to her request for assistance not with words but with action and a tired hand sign. Between his wheezing, he said what the fairy should do.

"Protect her."

Really, he just wanted to hurl at this point. Not because of saying something sappy like "protect her". More so that he just raced a horse.

---

---

Discord was in the air and soon it manifested. Always. Atua had bent and shifted her way through a crack in one of the walls and found herself in areas grey and colorless. Had she been human, it would be pitch. Grifters and double crossers had made their way into the dark alley, and she heard the lilt of several voices somewhere ahead, but she made no immediate rush to move toward. Heat, shrills, and swords came from behind her a few moments later and she was sure of her decision.

But there were too many eyes, and the cacophony made proved disorienting; this was no forest, but it was small and quiet--good enough. With winding paths and yet unobtrusive gallants slithering about, she put speed in her walk until it became a sprint. Where there was hindrance--a merchant’s pesky cart or gaggles seeking trouble, she leapt over or avoided completely, altering her route on instinct. She did her best to muffle her footsteps while she went, and used the advantages of her race and rearing to navigate the bends of the alley. Barring contestants, she came out the other end near the southwest of ruins where three others gathered, she did not disturb them.

Instead, she kept up her pace, moving swift across muck until she saw a building. A temple. Yes, Imare blesses her here! It was dilapidated but these were ruins; nature always took back what was stolen from her. She looked left, right, even behind her. She was alone here, it seemed, but hardly in a rush. It was her blaise which almost got her an arrow to the head. She knew the knock of an arrow when she heard it and ducked as it whizzed by.

No, no, no! Not now! She took up behind a crumpled pillar and she heard another arrow rip overhead. Her heart raced, hands nearly trembling, her concentration frayed. Focus! She pulled the large bow from her back and from her quiver came an arrow. She prepped it and got into a crouch. It was too hard to center here, too much fighting, too much noise. Run, run now! You must live to complete your Trial! She let her arrow fly blind and the moment she had a breath’s reprieve, she ran into the temple.

Safety was all she wanted. Quiet.

"I'm betting that's what we see at night, when we look out in the direction of the Ruins and see the glowing stuff," Cecilia replied, enjoying her moment of reprieve. "And looks like you shoulda brought a mountain goat rather than a horse, neh?"

Still, she appreciated Arte's sentiment, if nothing else. Locke, on the other hand, looked as if he was actually dying. Dude really had a way with words, didn't he? Almost as if fate conspired against him to ruin every witty joke or dramatic one-liner he had in stock. Slapping the fairy-summoner on the back, Cecilia pushed her waterskin up against his lips. "Drink up, Locke. We've reached the finish line, but we still gotta get back afterwards. Watch our backs, please~"

With that, the overt Spellblade and the covert necromancer strode up towards the tower, ready to make their ascent. Between double-jumping and the amount of magic they both had, it should be a safe enough trip, if nothing else changed.

If.

Forgotten Ruins, Royal District:

As the three, plus one, arrived and took a reprieve from their hurried trek through the backstreets and alleys, they began to make plans for how next to proceed. Unfortunately, any genius plots and preperations they may have come up with were soon thwarted, as a voice called out to the visible trio from a bit further away to the north. Turning their heads, the party of nobles would become witness to another group, one of four, that were casually making their way south towards them. Either this team had just arrived or they'd been hiding in one of the ruined manors up until now - byt regardless of when they'd shown up, they were here now.

The one who had called to them was a strikingly, almost irritatingly, handsome young man. Golden locks of hair, sparkling blue eyes, a winning smirk and dressed in fine, albeit flamboyant, attire. A large and wide-brimmed feathered cap atop his head, and a sheathed rapier at his hip, he made a grand and exaggerated gesture as his group got close enough to converse without the need to shout or raise one's voice.

"Ah, another ensemble of well-versed and fast-witted adventurers, I see!" He began, eloquently and in an almost meldoic voice. "And two stunning ladies of noble pedigree no less, you my friend-" He pointed at Locke with a wide smirk "-are one lucky man! Allow me to introduce ourselves, my name's Hawklen, and I lead this fine cadre of legendary souls!" He proclaimed proudly.

With a sweeping motion of his hand, he gestured towards one of his companions - a tall, msucular woman with short, ragged raven-black hair and equally black eyes. She had a nose-ring piercing and looked to be covered in the most unusual set of cloths you'd ever seen! ... Until you realized she wasn't wearing much of anyhting at all, but ws merely covered in tattoos of black and red that covered most her entire body. In fact, apart from a leather strap across her bust, a kilt-like skirt that was slit up the sides and a pair of fur-lined boots, she wasn't actually wearing anything else. A large, fang and claw-fitted club was resting in her hand, which she rigidly smacked into her other open palm, as she stared the group infront of her down with disdain and obvious hostility.

"This fair maiden, is the lovely Krenna of the Lion-Goat Tribe, proud daughter of the strongest tribe in all the Mithril Mountains!" Hawklen declared, as if announcing a princess or other lady of high-society... Which was a bit much to swallow, considering this woman looked more like a man and probably didn't know the first thing about table-manners or personal hygiene... Regardless, Hawklen was unperturbed, and continued to point to his next ally.

