---

With wind knocked out of him as Quentin's armored form slammed backwards into him, wheezes and painful, sharp-taken breaths forced their way out of Renault like a set of bellows that had been struck unceremoniously by a war-hammer. Quickly recovering as adrenaline, once more, coursed through his tired limbs, Renault's eyes seemed to widen in fear at the sight of the brood-mother. A bloated, tumorous creature, gorged on fouled gases, ill-begotten meat, and likely more spawn that would crawl their way out of her in time.

The wounds inflicted by Tracan had sent the beast into a fury, and though its charge was repelled by the defiance of Quentin's shield, he and Renault were now left face-to-face with the monster. Having kept his blade close-by as soon as Gorosk had recovered from his wounds, Renault swung his sword about in his hand for a few moments. Rather than an ostentatious display of dexterity as many arrogant swordsman were wont to do, Renault was centering his grip, flexing his wrist on what was likely be the mightiest foe they would face.

Now held firmly in his grasp, Renault took a step forward, arcing his sword downward in a cleaving motion. A well-guided hit could severely injure, if not cripple the creature outright. Though Renault had not prayed in years before today, a single thought swept through his mind, one that he heard daily in years past.

'Erithar, give me strength.'

The rat, between its frenzy and its recklessness, was pummeled and beaten thoroughly by the monk's onslaught. The strikes delivered by staff and fist beat against its flesh with frightening efficiency, its twisted and warped body no match for its own frantic attack that made it more vulnerable and the spark of deadly focus it had ignited in its once near-death enemy. It turned to recoil, to retaliate at the orc-blooded man, to add more crimson to his stained clothes but with one prayer the once divinely gifted holy warrior found his hand guided. It may have been circumstance, that the creature they focused upon just happened to be in the right place at the right time, but for a man grasping with his old beliefs and the promise of returning to favor of a god who seemed not to scorn him nearly as much as he thought, it was pure divinity.

The sword sliced, just as it should have, and it cut a narrow channel in the bloated monster's flesh. Red welled up from the wound and slid down the steel's fuller, running on to the hilt. Were he an ill informed, ill experienced fighter the wet that flitted his leather and metal grasp would have upset his backstroke, particularly in the frantic close quarters. Indeed his tired body struggled with the motion but he was alive again with conviction at the smiting he delivered. It would have bewildered Renault had he the time to think, that he could truly be doing something so just as slaying rats, but a sensation crept into his mind that had not struck him in a long, many years.

This rat was evil.

Not just common vermin, some hungering scum that fed upon carried and refuse that only served as prey to far worse things. Rather, no man of the holy could strike any creature with such force and conviction as that were it not truly evil. Erithar had heard him, he was sure of it, and he was sure now of his place in vanquishing this creature. This flash of enlightenment faded, the reality of their grim, panicked combat in the barely lit den of the broodmother settled in on him as he had the wherewithal to sidestep his comrade as a hammer rose overhead. So too did the half orc pull a punch, one arm slung at his side and the other halfway, realizing not to interfere with de Brey who threw himself into the attack. The hammer missed, the soldier's hands retrieving it as they slid down the weapon's shaft and handled the recoil, and it served as a reminder that as hastily as they needed kill this monster, they dare not be as reckless as it.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

Vah’lux looked on with weary eyes as blow after blow from her companions against the dire rat only managed to irritate the creature further, and -like any animal cornered and outnumbered- very little mattered than it’s survival. For a moment, the Goliath may have sympathized with the small beast, as it was only protecting what it assumed rightfully belonged to it. They weren’t dealing with intelligence more so than pure primal instinct. The kind that could be reckless and dangerous enough to kill at least one of them in an instant were they not careful. The high-pitched shrieks and snarls of desperation could be heard from the large rodent as it continued to live through the damage dealt to it by the others.

“Kavaki veni’aerth ret’ikeili!” The towering female Goliath cried out, drawing strength from her deity in an effort to rid the place of the abomination once and for all.

Gripping the large steel and bone axe in her massive hand, and winding a muscular arm back, she swung as hard and true as she could muster, down toward the bloodied creature, hoping the sharpened head of her weapon would split the creature in two.