"Then, we have the Master of Marksmen, the greatest shot to ever come out of the Port City of Navanice, Norbe!"

... 'Norbe' was a stocky, but still rather tall, man with wide shoulders. Dressed in head-to-toe with studded black leather armor, and a well-polished salade helmet on his head, he sported a crossbow in his left hand, two quarrels of bolts on his back and a sheathed short sword on his hip. He gave the trio a quiet nod, but given that one couldn't see his face due to the helmet, it was hard to gauge his actual feelings or disposition. Still, Hawklen went on.

"His actual name is Norbert though, but that didn't sound quite as impressive, so we shortened it! Dashing, no?" He shot the three nobles a flashy grin, before Norbe placed his helmet-head in a palm, probably sighing. The flamboyant and boisterous blonde went on, moving to point at his final comrade.

"And here, standing alone and with nothinbg to say, the one, the only, the King of Silent Spellcasting and unspoken enchanter of unrivaled power, we have the Master Wizard, Glum!" He roared, as if announcing the presence of some sort of world-renowned celebrity.

'Glum'' was a wizard by the book. A pair of dark blue robes with a hood that covered his upper face, leaving only his nose, cheeks and chin exposed. He sported a brown goatee, though with streaks of grey in it. The hem and ends of his sleeves had white and silver tri and he was clutching a garnled wooden staff, etched with runes and markings along the haft. Just like Norbe though, he said nothing, but didn't make any movements or motions to acknowledge the eother party either. It was if he was just ignoring everything, including Hawklen. Still, with all his companbions introduced, the blonde man turned back to the one-man-short party and continued.

"Now then! I know not who you are, fine ladies and gent, but I can assume we're all here for the same reason, yes?" He winked and made a movement with his thumb and index finger, to indicate money. "As such, since we're the only ones here, I've got a splendid proposal! Rather than engage in a pointless and unecessary contest to claim the prize for one of our groups, why not cooperate? Yes, together, we can surely claim the fallen treasure with ease, and split the reward as equals! A fine idea, don't you agree?"

At this, the woman who was a veritable living tapestry, spat on the ground and turned to look at Hawklen with an angered, furrowed brow and deep-set scowl.

"Oi, wha'chu talkin'bout, bard? You's said we's gonna claim that star-piece for ourselves! Now ya wan's to go sharin' it with 'ese nambi-pambi city-lickers who ain't even kno'ow to wield a knife!? Shi' on'at! I sday we jus' gut'em 'n be done with 'em!" The woman roared, in an unsurprisingly deep voice.

A bead of sweat appeared on Hawklen's brow, though only for a moment, before he let out an exaggerated laugh and bowed to the group of three. Rising, he smiled friendly and shook his head in a 'oh dear'-like manner.

"Ah, you must forgive my dear friend, here. She can be a bit brusque and rough around the edges. But I assure you, she means no ill to any of you." He tried to smooth things over. "So, what do you say? Shall we cooperate for the benefit of everyone's sake?"

While Hawklen was trying to hawk his pitch to the nobles, there was something only a perceptive person would notice. And that was Glum. He was moving his lips, but no words - not even any sound - were coming out. In addition, Norbe seemed to have walked away during the blonde bard's long-winded introduction and spiel, now being strangely missing... Or hiding... Krenna, on the other hand, was still eyeing the group like a barely chained dog, ready to snap at any moment.

---

The Old Church:

Unfortunately, as Vani called out to the woman was following after him and his lizard friend(?), he became witness to an unpleasant sight. A group who had been following the trio of elf, lizard and foreign girl, suddenly sprung and ambushed the girl in a three-way formation. Before the elf had time to come to her rescue, as he surely would have, a sudden wall of bones rose infront of him in the opening of the church - but not before a completely different woman, this one an elf too by the looks of it, came dashing through and just barely made it inside. Like prison bars, these bones made getting back out onto the street impossible, and no matter how hard the paladin would try to shatter or break the boney bars, they would simply mend themselves straight away, or be replaced by a new set altogether. He, and his makeshift ally, were now trapped.

Speaking of the lizardman who had run ahead, he would find himself in the center of the church now. It was empty, quite clearly. Not even the wooden pews wwre left, and cracks and holes in the floor indicated that they had been removed at some point. Truly, this was a thoroughly picked-clean ruin. Strangely though, despite this being a place of worship, Kaze would notice that there were no windows, or even openings, to let sunlight in. There were alcoves and indentations that seemed to shaped and fashioned in the shape of large, panrmaic windows, yet they were made from stone, just as the rest of the structure. In fact, apart from the floor, the inside of the church looked remarkably well-maintained, even if there was nothing here of any worth or value. Apart from a small heap off to one side of the room, there was nothing...

... Except for the man. The lonely man, drssed in brown, mundane robes, kneeling at the far end of the chapel. Kneeling where the podium had once surely stood, he was flanked on either side by twin lit candles. Upon hearing the footsteps of someone behind hum, the fellow stopped whatever prayer or mutterinhs he had previously been engaged in, and slowly rose - with seemingly great effort - from his lowered stance. Turning around to face the intruder, he spoke, with a hoarse and somewhat nasally voice.

"Mmmmmm'yeeeees? What have we here? A supplicant? A pair? Oh no, a pilgrim perhaps? Are you? Oh no, no, no, no, no, no... Your face, unfamiliar to these eyes they are. Tell me." The man spoke in a most jittery and unpleasant way.

Now that he had turned, Kaze could get a good look at him, even though the lighting was poor and he was wearing a hood, his features were still visible. His face was gaunt, as if extremely malnourished. His eyes looked like they were bulging, nearly ready to pop from their sockets, and the left one twitched and had erratic, unpleasant spasms at irregular intervals. The lines on his face were prominent and deep, and despite probably not being further on his years than maybe his mid thirties or early fourties, the man could easily have been mistaken for a senior citizen of advanced age. His hands, hanging from his sleeves like bent talons, were gnarled and bony, with nothing but skin and sinew seemingly. He stared with toxic green eyes at the lizardman before him, awaiting some kind of answer to a question he thought he had asked.

Although Artemisia was by no means a large woman –she was just a bit on the smaller side, in fact—she found herself edging forward with her horse, using the more imposing figure of her mount to put herself between her new, for now, trusted companions as a group approached them. Something about the situation or the demeanor of the group immediately set off a warning inside her head. Despite the friendly sounding greeting from what appeared to be the head of the party, her instincts told her that these guys were bad news. It was those instincts that had kept her alive and even comfortable in the year after her self-imposed exile, and it wasn’t one she was going to give up on now. She took the time to quickly rebuff herself.

Still, she listened, despite what felt like the hairs on her body standing up on end. The leading man was amicable enough, dapper, and easy on the eyes, much like herself, really, if she had ever been prone to yapping and trite platitudes.

Damn, this man was overly friendly.

Although Hawklen had compared their selves to her own party, Artemisia had found the differences to be quite jarring. No matter how much he talked his teammates up, Krenna, in all her undressed splendor and chav-like demeanor, was hardly a demure princess; Norbert –Norbe sounded stupid—with a weapon hardly suited for sharpshooting; and the wizard Glum, who acted and dressed the part; they looked far from a cohesive bunch, despite the bard’s snake oil salesman attempt to sell them otherwise.

More interestingly, he had introduced ‘Glum’ as a king of silent spells. Although it was hardly unheard of, because she was already suspicious of their intentions, his introduction meant that she kept an especially attentive watch on the otherwise unremarkable looking wizard. As long as he stayed like that, with his trap shut, she was willing to entertain this group for the moment. If she could find it, diplomacy was always the preferred option.

“Okay Hawklen, sure. I’m Artemisia, and these are my companions for this small jaunt,” she replied, humoring the man. Unlike her introduction to Cecilia, she redacted her full name. “I can hardly call myself a leader among us, so I’ll leave their introductions up to them. Your offer sounds reasonable, despite your companion’s protest,” she continued, offering a thin smile in the direction of their street princess. “In fact, I would be the first to suggestion cooperation.” Her eyes flicked back to Glum, whose lips were now moving. She recalled his introduction.

Artemisia’s hand slowly fell to the sword she carried on her side. “But I can’t help but to recall your introduction of the good wizard. If your intentions were as noble as you esteem us to be, then why is the fellow long-casting in silence, with your arbalest gone on adventuring to god knows where?” Her fingers were on the hilt of her sword now. “If this is a misunderstanding, I urge you to clarify it now.” She left the rest unsaid; if Cecilia and Locke hadn’t noticed the precarious situation and prepared accordingly, they would be now after she had just verbalized her observations.

@ERode,@Click This,@PigeonOfAstora,@OwO
Center of the Forgotten Ruins:

Hawklen smiled in the way only a pretty boy could, and was about to answer the questions posed by the brown haired, blue eyed noblewoman atop her horse - but before he could, the tattood amazoneess-of-a-woman next to bellowed in anger.

"Whasasat ya pompous hussie? Ya 'cusin us o' tryin' somethin'? You's be the one who ain't gotten off yer damn 'orse yet, 'n the one with 'er 'ands on 'er blade!!" She barked in her deep, rumbly, and not particularly eloquent way of communicating.

Hawklen looked - though only for the briefest of moments - irked by the sudden outburst of his companion. But before any could point out or take in his discontent, the same old playboy-smile was back on his lips, and he offered Artemisia a deep, courteous bow, removing his hat in a flourish.