That rat was cleaved by the bit of the axe's edge, rather it was just not in twain, slicing down its side and burying itself in the ground. More blood hit the air, along with a distinctive sickening sound of an arrow penetrating flesh. Just beside the bleeding gash carved down its sickly hide, Tracan's arrow embedded itself. Free of her bow, its shot had been woven just between the goliath's roaring strike and against the broad side of the rat, sinking almost to the fletching.

The punishment the monstrous vermin was enduring was substantial, as nothing short of Renault's strike had cut so cleanly into it. Each blow seemed to be turned aside ever so slightly, each wound inflicted forced into the flesh with such effort, and the rage of the beast hardly tempered. Even the elf's arrow, as she prepared the next shot, seemed to have truly done little to harm it. Its scarred, bloodied hide made it more manic as the flash of its seemingly red eyes alight in the flames of lantern and torch turned on the giant woman as she hefted back her axe.

With blinding speed and fury, it lashed out at her an tore at her exposed arm, its teeth rending at her flesh. With force she reared, liberating herself, but not escaping injury. The once gladiator swept her arm as she did so, ensuring that had her foe held on, it would have lost part of its face - no stranger to weapons that latched on or grappled with her. To her luck, and that of the diabolical broodmother, it dared not attempt such a maneuver but that did little to quench the searing pain and shock of a strong wound taken in.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

Though the party had thrown their all in to attacking it this last rat somehow stood still. Some part of Gorosk had to admire its ability to take such a thrashing and still fight for its life. For such a small insignificant beast it was fighting through a lot of pain and blood loss. Under other circumstances such a display might have caused Gorosk to want this to end in a non-lethal way. Perhaps were it a man they could have paused and settled things in another way. But it was a filthy rat, not a man.

Gorosk seeing the damage done to another of their party by this final cursed vermin puts other possibilities aside and lashes out with two kicks, hoping to make good on the injury caused by Vah'Lux's Axe and see the wound widened.

---

Was the rat accursed? Or were they? With every arrow, fist, and bladed edge that found their mark, the rat seemed to only grow further frenzied and enraged. Blood and pus seeped from every orifice, but the rat still fought. It was in that moment mere seconds ago that Renault's blood chilled in his veins. The creature they were fighting was no mere animal, no. Something far darker was bound to it: a force that seemed restricted to men and devils.

Zeal guided his arm, the force of will that Renault had not felt for many years. He remembered the tenets of the Order, their righteous and unyielding crusade against the forces of either. They were not to question, not to doubt, to draw their blades with full and virtuous intent; shielded just as much by faith as plate and chain-mail.

Calling on buried powers, Renault arced his arm back once more, bringing his blade down with the same force that one might strike a cloister bell with a hammer. He would see this wretched creature slain.

For the first time the beast was struck with considerable force that overcame its defenses. The paladin's ongoing effort to smite evil unleashing damage upon it that, for lack of better words, was just as it really should have been for all the pummeling and brutalizing it had received before that seemed turned aside. Whatever had gripped this monstrosity of what once was an animal, arrow, blade, and fist alike struck with such little result that it was unsettling. Without Renault's conviction and desire to make good on what he had promised and to throw himself into the battle heart and soul unfettered to cleanse himself of past sins, perhaps the monster could not have been overcome. Even the audible batter of the warhammer cracking down upon the rat, carried in the hand of de Brey all but slid off the creature whose bones did not break or bend under it.

The man heaved and panted, retrieving control of the weapon on the return swing, the sickly quality of the air making him gag. He would bathe long and hard after the battle to retake the stead, he swore it, and if only it too could wash away his failings he felt. Each blow he landed and how it glanced off, was it not just another torment leveled against him by the gods who abandoned them? Another cruel joke like their proposed freedom? He would have spat off more writing curses audibly under his breath, eye hurried between the holy warrior whose sword seemed to strike true each time for reasons he rightfully assumed magical to the goliath who seemed intent on never being confined in such a pit again.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

kha’vesh! The Goliath spat at the less-than-acceptable result of the ax blade against the creature’s putrid and otherwise grotesque flesh, almost as though she barely hit the dire rat at all. Had her eyes deceived her? Was this a test of one’s meddle in combat situations? Was the great hunter-god Manethak flexing his own powers by causing such a rodent to be a more capable foe than once assumed?