"Milady, you wound me!" He half-said, half-exclaimed. "Did I not suggest we work together? But such distrust! I can assure you that we have no intent of foul play." He tried to assuage. Rising again, and putting his dapper hat back atop his head, he looked at the three nobles with a casual expression. "My good friend, Glum, over there, isn¨'t casting a spell. He's mute." The young man said off-handedly. "You see, his father was a wizard and alchemist, who tested his brews on his own son. Sad as it is, one of those drinks burned dear Glum's throat so bad that he can't speak anymore." Hawklen explained, giving the wizard at his back a single glance. "As for Norbe." He looked around. "He's our scout! I'm sure he stepped out to survey the area and find the best way to go about ascending the tower to our mutual treasure."

Krenna had, at this point, taken steps towards Artemisia, though she still wasn't close enough to be within striking-range with her fang and claw-studded club. Glum's mouth had stopped moving, as had the rest of the man, and he just stood silent, staring from the beneath the shadow of his hood that covered his eyes, ever silent, ever unmoving. Hawklen then looked up at the horse-mounted lady and smirked.

"But despite my comrade's inelegant choice of words, milady, she [idoes[/i] have a point." He said, voice still smooth but a bit less friendly than before. "You're sitting up there, on your horse, with a hand on your sword, seemingly ready to trample us when we've given you nothing but cordial treatment, _{some present company excluded}. Why don't you come on down, relax a bit and discuss the future of our cooperation, hm?" He suggested, reaching a hand up towards her, as if to help her dismount. The bard did turn his head towards Cecilia and Locke though.

"And please, don't be shy! Speak your names and your wishes as well, friends! We're all on the same side here after all."

Kaze's ears flicked back and forth, the low light of the church not bothering him as he expanded his senses. Nothing, not even rodents were to the sides. Only two new scents were here, the woman who bolted in after the pair but before the oddly dressed girl. Who hadn't made it when some strange bones erupted from the ground and cut off the main entrance to the place. How annoying.

Moving forward he finally took the huge blade that was buckled to his back and held it to the side with a single great hand. Considering the size it was actually a rather frightening passive display of strength. His footsteps halted, instead his feet sweeped in crescents, moving forward without lifting his feet. It seemed he was still being cautious and moving in such a way that it'd be virtually impossible to lose his footing.

The shape towards the back of the church finally spoke up and turned, clearly a madman. But that green hue didn't make Kaze think illness, it was unnatural. "Not pilgrims or supplicants. We're just moving through." He stated with that deep voice of his. Even speaking quietly it still rumbled like distant thunder. The man before them wasn't well, and considering he was here...probably an obstacle.

Still, Kaze's buffs were running strong so he approached the back of the church to look for an exiting opening.

@Kazemitsu,@Afro Samurai,@The Irish Tree
The Church just south of the Ruin's Center:

As soon as the great lizard warrior began to draw closer to the man, even though he was trying to scooch to the far side of him, he'd notice something. The strange heap that had been laying off to the side in the church began to stir. The strange man in robes merely looked at Kaze as he moved about, his bulging eyes staring, while one twitched at random and lost its focus, before resuming to watch.

"Not pilgrims? Not supplicants? Choice? You have none." The man then said, clasping his hands together and wringing them tightly into a knot infront of himself. "This is the house of the Gods, you pass through when they say so. They haven't said so. You stay. Like them. They all stay." He spoke, voice hoarse and speech jittery. "Be not afraid, no harm becomes you here. You are safe, oh yes so very safe. In here you are protected, the Gods' halls shield you. And shielded you must be, yes, yes, yes, yes, from the great evil... The falsehood taints all hearts, so many lost, so many." He shook his head, with a palm upon his forehead for emphasis at the supposed travesty, as he craned and arched backwards in apparent, or supposed, grief.

Then he snapped back to his former, slightly hunched stance at took his eyes off Kaze, glaring instead now at the elven girl and elven paladin over at the opposite ends of the church. A wide smile spread across his emaciated face.

"Ah! But you are pilgrims! Yes, look! The Gods hold your shoulders! So radiant, so glorious! Come from afar to these forsaken plains, no doubt to do the Gods' work, mmmm'yeeees?" He seemed very excited now, stepping forward and off the slightly elevated piece of floor where the altar and podium had once-upon-a-time stood. His hands were swiftly being rolled infront of him, as if he was kneading his own fingers. "Come, stand, walk, sing. Children of Light, such brilliant light, you must work and join with the Gods. Oh yes, you must.... You. Must." His eyes narrowed and the wolfish grin on his face was quite unpleasant. His spasming eye flicked over to look at the heap to the side, which was now still once again. "Just. Like. Them."

"Alright, I'm Cecilia, Hawk, nice to meetcha," Cecilia piped up, a bright smile on her face as she watched the rest. "Arte's a merchant, and we've been going through these ruins with ruffians popping up every which way trying to make away with her horse and her goods, so you'll have to forgive her for, y'know, not wanting to leave her horse and such. As for people menacingly holdin' onto their weapons, I don't very much appreciate hypocrisy n all, yeah? After all, Kren there has been holding onto her club this entire time, and it's the same with Nor too, y'know, who was definitely holding onto his crossbow until he up and disappeared. So hey, how 'bout just getting Nor back here, have Kren stop posturing, bring Glum over, and we can all have a good, peaceful conversation face to face."

She paused, before shrugging, her own spear leaning loosely against her shoulder. "But then again, I don't think we've much reason to team-up. Most of my group is already rich, and we're just here because we're stuck between two armies and the best way out is by offering them what they want. If you'll keep us safe and let us handle the star-metal and negotations with the military, we'll letcha keep all the money, alright? No problems from our poor mountain princess there, neh? All I'll ask of you is to let me see it first. Sure you understand an adventurer's desire to be the first to lay eyes on something new?"

Unlike Arte, Cecilia was relaxed, cheerful even. She didn't mind adding more people into the party, after all. The more the merrier; so long as she laid eyes on heaven's bounty first, the Spellblade wasn't particularly concerned with monetary gain.

...well, she also wasn't opposed to getting in a nice fight either.

Placing one hand behind her back and extending her other hand outwards, Cecilia left her spear leaning against her shoulder as she flourished out a gentlemanly offer. "Well, whatcha say?"

And behind her back, visible to Arte and Locke only, her other hand began to curl its fingers, a silent four-second countdown. If Norde and Glum didn't cut their shit out, that was all the time Cecilia was willing to give before she got to it.

The sewer tunnels beneath the ancient city had long since been drained of its unnatural waters, and only thin puddles remained. Rainwater and simple condensation in this humid underground sat as tiny mires where vibrant green mats sprung up through the cracks in the earth. Drains dotted the curved walls of the tunnels, funneling light from the surface down into the otherwise dim realm.

A pair of boots and the tiny pitter-patter of a small creature's limbs snapped through the echoing tubes. Short black hair dashed around corners, following after a diminutive red blob-thing. Annabelle, a title-less lady, made her way through the sewers of the Forgotten Ruins, wary of the sounds of clashing above ground. Navigating the place was frustrating, given its propensity to collapse into impassable walls of rubble, but with some testing, determination, and boundless energy to continue running, she made relatively short work of the labyrinthine tunnels.

When she had come upon a pile of rubble stacked to the ceiling, her dynamic little friend did its best to dislodge enough for her to slip over. The familiar, a blood elemental dubbed 'Carpenter' squeezed and slunk, morphing into fine threads of bright red blood as he coursed through the spaces in the rubble easily. Within its rocky prison, a push her, a snap of a whip there, and the pile tumbled in further on itself. Annabelle was not above squeezing herself through claustrophobic spaces, and some help from Carpenter tugging her through made for a simple experience. On one occasion she had to fit herself through a narrow tube in the wall of the sewers to reach the other side. She folded her arms up, stuck her feet in, and let the morphing familiar do the work of pulling her through. That must have been what a cannonball felt like, she imagined.

There were others down in the sewers, too, but only after she had already put in a considerable amount of time down there. Few were able to make it through the sewers from her starting position, but it seemed as though several groups had decided to venture below ground only once they'd made it deeper into the Ruins. Annabelle avoided confrontation. She was but one woman, even if she could profess having two capable allies always at her side.

Inwards she headed, following the pipelines directions only insofar as they pointed towards the city center. She was lucky that she hadn't yet had to ascend to continue on, but her luck was soon to run out.

A dead end.

Not a pile of rubble or a too-narrow continuation, but a genuine end to the pipe. A flat, solid wall stood before her. Perhaps out of a disappointment, or perhaps out of a fleeting hope that she was looking at some kind of trap door, she touched the wall softly. Finding it just as impassable as expected, Annabelle sighed.

A boisterous voice caught her ears, ringing sharply from above ground down into the sewer. Annabelle approached the steel-barred drain, eyes slowly adjusting to the light outside as she peered up to the ground-level. Carpenter bounced up with surprising agility for his rotund and stubby stature, and hung onto the ledge of the drain beside her.

Two groups had encountered one another, and stood at odds. To her right was a group of three; individuals that appeared of nobility, a man, and two women including a mounted horse. To her left was a group of four; a loud-mouthed and jovial man accompanied by a barbarian woman, a bowman, and a particularly generic-looking mage. She could tell by his hood and wooden staff.

"Now then! I know not who you are, fine ladies and gent, but I can assume we're all here for the same reason, yes?"

They appeared to be considering joining forces, though Annabelle could easily note by the trio's body language that said proposal was under considerable scrutiny. She listened in silence as they spoke back and forth, dutifully noting down the names of the trio as they introduced themselves. If they did decide to join together, they'd certainly be the biggest group she'd seen thus far. A troublesome band to try and navigate around.

Carpenter prodded Annabelle's cheek, drawing her attention. A stubby red arm pointed towards a peculiar object that had jutted out just beside the sewer drain. A small, sharp crystal grew from the corner where earth met ruined wall, and sparkled with a hue she was unfamiliar with. At the very least, it appeared the sewers led her to a promising location within the ruins. She would have to surface, but the group's presence worried her. She took a gamble.

If they were forming up, perhaps they would be more receptive to taking on another random while still in the 'team-forming headspace'. Annabelle knew people liked her, so she had some confidence in following through with her decision.