But Vah’lux had no time to dwell on such things, and even less to pull back her weapon for a possible follow-up strike as the creature lashed out at her ex[posed forearm, penetrating the skin, and eliciting a growl of pain from the pseudo-giant woman. Pain that -for once- brought tears that welled up in her eyes from the surge that ran up her arm as it hit a nerve. The Goliath recoiled as quickly as one could in her situation, as the others in her group rained hell down onto the beast.

Fortunately, it seemed to be the Paladin’s strike which caused the creature the most displeasure, and obvious damage against its otherwise tough hide.

Once again, when the opportunity arose, Vah’lux pulled her muscular arm back and swung hard and true against the dire rat, hoping this to be the final blow...

The swipe of the axe forced the creature back a step, its feet faltering. The unholy beast snapping at Vah'lux with a clatter of its stained, vicious teeth. But she was too quick, too strong to be bowled over by such an attack. So, so many fights in that dread pit, cheered on by orcish warriors and savages, thrown to the literal wolves or sentenced to slaughter the helpless who fought for their very lives. This loathsome creature? No, it would not be allowed to end her or anyone else.

The roar of flame behind her and the sudden heat that filled the giantess' mind warned her that the elf was again up to her magic of some kind and she wisely dodged. Narrowly, a gout of fire passed by her and blasted the creature with the brunt of force. It howled, really it screamed, a scream that pierced their ears with its almost human quality and shook them to the bone. It struggled, part of its motley fur aflame and flesh charred before it collapsed. Each crooked toe of the monstrosity curled, grasping the ground.

But these last moments were not long, it was dead. Magic, not might, overcame its defenses and slew the beast, an art all but as taboo as it came. Would such power be all that could tame this wild land and its accursed grounds, scarred by battles past?

It would be decided in due time and likely in part by the five who dared into this pit.


@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

---

In the death throes of the infernal creature lit aflame, Renault couldn't help but let his shield and blade clatter to the damp, rancid floor as gauntleted hands clasped around his ears. The rat's screams seemed to bleed past one's normal hearing; piercing into the very soul. With a dread silence almost instantly following, Renault took a few moments before his faculties returned to him, sheepishly gathering his equipment from the ground and doing a quick cleaning of his blade before returning it to his scabbard.

There was still a tingling left in his fingers. The power that coursed through them just seconds earlier, like a white-hot flame that touched, but did not burn him. A holy light darkened, dimmed inside himself for as long as he remembered. Did the presence of this...Evil bring it out of him on instinct alone? Or were greater things at work? The Order taught the Paladins humility and submissiveness, not merely to prevent arrogance, but to show them how grand and incomprehensible the gods were. For even the least among the divines would see the best humanity had to offer as nothing more than an insect.

But seeing this, knowing this, Erithar chose from the millions a portion who were tasked with wielding His divine will. They would follow His tenets, obey His laws, and receive awesome power in return. Was that why Renault was here? Why he had been thrown into that cell in the first place? After years of aimless wandering, without hope and purpose...maybe this was his Patron's will after all.

With the immediateness of the now again returning to him, Renault was all but overwhelmed by a fresh wave of tiredness that washed over him. Resisting the urge to sit down and rest here on willpower alone, Renault did his best to avert the gruesome sight of the perished Brood-Mother.

"We best make our way out of here, before more of them show up. It's more than likely that any stragglers will scramble, nest elsewhere. Hopefully far away."

“Agreed.” The Goliath nodded toward the human Paladin, wiping the sweat and drops of blood from her brow and around her eyes as she searched the small clearing for signs of further threats. When none was apparent, she allowed a held breath to release, and some semblance of stress to vanish from her mind and already aching muscles. The creature was finally gone, unmoving, and torn apart from the various attacks by the party, which left nothing but a carcass and a terrible smell.

Pulling a small rag tucked inside the breast of her armor, she held it against the wound sustained only moments earlier by the dire rat, hoping that whatever disease or pestilence the creature may have carried, would not have transferred into her veins. It was a long way to go, no matter what their next course of action would be, and Vah’lux did not want to become yet another statistic.

“I pray that the return trip would prove much less of a headache than our time in this dark place.” Running the blade of her ax along the ground, the Goliath wiped blood, guts, and bits of wiry hair from her weapon, daring not to carry any of the foul creature's wicked soul on her return trip.