Annabelle took a step back from the drain, her back nearly pressing up against the opposite wall. She retrieved a dagger from the belts hanging from her back, itself saddled alongside the long leather sheathe of her main sword. With a quick spin in her hand, she drew it across her palm, letting blood droplets flow. She did not need much for what she intended.

As the crimson bead fell upon the water with a barely-audible 'plop', a silent phantasm began to fade into reality before her. Wordlessly did it understand her intents, and without bidding, it lifted a skeletal hand from beneath its red cloak towards the metal bars sealing the sewer from the sunlit world.

A red bolt was cast out, crashing into the drain and blowing it to smithereens. Thin weaves of lingering magic coursed through the remaining material surrounding the open hole, and as they faded, left behind trails of minute vegetation. Its task done, the spirit faded away, and Annabelle briskly jogged up to the hole, throwing herself up with a hop. It was too narrow to simply crouch through, and so she performed one final prone shimmy to get out of the sewer and onto the Ruin grounds. Carpenter leaped up beside her, easily making it up and over.

Annabelle stood amidst the low dust cloud that billowed outwards from her feet, patting herself down, and lifted her gaze to the group. Now that she was actually standing before them, she didn't know what to say.

And so, she said nothing. Would a smile suffice?

@ERode,@Click This,@OwO,@PigeonOfAstora,@Asuras
Forgotten Ruins Center]

At Cecilia's comment, Hawklen would simply wag his finger and let out a series of 'tsk'-sounds, as if the young lady was a small child who had just done something naughty. With a sweeping motion of his hand, he pointed at Krenna's club.

"Now, you see here, milady. My dear ally here has neither strap nor hook with which to hang her weapon. I mean, look at her, she's barely wearing anything at all!" Which was undeniably true. "Where's she supposed to put her equipment if there's nowhere to put it? Surely you don't mean to say she should drop it, like you've pretended to do with your spear?" The man said, turning to Cecilia with a smile, thougyh his eyes glinted dangerously. "And honestly, if you're gonna make up lies at least make them believable. There's no way our horse-riding maiden is a merchant. Such people would never set foot inside of here." The bard stated matter-of-factly. It seemed he was a bit more shrewd than he let on.

"But, if it'll make you feel better... Glum, could you come here?" He called. The Wizard said nothing, but began to walk, slowly, towards his two allies. Hawklenm's head then turned to look around the ruined plaza, only top stop momentarily and glare at the tower with the hole in. He turned back to look at Cecilia with a sheepish smile. "As for your other request, weeeeeeeell... I think Norbe's gone and gotten some of that explorer's thirst you spoke of."

At this point, it became very clear where Norbe was. The black-armored man was already scaling the tower, using climbing spikes. Amazingly, despite his rather square and stocky build, he was scaling the structure with practiced and steady pace - not fast mind you, but he was contineously moving upwards. Before anyone could do or say anything else though, Glum raised a hand and pointed, past the three nobles and to an alley behind them. Hawklen raised an eyebrow, squinted and peered in the direction. He turned back to Glum, who made a motion like drawing a line with his index-finger over his eyes. Hawklen's smile vanished, and he turned back to the trio.

"I see... So you had a fourth friend hiding over there... And invisible, no less." His voice was now devoid of any friendliness or warmth that it had had before. "It seeems you lot can't be trusted, trying to disarm us, lying to us and not even introducing all of yourselves. Deal's off, I'm afraid." The man said plainly.

Of course, before anyone did anything else, there was a sound from underground. Then a brief explosion and rising of dust. Hawklen and Krenna let out surprised squawks, while Glum merely wlaked backwards, as apparently unphased as always. From the new hole in the street, a woman emerged. Followed by some strange, red... Globular... Thing(?)... And, as she stood between the two gruops that had previously been mere eye-battings from going at one another, she just smiled. She had short hblack hair and was almost as skantily dressed as Krenna, perhaps even more so.

If there had been crickets in the Forgotten Ruins, they would be chirping right about now.

As negotiations broke down, the exhausted Locke gave a quick shake of the head. What a pain this all turned out to be. His temporary companions were tolerable. This new group, in fact, was significantly less so. They wore betrayal on their sleeves, especially with what the more-savage-than-the-other-savages said. As negotiations started, Locke wasn't one to idly do nothing. He thought about how to win a fight, if it came to it. Shock and awe; be the first one to strike. The plan was about as simple as they could be. In an instant, debilitate a member to take them out of a fight. The no-longer climbing Cecilia was back on the floor, so his fairy naturally returned to his side.

Something caught him off guard. When Glum pointed at the alley, Locke took a glance too. Almost invisible, but a boy was concealed. Magical invisibility? Was he an ally of the other group or just a third party looking to get in on it? Whatever. He wasn't with him. He didn't care. Then, eruption.