Praise be to Kavaki. She smiled, hoping only to leave the underground prison, never to return again.

The soldier, now having in part redeemed himself and his duties although he still harbored a hardness in his heart toward the man who had sentenced them, breathed slowly through his lips. The air of anxiety and tension leaving his chest, he took in the moment, removing his helm and setting it under an arm as he surveyed the fallen beast. One of his boots nudged a limb, lifting it, checking to see if it were really as lifeless as it appeared while the other held the hammer at increasing rest; they really had done it after all. Hair sticking to his face drenched with sweat, he looked over his companions in misery for a moment. It was too close to home for him, too familiar in a way, and soberingly he retreated back into his helm, giving a nod of agreement to both who had spoken that they should best leave from this vile pit.

Tracan, in the meantime, had only a sense of underlying wrath in her extinguished for now. Mentally exhausted more than she was physically, she was pleased only that the creature was not say, resistant or immune to her talent, but all the same this experience had tapped her completely. Her bow and hand would be steady, just her heart and certainly her mind now too were not in the place they needed to be. She spoke up as she was oft want to, saying, "Let's go then. Nothing here for us now just like there wasn't before."

She slung her bow once again, flexing her fingers after open and closed, rolling her wrist over itself a few times. It surprised her that they asked nothing of her ability, leaving it just up to elven trickery and magic most likely, although she couldn't help be more suspicious they would conspire about it before asking. For the time being, however, she drew her dagger from her belt and looked on down back the path they had came, the only other they hadn't gone taking them to the barn. It was that or they returned down the path toward the chest...

@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

The weight of the battle and the very real possibility of death fall off Gorosk's shoulders as the brood mother rat burning agonized writhing gave way to slight twitches and eventually the contractions of burning meat. He stared at it rather dumbfounded and noticed only after several seconds that his own hands and arms were shaking. Fists drawn impossibly tight as he watched he unclenched them with some effort and watched curiously as they too twitched slightly. The effect exaggerated perhaps by the dancing light of the smouldering rat corpse.

He took a deep embarrassingly gasping breath as it finally sank in that the fight was over now. It had been quite an odd day, and yet it was not quite over. He had very nearly died this day, far below ground and surrounded by the blood and piss and shit of a rat breeding pit. Now it was all over, and he was still alive. Renault was right, as was Vah'lux. Heading back was the only reasonable way to proceed, as strange as it would feel to return that very day after all they had done since morning.

Gorosk moved closer to the others, for once preferring company to solitude, and joined them in attempting to clean himself off. Seeing Vah'lux' method he sought out the least vermin corrupted patch of dirt he could find and rubbed the gore and fur from his arms with it. When he had traded one sort of filth for another he looked back up to the others, eager to depart.

"Let's go then. Nothing here for us now just like there wasn't before." The Elf said, and he agreed with the notion more than he would ever have imagined prior, more than he liked to admit.

"This," he said opening and closing his hands to work some of the tension out of them, "This does not feel like victory. I am with you all, let's get far from this cursed land and be glad to put this all behind us."

There were times the walls of dirt, roots, and bones that made up much of the tunnel felt as though it could all come crashing down onto the mighty Goliath. It was already a tight squeeze for one of her stature and weight, but the idea of possibly never seeing the great painted sky again was a dreadful feeling. Never to behold a golden sunrise or sunset as was once the case. Never to cast her gaze upon the moon as it smiled down onto her children. The very brush strokes of the gods, meticulously adding bits of detail to cloud formations during the day, and the countless stars at night. All would be lost to Vah’lux in one fell swoop if the tunnel would become her end.

But, the pseudo-giant shook off the dread, closing her eyes for a moment and focusing on her slowed breathing, listening as the dank, musty air flowed in through her nose, and then out through her mouth. It would all be fine. It had to be.

“To the temple we should return then.” She said, her voice low and calming, as she opened her eyes once again to look upon the underground den of evil. “I only pray this is the last we’ll see of this place, or anything even remotely like it.”

---

With everyone in agreement, Renault nodded once, a simple action that seemed to drain whatever little stamina he had left after the extended skirmish they had all participated in. Not willing to give himself up to exhaustion yet, Renault kept a hand near the hilt of his blade in case a surprise should call need for it.