From the ground, a new figure appeared: a girl and her blob. Was she an enemy too? Judging by the stunned looks of Hawklen and Krenna, no. Someone who came out now was either a complete idiot or a slightly less complete idiot. Either way, coming out and instantly smiling meant that (for now) she wouldn't be a threat. Probably. Well, time was of the essence.

Taking a deep breath and advantage of the chaos, Locke unleashed a flurry of attacks. Swiftly, his body twisted as his hand collected a fist-sized rock. Without so much as thinking about the accuracy, he horked it at the "invisible" figure. While he could vaguely see the boy, he actually didn't care about hitting him. More so to warn him that his invisibility wouldn't work on him. Without stopping his body's rotation, he spun to face the opposing party. The words already escaped his lips by that time.

“Sek omoz!” He yelled with considerable vigor.

With his endurance kept in reserve, his right hand struck the ground. A black crack quickly moved through the ground like lightning and, in front of the Bard's opposing party, erupted into a cone of black smoke. Impenetrably thick, the magic smoke was enough to obscure vision as a sheet of pitch had been placed in front on one's eyes. It didn't help that those who breathed in the magic were inflicted with a distressing languidity.

But he didn't stop there. At the same time as the black smoke formed, his fairy was ever attentive at his back.

With a quick point of Locke's finger, the luminous fairy by his side instantly knew what he wanted. In an instant, two balls of lights formed in the fairy's hands as she pointed them towards their target: Glum's eyes. Instantaneously, twin blasts of light designed to sear retinas cut through the smoke in an attempt at blinding Glum. Such a move was only punctuated by the fact that such a black smoke cloud was ever-so-slightly translucent for the summoner's eyes.

Magic was unlike the more physical nature of combat. A warrior could sway a fight just as much as a mage, but there was one key difference: a warrior was predictable. Mages, on the other hand, had a toolbox of spells designed just for the occasion. If he were able to blind the wizard, then he wouldn't be able to cast his magic. Less magic meant more predictability.

When Ciel eavesdropped in the trio's conversation, he had planned to reveal himself, offering himself as a scout for the party. After all, recon and stealth were his daily routines, given that he was a little rusty with combat with it ever since he hung up his gear. But when he rounded the corner, he was nearly knocked aside by the lance wielding mage that sped past him, followed by the noble on the horse and the poor mage (summoner?) who sounded like he was having heart attacks trying to keep up, leaving Ciel coughing from the dust kicked up from the horse.

He was late.

Ciel watched uneasily as the group carved their way through the streets by brute force, knocking aside bandits and smiting down adventurers into confused blackouts. He could easily catch up, sure - but especially with the spellblade jovially spearing down anyone in their path, it was most likely he would be taken as another badnit before he ever got his name out. Besides, it seemed like they didn't need a scout, if they wanted to just muscle their way through... Or Ciel was making excuses. His stomach pitted a little at the prospect of joining another group. He...he wasn't quite sure if he was ready, despite the ridiculousness of the circumstances.

Nonetheless, they were going in the same direction as he was, and while he was confident he could avoid most confrontations with well timed magic suppressions and invisiblity, he wasn't as sure about the amount of flak flung around. It was a clear path to safety - an opportunity Ciel couln't afford to miss. Ciel sunk back into invisibility, his surroundings warping and buckling momentarily before stretching back over his body, as if tucking a doll under a blanket. As the clearance ahead of him started to crumble back into madness, Ciel took after the group.

It wasn't long before the trail ended with a partially crumbled alleyway, the adjacent building still smoking from a blast nearby. Ciel slowed down to survey the site, spotting the trio he has just followed meeting up with another group. He could pick up faint fragments of the conversation as Ciel stopped to retie his bindle. It had come loose from the run, and if ever he lost the rations inside, he would soon have to be scrounging or even stealing from others. 'Treasure...team up...'

So they were making a bigger coalition for the treasure hunt. It was astounding to hear that people were still lusting for whate er treasure that was supposedly sitting on top of the ruined cathedral, when screams of far off murder was rounding in the vicinity. Ciel's priorities had shifted the moment the panic broke loose, to just survival. What did a few dozen clutches of coin matter if no-one made their way out of there? Ciel emphasized this point with a double knot. He was getting out of here. Probably go back to the farm, at least there no-one but the occasional wolf bothered him. Ciel stretched, yawning as he scanned the view of the palace. It almost seemed like irony to see a serenely old castle when there was so much chaos outside. Ciel liked old buildings, with their stoic watch over ages past. They looked like silent friends, unbetraying and honest with their decay. Nivianis, Ciel's home city, had countless forgotten houses etched into the cragface, and if one was quiet enough, they would hear the brick and stone whisper lonely secrets through the sea breeze.

Ciel sniffled as he returned from his reminenscence. He was invisible and safe for now, miraculously free from tangles. He doubted his luck would persist. Ciel was about to shoulder his bindle when he heard a rock landing a fair way from him. When he looked up, he saw that the two groups had deteriorated into a terse stand off, and someone had thrown a rock at him in his general direction, landing quite a distance away. Ciel felt his skin crawl, a tell-tale sign of someone detecting magic. Spotted!

@Afro Samurai,[Kazemitsu],@The Irish Tree

The man remained standing still at the end of the church, rolling and kneading his hands with increasing speed and intensity. Kaze's search for a way around the man would prove fruitless though. The doorways that lead to the back of the chapel were barred by the same strange bone-bars that now blocked the main entrance and exit to the place. Meaning, unless the trip could find a way to either permanently break them, or be released otherwise, they were stuck in here - with the weird fellow, who kept watchin g their every move with his twitchy, erratic eye spazzing out every once in a while.

But then Vani spoke. The elf seemed to indulge the madman. As the paladin spoke, the man stood still, silent, frozen. With great interest and attention, he listned to the (relatively) young elf speak, taking in every word that was said. Or, at least it seemed like he did. It was hard to tell whether the man actually heard a single thing that they were saying, or if he was lost in his own little world entirely. Still, once the elf stopped speaking, a very wide.. Very creepy smile began to creep its way across the man's face, turning into a cracked grin that spanned from ear to ear. His hands had stopped kneading and folding over one another, and were now shaking and trembling infront of the man, as if he had contracted a sudden case of Parkinsons-disease. And then, out of the blue, he threw his robe-clad arms upwards towards the sky, flipping his head and neck backwards so he could stare into the very cracked, very dusty and very blank ceiling.

"A son! Yes! A SON! At last, a trueborn comes to seek the truth! One that hears and listens, not like them! Not like them, oh nonononononono...!" He began to shout, excitdely. "Not like the worms, no, not like them at all! Come here not to crave the falsehood, but to hear and serve the Gods, oh yes! YES! MOST EXCELLENT MY SON! Reverence and honor to the Gods, yes, you will do their work, as do I! As do we all!" He shouted, now beginning to walk, with halted steps, towards Vani... That damn creepy smile plastered all across his stupid, ugly, gaunt, old... Crazy face!

Stopping a few feet away from the Paladin however, he craned his hooded head and looked backwards, towards the Lizardman. Then craned it again, looking at the elven woman near to where the Paladin was standing, then back to Vani. His smile vanished. As if it had never been there. Replaced instead by the further bulging of his eyes and his other facial features taking on a more stone-like, eerie indifferent appearance.

"But... Only you have offered prayers to the Gods. Just you... You, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you, you...!! Not them." His eyes looked bloodshot, crazed and twitched freakishly now. "They are like them, yes. Not like us. Not we. Not they. They became like those who sought, not those who knew. Yes. Save them we must, like those others. So amny others. Came here to seek, but were lost. Now found. The Gods' embrace them all, yes." His entrie body seemed to tremble and shake now, not just his hands. ... At least, they did. Until he stopped. Completely. Standing perfectly still like a statue, not even blinking or seming to breathe. Until he spoke, voice hollow but clear, entirely unlike his hoarse, raspy voice from earlier. "You must save them." He said, staring at Vani, slowly raising an arm to point first at Kaze, then to Atua. "Save them, my son."

At this point, something became very noitceable to the three visitors of the church. There was, until now, nothing particularly stand-outish in the locale, apart from the man and the heap of... Whatever. But now, there was something else. A sudden smell came out of seemingly nowhere, now invading the nostrils of each of them. It was a smell of iron and rot. Mixed with feces and the unmistakable tinge of stinging amonia. It also became clear just what the pile of something was. Corpses, as it were.

Now that they were used to the light, they could finally distinguish the mass on the floor for what it was. Faces, twisted in pain and agony, mouths agape with blood running from the corners of their open gobs, nostrils, ears and even from behind their eyes on some. Small insects were moving back, skittering across the horrid heap of mangled cadavares, darting in and out of open cavities and space, doing whatever it was that they did. But, more unpleasant than the sight of this atrocity, was the fact that the heap began to move once more... As if someone, or something, within it still could muster the strength to make some motion, but not enough to actuallly get out of the mound of bodies.

Kaze took note the bone walls were covering the rear doors as well. Since they were the only people inside, including the insane old man, he could only assume it was him making it. His thoughts were getting interrupted by the old mans rambling though. The old codger wasn't the only one with a twitchy eye anymore, the huge reptilian man had tried to be a little polite...or just ignore him. But it was impossible now.

After a few more moments of the insane ramblings, Kaze snapped. "Would you shut the fucking up!" He'd roar, actually making dust shake from the ceiling. Strong lungs on him. "Fucking religious nutter! Go do something useful with what's left of your crap life!" He continued loudly, clearly fed up with it all. Never mind the fact he was probably against religion to begin with. What with being a lizardman among humans and other 'higher' races.

With his hollering done he glared angrily at the psychotic man before his head turned towards the mound of bodies. They were all younger than the man and not in the happiest shape. It also shifted and moved a little. A weakened person wouldn't be able to move enough weight like that. Fucking...magic users...

"Elf, do something holy to that mound of bodies." He stated as he lunged towards the elderly psychotic man. His sword held back before he swung it around. A sideways cleaving strike to just bisect the man at the chest.