"Onward, then." He said, taking point in retracing the party's steps towards where they first entered the tunnels below. Burrowing creatures that the rats were, the lot of them would have to suffice with climbing out of the pit, but the drop was not steep, and no doubt, with a little aid, they all should be able to crawl out without issue.

All Renault felt in that moment was a want of food, bath, and rest. Every part of hi hurt; his arm and leg still stung with the rancid bite marks of the pests, and it was more than likely that tomorrow would only bring on more agony. But there was excitement, too. If only for a few fleeting moments, Renault felt his life's purpose return to him, that same energy that prompted him to draw his blade in the first place.

He would think on this tonight.

The trudging march from the lair of the filth ridden rats into the open air was a freeing experience. Stepping outside the crumbling, blackened homestead that once was a farm, thankfully all they saw before them was their handiwork from not long before. Twice had they "escaped" an earthen prison although it likely were if one asked now which they preferred, the time awaiting their sentencing may have been much preferred. Whatever the case, they set off through the field, wary of the sun above them and its arc across the sky. The time on this accursed stead was truly not all that long and thankfully it hadn't been as there was still time to return to town, at least by hour of twilight.

Brushing the dirt off from his armor, de Brey lead them as he had before. Although, once again, it was the elven bowman who was really guiding them. Not that they needed it to follow the road back, the eagerness of the moment and their procession hastened them to attention, but this still was the Marches. There was no telling if the boars that had seen earlier might emerge from the throng of trees that lined each side of the path or if those things that consumed said boars would. Or worse, as this land was tainted. So they had heard at least, that the ages past still lingered here and terrible things of old wars and events long before the departure of the pantheon. A black mark on the face of the continent, as if the north was not already a pock of its own stripe or the east with its elven rangers.

The concern lurking in back of mind was ever more reasonable. They were wounded, fatigued, and perhaps even diseased if the reality of rooting out a rat's nest was even close to what it had been. To their fortune, however, their ever so slightly limping return to town was uneventful, and they passed by the first few farms as the sun was drawing close to the horizon. For all intents and purposes they had made it "home" in a way, to the temple that greeted them in the distance. Only having been gone less than a day, its sanctuary was a welcome promise, was certainly was its finer features and restorative promises.

Together they entered the stone structure, being none accosted by the militia who they did not even see on their way back, likely elsewhere if even at their posts, and found that the priest who had been the most generous soul to them yet was surprised at their return so soon. His eyes were filled with a certain shine of surprise and he confessed that he had imagined they would be gone for days. That they had not even stopped to eat or rest mesmerized him in a way that spoke to his perhaps all too worrying innocence. As a man of the cloth who attended a lonely temple on the fringes of the civilized world, if this place could even be called that, he truly knew little of just what it was they had him send the band of prisoners on in exchange for starting down the road to redemption.

While his apologies seemed sincere, perhaps more it was his deeds that might alleviate worries. He allowed them into the cellar of the temple, where the fire was kept and stoked, as well as the cauldron and the jugs of water to clean themselves. Moreover, the priest so too performed his magical investiture of healing upon them, warning them that while he was able to mend their wounds and cure them of the ailments that had not even yet manifest, they needed to be far more careful in this sense; not everything could he remedy and the powers needed for far more dangerous things were certainly not here. Whether they took the warning in or not was unknown but the holy man provided them with what little else he had to offer.

A few blankets and a floor, for the night they could sleep upon the temple's grounds protected rather than trapped by its walls...

@Archangel89@BangoSkank@Hellion@Lord Wyron@TyrannosaursRex

Was it truly happening? Had the fight come to an end, and the possibility of leaving the forsaken underground nesting place becoming a reality? The group made their way back from where they began, and thankfully nothing more remained in their way. The rats most likely fled after the fall of the larger, supernaturally charged leader. Evil was something never to be trifled with, and Vah’lux could feel it all around her, even as they made it back up the incline to the surface.

“I do hope that this instance is not a reflection of the rest of this land.” The Goliath commented while following the troupe down the dirt road on their return trip to the temple. “As I’m sure I echo the rest of your thoughts, I for one would be satisfied never to see another rat again.” Vah’lux allowed a slight low chuckle to follow the comment, surveying the area during the long walk.

Her eyes looked toward the darkening sky as sunset quickly approached, but was happy to be able to witness such magnificence once again. The gods seemed pleased, or perhaps it was only her hope they were, as the Goliath felt it a daily challenge to appease their deities in any way that was deemed acceptable in their eyes. She did hope that Kavaki and Manethak, specifically, would be quite happy with her actions over the course of many years, the trials she’s had to face, the near-death experiences endured, and the freedom she so wishes to taste once again.

Freedom. What does that really mean in this new world?

The temple was a sight for sore eyes indeed, and the priest himself was likened to a friend you never knew at all, but was glad to come back to in the end. Perhaps it was his good-natured mannerisms -whether they be out of obligation or otherwise- but the Goliath had much respect for the human and his unfulfilling task of keeping the spiritual order of things. The healing he was able to bestow upon the group was quite miraculous, if one could call it that, and Vah’lux not only felt better physically, but her sense of morale felt as though it had been raised just enough to make it over the dark wall which seemed to blind her at the worst of times.

“Once again priest, your time and hospitality is most welcomed.” She nodded in his direction, while sitting against the back wall, and rubbing her forearm where the wound from the dire rat had once been. A small scar -barely noticeable- remained, but a small price to pay to be healthy once again.

The Goliath stood to her feet; light from the candles and torches along the wall would cast a large growing shadow across the floor, as the pseudo-giant stretched her limbs and rubbed the tension from her shoulders and neck. There were few places where humans and the like dwelled, in which a Goliath could feel they had enough room to move about without knocking anything over in the process. And the temple in which they took shelter had been one of those. Of course anything was better than where they had come from.

The water from the large clay pitcher given to her by the priest felt refreshing as Vah’lux stripped away the thick linen under-wraps from her chest and pelvic area and did her best to wash the blood and muck from her slate-toned skin. Nudity was something that was never seen as anything but a natural occurrence to many species within the world, especially the Goliath, who thought nothing of it. But, part of her also knew the customs of many human cultures were not of her own, and once she cleaned as much as she could with a pale of water and an old rag, the Goliath draped the blanket around her shoulders, as the rest of the warm fabric fell just about to the middle of her muscular thighs. There was no shame felt for herself, but she glanced at the priest and nodded all the same, feeling as though she should at least respect his domain.

Feeling better all around, Vah’lux took a seat on a nearby stone bench and leaned her head back against the cool wall, as her eyes blankly stared at the ceiling, watching the shadows cast from the various light sources dancing around.

Gorosk felt in a fog as they returned to the sanctuary of the temple. Though it was not the sort of temple he was used to it provided the same peace of mind he had always felt in such places. They were all alive, there would be time now to heal and rest. There would be time to talk through their experiences and determine their futures. Gorosk was happy to have a future in a way he never really had been before. The spectre of death had always been a vague looming threat unlikely to be encountered for many years. He had trained his body to ensure he would enjoy a long life, he would have plenty of time to discover his limits and perfect the self. Today he had encountered the sobering reality of it all. He was not nearly so far along his path as he liked to think.

As the priest moved from one of the party to the next Gorosk felt the warmth of such magical healing for the second time that day. The potion had brought him back from the brink of death and kept him moving well enough to return here, but the priest healed him the rest of the way. As the priest bowed slightly to him and moved on to the next of the party Gorosk could feel the warmth continue for a moment and then gradually fade. Small spots of warmth remaining a bit longer where the talons of the fetid beasts had first torn at his skin.

"Thank you Priest," he muttered as he reached around his back to feel at the last remaining bits of warmth where his skin had sealed back together. He saw the Goliath matter of factly disrobe to clean herself and decided he ought to do the same, though with more modesty. He unwrapped his arms and rubbed the cool water into his arms and hands, scrubbing hard to get any dried blood or other filth off his skin. Wetting his hands and arms again he scrubbed at his chest to clean away any dirt or blood that might have splashed up on him, then poured more over his back trying to clean his wounded back as best as possible. Finally he pooled water in his hands and went to work at his feet to ensure none of the abundant filth of the rat den floor might stay with him.

Satisfied and weary Gorosk sought out a spot near the fire. He had had quite enough of being wet and cold. He glanced from one party member to the other and smiled to himself. They were not the sort of warriors he had grown accustomed too through his monastery upbringing but there could be no doubt they were each of them warriors.

---

The trip back felt like almost a blur. Renault's legs carried him as best as they could, but age and weariness crept through his entire being. Years spent not seeing combat, weeks spent in a cramped, dank cell, every movement elicited screams of agony from Renault's muscles, though the man, himself, was silent, save for the occasional pained grunt that indicated his age. Though not an elder by any stretch of the word, Renault knew full-well that he was past his physical prime. The pain and fatigue he felt now would only get worse with time. Skill and experience only mattered insofar as one was able lift a sword, and the steel blade at Renault's hip would have felt like a hunk of raw iron in his aching arm.

With the sight of the temple upon them, and the first feeling of sanctuary that they had in hours, Renault welcomed the comforting stone walls and reverent aura that came with it. Their priest friend, for he had tentatively earned that title, seemed more than surprised to see them back so soon, but wasted no time in performing his duties, tending to their wounds with divine-granted magics.

Renault felt strength return to him as his wounds closed, leaving naught but a small scar as a reminder. The energy that coursed through his body made him alert and refreshed, like waking up from a long and restful sleep. He stood tall, noble even; and perhaps his companions would be able to notice the proud dignity he once carried himself with.

Taken to the cellar beneath the temple, Renault would not say he was excited to be surrounded by stone walls and ceilings as he had been beneath the farmhouse. But the warm crackling of the fire and jugs of water prepared for them alleviated that in short order. Almost wordlessly, they each took to cleaning themselves; Vah'lux being more...forthright than the rest of them. Renault averted his eyes as best he could for chivalry's sake - truly this woman was cut from a different cloth.

Choosing a middle ground just as Gorosk had, Renault disrobed as much as he could while still preserving his modesty, using the water provided to wipe away the blood, pus, and dirt that had accumulated from both their prison stay as well as the skirmish against the rats. It was no proper bath, not as he was used to in the Order, at least. But it sufficed his purposes.

Changing into a drab-colored tunic and breeches that was in his bag, Renault felt like he could relax for the first time in weeks. He slumped down, sleep threatening to overtake him, fiddling with the pendant he wore in his half-awake state.

In the distant beyond the security of the temple's aged stone walls, the sun cresting beyond the mountains and forests brought with it the commencement of night. As safe and sure as this place was, as well as the few torches that dotted the streets outside - the same in which they had seen from their prison nights - it was a change of atmosphere. If dangerous things were not already lurking out and about just as twilight struck, they were now. Further and further still with the falling sun, the growing dark, did the world change rapidly. It became unsettling, as though an invisible mist, a haziness of uncertainty and discomfort set over the land. Even just watching it from the thick glass evoked anxiety, much like the first few nights in the hillside had before it became clear nothing would dare try to breach such an insulated old prison, even if signs of it wandering outside were never far.

It removed the bashfulness and modesty of the priest who, when he returned again one last time with bowls of soup as large as small shields carved from wood, seemed wary. Some sort of inexplicable expectation that terribleness was not far and it was not; a long, distant, mournful cry of something in the wilderness beyond tainted the air. Subtle enough that it was almost impossible to make out among the crackle of the fire and the soft sound of his leather shoes but it added to the ambiance in a way preferred otherwise.

Setting down each remaining meal upon the floor he spoke to them again, "I am afraid this and the hard bread is all I have to reward you with for your apparent success..." He stood after, brushing his slack robes, "But at least you are all not outside."

The remark brought to mind the thought of what now were likely tearing through the den of slaughtered rats; goblins, wolves, other rats if not assuredly. Likely eating anything dead and killing anything that remained, doubtful to linger on, however. There was little left at the farmstead as it was before, the tunnels a network of things being brought to them like the strange chest they had found. Although now that was thankfully all behind them.

"Tomorrow I am sure His Honor will grace us again." Marthan added, rubbing his hands a bit together in visible anxiety. Surely the news of the stead being freed from the consuming wrath of the wilderness would be welcome but would it be enough? After all, all of them were to be dead men walking. Their freedom was only ever truly going to be "earned" in their debts paid in full, no? Even the priest seemed aware of this but hoped otherwise.

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